The antiques found in the depths of the Green River were displayed on glass cases. Some were pieces of craftsmanship from a long-gone age, some were fossilized organic beings, while some were unknown pieces of machinery and weaponry. A word popped up in my mind as I gazed at them. Museum.
"Is there anything better?" I asked.
"There is, but we have to pay in order to see it."
"Alright, let's see it then?"
The fighter blinked.
"I prefer going through the drinks here, but if you're curious, I'll accompany you."
"Thanks."
We made our way to the counter where, a small, rotund man, with balding hair and goggles, could be heard talking quite rudely to a customer. Contrary to the usual tropes you might find in cultivation stories, however this time, the shopkeeper had the momentum instead of the complaining customer.
This argument might lead to some interesting development, that's why we stood close to both of them, while also minding our distance so we will not get caught up in anything tedious.
"I said it already, I don't have enough money!" Said the customer.
"Look at how vibrant your clothes are and say that again, boy!" The shop owner replied.
"In the first place, I already paid the viewing fee, why should I pay extra!"
The shop owner pointed at something on the wall. It was a sign that said, 'Extra fees will be charged to people from affluent families'.
"This viewing shop could only continue operating by charging high for people with extra money, and low for people without it." He explained.
The customer clicked his tongue.
"Anyway, I won't be paying extra, and that is final!"
"You won't be saying that no more when I tell your father what you did!"
"Keep on bluffing old coot, I'd love to see you try!"
The two then proceed to squabble even more, and the arguments, by the second, were becoming more and more childish. The other customers were watching over them fondly, weirdly enough. Soon, the question as to why their ruckus was seen as something endearing, was answered.
"Grandpa!!" Said the customer, with an eye full of tears.
"Grandson!!" Said the shop owner, also with an eye full of tears.
"I'm sorry!!!!" Both of them said at the same time.
"Grandpa, I promise I will pay my dues…" He said with glistening eyes.
"Grandson, I promise I will be kinder to you…" He also said it with glistening eyes.
And they both hugged, made up, and all is well. Except for me and my expectations. I have been betrayed. Time. And time. Again. What I thought will be a good show about a huffing and puffing second-generation beatdown after he met an old master, turns out to be a squabble between a grandpa with his grandson. The squabble ain't even real.
The crowd cheered and clapped, and the pair who did the performance bowed with great relish. Their actions spurred the crowd even more, as the pair were thrown flowers, cash, coins, and the like.
"Is this normal?" I asked the fighter, my expression deadpan and unimpressed while pointing at both the crowd and performer.
"Yeah, it's my third time watching them. The sudden drama this time is quite hilarious."
I shook my head, saying, "Man, you guys are weird."
"About that, brother Cho. Towns under the bureaucracy, in particular, had little to no entertainment available, all in the name of keeping the public order and being nice-looking." He quietly informed me.
"I see, that's why they devised their own way to have fun, is it?"
"Uh, no. They were just hooked on dramas in particular because of a troupe that once performed here."
The unexpected reply almost threw my balance off.
"A troupe?" I asked.
"Yes. Legends said they appeared suddenly, and after a night's worth of performance, unforgettable by the residents, they disappeared into the moonlit sky."
"They left quietly, you mean?"
"No, they disappeared. Vanished in front of them, never to be seen again."
"Now I'm interested. What's the troupe's name?"
"Something Du Ji Er, I forgot the first part of their name."
"Hmm, if you forgot, then that's that." Adding on that reply, I asked, "Back at the entertainment part, that means their only entertainment was stuff like these?"
"On the surface, yes. The locals actually have an underwater den full of entertainment, such as brothels, gambling palaces, and more. It was something along the lines of a public secret. Do you want to visit there?"
"An underwater den, huh? That sounds fun, when should we go?"
"We'll go tonight, then."
ζ|||ζ
With the sudden grandpa-grandson performance done, the crowd dispersed. Some went back to their seats and enjoyed their drinks like nothing had happened, while some went to other stores.
"Friends from afar, do you want to see the antiques I've gathered?" The shop owner suddenly offered.
His tone was a tad bit higher than before with a perfect customer service smile, while his right hand rubbed the left one back and forth. Truly the best shady merchant impression I have ever seen.
"How much for the fee?" I inquired, curious.
Based on that performance from before, the rules of this shop became apparent. The more you have, the more you give. I don't know yet why such a rule was enforced here, but if I have to guess, then my best bet was for a social commentary.
"5 taels per person, no more, no less. We charged the standard rate for travellers."
It seems that travellers were exempt from the rule. Realizing that I carried no money on me, I looked to the fighter for confirmation, and he nodded.
