After finally becoming a proper, real Rank 1 Visionary with a foundational Image, North departed from the Pavilion of Images with a lightness in his step. Everything had gone remarkably smoothly, almost too smoothly, and that alone put him in a good mood. Especially considering how absurdly easy it had been to obtain an Image—it felt like a blessing falling straight from the sky into his hands. No toiling away for a year to gather enough money, no desperate bidding wars, no back-alley schemes, no fights with rabid Visionaries trying to snatch it away. Just him, a transaction, and an outcome so clean it almost felt suspicious.

He also found it curious that the Self Reflection Fortune Mirror had given him an Intuition Image. Given his deep knowledge of the world's mechanics, he'd expected something system-related, perhaps tied to his developer role.

Perhaps it saw something I can't, North wondered as he navigated the busy streets, watching beasts lumber past with merchant goods.

The afternoon sun hung directly at the center of the sky, its golden light pouring over the city like molten metal. The streets were alive with noise—hawkers shouting about their wares, Visionaries bartering in sharp, clipped tones, the distant laughter of children weaving through the throng of passing carts and beasts. A pair of jade beauties floated by on azure clouds, their servants struggling to keep up below.

Yet North's wariness grew with each step. His mind ran through the possibilities: At least one idiot would decide that he had somehow provoked them by not selling an Image at the right price. Another might have heard about the sale and assumed he was now carrying a small fortune—ripe for the taking.

Given how poor these so-called "normal" Visionaries seemed, robbing others was one of the fastest ways to make a quick fortune. And also, statistically, one of the fastest ways to die.

It would be a lie to say North wasn’t afraid.

But he also couldn’t hide.

Even if he holed up in some basement, his accursed base template—"Wherever I Stand, A Plot Begins"— would probably cause the roof to cave in, dragging him into some convoluted scheme regardless.

Still, he had one advantage. His current appearance—clean, well-dressed, the aura of someone important—might be enough to deter the lower-rank thugs from acting immediately. People hesitated to rob the rich and powerful, even if it was just an illusion. The subconscious fear of offending the wrong person was deeply ingrained in human nature.

North sighed, deciding that was the best he could hope for. Then, his stomach let out a deep, disgruntled growl. He had been so busy navigating through the day’s chaos that he had completely forgotten to eat.

His first instinct was to head straight to a restaurant, but—

The memory of yesterday’s restaurant fiasco surfaced immediately, unbidden: bow to Young Master Zhao just to keep his head attached to his shoulders. Thank god no one knows me in this world, he thought, exhaling sharply. Otherwise, that would've been way too humiliating.

Then again, what did it even matter? He adjusted his mindset instantly. There was no shame in doing whatever it took to stay alive.

Bowing, begging, humiliating himself—none of it mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Survival had no morality, no right or wrong. His quick thinking had saved his life, and at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered.

To solve his lunch problem, North decided that, since he was reasonably comfortable, he might as well go all out and find an expensive restaurant.

It wasn’t just about indulgence—it was strategy.

His reasoning was simple. First, he was in the Inner City of the Lustrous Sky Clan, where order was strictly enforced. He had already seen black-uniformed guards patrolling the streets at regular intervals, their presence enough to deter most Visionaries from starting a fight. That alone gave him a sense of relief.

Especially since the city was currently overflowing with hidden dragons and crouching tigers due to the festival season.

But as he thought further, the logic solidified. A powerful clan like the Lustrous Sky wouldn’t just let rogue Visionaries murder people within their inner or core regions. They charged entrance fees, registered identities, and actively monitored those who entered. If Visionaries started killing each other in broad daylight, wouldn’t that be a direct slap to the face of the ruling clan? A major clan couldn’t afford to let their own city become a lawless mess. If they couldn’t even protect their own borders, how were they supposed to maintain hegemony over an entire region?

The more he thought about it, the tension coiling in his head began to unwind.

He had been overthinking.

Sure, danger was always lurking, but as long as he wasn’t alone or wandering into secluded areas, the odds of being silently murdered in an alley were slim. At least during the day, he should be fine.

With that realization, his worries lightened considerably.

And so, he made his way toward the restaurant.

…

…

The "Jade Spring Garden" restaurant occupied three floors of a floating pavilion, Expenditure of Nether Essence keeping it suspended above a carefully maintained herb garden. North chose a seat by the window, his dark robes and confident bearing earning him immediate attention from the servers.

