[Lord of Abundance] Chapter 17: The Forum

 Chapter 17: The Forum

On the return journey to the Fengrao Domain, the convoy had not only gained cartloads of supplies—but also nine additional passengers.

All of them were mage apprentices recruited by Kun from the Mage Association in Luowos City. Among them were even two Tier 1 mages—local practitioners who had come specifically to study under him.

Unlike warriors, whose path often allowed a master to “lead them through the door” and then let them grow on their own, a mage’s advancement was arduous at every step.

A Tier 1 mage learned Tier 1 spells—but upon advancing to Tier 2, should they not also learn Tier 2 magic?

What about scrolls, grimoires, potions, meditation crystals—should they acquire them or not?

More importantly, with a high-level mentor guiding the way, countless detours could be avoided.

Thus, every Tier 3 Grand Mage was surrounded by lower-tier mages, like stars orbiting a moon.

Of course, high-tier mages also relied on lower-tier ones—to assist in experiments, test theories, and validate magical concepts.

It was, in essence, a mutually beneficial relationship.

Aside from recruiting at the Mage Association, Kun had also posted a mission at the Adventurers’ Guild—to eliminate the Blood-Terror Demon Wolves in the Everdark Forest.

But perhaps the reward was too low. No one had accepted the task.

Living on the edge of a blade didn’t mean treating one’s life as worthless. After all, you only had one.

Even large mercenary groups were unwilling to face hundreds of magical beasts—especially Blood-Terror Demon Wolves, infamous across the continent for their ferocity and vengeful nature.

Although no one had taken the mission, Kun didn’t linger in Luowos City or increase the reward.

The wolf threat was, after all, only speculation. There was no need to overreact.

As long as they stayed cautious until late spring—when the queen gave birth—the wolves would naturally disperse.

A few stragglers wouldn’t pose much danger to the Fengrao Domain.

—

In a smaller carriage within the convoy, several newly recruited mages were chatting—some exchanging magical insights.

An elderly mage with graying hair waved off an apprentice who sought guidance, then leaned closer to a beautiful mage seated by the window. He sighed softly, uncertainty clouding his expression.

“Lady Latifa… do you think we made the right choice?”

Abandoning their positions at the Mage Association in Luowos City to come to a remote corner of the kingdom—all for the pursuit of magic.

Melvord had assumed that, as one of only two official mages here, he would be valued by that lord.

Instead, he had been left to his own devices.

Over the past two days, he and several others had approached the carriage, hoping to seek guidance from the Grand Mage—only to be told by the guards that the lord was meditating and would see no one.

Meditating? In a jolting carriage like this?

Did they take him for some ignorant apprentice?

Yet for two full days, that lord—both ruler and Grand Mage—had not stepped out once. No food had even been delivered inside.

Melvord couldn’t help but wonder—was this the difference between them? Could that man truly meditate in such a chaotic environment?

He had secretly tried it himself.

The result nearly shattered his mental sea. It took him half a day to recover.

Even his normally steady temperament had begun to fray.

Latifa, with chestnut curls and a yellow magic gem dangling from her ear, smiled faintly.

“What’s the point of thinking about it now? We’ve already made our choice. Even if the Grand Mage graciously lets us leave, the Mage Association might not welcome us back.”

It wasn’t that they couldn’t return—but their former positions would be gone.

Positions weren’t kept empty. Once vacated, they were filled. No one would step aside just because they came back.

They were only Tier 1 mages—not insignificant, but not indispensable either.

Without positions, they’d become idle members—no salary, no status. What use was a mere title?

“Besides, we haven’t even reached the territory yet,” Latifa continued calmly. “Since the lord intends to build a domain, he won’t let talents like us sit idle. There will be tasks waiting.

“And once we’ve proven ourselves… do you think he won’t guide us seriously?”

She knew the old man beside her sought advancement out of desperation. After years stuck at Tier 1, he had come here hoping for a new path.

But talent mattered.

Melvord had the title of a formal mage—but at his age, still only Tier 1. His potential was clearly limited.

No wonder the Grand Mage treated him indifferently.

She, however, was different.

She had been personally invited.

And at their first meeting, that man had already pointed out a clear path to Tier 2.

At the thought, a spark of heat flared in her eyes.

She would never forget that moment.

She had been examining six samples of soil, studying their “earth nature.”

Yes—soil, though seemingly uniform, possessed distinct “personalities.”

Frost soil from the northern extremes felt cold and inert. Soil near volcanic regions was far more “active,” producing superior crops.

Comparing their similarities and differences was part of her study as an earth mage.

Then he had casually waved his hand.

The six soil samples… disintegrated and reformed into three hundred sixty crystalline structures.

Large and small. Varied in color. Each with distinct properties.

Even soil from different regions yielded subtly different crystal compositions.

No book. No teacher had ever told her this.

That this… was the true essence of earth magic.

The young Grand Mage had smiled and said:

“As long as you can isolate seven fundamental components from a single soil sample, you’ll reach Tier 2.”

