Outworld Liberators-Chapter 172: Opening the Doors of Greed

The unacquitted were let go. They stumbled out blinking, shaking, and the first thing they did was turn on their own blood.

They beat the relatives who had dragged them into this for a good hour, curses spilling until their throats went raw.

Then they found the ringleaders and beat them again, and longer, not caring if they bruised and bled.

Even the children pummeled the cultivators with their small fists with indignation.

They could have all been dead without ever finding out why.

When the rage finally burned down to ash, what remained was not hatred for the Terrace.

It was gratitude. The ghost attendants gave them food and water. They took it with shaking hands like men rescued from drowning.

Those three days had felt like eternity.

Trapped in a body that only knew how to walk, pain driven into spirit instead of flesh, sun burning their faces, birds shitting on them while the crowd watched. The humiliation stuck like tar.

And in the cultivation world, such punishment was not even unusual.

Entire bloodlines were often cut down for one sin, eighteen generations wiped because guilt was treated like a disease in the blood.

No one disputed it. They nodded and called it justice.

By comparison, this pardon was already a miracle, even if it came with scars the eye could not see.

When the chained were released, most people barely cared what happened next on that street. Their attention had already shifted.

Everyone was gathering in the Social and Gaming District of the Radeon Terraces. The largest area within the Radeon Terraces.

People had played dice, mahjong, and gambled on arena bouts since before they learned to walk, but Radeon did not open his establishment the day after the auction.

He waited. He let the punishment do its work first. He let the city swallow the lesson.

Honest. Just. Ruthless.

It was the best reputation a merchant could have. People respected you, even revered you, but they could still see the sharp maw behind the smile.

They could speak to you without flinching because they knew where the line was, and they knew you would bite if they crossed it.

The Social and Gaming District was a large, walled-off section that no outsiders could see.

From above, one could only make out a green, deathly fog. It would stare back, growing literal eyes if you looked at it too long.

At every entrance, large signs hung, bright and impossible to ignore.

[Rules and Regulation of the Social and Gaming District.]

[1. Scrying, recording, spying, and divination arts are prohibited inside.]

[2. Each door requires five copper coins to enter and to exit. Those with Radeon Terraces Banking have exclusive entrances and exits, free of charge.]

[3. Your identity will be hidden once inside. Do not meddle with or tamper with the mask provided.]

[4. Please observe silence for the enjoyment of other players.]

[5. A map of the area may be purchased for 10 copper at the entrance.]

[6. Artifacts, accessories, and other trinkets that boost physical prowess are prohibited for fairness.]

[7. Qi mobilization is prohibited. In an emergency, qi will be returned. Note that your identity may be revealed during such emergencies.]

[8. Some prices not paid in gold or spirit stones may take time to prepare. Our establishment is required to pay the stated price within one month.]

[9. This establishment is for gambling, luck, and fortune. We do not advise making this your livelihood unless you are confident in your skills.]

[10. You will be asked for a username before you can play. It is a temporary name of your choosing. Think carefully, as no two usernames may be the same. Charges will apply if you want it changed.]

[11. Only those with a bone age above 21 may enter. No exceptions, even if you are the Immortal God of Heaven.]

People were shocked by how serious the place was. The last rule deterred the younger folks from participating.

They thought it was unfair, but those were the rules.

They still loved their lives too much to cause trouble here.

Some had come only to look, expecting a simple den of dice and drink. The rules hit them like a closed door.

No spying. No scrying. Silence. No qi. Even the way in and out had a fee.

Five copper was not a huge sum, but it was irritating in a particular way. Anyone with a decent income did not carry copper around.

Copper was for beggars, for street snacks, for petty tolls. People carried silver. They carried spirit stones. Copper came in sacks.

So the rule forced a choice right at the threshold. Lug bags of copper like a miser. Or open a bank account and walk through clean.

Radeon had misjudged how cautious people would be.

He had expected a flood, a million accounts in three days, the city rushing to trade fear for convenience.

Instead, only eight hundred thousand people had activated their cards. Too many still trusted their own hiding places more than a new institution, no matter how ironclad the Terrace looked.

That was why the Social and Gaming District entrances also offered cards on the spot.

Each branch was not a grand marble bank with visible vaults. It was a small room, plain and efficient, a place to register, verify, and move wealth without ceremony.