"Our spirit-infused specialties today include Cloud Mist Duck marinated in ten-year spring essence, and Mountain Heart Soup with ingredients gathered from the peak of Sky Pillar Mountain," the server announced, pouring tea that released tiny wisps of golden steam.

North continued to tap the menu, his fingers trailing over the most expensive dishes available.

Glazed Fire Duck – roasted over spirit wood, its skin crisped to perfection, infused with mild heat from the beast’s lingering essence.

Heavenly Bamboo Soup – simmered for three days, helps refine the mind and strengthen constitution.

Nine-Treasure Seafood Bowl – a mix of exotic ingredients pulled from distant lakes and rivers, good for vitality.

Golden Moon Wine – aged a century, carries the warmth of an eternal spring night.

Finally, North flicked out a Nether Coin, spinning it lazily between his fingers with the casual grace of someone used to luxury before letting it land on the table. The metallic sound rang out softly. Though he acted rich on the surface, internally he was calculating every cost.

“Bring them all,” he said smoothly, leaning back into his chair.

The server bowed quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, the first dish arrived—a steaming plate of Fire-Phoenix Duck, its crispy golden-red skin glistening with fragrant oils. North picked up his chopsticks, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth.

A burst of rich, smoky spice exploded on his tongue, the heat spreading in waves. The texture—both crisp and impossibly tender—made him close his eyes in brief appreciation.

“Damn,” he muttered, chewing slowly. “This is… way too good.”

…

As North enjoyed his meal, the restaurant remained bustling with noise, filled with Visionaries discussing clan politics, breakthroughs, and rumors of distant battles.

But one table, in particular, grew louder and louder.

A group of young Visionaries, a group of four men and two women, around sixteen or seventeen of age, sat laughing among themselves. They weren’t causing trouble, but their laughter carried the unmistakable tone of arrogant self-importance—the kind that only young masters with wealthy backgrounds and minimal struggle could achieve.

One of them slammed his cup down, his voice booming.

“Hah! Can you believe it? The great Bai Clan’s genius got defeated in a single exchange? And by some no-name from the mountain clans?”

Another snickered. “The so-called ‘rising stars’ of these no-name clans always end up the same. A little fame, a little luck—until they run into a real man.”

Laughter erupted from the group.

…

"Brother Chen really showed that merchant today!"

"Ha! His face when you revealed your Rank—"

"To prosperity and power!"

It was nothing unusual—just a bunch of privileged people reveling in their own importance.

North threw them a glance, hoping they wouldn't’ cause a sudden scene and quietly chewed and enjoyed his food. But, it seemed their voices soon irked someone. A man at a nearby table slammed his chopsticks down, the wood cracking under his grip. North glanced over subtly. The man was rough-looking, his robes patched from years of wear, but his eyes carried a sharp, dangerous gleam. A rogue Visionary

Stolen novel; please report.

"You bunch a lot," the man's voice cut through the noise like a blade, "think your little powers make you untouchable?" He stood slowly, and the air around him grew heavy. "Allow this Chu Feng to educate you on proper restaurant etiquette."

And then—he lifted a hand, revealing a glowing mark on his palm.

A Rank 3 Official Visionary seal, issued by the Lustrous Sky to its members.

The young Visionary visibly tensed. Rank 3 wasn’t heaven-shaking, but it was leagues ahead of Visionaries Rank below them who didn’t have proper funds, limited Images and a short window before they ran out of the Nether Essence.

One of the young Visionaries—one with a golden serpent embroidered on his sleeve, likely from a prestigious family—narrowed his eyes but forced a smirk.

“You expect us to tremble over a mere Rank 3?”

His bravado was forced, his fingers twitching slightly.

The rogue grinned. “No, but I expect you to know when to shut up.”

North leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine cup as he watched the tension in the room tighten like a coiled spring.

The rogue Visionary stood firm, his Rank 3 strength pressing down on the younger visionaries like a weighted storm. The group of rich and arrogant hilly billies kept their expressions controlled, but the subtle shifts in their posture—the clenched jaws, the tensed fingers, the forced bravado—told North everything. They didn’t want to fight. Not really. Their pride demanded they stand their ground, but their instincts screamed at them to shut up and back down. A fight seemed inevitable. North smirked slightly, lifting his cup to his lips, already preparing to watch the restaurant descend into chaos.

Something disappointing happened.

The restaurant doors swung open, and a broad-shouldered man in a dark traveling coat stepped inside, his face set in exasperation the moment his eyes landed on the rogue Visionary.

