SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

After meeting Chelli, Kent left for Dead Island City the next morning.

The entire landscape of Deal Island City changed drastically with more population. Previously if it was a village, now it appeared more like an underdeveloped town.

Several business stores and small merchants grow large in size. Along the river side Harbour, many small boats and magical sailing water chariots were docked at the Shore.

The city guards who stood at the teleportation gate immediately bowed after seeing Kent. Waving his hand, Kent walked forward to observe the city’s development and what changes he needed to do urgently.

The morning sun cast a hazy glow over Dead Island City as Kent walked through the bustling streets, taking in the drastic changes since his last visit. Merchant stalls lined the cobbled roads, selling everything from fruits to fabrics.

As Kent strolled toward the city’s center, the guards at the sidelines quickly recognized him and saluted, bowing low. Kent acknowledged them with a brief nod, keeping his focus ahead. He could feel the curious gazes and murmurs following him as he moved deeper into the market.

One bustling merchant stall, in particular, caught Kent’s attention. Piled high with vibrant fruits, the stand was run by a middle-aged merchant with a thick, golden tooth glinting in his mouth. The man barely looked up as Kent approached.

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Kent pointed to a ripe frost fox fruit and asked, “How much for this?”

The merchant gave him a quick look, noting his finely tailored cloak and assuming wealth. With a smirk, he named an exorbitant price. “For you, esteemed sir, it’s only twenty supreme mana stones,” he quoted, not bothering to meet Kent’s gaze.

Kent raised an eyebrow, hiding his displeasure. The price was absurd, especially for a fruit that would sell for mere mana stones elsewhere. But instead of arguing, he simply nodded and moved on, observing that other stalls were equally overpriced, with merchants using the same tactic of gauging a customer’s wealth based on appearance.

Kent’s mood soured as he continued through the market. At each stall, prices were similarly inflated, and he noticed that the merchants had taken over prime locations, pushing smaller vendors into the background. His city guards seemed focused on managing the crowd rather than controlling this rampant exploitation.

As he walked toward the newly built City Lord’s Hall, he noticed that the merchants barely even recognized him. This lack of respect—and the blatant exploitation—left him fuming.

Soon, word of his arrival spread. Merchants, wealthy townsfolk, and curious villagers rushed to the City Lord’s Hall, where Kent now stood observing the chaotic crowd.

With each passing moment, the hall grew more crowded, and it wasn’t long before representatives of the wealthiest merchants approached him, their arms laden with ornate gifts.

“City Lord, please accept this humble token,” said one of the merchants, bowing deeply and offering an intricately carved chest filled with Supreme mana stones. “It’s a tribute from the Chamber of Merchants.”

Another merchant stepped forward, offering a rare blue jade pendant with a greedy smile, hoping to curry Kent’s favor. “Lord Kent, please let this pendant serve as a symbol of our loyalty and admiration,” he said.

Kent merely nodded, his expression unreadable. He accepted each gift without much comment, letting the merchants think what they would. But his mind was elsewhere.

He turned to one of his city guards and commanded, “Gather all the guards. I want every single one of them assembled outside.”

The guard bowed and quickly rushed out, relaying the message.

As he waited, Kent’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the elder beastman, gray-haired and slightly stooped. This elder was the informal leader among the beastmen who Kent had granted city guard status when he first established control. The old beastman approached with a bow, his face a mixture of respect and worry.

“Master Kent,” he began cautiously, “welcome back to Dead Island City. We’ve done our best to keep things as you instructed.”

Kent’s gaze sharpened as he responded, “Then tell me, who gave permission for all these outsiders to set foot in my city?”

The elder beastman visibly flinched at the question, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. Finally, he knelt, bowing his head in shame. “Master, I… I allowed them in. Many of these people are descendants of those who once lived here, and they asked to re-establish their family businesses. I thought… I thought it would help the city grow.”

Kent’s gaze was as cold as stone. “You thought?” he repeated, his voice a low rumble. “Did I not make myself clear when I said this city was for the beastmen and its native people alone?”

“Please, Master, forgive me!” the elder pleaded. “I only wished to restore the city’s former glory. Many of these merchants paid high taxes, which has helped us build these new structures. I thought it would bring prosperity…”

Kent cut him off with a raised hand. “Prosperity?” he echoed with a bitter edge. “Look around you. These merchants prey on people with their high prices and unfair practices. Is this what you call prosperity? A city where people are exploited and do not even recognize their own lord?”

The elder beastman sank lower, trembling. “Master, I beg for your forgiveness. I was blinded by the thought of reviving this city. Please… give me another chance.”

Kent’s expression softened slightly as he took a deep breath, but his tone remained firm. “This is your last warning. I will not tolerate such disobedience again. Now, listen closely.”

The elder nodded fervently, waiting for his master’s decree.

“Send word throughout the city. I want every outsider removed by sunset. If anyone wishes to remain, they will swear loyalty to me by oath—on their Dao Heart. Otherwise, they will leave.”

The elder beastman’s face paled. “But, Master… what of the taxes? Without them, the city’s growth will stall. The native people won’t have the funds for facilities…”

“Forget about the taxes,” Kent replied curtly. “This river and every resource in this city belongs to native people. They will live off the river, without interference from outsiders. They can catch their own fish, harvest their own resources, and keep everything for themselves.”

There was a murmur of approval from the few native villagers who had gathered near the hall. They exchanged delighted glances, visibly relieved that the city’s wealth would remain in their hands.