"Alright, we'll enter."
"Here's ten taels, please check it."
After hearing my confirmation, the fighter reached for his pouch and gave the shop owner a bunch of papers. Based on this interaction, it would be safe to assume that printing technologies already existed. The papers he gave the shop owner itself all had a symbol, date of creation, nominal, and finally the ruling body's approval in the form of a sign. There were slight differences in each paper's thickness, and ink smudges were present on some of it, leading me to believe that their printing and papermaking technology was either a new addition to their civilization, or was not in the right condition to mature just yet.
The shop owner inspected the bills, and after checking them for a while, he nodded. After folding them carefully, he pulled a drawer from behind the counter and placed the neatly folded bills there.
"I've received ten taels, both of you may enter and exit whenever you like, there is no time limit. Just don't touch any of the displays."
"Can we take a closer look?" I asked.
"As long as you are not touching it. Oh, before you go in, please leave any sharp objects and the like behind with me."
With all procedures done, including the sharp objects check, we finally entered the shop's museum, or as they called it, the viewing room.
The room's interior was similar to the one outside. The only difference was less clutter, cleaner walls, and one large painting at the end of the room. On it was the image of a green river that came to be from a mountain, rushing through the woods into the plains, and finally dying at the sea.
"The Green River," I muttered. "He should have placed this outside, the customers would be happy to see this."
"Brother Cho, look at this."
The fighter's call broke my reverie. He had his index finger pointed at something, and I let my vision wander there. It was a piece of paper. Old looking, with damages I'm certain, came from prolonged contact with water, which in theory should've washed away all of its ink.
"What do you think of it, Lin?"
"It's older than I think."
"Older than you think? By how many years?"
"Today is the 18th day of the last trimester of Spring of the Azure Dragon Calendar, and the year is 1365, while that document was signed on the year 235 of the Golden Calendar. I'm amazed there is something this old in front of me. Even the tombs of immortals I've visited were not that old."
"How do you know it was something from that long ago?"
"I've seen it in the Capital."
Thinking of the Capital, the fighter replied with a sour face, though it faded as quickly as it came.
I nodded in acknowledgement, then asked the system almost immediately.
'System, what's the Golden Calendar?'
[It's the tool the people of the last era used to count their days. The document before you is a genuine article.]
'That's it, no more exposition?'
[Your permission level is not enough to know that information. The system prays for the host to start busting out knowledge after knowledge to the people.]
'Damn it, permission level again? How much do I really need in order to get that information, then?'
[You need permission level 2 in order to access everything about the last era of this planet.]
'Fine, I'll get to it later.'
From that small back and forth, I gleamed a clue. The last era had something to do with what the system said about consequences and obstacles in my path before.
Seeing me looking at the document for a little bit too long, the fighter started explaining what he knew about the remains of the last era.
"Only the Country had stuff like this. I wonder how the shop owner managed to retain it here. Items from the last era like these usually carried some kind of power or even worse, a curse."
His explanation fell on deaf ears. I was captivated by the document.
"Is that so? I think I'll study this document here a bit. You can look around the place, Lin."
It seems that the fighter heard the urgency in my tone, at least that's what I'd like to think. He left me here staring at the document, with my mind lost, drifting about in the silence.
All kinds of thought sprouted seemingly at random, though there was no pattern to it, a theme could be discerned.
'Am I being played? Was there something sinister under all this? Why me, a nobody? Who placed me here? There must be some kind of higher power at play here. The journey I took, though insignificant, was full of fun and games. But the world was not made of fun and games, there will be a flip side to the coin, and I dread the time it came to me. I need the power to keep everything at bay. I need strength to protect. Power to stave off hunger. Strength to crush all problems. Power over my enemies. Strength to grant them death. Death. Death. Sweet sweet death.' Someone spoke in the recesses of my mind.
He spoke of self-doubt and desperation and clinging for the light, corrupted, like a moth drawn to a flame. The theme of his play was the emotion of fear, and its hero, the primal man with the reptile brain.
Such thoughts continued swirling in the chaos of my mind, yet my self kept its serenity. "I" am at the centre of it all. The eye of the storm. The lighthouse of reason.
The clawing darkness outside grasped at me, yet my defences grew taut. It thrashed and throbbed in vain; every time it moved, it grew weaker.
Finally, it spoke of its great masters in its desperate attempts to flee.
"The great tomb of Ph-"
[Begone.]
Before I could hear what it was going to say, the system killed, or should I say erased it. Every part of its data and information, gone.
'Hey system, why did you do that?'
[Your permission level is not high enough to know, please do your best, host!]