Atem's eyes flickered with anger upon hearing this. "What about the other factions? Surely, they wouldn't let that go unchallenged?"
The man remained silent for a moment, then something fell from his pocket onto the ground.
He then let out a loud laugh, "I'm a bit rusty today."
He turned around, feigning to pick up the fallen item, and lowered his voice to be barely audible, "The new handler is a Cloud piercing sect disciple; no one would risk offending him."
With that, the man straightened up and quietly exited.
A new handler… a Cloud Pricing Sect disciple… and a plan to sweep the Tide-Line clean of unaffiliated shops.
Atem's gaze drifted toward the window.
From here, Azure Harbor stretched outward—timber roofs leaning into one another, narrow alleys winding like veins, and beyond them the faint silhouette of the Middle District climbing the slope.
The city was shaped like a bowl tipped toward the sea.
From the cliffs above, the rich and powerful looked down on the chaos below.
At the very top lay the Cloud Crest, home to the wealthiest mortal families—each backed by cultivators. They lived above the clouds for a reason. People like them never mingled with the likes of those below.
Halfway down the slope was the Gilded Slope.
Unlike the Cloud Crest, this district belonged to wealthy merchants. It was where the largest shops and most influential establishments stood. Rich families, wandering cultivator juniors, and guild members crowded its stone streets, pretending the worlds above and below had nothing to do with them.
And then there was this place.
The Tide-Line.
It had its own rhythm: the constant crash of waves against the breakers, the endless creak of docks, the rise and fall of shouting traders. The air smelled of salt, mud, oil, and every kind of fish imaginable. The ground was uneven, the roofs low and cramped. This was where ordinary people lived—the working class of Azure Harbor.
To those from the upper tiers, the Tide-Line was nothing more than a stain.
He leaned back against the counter, letting his fingers drum lightly. The word "handler" came to his mind.
Every mortal business in the two lower tiers had one sooner or later. Some proudly hung the small blue flags of the Celestial Compass Sect, others displayed symbols of the Craftsmen Guild or even the Jade Stream Sect.
Those flags weren't decorations; they meant survival. They meant someone powerful enough to scare away thieves, gangs, and greedy officials had claimed the shop as their own.
Twin Shores, however, had nothing hanging by its door except a plain wind-chime he'd made from copper scraps.
He hadn't chosen a handler when he opened the shop. He had been too proud then—still clinging to the memory of the Jade Stream Sect escorting him here, still believing he could build a living without bending to anyone.
But Azure Harbor did not like people who tried to stand alone.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Cloud piercing Sect… of all factions, it had to be them."
He'd heard the rumors long before today. A sect disciple had recently been placed in charge of the Harbor Authority's operations, and the officers had been behaving strangely since.
Still, he hadn't expected the change to reach his doorstep so quickly.
"Tsk. Damn cultivators," he muttered. "They just can't let ordinary people live."
By now, he truly hated cultivators—like most mortals did, even if they never showed it on their faces.
To cultivators, mortals were ants. Useful when convenient. Crushed when they became bothersome.
"I wonder what kind of life that ungrateful sister of mine is living now…"
The thought lingered as he walked toward the backroom of the shop.
The storage area was plain and dimly lit. He crossed the room, stopped at an ordinary-looking carpet, and pulled it aside, revealing a small bronze ring set into the floor. Lifting the hidden hatch exposed a narrow ladder.
He descended slowly, then lit the lamps below.
Warm light spilled across the underground chamber.
His gaze swept the walls, finally settling on the massive map that covered nearly the entire room. It depicted a vast central landmass, with thin blue lines spreading across it like veins.
Surrounding it, slightly lower and arranged in a rough ring, were nine additional landmasses—each smaller than the central one.
"I really can't get enough of this," Atem muttered, smacking his lips.
He'd paid a considerable sum to have the map drawn. It differed slightly from the one in his dreams, but it held far more detail—at least in certain regions.
His gaze shifted to one of the nine landmasses, and his expression grew heavy.
This world was called Vitara.
Though not the largest of the nine, Vitara was—by his estimates—at least seven times larger than the world he'd once known.
Azure Harbor lay on the southern edge of the Azure Shores, directly beneath the slopes of the Oceanic Highlands.
His village sat on the far outer ridge of those Highlands, making Azure Harbor the nearest major city. Even by wagon, following the standard trade routes, the journey to Pearlroot took nearly two weeks.
If anyone else discovered this room, they might think he was preparing for a grand expedition or searching for ancient treasure.
The truth was far simpler—and far heavier.
This was the last connection to his lost dreams.
"I hope all the money I spent on this was worth it."
Most of the information he'd gathered had come from passing cultivators, and collecting it had drained nearly every coin he'd saved. Still, a faint sense of pride lingered.
"At least I have a general outline… but the Western Coast—"
He let out a short laugh, but it died quickly as an old memory surfaced.
The Western Coast, one of Vitara's major regions, was enormous, possibly larger than the entire Earth he once knew. Yet despite its size, it was ruled by a single power.
The Cloud-Piercing Sect.
Everything else—kingdoms, clans, wandering sects—lived under its shadow.
"Why am I even worrying about them?" He shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "Even if that new handler is just an External Affairs disciple, they're still far above someone like me."