Small settlements of awakened individuals were very populated compared to those of the unawakened. Unawakened settlements were few and sparsely populated due to every mortal's need to attain immortality. The population in the settlements filled with cultivators—even if they were low-leveled—were leagues ahead. Because, unlike the normal villages, at least a majority of the population in the awakened villages were already cultivators, the benefits of which are the increased lifespans. This led to settlements as small as a village having a population of ten thousand and upwards, with cultivators who had already reached the age of two hundred still being alive to witness the birth of their fifth-generation descendants. In addition to the compounding effect of a high fertility rate, populations in small settlements could grow very high very fast.

Damien waited behind a long procession of people waiting to get into the small town of Murran. The town was located in the southeast part of the continent, situated close to a city in the Kingdom of Los, a middling kingdom of no renown.

Murran was a port town used mainly for the imports and exports of different marine creatures. With a population of close to fifty thousand, it was a very important town in the region.

Looking at the slowly moving queue, Damien wondered why he didn't just teleport into the town, saving time. But he knew that on this day, he wanted to keep his location a secret.

[Oh, you have a little admirer. So cute,] Gray said.

"What, who?"

He immediately turned his head, coming face to face with a little boy who had been stretching to touch his hair.

"Oh, this one is very sorry, my lord, he's just a child; please spare us," the mother hurriedly apologized, bowing.

Damien looked at her, confused, "Lord?"

[Hah! This is gonna be fun.]

The woman looked up, fear and hesitation in her eyes, "I'm sorry, sir, this lowly one pleads forgiveness for not knowing the correct title to address the esteemed sir."

Damien looked more confused, "What the heck are you saying?" Frustration peaking in.

His outburst caused the woman to visibly shiver, so Damien had to rein in himself. Speaking calmly, he spoke, "Ma'am, I apologize for my outburst, I'm very confused. Since I'm not a lord, I find it perplexing why you chose to address me by that title."

Ever so slowly, she peeked, "This one doesn't know how to address the lo– the esteemed Cultivator."

That was when it dawned on Damien. He looked up, seeing the fearful looks some of the people were giving him, with some slowly edging away from the woman, like she was already dead.

[Do you get it now? Hehehe. Did I ever tell you how hilarious I find your slow thinking?]

Damien sighed, finally understanding. He should have known that his identity as a cultivator couldn't be kept hidden, no matter how he tried.

"What gave me away?"

[Funnily enough, your hair. You don't see young people your age with grey hair and eyes; it practically screams cultivator; which, from their reaction, isn't a good thing. And last of all, Cultivators don't use these gates, nor do they stand in line.]

"Urrgh, this is all so confusing. I think I'm going to have a headache."

[You can't have a headache, it's impossible.]

"Says who? Cause I sure as hell I'm feeling my head beginning to ache."

He turned to the woman who was watching him with a strange face as his expression went through different phases.

"Okay....uhhh... I want to clear up this misunderstanding, so I'll start by saying that I will, in no way, harm you or your child. Is that okay by you?" He made sure to put on a reassuring smile.

[Real smooth, Mr. Charming.]

"Shut up."

[Heh heh, you do know that, as a cultivator, you just admitted weakness by apologizing to what most would term as 'lowly ants'. Meaning that one of these people out here is going to sell you out as soon as they get into the town. It's not every day a fresh naive meat with a sense of honor wanders in.]

"You know what? I give up, I'll deal with the issues as they come."

He turned towards the gate, ignoring the pinprick stares he could sense directed at his back.

Soon enough he got to the gate, mainly through everyone who just decided to get out of his way.

Murran was a major trading town in the region. So, unlike the other towns, they had the gold to hire cultivators to build a wall surrounding the whole town. Looking at the constructed walls, he questioned the skills of the group that created this patchwork of stones.

From the moss and dried leaves he could see in between the cracks, he was sure the rocks had been brought out from underwater. And instead of shaping and refining it, they were all just packed in and then patched together in an unholy matrimony. The gates weren't any better; looking so rusted and fragile that even a cultivator in the adept stage could completely shatter it with a single punch.

Damien walked up to the gate, ignoring the curious looks from the guards.

"Name?"

"Alim...Alim Dar," he answered.

"Okay, Alim Dar, I can see you're new to the town; what business do you have in the town of Murran?"

"Just meeting up with a long-lost friend."

"Does your friend have a name?"

