Early in the morning, Zen woke up with his head spinning. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but his biological clock—hardened by years of early morning shifts—forced him awake.
"Ugh…" Zen clutched his head as a wave of vertigo hit him. He fumbled across the bed, reaching for his phone to check the time.
05:30 AM.
"Damn it, I only got two hours of sleep. No wonder my head feels like it's splitting open," Zen cursed under his breath. He was about to close his eyes again and tell himself, "I'm calling in sick today."
But just as he was about to toss the phone back onto the mattress, a small red dot in the notification bar caught his eye. Zen's heart skipped a beat. He swiped down and read the alert.
[BlackMagicReal.com: New Inbox Messages (5)]
Zen's eyes snapped wide open. His drowsiness evaporated instantly. He lunged at the screen to read the messages.
(Sultan): "Is the item still available? What's the price? Send me your location immediately..."
(Irgi): "Excuse me, can I take a look first? I'm from Jogja, where is your shop located?"
(Meng Hao): "Do you truly possess items that resonate with natural energy?"
Zen stared at the screen in disbelief. Five messages, and every single one was asking for his location to see the items in person. But one name among the senders made him freeze: Meng Hao.
"This name... sounds so familiar," Zen muttered. He also noticed the specific term the person used: natural energy. Regardless of the terminology, Zen was certain they meant Mana.
The throbbing in his head vanished. He practically jumped in front of his ancient computer to check the ad dashboard he had set up last night. It turned out his cheap advertisement had actually worked.
The reach map showed clusters of red dots across Java, with a few smaller hits in India and England. Most surprisingly, the ad had reached several areas in China.
"That 150,000 rupiah was well spent," Zen said with a satisfied grin.
His next step was to prepare the "merchandise." He needed to find vintage-looking items at the flea market on the east side of the city. Zen replied to his potential buyers one by one, except for the one from China. For now, he would stick to local transactions while he gauged the market price.
If his predictions were right—that a single item could fetch hundreds of millions or even billions of rupiah—Zen felt he could die a happy man.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Stay focused," he reminded himself. After a quick shower and a light breakfast, Zen headed straight for the flea market.
***
Far from where Zen stood, in the vast lands of China, a majestic temple sat atop a silent mountain peak. The shouts of disciples practicing martial arts echoed through the cold morning air.
On the eastern side of the temple, a small, quiet hut stood beside a pond filled with Yin-Yang koi fish. On the porch, an old man in white robes sat peacefully, painting a bird inside a cage.
The cool mountain breeze occasionally ruffled his long white beard. He took a slow, deep breath of the fresh air before touching the tip of his brush back to the canvas with pinpoint precision.
The painting was nearly finished, with only the detail of the bird's feet remaining. But just as his brush was about to form a perfect curve for the talons, his movement stopped. He glanced toward the temple corridor.
A man in purple robes was walking toward him in a hurry. The old man set down his brush and waited calmly.
"Greetings, Patriarch..."
The man in purple robes gave a deep bow, cupping his hands. He only straightened his back after the old man gave a slight wave.
"What is it, Bao Dao?" the Patriarch asked, his voice soft yet commanding.
Bao Dao, the Sect Leader, let out a heavy sigh, his face etched with stress. "I bring grave news, Patriarch. The Red Lotus Sect is deliberately making it difficult for our members to enter the Bright Cave at the end of Jade Valley. They've set an absurd condition; they demand the Fulamin Mirror Artifact as payment."
The man in white robes remained silent. His face was a mask of calm, though his eyes betrayed a deep weariness.
"I likely only have ten or twenty years left in this world... It seems I cannot even enjoy my old age in peace," the Patriarch said softly.
Hearing this, Bao Dao felt a pang of guilt. As the leader, he felt incompetent that such a matter had to disturb the Patriarch's rest.
"Do what must be done. Do not resist for now. But if they truly wish for a total war, then we shall have no other choice," the Patriarch said, waving his hand to signal the end of the conversation.
Bao Dao bowed again and turned to leave. His mind was in a knot. As the Sect Leader, he no longer knew who else to turn to for help.
He walked through the corridor and back into the main hall. There, his wife and a young girl in a green dress were waiting anxiously.
"Dear... what did the Patriarch say?" his wife asked worriedly.
Bao Dao shook his head weakly. "We must prepare for the worst," he replied. He then turned to the young girl beside his wife.
"Xue Ying... aren't you going to campus today?" he asked gently, stroking his daughter's head with deep affection.