Chapter 36: Kia Mundi

A deep, almost oppressive silence blanketed the land. The chaos had subsided, leaving the once-burning buildings intact, their flames extinguished by the golden palm's descent. The dying found a chance to breathe again, and the clashes that had erupted both inside and outside of Poor Man's Corner came to a sudden halt. Such was the overwhelming power of a cultivator who had mastered the forces of the world—a stark reminder that in lands ruled by strength, might was right, and anything less was irrelevant.

The villagers stood frozen, their faces pale and their bodies trembling, too afraid to move even an inch. Not even Jiang Feng, still wrapped in the last flickers of his blue flames, dared to act rashly. His gaze darted to Lin Rou, who was visibly sweating bullets. Poor Man's Corner was a refuge for outcasts—a place where those who sought freedom or had been cast out of their homes could find sanctuary. But it was also a place where lives were precarious, teetering on the edge of violence and chaos.

The Obsidian Woodlands, vast and wild, stretched endlessly in all directions. To traverse it on foot would take months, if not years, unless one had access to a domesticated beast or the transportation formations of the major capitals. Poor Man's Corner was an anomaly within this wilderness, a gathering point for all manner of people—merchants, mercenaries, thieves, and outlaws alike. It was a hub of the underground economy, where the black market thrived, and anything could be bought or sold—for a price.

Yet this freedom came at a cost. Deals made in the shadows often ended in betrayal, and the treasures exchanged were frequently stolen. Death was a constant specter in the city. Despite these risks, people still flocked to Poor Man's Corner, drawn by its reputation as a sanctuary protected by a powerful cultivator. Until now, the rumors had always suggested a high-level Golden Core expert guarded the city, but today, the truth had been revealed. The protector was far stronger—he was a Nascent Soul cultivator, a force few dared to challenge.

This revelation explained the city's enduring resilience. Even the Celestial Shadow Church, notorious for its brutality, had retreated when this cultivator intervened. Lin Moyi, too, had chosen this path for his journey not because he knew the full extent of the protector's strength but because even a Golden Core expert would have been deterrent enough for most threats.

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The wind howled softly as Lin Moyi descended to where Lin Rou and the surviving villagers had gathered. His face was a storm of emotions, but he said nothing, waiting for the inevitable. It came swiftly.

"You brought the Celestial Shadow Church to my doorstep," the aged, thunderous voice boomed, filled with barely suppressed rage. "For this, I will overlook your mistake this one time, given that they are nothing but the lowest of the low. But the cost of my land's destruction, the ruined buildings within my city—this, you will compensate. Tell the Northern Moon Village that they owe me a favor, one that I will come to personally collect. Now leave!"

The words carried such weight that Lin Moyi instinctively lowered his head, clasping his hands together in a gesture of respect. His voice was calm but reverent. "No matter what, you have saved us today, and we will repay your kindness. I will convey your message to the Northern Moon Village. Let us go!"

The voice responded once more, its echo laced with finality. "Remember my words, Lin Moyi. Northern Moon owes me a favor."

As the final echoes of the Nascent Soul cultivator's presence dissipated, Lin Moyi turned to lead the group away. The villagers moved silently, their numbers now pitifully small. Of the two thousand who had begun this journey, five hundred had died pitifully. Jiang Feng followed at the rear, his steps heavy.

When he turned back for one final glance at Poor Man's Corner, he saw hundreds of people already at work, clearing the battlefield of corpses. The sight filled his heart with a burning hatred. He clenched his fists tightly. No wonder everyone despises the Celestial Shadow Church, he thought. They are nothing but monsters, deserving of annihilation.

His resolve solidified, and a vow formed in his heart. From this day forward, you are my eternal enemy.

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Though much of Poor Man's Corner was a patchwork of old, decrepit structures, a single street stood apart. It was lined with refurbished buildings, their newly polished facades a sign of recent investment. The city, it seemed, was undergoing large-scale repairs, likely spurred by profits from its thriving black market and underground economy.

At the end of this street was a courtyard dominated by a two-story building painted in soothing shades of blue and white. Surrounding it were vibrant flowerbeds and towering maple trees, their fiery red leaves swaying gently in the breeze. To the side of the building, ponds filled with koi fish glimmered in the sunlight, their movements sending ripples across the clear water.

The courtyard itself was meticulously maintained, with clean, well-placed furniture adding to its air of sophistication. Inside, the faint scent of roses perfumed the air, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. To the left of the entrance lay a grand hall, where a long table was laden with an impressive array of delicacies: steaming buns, roasted meats, fresh fruits, and pitchers of fragrant wine.

Seated at the head of the table was a man who appeared to be in his middle years, though his aura betrayed his age as far greater. His neatly combed hair framed a sharp, composed face, and his blue robes shimmered faintly, as if infused with spiritual energy. Despite his outward calm, the air around him crackled faintly with the residual power of his earlier intervention. This was Kai Mundi, the Nascent Soul cultivator who ruled Poor Man's Corner.

Across from him sat a young woman in her early twenties. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded like a waterfall past her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her striking ocean-blue eyes. She wore a fitted red dress that accentuated her tall, graceful frame, her every movement exuding confidence and elegance. Behind her stood a bodyguard, a middle-aged man whose closed eyes belied his readiness to strike at a moment's notice. His presence was as imposing as it was silent.

Kai Mundi smiled warmly, motioning for one of the maids to pour the woman a glass of wine. Three attendants hovered behind him, their heads bowed, each holding a jar of fine wine in readiness.

"Miss Moran," Kai Mundi began, his tone measured and polite, "I must apologize for what you've witnessed today. Poor Man's Corner faces... challenges, as you've undoubtedly seen. This is precisely why your family's support is so vital. With your help, we can transform this city, bringing order to the chaos. Increased trade, manufacturing, and black-market dealings will follow. Prosperity, of course, will allow us to grow—and naturally, taxes will rise accordingly."

He smiled again, his words polished and practiced, the smile of a man who was used to brokering deals from a position of unassailable power. The maid poured Miss Moran her wine, and the faint clinking of glass was the only sound in the room.

Kai Mundi leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering. "With your family's support, Miss Moran, the future of Poor Man's Corner will shine brighter than ever before."