"Shekh... I don't remember his last name."

The guard went silent for a while, staring at Damien.

"Is there a problem?" Damien asked.

"No, no problem. You can go in, but you've got to first pay the toll fee, that'll be a gold coin."

Damien didn't mind, even though it was practically extortion. He dipped his hand into the pou,ch hanging on ,his waist, tapping into his storage space and bringing out a g; I coin.

"Welcome to Murran, Alim Dar. We hope to see you again," The guard waved him in, his eyes following Damien as he walked into the town.

Damien ignored it, even as he sensed two people beginning to trail him from the gate.

From the gate, a large street led the way down to the other side of the town, where Damien noticed ships were docked in, different sailors moving large trunks and sacks up and down the ships.

Early in the afternoon, the main street was bustling with activity as multiple traders called out passers-by to come sample their wares.

Damien moved down the road, dodging the passing carts speeding by, their drivers swinging whips around and hauling insults at anybody not quick enough to get out of the way.

From what he observed, the town was populated by different races, with the main ones being the Crock men, a race of bipedal sentient crocodiles who walked down the road with their predatory eyes staring at people like meat while their thick tails lashed out widely, ignoring social manners. They were adorned with different gold and pearl jewelry as they haugtied around, clearly announcing their status as cultivators. Dross.

The second race was the fishmen. And if the crocks were strange, the fishmen put them all to shame. Human bodies with fish heads instead of a human's. Their whole body was adorned with iridescent scales that shined a bright teal color under the sun, glowing with power. Damien didn't even want to talk about what he saw at their backside. To him, they all looked like a mad flesh crafter's experiment gone wrong. And since all flesh crafters were mad, to some extent, it wasn't surprising.

Like the Crock men, they carried themselves with the haughtiest of haughtiness. But unlike the crocks, theirs was with grace, walking down the pitted road like they were sliding on it. The fishmen walked like they were swimming on land. One of them saw him watching them, sniffing at him like he was shit. It didn't even bother saying a word as they passed by.

The third were the beastmen, a race almost as popular as humans. They came in different species, adorning themselves in jewelry heavy enough to bring down mud houses. They walked down the streets with the grace of the fishmen while, at the same time, broadcasting the aggressive auras of the Crock men, viewing everyone else like they were too dirty to be touched while still using their strength to slam anybody not quick enough out of their way. One tried it on Damien, finding himself stumbling when his hands met empty air. By the time the beastman turned murderous eyes towards Damien, he had already disappeared into the crowd.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The four races, and the most populous, naturally, were the humans. The humans carried all the characteristics of the others, but to a toned-down degree. The haughtiness was there, but it was toned down. Same with the brutish aggressiveness. What the other races lacked that the humans had was an air of authority. They carried themselves with this air of authority that forced other people out of the way before they even knew what they were doing, even the other races. This led to a lot of angry and envious looks directed at the humans.

Damien ignored it all, even passing through a group of human cultivators who, shocked by his unaffected and bodacious looks as he didn't move out of their way, stepped out of his way. Damien smiled at this.

[Nice....you do know you've earned yourself lots of curious looks from everyone who's just witnessed this]

Damien's mood immediately turned sour, moving onwards, coming close to the town's square and then turning to his left into a smaller street. He didn't have to go far until he came up to the front of a bar with the name 'Elas Parlor' written over the doorway.

A guard stood at the entrance, a brute of a man with one eye that looked more, intimidating than pitiful. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Damien could see his teeth cracked, with one punch away from putting them all on the floor.

The man was huge, so huge, in fact, Damien wondered if he was even able to walk straight into the bar. His body was packed with muscle enough to act as a deterrent without the man even looking.

Despite all these, Damien knew the man was no threat, a mere decoy to act as a front while the main guard —a young guy, probably Damien's age— sat beside the next building looking like he was waiting for the next customer to come out of the bar so he could beg.

The moment the man saw Damien, he gave an imperceptible nod, immediately moving towards the back of the bar.

"What do you want?" The guard said.

"I'm here to see Elas,"

He squinted at Damien, "What does dirt like you want with the boss? You don't look like them haughty ones who comes looking to see the boss,"

Damien snorted, "Judging from your poor eyesight, I wonder if you could even see at all."

"Wha' did you jus' say? You better scram before I start breaking bones," he took a threatening step towards Damien.

