In Primordial Universe Time-Space, a trading port lay within territory controlled by the Destruction Divine Kingdom Faction.
Transport Ships arrived one after another, filling several outer berths.
Musk, a merchant with a Level-7 Life Level, stood before the cargo hold of a new ship, inspecting its newly installed containment system.
A member of the merchant guild accompanying the inspection handed him the final delivery record.
He did not sign off immediately. Instead, he had one of the units reopened and took out the ice-aspected material inside for inspection.
The material had not melted, but a layer of frost had formed on the other side of the cargo hold where it should not have.
"This section still needs adjusting," he said.
The delivery personnel inspected it carefully. They did not argue and contacted the repair crew at once.
He had checked details like this too many times.
His worst loss had come from a shipment whose containment had failed, allowing two materials with conflicting properties to react during the voyage.
He had earned nothing for transporting it and had paid out most of the savings he had spent so long building up.
Of course, back then he had possessed nowhere near his current strength or wealth.
Before the Destruction Divine Kingdom Faction launched its successive Dimension Wars, he had been only a level-four interstellar merchant from an obscure, low-level Plane World.
His handful of merchant ships could not secure a good berth at any sizable trading port. His routes were largely confined to a few civilizations near his homeworld.
At the time, a level-four Life Level had been enough to transform his standing back home.
Across all of Primordial Universe Time-Space, however, that strength amounted to nothing. He was as small as a speck of dust.
What truly changed his business