"Oi, you’re at it again?" The newcomer strode forward without hesitation, grabbing the rogue by the shoulder with a firm grip.

The rogue jerked slightly, turning toward the man with a half-snarl, but the newcomer ignored it entirely.

"Why the hell do you always bicker with juniors?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Let ‘em be. If they’re arrogant, someone else will break them eventually. They’ll learn soon enough who they can and can’t offend."

The rogue scoffed, rolling his shoulders but not resisting as the man began dragging him toward the door.

"They need to learn faster," he muttered. "If no one puts them in their place now, they’ll keep walking around acting like they own the world."

North hummed in quiet agreement. That man had a point.

In his eyes, a beating now would do them some good. It would teach them that the heavens were vast, and they weren’t at the center of it. But he also understood what the rogue’s friend meant. They didn’t need to be taught a lesson today. Sooner or later, someone else would knock them down. That was inevitable. The rogue didn’t argue further. He shot one last glare at the group of young Visionaries before allowing himself to be pulled toward the exit.

Then, they exhaled all at once, their tension melting away.

One of them chuckled weakly. "What a lunatic."

Another scoffed. "If we weren’t in a public place, I would’ve taught him a lesson."

North nearly laughed at that lie. Instead, he simply lifted his cup, taking another sip of Golden Moon Wine as the atmosphere in the restaurant gradually returned to normal. The excitement had fizzled out, leaving only unspoken relief and awkward glances.

By the time he placed his chopsticks down, his stomach was full, his mood light.

The server hurried over, bowing deeply. "Thank you for dining with us, honored guest!"

North nodded, stepping away from his table and making his way toward the exit.

…

Back on the streets, North wondered what to do next.

A heavy wave of boredom settled over him, dragging in a creeping sense of sleepiness. Wandering aimlessly through the city after a full meal had dulled his urgency, and for the first time in a while, he felt directionless. Of course, he still had one major goal—figuring out the Template Archetype problem. But so far, despite all his walking, observing, and analyzing, he had yet to spot another person with the same pink crystal and character template hovering over their heads like Fatty and the Protagonist from yesterday.

This led him to an obvious conclusion: Not everyone had them.

If he had only seen two marked individuals so far, that likely meant the majority of the population could be treated as NPCs. Just background characters—people without significant roles in the grand scheme of the world. Still, he needed to confirm his theory with more evidence.

And what better place to do so than The Plum Garden?

Tonight, the Festival of Session would continue there for the next three more days, and if Fatty was right, it would be crawling with interesting figures. Visionaries, rising stars, schemers—the type of people who actually mattered. If templates existed, then surely some of the high-profile individuals attending the festival would have them. So, North made up his mind. Tonight, he’d go to The Plum Garden. If nothing else, watching the competitions and interactions might finally give him the answers he was looking for.

In the meantime, North decided to find a place to stay for the rest of his time in the city. If he was going to settle down and grow here, he needed a proper base—somewhere he could rest, plan, and avoid unnecessary trouble. There were two obvious options. First, he could buy a house—a long-term investment that would offer stability and security, but also cost a ridiculous amount of money upfront. Second, he could rent a proper place, something more affordable and temporary, giving him the flexibility to move around if needed.

For now, he decided to explore his options.

Wandering through the Inner City, North quickly realized that where he stayed would dictate how much trouble he attracted.

The outer districts were filled with common laborers, struggling Visionaries, and wandering mercenaries who came to the city hoping to strike it rich. The inns and rentals there were cheap, but the risk of theft, unexpected fights, and general nonsense was far too high. He could already imagine waking up one morning to find someone dragging him into some feud.

The middle-class districts were much better. These areas had a mix of small-time merchants, low-ranking Lustrous Sky clan members, and independent visionaries who wanted to keep a low profile but still have access to city resources. The inns & residences here were quiet, orderly, and well-maintained, with actual patrols keeping troublemakers in check.

Then, of course, there were the high-end estates, places reserved for clans and sect-affiliated elites, wealthy merchants, and young masters who threw their weight around without consequence. The mansions were lavish, hidden behind towering walls and elaborate formations to prevent unwanted guests. While the security was tempting, staying here would be far too conspicuous. He’d stick out like a sore thumb the moment someone realized he wasn’t actually rich.

North stopped by one of the rental offices in a quieter part of the city, a modest three-story building with ornate wooden panels and door talisman at the entrance.