Damien just stared him directly in the eye, "Think carefully of your next actions, I could turn you into bloowide-eyedith a flick of my pinky finger."

The brute hesitated for a moment, immediately shaking off the flash, fear that came over him, "You—"

"Crusher! Stop you idiot! He could do it, literally turn you into blood mists," somebody shouted, a man running into their midst. "Don't do anything stupid that'll lead you to an early grave."

"Crusher?" Damien snorted. "It's a wonder."

Elas turned towards Damien, "Please stop making things worse," he pleaded.

"Fine...," Damien sighed. "It's nice to see you again Elas."

"You too," he looked around, seemingly searching for someone. "Where's your brother?"

"He didn't come, busy with something else."

"Oh, hope all is well?..who am I kidding? I know all's not ell, heard about the confrontation and all. Are you alright? You look... different."

"I'm fine, although I don't think this is a place to be having conversations like this," Damien said, waving his hands around.

The man looked abashed, "Yeah, you're right. Come in."

Damien nodded, following behind as they entered the bar, ignoring the curious look the guard was giving him.

Elas parlor wasn't large, compared to the bars he'd seen; but it was moderate. A cluster of chairs and tables were scattered around—almost filled with patrons despite the afternoon working hours. A large bar was placed at the side of the room, with a two bartenders serving the multitudes of sailors, fishermen's, and all sorts of traders gathered inside, howling for drinks and more drinks.

He and Elas weaved through the crowds, them parting to make way the moment they saw Elas. He hailed and returned some greetings as he passed, leaving Damien to suffer the dozens of curious eyes stabbing into him.

They eventually got to the bar, Elas lifting over the slab separating the bar. They moved into a back door, Elas leading the way down a short hallway, passing multiple doors until they came to a door at the end of the hallway.

The office was a room filled with dozens of sales documents and such, with a large shelf placed on one side where Damien could see large tomes and different sorts of trophies placed on it.

In the middle of the room was a large table with a high backed chair which Elas took his sit on, with the window behind him.

Damien took a sit on the chair opposite him, "it's nice to see you're still going at it strong."

"Ehhh...I do this once in a while. How'd you find me?"

"What?" Damien smiled. "You think you're the only one with tricks?"

"Bahh, none of your tricks could find someone like me. If you want to keep your secrets, keep them. Hope you weren't followed?"

His only reply was a deadpan gaze.

"Sorry about that," Elas coughed. "Anyways, what brings an esteemed person like you into my lowly abode?"

"Please don't do that."

"What? The lowly person thing? Aren't you an esteemed person? Fighting huge battles that'll shake the whole planet and stuff. I heard you even did battle with the returned Solarian Emperor," Elas snickered. "I imagine his face when he discovered he couldn't just defeat you like he did the others, hah! A sight to behold."

Damien just sighed, "Can we get down to business now?"

"Oh, look who's in a rush. Okay then, what can I do for you, lord cultivator," he laughed.

Damien imagined that happy face being squashed when he heard what Damien finally had to say.

And he was right. The moment he told Elas what he came for, the man's face immediately turned sour.

"That's hidden information that'll get a lot of eyes opened."

"Can you get it?"

The man snorted, "I didn't work one hundred and ten years just to be unable to procure something like that."

Damien nodded, "Good, so when would it be ready?"

"That...is something that'll take some time, mainly because of the secrecy and all. I'm gonna have to put out a lot of smoke after all. I can't promise you a set timeline, but I'll look into it as fast as I can."

"Ok, then. Nice seeing you once again Elas, I better take my leave."

"Wait, can't you stay a little while? It's been long this old man laid eyes on you, atleast show some love by staying."

Damien sighed, "I can't Elas, I wish I could, but I just can't. You of all people should know how important it is I keep my whereabouts unknown, I can't have my plans jeopardized."

The man sighed, "Alright then, I'll see you off. But you promise to come visit when this is all over."

"Sure."

"And bring Keilan over, I miss those joyful smiles."

"Fine.."

Together, they walked back the way they came, coming out into the bar proper.

Damien sighed wearily as he stepped into bar. He didn't have time for this.

[What did I say? Even when you try to avoid trouble, it still finds a way to look for you.]

Taking a sit on the chairs closest to the door were a group of humans. The only thing separating them from the usual customers were the fancy clothes they wore and the way they looked at everybody else in the room, like they were ants beneath their fancy sandals. This didn't change when they caught sight of Damien, they only reduced the disdain to make way for looks of curiosity which they directed at him.

