Chapter 263

Chapter 263: Monsoon Fleet

The entire Sea of Clouds was artificially divided by its inhabitants into two main regions: the East Sea and the West Sea.

If the Sky Arena stood as the West Sea’s most renowned landmark, the East Sea’s counterpart was the Monsoon Ship Market—a hub of commerce and wealth.

The Monsoon Ship Market wasn’t a single floating island but a cluster of over a dozen.

Long ago, its founder had a bold vision. He recruited the greatest alchemists and designers of the era, rallying survivors from both the heavens and the Demon Realm to overhaul dozens of small floating islands. Massive engines and propulsion systems were added, transforming them into flying platforms akin to Skyships, operable by intelligent races.

These modified islands were then linked together with countless corridors and passageways, forming a colossal floating metropolis.

Too massive to rely on engines alone for movement, the island cluster depended on the East Sea’s unique seasonal winds to navigate. These winds, combined with the Skyship-like islands, earned the region its name: the Monsoon Fleet.

Over millennia, it grew into the East Sea’s most bustling center.

"The Fleet’s greatest significance lies in its joint creation by survivors of the heavens and the Demon Realm," Victoria explained, her voice light as she walked arm-in-arm with Midi. Dressed in refined simplicity, the heavenly girl leaned against the human youth like a sparrow perching on a branch. "Though ancient wars once made them enemies, here in the Sea of Clouds, they chose peace. The Fleet became their shared symbol."

Her words were mirrored by the crowds around them. Tall, graceful People of the Heavens in tailored robes mingled with Demon Realm natives cloaked in dark attire, their magic waves rippling faintly. Dragonkin towered alongside dark elves of striking beauty—races that had clashed for millennia now traded and conversed freely. Even humans from Arad, like Midi, were beginning to join this tapestry.

The Fleet’s founder had possessed extraordinary foresight. Commerce, it seemed, could bridge even the oldest hatreds.

For Midi and Victoria, business didn’t mean minding a shop. Once their spices reached port, Rothschild Guild agents handled the rest. Initially, Victoria had planned to dump the cargo swiftly, regardless of market prices—time was precious, and her brothers might scheme if she lingered too long from the Guild’s headquarters.

But witnessing Midi slay the kilometer-long cloud beast changed everything. Internal power struggles now felt trivial. With Midi’s strength, seizing control of the Rothschild Guild seemed assured. Her ambitions had shifted to the Stormy Region’s legendary treasures.

The spice profits would suffice for Guild politics, but breaching the Stormy Region demanded more. This was where the Ice Soul Pearl came in.

Forged from star-like entities and centuries of icy mists, infused with cloud beast consciousness, the pearl was a mastercrafted material. It could birth devastating ice weapons or armor impervious to flame. Yet its true worth lay in alchemical potions.

Midi’s past-life knowledge affirmed its value: post-awakening practitioners, especially ice-aligned magic users, gained exponentially purified magic through such elixirs. In the Sea of Clouds’ lawless expanse, the Ice Soul Pearl wasn’t just treasure—it was raw power incarnate.

Who wouldn’t want it?

Victoria believed presenting the Ice Soul Pearl would attract all powerful factions in the Monsoon Fleet within an hour.

But her focus had shifted from merely selling it at high price to building a brand through this opportunity.

After all, Midi made hunting cloud beasts sound simple—he’d handle it personally if needed. With the Spice Route, they could keep obtaining Ice Soul Pearls.

Victoria now strategized how to create a long-term high-end market, maintaining monopoly profits while staying hidden.

After much planning and testing, she settled on the method—

Auction.

"This is Venus Auction House. Not the largest or most famous in the Sea of Clouds, but the highest-end. They only sell master-certified top-tier equipment, rare materials, and legendary skill/spell heritages. All major factions like our Rothschild Guild station agents here," Victoria explained as they faced a plain building across the fountain square.

The structure bore an antique copper plate with golden planet markings. Though modest compared to surrounding buildings, its simplicity radiated quiet arrogance amidst the luxury—how else would such "ordinary" architecture survive the Monsoon Fleet’s land crunch?

"Who owns it?" Midi asked casually, though truly needing one answer—it mustn’t be Blue Truth Sect. That Stormy Region powerhouse with its supreme expert remained too dangerous during his dormant phase. Losing some profit beat confronting them.

"Owners stay hidden, but Rothschild intelligence suggests it’s the Monsoon Fleet itself," Victoria stated with 90% certainty.

Midi nodded. "Your show now."

"Leave it to me." She adjusted her gold-crystal glasses professionally, mischief glinting behind them.

Inside contradicted the plain exterior. No gaudy decor—the luxury lay in architecture. Upon entering, Midi felt thickened magic cycling perfectly, reminiscent of Belmar’s Autumn Ancient City training ground built over Mist Sorceress Alice’s magic veins.

But magic veins didn’t exist here—only floating islands, no proper land. This circulation meant an artificial magic array fueled by pricey magic crystals. A true flex of wealth.

Midi merely raised an eyebrow. After three days in Dragon’s Blood White Crystal Pool’s crushing energy, this felt like a breeze. As an Awakened One, he craved Radiance of Light now, not pure magic.

Yet others saw differently. For regular practitioners, this was a cultivation paradise. Even tycoons instinctively absorbed the dense magic upon entering—like smelling good food.

Midi didn’t. Not faking indifference, but truly unaffected.

How?