In that moment, Latifa felt she had glimpsed truth itself.

Without hesitation, she resigned from her prestigious post at the Mage Association and followed him here.

There were Tier 3 Grand Mages in Luowos City—but in her eyes, none could compare.

Better to devote her energy to someone who could lead her further along the path of magic.

She had no regrets.

Unlike Melvord, whose spirit had already faltered, Latifa’s only concern was whether she could prove useful.

As long as she had value, she would receive guidance.

As for the Fengrao Domain—whether it was prosperous or barren, thriving or desolate—it didn’t matter.

Her goal had always been singular:

To advance in magic—no matter the cost.

—

The carriage rolled steadily onward.

No one in the convoy knew…

That inside that carriage, there was only a single person—

—or rather, a sleeping shell.

The lord Kun, supposedly meditating within…

…was not there at all.

—

Blue Star. Haicheng.

Wuhu County was where Li Tianyun’s grandparents lived. Whenever his health faltered, he would stay there to recover.

But Haicheng was his true home—where he lived with his parents and younger sister.

A popular drama played on the TV.

Two heads—one big, one small—leaned together on the sofa, watching intently.

“Wuhu~! So cool! That salted fish stick—he fought like a grand warrior! What a talent!”

“Hahaha! The Frozen Fish God truly lives up to his name! Villains aren’t scary—educated villains are! Glasses on, no mercy. Refined scum—my favorite!”

“Dinner’s ready.”

Li Tianyun set the dishes down, speechless.

The two “heartless creatures” had already seated themselves at the table in a flash.

Seriously?

No guilt at all, making a sick man cook?

“Huh? Beans again? Can’t we have some meat? Even steamed fish would be fine!”

Li Xiaoyu waved her arms in protest against vegetable tyranny.

“Exactly! We’re not goats! Eating greens every day—if you like it, eat it yourself! Why drag us into it?”

Kun smacked his lips. The beans weren’t bad—but eating them three meals a day?

Unbearable.

“Eat or don’t. If you’re picky, cook your own. No one’s stopping you.”

Expressionless, Li Tianyun sat down and began eating.

“Tch.”

Li Xiaoyu stuck out her tongue, then turned to Kun.

At the same time, they both spoke:

“Got money? Let’s order delivery.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“…No money.”

“…Never cooked. Not once in my life.”

“…”

“…”

They fell silent, burying their heads in their bowls.

Better to eat quietly—before even the beans disappeared.

“In the afternoon, come with me to an internet café. The buyer for that item has responded.”

“What item?”

“So fast?”

Kun raised an eyebrow. Barely a day, and a buyer already?

“Not fast,” Li Tianyun shook his head.

This wasn’t Yongxu Continent, where a trip for seeds took three days.

On Blue Star, with the internet and nationwide logistics, if you paid enough, lychees picked today could be flown to your door tomorrow.

Selling small items? Incredibly fast.

“You’re being so secretive about selling something. What, as the head of this household, I’m not allowed to know?”

“Head of the household? Eat your food.”

Li Tianyun tapped her with his chopsticks.

Eyes spinning, Li Xiaoyu turned to Kun with a pitiful look.

“Big bro, what are you selling? Something from the old house? Gold bars?”

Kun smiled.

“Not gold. Just a worthless rock. Really.”

Gold wasn’t practical.

He’d need at least ten gold bars just for seeds—plus more for other expenses.

Selling that much at once would attract attention.

And the Fengrao Domain needed gold too—where would he even get enough to melt into bars?

But he needed money here on Blue Star.

Otherwise, relying on low-yield crops from Yongxu Continent wouldn’t meet his goals.

So he and Li Tianyun had decided:

Sell something rare here—but legal.

—

After lunch, they took a ride across half of Haicheng to a shady internet café near a high school.

Inside a private room, Li Tianyun logged into a computer and typed in a string of code, opening a peculiar-looking website.

Kun sat beside him, munching chips, watching with interest.

Computers were still foreign to him.

He could turn them on, watch videos, play simple games—but anything more was… challenging.

“This is an astronomy forum,” Li Tianyun explained. “On the surface, it’s for discussing celestial events.

“But in reality—it’s a meteorite trading platform.”

He clicked a post.

Strange rock photos. Sparse numbers.

Over ten thousand views—but only a handful of comments.

Closing it, he opened another.

“This one’s ours. Someone replied.

“Three buyers are bidding. Starting price was one million—now it’s at 3.33 million.

“If we wait, it could go higher.”

“No need,” Kun said casually, crunching chips. “It’s just a worthless rock. Sell it. No need to drag things out.”

Meteorites were rare—even in his world.

Highly valuable for research.

The Aran family’s treasury had two genuine meteorites—but he wouldn’t sell those.

So this one?

A fake.

Well—not entirely fake.

He had taken a stone from Yongxu Continent and used magic to simulate atmospheric entry—burning and shaping it into a meteorite.

A half-fake.

…