"Wow, looks like you've made a lot of friends since you came in," Elas said, chuckling.

Damien ignored him, looking at a short bald man who had stood up from his chair, moving towards their position.

"Elas," he said in a thick, refined voice, which was meant to sound posh but only sounded more like someone with a throat problem. "We didn't know you were familiar with this....person," he looked Damien up and down, his disdain finally showing.

"Oh yeah, Gimdjar, nice to see you too. And yes, I know him."

The man—Gimdjar, nodded as he turned his full gaze towards Damien, waiting.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Damien said. He knew what the man was waiting for. It seemed all the cawing and prostrating they'd been receiving lately had gotten too much into their heads.

"Hmm.... Elas, has your friend here been made notice of the rules of the town?"

"What rules?" Damien turned towards Elas.

"Quiet when your betters are speaking, vermin," someone shrieked from the table, Damien looked over to see a woman with dark, fuzzy hair standing up. She looked like someone who woke up on the wrong side of the bed and forgot to put on makeup. Even for a cultivator, it took a lot of neglect to end up looking that way.

Damien turned his face away, like she was a curious piece of trash on the street.

[Ohh, you've made her mad. Is that smoke coming out of her ears?]

Elas gave a tired sigh, "The 'rules' of the town—more like an unofficial rule—state that any cultivator visiting the city must first pay a visit to the sea shark's quarters to pay homage and all that. Oh, and you've got to pay some dues too."

"But I wasn't staying long, in fact, it's obvious I'm already on my way."

Elas looked at the Gimdjar questioningly.

"It doesn't matter how long he stays, the moment a cultivator steps into the city, they pay homage to one of the four, depending on their race. And you have not done that, in fact, you disrespected members of the Sea sharks by not following etiquette and barging into their midst, disrupting the hierarchy of power."

Damien, tired of it all, just said, "Ohh, I see where this is going. Fine then, I'll pay the fine. How much?"

Everybody looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"What? Isn't that what you all came here for? I haven't got all day to be spending here. How much?" He asked again.

"A lowly one such as you dare speak in such flippant manner, you should be punished," the lady crowed again.

"Will someone please shut that harpy up?"

[You just made matters worse, now their friends are also angry too.]

He looked over, seeing what Gray meant. The other people sitting on the remaining chairs immediately stood up, their disdainful eyes threatening.

"Hold it there, I do not want you guys destroying my establishment with your fights, I'll deal with this," Elas said, turning towards the short man. "Look Grimdjar, my friend just came to say a short hello to me as he was passing by, and he's continuing on his journey. How about you just tell him how much he's due to pay and let him be on his way."

Grimdjar looked reluctant, his beady eyes raking Damien up and down, "We do this for you Elas, an unruly one such as this...thing here should have been given a lesson in etiquette and respecting his betters. But for you, we'll only charge him for his disrespect."

Damien snorted.

[That does it, they're coming for you, and is that one drawing an infused weapon?]

Truly, the cultivators seemed to have lost it, with the three coming at him.

All over the bar, varying looks were directed at him, from looks of pity to ones of approval—like he deserved what was coming for him. Grimdjar only continued his disdainful look, his eyes carrying no sense of pity.

Elas sighed, "Please don't damage my bar."

Confusion rippled through the room as instead of Elas pleading with the cultivators, he was actually pleading with Damien.

Damien didn't reply, watch in slow motion as the cultivator with a weapon moved first, leading the others, coming at Damien with speed that looked undescernible by the common folks around, but to Damien, came in a very slow motion.

The man arrived instantly, his expression intending to seemingly put Damien in his place, with the harpy behind him shining in glee as she waited to see the unruly nobody brought to his knee.

Nobody foresaw what happened next as it funnily enough, happened in both a slow motion and at the same time, faster than any of them could possibly predict.

One moment, there was a man gunning for Damien... The next, a bloody mist could be seen staining the air in a crimson color.

The whole room instantly went dead quiet to the extent Damien could even hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room. He sighed, taking a rag from the bar table and began cleaning the splotches of blood from the back of his hand.

"Hey! that's my rag," Elas protested, ignoring the even that had just happened.

"Get another one."

The man grumbled, but said nothing.

Damien finally turned to Grimdjar, who was staring at him with a wide eyed shock.

"So, how much is your fee?"