Volume One: Days in the Shantytown - A Small Business (Part One)

Splash! Luo Qian plunged into an icy pool and cursed in fury. "Damn it! My outfit worth seven hundred standard Immortal Jade is ruined!"

"Mommy, why is that man bathing in the fountain?" A little girl tugged her mother's hand and pointed at Luo Qian, who stood dripping in the fountain at the center of the square. People streamed past. Luo Qian was in the Mortal Realm, in the dead of winter!

Luo Qian could travel in and out of the Immortal Realm undetected because he possessed a special skill that let him sneak down from it. He was an immortal type so unlucky that one appeared only once in five thousand years: a Tribulation Immortal. In the Immortal Realm, Tribulation Immortals were nicknamed "Salted Fish Immortals." They had earned the name because, for a long time after ascension, they were hopelessly weak—so weak that even after three hundred years, they might not advance from the second tier to the third.

But a Tribulation Immortal faced a calamity every five hundred years. Survive it, and the salted fish could flip over, gaining power deeper than an ordinary immortal might earn through five hundred years of grueling cultivation! That chance to turn their fortunes around did not come easily. The Immortal Realm was not safe, and most Tribulation Immortals vanished like smoke before that day arrived.

Those who entered the Dao through martial arts became Mystic Immortals, the immortal type with the greatest talent for combat. Those who entered through the mystic arts became Spirit Immortals, the type most gifted in spellcraft. Those who entered with ghostly bodies became Soul Immortals, while those who entered with demon bodies became Demon Immortals. Both types ranked below Mystic and Spirit Immortals in talent for combat and spellcraft.

There were also the legendary True Immortals, whose combat prowess matched Mystic Immortals and whose spellcraft matched Spirit Immortals. One might not appear in a thousand years!

Other immortal types were rarer still, such as Tribulation Immortals and Virtue Immortals. No one knew why Tribulation Immortals appeared, only that they were even rarer than True Immortals. Because they were almost useless before their great five-hundred-year calamity, Heaven granted each of them compensation. It might be a life-saving immortal art, an Immortal Artifact for defeating enemies, or a wondrous cave abode. Luo Qian's compensation was the secret art that let him sneak down from the Immortal Realm without being detected. It was this art that had emboldened him to take up smuggling.

Virtue Immortals, meanwhile, had entered the Dao through virtue. People of noble character could become immortals too; since ancient times, countless stories had told of people who sacrificed themselves to save others and were carried to heaven by golden dragons. Virtue Immortals had attained lofty realms but possessed little fighting strength. Even so, their high attainment made them prominent in the Immortal Realm. They held a third of the posts across its four levels of government: palaces, terraces, courts, and offices.

At the city's famous electronics mall, Luo Qian, now dressed in a cheap Giordano casual outfit, flushed red and roared at the shopkeeper, "This is the latest energy-saving technology you promised me? Damn it, it didn't even last four hours! I want a refund!"

"A refund?" The stall owner, a woman who looked remarkably like Sister Furong, stared at him as though he had arrived from Mars. "Ask around! When has Sister Hanpang ever given a refund in this market? Look, look!" Her sausage-thick finger slapped a battered paper sign with a sharp crack. "All sales final! No refunds or exchanges! It's right there in black and white..."

Luo Qian was a smuggler, not a fishwife. He turned to leave—but walked back and forth past her shop, his feet tracing a strange pattern. At Sister Hanpang's doorway, he laid the simplest first-grade Immortal Formation: the Flowing Water Formation. Money would flow like water, heading east never to return. It was a simple formation for scattering wealth. In the Immortal Realm, it could not have dislodged a bone from the mouth of a watchdog at the Palace of the Numinous Sky. But in the Mortal Realm, it was a bona fide Immortal Formation! Good heavens, was an Immortal Formation something to trifle with? Luo Qian spat viciously. "That's what you get for selling me shoddy goods! Damn it, even smugglers have a reputation to uphold, and you're selling fakes..."

Luo Qian stalked away. Several invisible currents circled the once-bustling shop twice, then drifted out through the door like a light breeze. Several customers in the middle of negotiating large orders suddenly found the shop's products less appealing the longer they looked. One after another, they rose to leave. The fat woman scrambled to stop them. "What happened just now was a misunderstanding! That man's a thug. He's always swindling people around the market. We sell him good merchandise, and he swaps it for something broken outside before coming back to demand a refund. I'm the only one who can handle him. I'm telling the truth..."

Unfortunately for her, the Immortal Formation had already taken effect. The customers were not leaving because she had shouted in the street; they simply no longer liked her goods. "That little brat ruined everything!" the woman snarled.

Luo Qian had no time to wrangle with her. Every extra hour he spent in the Mortal Realm increased the danger. The people at the Immortal Apprehension Office were no pushovers. If they found him, a First-Rank Immortal, he would not survive the first strike of the Kun Dragon Whisker.

The Nine Ranks of Immortal Officials and the Nine Tiers of Immortals worked in opposite directions: the lower an official's rank, the higher his office; the higher an immortal's tier, the greater his strength. A First-Rank Immortal... well, almost anyone who ascended could manage that.

Luo Qian owned a place in the city. He had neither an identity card nor a household registration booklet, but what did that matter? The city had plenty of housing converted from urban villages. Pay the money, take the key, and move in. There was no property title, but it was cheap. Luo Qian did not intend to sell the place, so that saved him money.

The room contained almost nothing. Its most striking feature was a row of rapid chargers. Luo Qian took out his high-capacity batteries and plugged them into the chargers arranged in an array. Then he clasped his hands behind his head and dropped into a comfortable recliner. Luo Qian might be a profiteer, but he was no Scrooge; he cared about the quality of his life. The recliner was the latest design, soft and comfortable. A world-famous chain specializing in conceptual furniture had charged him three thousand dollars for it.

Reclining in the S-shaped chair, Luo Qian stretched contentedly and muttered, "If life can be like this, why bother becoming an immortal?" The thought of how he had become one spoiled his good mood. He sat up and sighed. "Forget it. Better think of something I can take up there to make money..."

His gaze fell on the chair beneath him, and inspiration struck. "How could I be so stupid? The perfect thing was right under me."

Furniture. Immortal Realm furniture was certainly beautiful, but for practicality and comfort, it fell far short of furniture in the Mortal Realm. Humans truly were lazy creatures. Immortals had to cultivate too, often even more obsessively than mortal cultivators. Cultivation meant sitting in meditation, sometimes for years at a stretch. Even an immortal body could not stand that; aching backs and sore waists had become occupational hazards for Immortals. Give those cultivation fanatics a Massage Chair, and the Immortal Realm would surely be perfect in their eyes.

Luo Qian felt certain the business would work. But soon he frowned. A very real problem stood before him: he could not carry a massive Massage Chair into the Immortal Realm.

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