A clerk sat behind a carved jade counter, eyes flicking up briefly as North stepped inside.

"Young master, looking for a place to stay?" the clerk asked, his tone professional but indifferent.

North nodded. "Something decent, preferably with a quiet environment."

The clerk flipped open a thick registry scroll and traced his finger down the list. "For independent rooms, we have standard inns, guesthouses, and private courtyard rentals. What’s your budget?"

North paused. He wasn’t broke, but he also didn’t want to burn through his funds unnecessarily.

"What’s the price range?" he asked instead.

"For inns, 5 to 15 Nether Stones per night. Basic but safe. For guesthouses, 20 to 50 Nether Stones per month—you get access to a private room, kitchen and bathroom shared. For private courtyard rentals, you’re looking at 80 to 150 Nether Stones per month. Secluded, peaceful, and good for long-term residents."

North rubbed his chin. The guesthouse sounded appealing, but he didn’t like the idea of living under someone else’s rules and sharing his bathroom and kitchen.

"Anything available for a short-term stay but with a bit more privacy?"

The clerk nodded. "We have a small courtyard house available for 90 Nether Stones per month, minimum stay of one month. Comes with basic furniture. I'd say, it would suit young master taste perfectly."

North mentally calculated. It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t outrageous either.

"Can I see it first?"

The clerk gestured toward a bored-looking attendant, who sighed before grabbing a ring of keys and motioning for North to follow.

…

The rental house was tucked away in a quieter part of the city, set between a few similar-looking properties. The courtyard walls were high enough to offer privacy, and the entrance had a modest formation etched into the wooden gate—probably a basic lock and alarm spell.

Inside, the courtyard was simple but functional—a small training area, a covered walkway, and a single-story house with two rooms and a modest kitchen. The furniture was basic but clean.

North nodded in approval. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was quiet, secure, and private.

He could work with this.

"I’ll take it," he said.

The attendant shrugged, handed him a contract, and walked him through the rental agreement.

After signing the agreement and paying for the first month upfront, which immediately halved his savings, North received a key. With that, he was officially a resident of the Inner City—at least for now. Stepping into his new temporary home, he exhaled deeply. Now, he could properly focus on his next steps.

…

…

Later, North spent the rest of the day cleaning his new house, sweeping dust out of every corner and wiping down the modest wooden furniture with a damp towel. The place wasn’t in bad condition, but after who-knows-how-long sitting vacant, a layer of fine dust had settled over everything. By the time he was finished, he smelled faintly of sweat and wood polish, but the house finally felt livable.

At some point, he had stepped out to visit a nearby general store, pleasantly surprised to find that he wouldn’t need to travel far for basic supplies. The shop was run by a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a quick tongue, though to his relief, she didn’t try to overcharge him—a rare thing in a city full of opportunists.

Moreover, there was no electricity in this world—not in the sense that Earth used it to power everything. Instead, there were instruments created with installing Images like heat, cold, and so on in circuits like complex formations. These devices were powered by Nether Crystals, an expensive energy source that, from what North had seen, was far from affordable for the average person. He had only glimpsed them once at the restaurant with enough money to justify their continuous use.

The impression he got was clear—these weren’t common luxuries.

For now, practicality took priority. He picked up basic necessities—dried food, ink, parchment, and a set of candles—items that didn’t rely on expensive Visionary technology.

By the time he returned and stocked his shelves, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The air had cooled, turning crisp with the scent of distant street food and festival lanterns.

North dusted off his new clothes, running a hand over the fabric. Luckily, he had removed the outer fancy garment while working, so they weren’t dirty, but he made a mental note—he needed to buy at least five or six more sets tomorrow. Wearing the same thing day after day wasn’t an option.

As he stepped outside, he glanced up at the evening sky.

The moon had risen, casting a pale glow over the rooftops, its light weaving between the city’s golden lanterns. The first stars had begun to twinkle, faint pinpricks in the vast expanse above. The air was filled with the distant hum of laughter, drums, and festival chatter. The Festival of Session had surely begun.

Then, a stray thought out of nowhere crossed his mind.

Does this world’s moon have phases like Earth’s?

Folding his arms, he made a mental note to observe the moon over the coming days. If it never changed, that would mean this world had a fixed celestial cycle, something entirely different from Earth. Shaking the thought from his head, North turned toward the bustling streets, stepping forward.

Time to see what the Festival of Session had to offer.