Chapter 68: Arrival at Spirit Island

“These slaves are connected to the lord of Donglai Immortal Village,” Chang, the deputy shipmaster, explained to Ye Mo, clearly troubled. “Captain Feng swindled and abducted a large number of slaves from Donglai and other countries, all with the intent to sell them to Donglai Immortal Village. Slaves are in high demand on Spirit Island. The mines require a great many laborers.”

“Killing Captain Feng is a small matter, but if we don’t sell the slaves to the Immortal Village, we’ll surely offend the lord of Donglai Immortal Village.”

“The mists around Spirit Island keep all mundane ships at bay. Ordinary martial artists’ ships can’t enter at all. Why was Captain Feng’s ship allowed through the fog? It’s because he was trafficking slaves and had the lord of Donglai’s permission. Without that, his ship would never have gotten in.”

Ye Mo’s expression darkened. “And if I refuse to sell them, what will happen? Will the Immortal Village refuse our ship entry, or forcibly seize the slaves?”

“That won’t happen,” Chang replied. “These slaves haven’t yet been sold to the village—the right to their disposal remains in your hands, and the lord of Donglai Immortal Village won’t attempt to take them by force. However, it’s extremely difficult for martial artists to survive on Spirit Island. Even if you grant them their freedom, some won’t last long before selling themselves back into slavery. Unless, of course, you, Immortal Master, can find a way to settle them and offer them a path forward.”

“Is it truly that difficult?” Ye Mo was taken aback. “I’ve only just broken through to the Nascent Soul stage and arrived at Spirit Island for the first time. I’m still figuring out how to cultivate here; how could I possibly settle them?”

Chang forced a bitter smile. He could see Ye Mo had no intention of gathering these captives under his banner.

“In the last skirmish, many captives and pirates died on the ship. You can select a few capable martial artists to form the crew. As for the rest, let them go as they please.” Ye Mo paused, then added, “Regardless of what the situation is on the island, we should keep this ship. If we can’t stay here, we’ll need to sail elsewhere.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll see to it at once!” Chang responded promptly.

…

The great sea ship sailed slowly out of the fog, and before them appeared a massive island. Wisps of mist floated above lush green trees, the air alive with spiritual energy.

At the edge of the Spirit Island was a grand port, bustling with activity. Dozens of ships, large and small, were docked there, and crowds of people bustled about.

The martial artists on Ye Mo’s ship rushed to the railings, gazing in excitement at the distant Spirit Island.

“Donglai Spirit Island!”

“We’ve arrived—we’re finally at Donglai Immortal Village!” They cheered, unable to contain their excitement. For them, this was the place where their dreams of immortality might come true.

Ye Mo, too, gazed at the island with excitement. Even the smallest vessel at the dock was as large as his own. There were several enormous, luxuriously adorned ships, hundreds of feet in length and as imposing as small mountains, each bearing different banners. Some were private ships, others belonged to merchant guilds or various organizations.

At the dock, martial artists hauled heavy crates and spirit wood off cargo vessels. “Those grand ships belong to cultivators,” Chang explained with envy. “They’re made from tier-three spirit wood, able to withstand moderate sea storms. Even ordinary sea monsters can hardly damage them. The laborers at the dock are all martial artists. Immortals won’t bother with such menial work, so martial artists do it for silver and gold.”

“Gold and silver? Even here on Spirit Island?” Ye Mo was surprised.

“That’s right. Martial artists earn gold and silver for their labor, which they use to buy mundane herbs and temper their bodies. Only immortals trade in spirit stones and spiritual goods among themselves,” Chang replied.

Ye Mo sighed inwardly. Working hard here every day, how could anyone pursue immortality? If not for his stroke of fortune on that nameless sea island, wouldn’t he be just like these other martial artists?

Ye Mo’s ship finally docked. He disembarked with Mo Ling, Wang Hu, Yang You, Gao Jian, Huang Yi, and a dozen or so martial artists, stepping onto solid ground at last. The other martial artists, brimming with excitement, poured ashore to glimpse the Immortal Village for themselves. Having regained their freedom, Ye Mo rarely restrained them.

He took a deep breath. After more than a month at sea, enduring countless hardships, the feeling of firm ground beneath his feet filled him with a profound sense of security. Spirit Island was far more reassuring than drifting on a raft across the endless ocean.

Ye Mo felt his spirits lift. The very air here seemed to pulse with vitality.

Was there spiritual energy in the air itself?

He suddenly recalled a mention in the ancient cultivation manual left by Li Zhao: Spirit Island’s aura was said to be far denser than that of ordinary places, making it ideal for cultivation. Now, breathing in the island’s air, Ye Mo felt invigorated and clear-headed. He’d sensed as much as their ship had drawn near, but now, standing on the island, the sensation was unmistakable.