Radeon adjusted without complaint. He had built the system to bend, and the crowd was teaching him where it needed to.

[Radeon Terraces Bank] (Charges incurred every month.)

[Junior Accounts Available here.]

[Deposited Amount] [1 Gold to 100 Gold] [25 Copper]

People who had already lined up began to grumble, then began to fold.

They opened accounts anyway, telling themselves it was only a what if.

’What if this was my time to rise.’

’What if this was the door Heaven never bothered to open before.’

’We all know Eldric is fair, would he really rob anyone of a chance at fortune.’

’And if qi and cultivation are forbidden inside, doesn’t that mean the games are all skill.’

’No hidden strength. No energy tricks. No cutivator bullying a mortal with their profound ways.’

That thought alone was enough to make a cautious man step forward.

Then the twenty thousand who had attended the auction added credibility to what already on the surface.

They boasted loudly, praising the crafts and wares as if they had personally forged them, as if the Terrace had handed them heavenly blessings and a story to tell.

Ears twitched. Heads turned. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Yes. It was a Five Elements God Pillar, just a tad taller than a few men. I tell you, Master Eldric sold it for mere chum change."

"He even sold godly panacea. Make a mortal into cultivators, I say. Ask that fellow over there. Let me eat shit if I lie."

"Cannons in one hand could disintegrate City Lords, I tell you. If I had the money I would’ve bought one."

The gossip did its work. Half hearted wills hardened. Men who meant only to watch found themselves in orderly lines, coins ready, eyes bright.

Goldman was among the first.

He put on the mask with practiced ease.

His features did not change, but his skin turned pale, almost transparent.

Black veins rose beneath it like ink poured under glass. One would think he had become a ghost.

The mask seemed to embed into his flesh, sealing with a quiet finality.

It all happened in an instant.

Goldman felt nothing.

A dozen heartbeats later, the change settled, and a board lit up in front of him.

[Please enter your username.]

His fingers hovered, then wrote the letters down.

[G O L D]

Elsewhere, Emperor Tiberius came alone. He had reprimanded his men for the ruckus outside, and he did not want a parade here.

He was already masked before stepping into the district, confident no one could spot him.

Then he saw an old man wearing a similar mask. Gregodor.

Tiberius did not call him out. He did not want to test whether the old bastard had some technique that could turn recognition into trouble.

Their eyes met for a heartbeat, cold and knowing, and both pretended they had seen nothing at all.

Two hundred fifty six entrances ran at the same time, swallowing people in batches.

Inside, they met in a long corridor that stayed dim no matter how many lamps were set along it.

No one shouted for companions.

Gambling was still frowned upon, still something many did in secret.

Yet here, under Eldric’s rules, men enjoyed.

At the end of the corridor, a glow waited.

No matter how hard they squinted, the light blurred, as if the air refused to show it cleanly.

There was also a sound, faint and constant, an almost imperceptible clicking that made the skin prickle.

When they reached the chamber, everyone stopped.

Stupefied. The light was not from lamps.

It was from treasure.

Walls rose dozens of meters high, stacked and flowing with spirit stones, middle grade and high grade alike, their glow turning the room into a cold sunrise.

In the center, gold coins fell like a waterfall, a torrential sheet of metal clattering into a basin below, the source hidden, the stream endless.

On one side, weapons were displayed that men would kill for.

Brand new swords that felt like they could cut you with a glance.

Spears that made the heart stutter. Axes that seemed too eager.

The walls were decorated with them by the hundreds, each one a promise of blood.

On another side, skeleton hands lay arranged in neat rows, each one exuding a deathly aura that made mortals swallow and cultivators go still.

Beneath them, a simple label.

[Secret Realm Pass]

Players, mortals and cultivators alike, had never seen so much wealth gathered in one place, let alone flowing so freely.

There were also carriages displayed behind glass, each one uniquely shaped, their specifications written down.

One could turn invisible. Another could fly. Another could blaze through mountain peaks with demon-like speed.

One would say it was like a museum of treasures a man could only dream of.

Yet that was not what held their eyes. It was the small letters beneath each display.

Simple black letters, illuminated, calm as a verdict.

[All Price Currently Up For Grabs.]