Wreckage Harbor churned with undercurrents because of the "Broken Anchor Tavern" incident.
The Black Bone Pirates had suffered a major loss yet remained unusually silent, making Ming Xin's mystery and power all the more awe-inspiring.
All kinds of speculation spread through shadowy corners, but no one dared openly search for or disturb the battered shuttle docked at the edge berths.
Inside an abandoned cargo hold, the Mechanist seized every moment, using every material he could find to carry out basic maintenance on the World-Breaking Shuttle, at least restoring its life-support systems and basic detection functions.
Ming Xin, meanwhile, was like a coiled azure dragon. His aura was completely restrained, but his divine sense scanned all of Wreckage Harbor with the precision of an invisible radar.
He focused on the sources of those "ripples" emitting obscure law fluctuations.
Several had low energy levels, but their circulation patterns bore obvious signs of merchant associations or intelligence organizations;
Two others were deep and obscure, carrying an ancient, orderly aura. They seemed to be secret inheritances that had established footholds here;
And the final—and strongest—"ripple" came from the deepest part of the harbor, a core region known as the "Iron Throne," pieced together from the wrecks of several massive capital ships.
Energy fluctuations there were chaotic, and the auras of powerful figures appeared and vanished. It was clearly the center of power and wealth for the entire market.
"The entrance to the Treasure Exchange Convention is inside the Iron Throne."
"Based on the scraps of information I gathered," the Mechanist confirmed, "but the defenses there are tight. Without an invitation or a recommendation with enough weight, getting in is impossible."
Ming Xin nodded, his gaze calm. He did not need an invitation.
That night, Wreckage Harbor remained brightly lit and as noisy as ever.