Outworld Liberators-Chapter 156: The Strong but Subtle Opening

Below, in the roads leading to the cities, early arrivals were already moving, heads down, hands clutching coin pouches, eyes hungry. They expected sunrise to crawl over the horizon as usual.

It did not. A perfect line cut across the sky, as if someone had drawn a blade through the morning and stopped the light from spilling.

At first people blamed fog. They had watched the green haze Cairnight Barterhold.

But this was not that.

The fog thinned. It did not swirl or cling. It simply dissolved, peeling away from the air in quiet sheets.

What remained stole the breath.

A massive terrace hung where the morning should have been, so broad it seemed to rewrite the horizon.

It exuded beauty and grace the way a well made weapon did, smooth and elegant, dangerous in its certainty.

Sunlight struck its edges and scattered into pale bands, like silk pulled tight.

Those in the know had been anticipating this moment. They had whispered about it in tea houses and alleyways.

They had made plans. They had gathered coins and spirit stones. They had told their disciples to keep their mouths shut and their eyes open.

Now the rumor became structure. Two hundred fifty six gates opened.

The entrances were not grand arches made for kings. They were practical, repeated, and unmistakable.

The entrance for those who walked with only their feet stayed at three copper coins.

Everyone rushed. Not just cultivators. Not just merchants. Even laborers and petty runners pressed in, hoping to earn a money of their own.

From above, Radeon watched without expression.

He had built a place that looked generous. He had built it to be fed.

The first merchant through one of the gates was a man with a narrow face and quick eyes.

He stepped forward with his back straight, pretending he was not afraid, pretending he was not thrilled.

Inside, he stopped dead. Boards lit up along the corridor like miracles pinned to wood.

Not torches. Not lanterns. Clean light, steady and cold, spilling out of symbols that shifted too fast to follow at first glance.

The merchant took a cautious step, then another. His basket creaked against his hip.

His vegetables still smelled of dirt and crushed greens. He had expected to shout his wares, to haggle, to bully a few desperate buyers.

Instead the boards recognized what he carried. Lines of text flickered. Onion. Potato. Spinach.

[Prices Updates Every Hour]

[Now Displaying Vegetable Prices Every Kilogram]

[Note. These prices based on Mediocre Quality.]

[Prices may still differ based on quality.]

[Onion] (27 Copper)

[Potatoes] (26 Copper)

[Spinach] (19 Copper)

Behind the vegetable merchant, another wave of people surged through the gate, trampling hesitation out of the way.

Those who entered were enticed by the screens as well. Each one displayed nearly the same thing, then its category changed altogether.

The clear, large text moved in constant motion, as if dragged along by something unseen.

[Prices Updates Every Hour]

[Now Displaying Textile Prices Every Kilogram]

[Note. These prices based on Mediocre Quality.]

[Prices may still differ based on quality.]

[Silk] (3 Silver) (82 Copper)

[Wool] (1 Silver) (75 Copper)

[Cotton] (1 Silver) (3 Copper)

The merchants were so enthralled by the signs that some of them almost stopped walking.

The boards kept pulling their eyes back, but their feet kept moving. They knew better than to block the way, and more than that, they had already paid rent for their stalls. Awe did not refund copper.

The first merchant reached his spot, set his basket down, and sat. He did not shout. He did not wave his arms. He watched.

The pricing on the board kept shifting, not wildly, but enough to teach him the pulse of the place.

In a few minutes he became literate without ever opening a book. He knew what each product cost, and more importantly, he knew what he should not accept.

For the first time in his life, he felt he could sleep without waking up to realize someone had ripped him off. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Not everyone felt at peace. Near the ground-level entrance, the line thickened, and those at Gilded Core within it were growing impatient.

They stood with arms folded and faces sour, cursing under their breath. Asking for face would not work here.

A tad late, and now they were looking at a quarter of an hour’s wait.

One of them narrowed his eyes. Qi flickered at his pupils as he focused on something above the crowd.

"What is that," he said. "Are we allowed to fly in."

Heads tilted upward. Necks craned. A few cultivators argued at once.

Then they did what cultivators always did when pride and impatience collided.

They drew lots.

A bald man in yellow robes lost, and he cursed loud enough for three rows to hear.

Then he rose into the air with a burst of qi, conjuring footholds that shimmered under his feet.

He climbed like he was walking invisible stairs and squinted into the upper tier.

There, array lights outlined a huge sign.

The lights pulsed softly, steady and clear. At the end of the line, words were written in bold, clean script.

[Entrances for Gilded Core and Above Cultivation Stages]

The bald man froze, then grinned so hard it looked like it hurt.

He had read it right. He slipped through the aerial gate and vanished inside.

Below, the crowd erupted.

"That bald man is courting death."

"Did he feed his brain to dogs?"

Ridicule and jeering rolled through the line like stones thrown into water.

Then the bald man’s voice boomed down from above, flustered and pleased all at once.

"Come on. This is an entrance for higher cultivation base. It is fine."

His friends hesitated for a heartbeat, then launched themselves upward. Others followed.

Gilded core. Nascent embryo. Prideful men who would rather risk humiliation than stand in line like mortals.

Nearly a thousand bodies rose into the air, taking the route above, streaking toward the sign like arrows chasing a target.

When they entered, they saw the boards too.

They stopped the same way the merchants had stopped, eyes caught by clean light and flickering numbers.

Some of them had expected tricks. Some had expected inflated prices aimed at draining cultivators dry.

Instead they saw the dots hit clean. The numbers matched what the market should be, not what it wanted to be.

A few of them muttered low, impressed despite themselves.

The new Cairnlight Barterhold had its prices on the mark. However one saw its name had changed.

"Look, they changed the name."

[Welcome to Radeon Terraces]