No wonder the place was called Donglai Spirit Island. The Immortal Village must have been built here precisely for the concentration of spiritual energy, making it a haven for cultivators. Ye Mo pondered this silently.

“What are those massive wooden stakes for?” Wang Hu asked in surprise, pointing at rows of enormous spirit wood posts behind the dock. The thickest were more than two or three feet in diameter, even the slenderest more than a foot wide, and they were packed so closely together it would be difficult for a person to squeeze through.

Everyone stared in awe. They had never seen spirit wood so large. On their previous nameless island, the spirit woods were no thicker than a bowl.

“That’s the port’s beast-ward wall, meant to fend off sea monsters and protect the dock. Those are all tier-two or even tier-three spirit woods. But don’t even think about touching them—anyone caught will be executed on the spot, no mercy whatsoever. It’s a matter of port security! The walls of Donglai Immortal Village itself are also built from tier-three spirit wood, incredibly thick and sturdy,” Chang explained, knowing they were all newcomers.

As they walked further into the port, another large ship came in and docked nearby. This one was significantly larger than Ye Mo’s, though not among the most luxurious; its materials were clearly of at least mid-tier spirit wood, and it was elegantly outfitted, flying a banner marked “Zheng”—obviously a private vessel belonging to a cultivator.

With so many ships in port, Ye Mo and his group paid little attention to the new arrival.

“Ha! Deputy Shipmaster Chang, long time no see! Where’s Captain Feng? How’s the ‘cargo’ this time?” A rotund, richly dressed middle-aged martial artist strode over from within the port, recognizing Chang at a glance and greeting him with a booming laugh.

Chang hurried over and exchanged a few words with him. After a moment, the man’s expression changed to one of surprise, and he shot Ye Mo a strange, dissatisfied look before turning away without further action.

“Immortal Master, that man is a snakehead,” Chang reported with a wry smile. “He works at the island’s mines, handling the acquisition of slaves. He came to ask the price for this shipment. I told him the ship has changed hands and we won’t be selling slaves this time. He didn’t seem pleased! But I mentioned you are an immortal, so he didn’t dare press the issue.”

Ye Mo watched the man’s retreating figure and shook his head. By saving all those captives from the pirate ship, he’d cut off the snakehead’s source of profit. That man was bound to be displeased.

“What’s his background? Could he cause trouble?” Mo Ling asked anxiously.

“I’m not sure. He’s just an ordinary martial artist, but he’s backed by immortals from the mines. Private fighting is forbidden on Spirit Island, so he probably won’t dare act rashly,” Chang replied, still uneasy.

“There’s no point worrying about him. Let’s go see Donglai Immortal Village! We’d be better off settling in and improving our strength as soon as possible,” Ye Mo said lightly, unwilling to spare further thought for the snakehead. The others nodded and prepared to leave the port for the Immortal Village.

Just then, from the newly docked ship flying the “Zheng” banner, a group of martial artists in fine clothing descended, surrounding a dignified, middle-aged cultivator. Closest by his side was a young martial artist in elaborate attire, who seemed deferential and familiar with the older man. The two walked together, conversing quietly.

“Yi Qing, this is Donglai Spirit Island. Though the village here is only a settlement by immortal standards, don’t think of it as a mundane hamlet. The strength of such an Immortal Village surpasses even the capitals of the mightiest kingdoms on the Nine Provinces Continent!”

“Thank you, Uncle, for your guidance. I understand! Please be careful as you disembark,” Zheng Yiqing replied respectfully, helping the middle-aged cultivator.

Zheng Yiqing marveled at his own luck. After attacking Ye Mo’s group and failing, he and seven or eight followers fled in desperation on a spirit wood raft, drifting east toward Donglai Immortal Village. They were lost at sea for some time, losing several men, before finally being rescued by a passing immortal’s ship. As fate would have it, the ship’s owner was Zheng Hongjun—a cultivator of Donglai Immortal Village and, astonishingly, a member of the Zheng clan of Zheng Kingdom.

After comparing their family lineage, they discovered that Zheng Hongjun was Yiqing’s uncle: Yiqing’s great-grandfather, the former king of Zheng, was Hongjun’s grandfather. This uncle had left Zheng Kingdom as a youth to pursue cultivation with a wandering cultivator from the Eastern Sea.

Just when he was at the brink of despair, Zheng Yiqing had encountered a long-lost immortal relative. Such luck was so extraordinary that even Yiqing himself could scarcely believe it.