As it turned out, Sullivan's directions were accurate. After a long day of walking, and correcting his course a few times after meeting people along the way, Harry finally saw the outline of a city in the distance.
Although there truly was a city, it wasn't called Happy Heart City. It was actually called Locked Heart City. How Sullivan's brain had turned "Locked" into "Happy", Harry had no clue. The words weren't similar at all, and when he learned from a passerby the real name of the city, he almost wanted to track Sullivan down and give him a scolding.
Locked Heart City wasn't a Tier 1 or Tier 2 city, just a regular city of the Scarlet Phoenix Empire. According to the information Harry heard, the strongest powers of the city were at the high-level of the Qi Absorption Realm. Compared to a place like Swan Sea City, it was rather lacking.
"I wonder if I'll make an enemy in this place…" Harry mused as he entered the city boundaries. "Being destined to make enemies, I mean, that does explain a lot of things, but can it actually be real?"
Harry was still coming to terms with what his Magic Spirit had told him – though he had a feeling it was true, he had never subscribed to things like fate or destiny. He just couldn't bring himself to fully believe it.
As Harry walked along the dirt road leading into the city, he stepped across a strange line drawn through the road. The line extended as far right and left as he could see, and curved as it did, forming a circle that seemed to border the entire Locked Heart City. Harry didn't know why someone would bother to draw such a large circle, but he put it out his mind. Perhaps it was the city boundary.
Unbeknownst to Harry, the moment he stepped across that line, he was noticed.
The line he had stepped over actually concealed a runic formation, one which recorded a few details of everyone passing by. It was a way for the head of the city to know who entered and left Locked Heart City.
And deep in the center of the city, a man sat monitoring a number of instruments that were tied to various formations. All was quiet – until his attention was drawn to an instrument that suddenly began vibrating.
"Hmm? That one... that formation is connected to the Spirit Boundary. It's been a while since it activated last," he frowned. Due to the sheer size of this formation, it required constant maintenance and was often reporting false positives. As such, the formation master turned away for a few minutes, not paying it any attention, until it began vibrating again – and he looked up.
Above the instrument, a blurry image of Harry crossing that line in the ground appeared. Under the image, a line of text was displayed.
2nd level of the Qi Absorption Realm
"2nd level of the Qi Absorption Realm?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock.
"This – finally! It's finally appeared! I've waited years for this! Haha, it's finally – right! I need to report this immediately!"
He leapt out his chair and ran out the room, through the halls until he burst into the main room of the building. There, a well-dressed man with wavy blonde hair was listlessly sitting behind his desk, idly reading some letters.
"Sir! Sir!"
"What is it?" the man asked without even looking up.
"It's the Spirit Boundary! There was another hit!" As the formation master spoke, he tried very hard to keep his focus on the man and not on the walls of the room, which were covered in portraits. Every square inch of the walls was covered with them, with barely any gap in-between. As for the subject of the portraits, no matter how many times the formation master entered this room, he'd never get used to it.
"So what?" the man sighed. "Every time, it's either a malfunction, or another Spiritless cultivator."
"Sir, this time, it should be different!"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because this man is at the 2nd level of the Qi Absorption Realm!" the formation master exclaimed.
Once he heard that, the man immediately shot to his feet. The lazy and uninterested look in his eyes was replaced by excitement.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, absolutely! There's no mistake!"
"And he's not from a Sacred Clan, HAHA, or one of the other major powers?"
"He shouldn't be. I didn't recognize his appearance, but more than that, he's dressed like a beggar. No member of a Sacred Clan would dress like that."
"Then – then, yes! Go and bring him to me! Right away, HAHA!"
"Yes, right away!" the formation master excitedly yelled back as he ran out the room.
Harry, naturally, had no idea about the commotion he inadvertently caused. There was only one thought on his mind – where he could get some food.
As he walked through the city, Harry was stared at everywhere he went. Everyone he passed by stopped to stare and point, and eventually, Harry realized it was due to his robes.
This entire time, he was still wearing his old robes from the orphanage. He never got that Swan Sea Sect uniform, and never bothered to buy one. Everyone in the sect grew to know his appearance very well, so it wasn't like he needed that identification anyways.
When Harry entered the Swan Sea Sect, his robes were already deteriorated to an extreme. For quite a while, they made him the subject of mockery. Then after all that had happened in the Swan Sea Sect, now his robes were hanging together by threads. It was a miracle they didn't fall apart and leave him naked.
But Harry's face was quite thick, so he ignored the stares without much difficulty. Finally, he found himself outside of a nice-looking restaurant. The delicious smell of food wafted out into the street, and he was drawn straight to the restaurant, like a fish caught by the nose on a fishing hook.
"A table for one," Harry told the waiter, who looked back at him dubiously. "But I'm going to need enough food for five."
"Sir…"
"Yes?"
The waiter looked him up and down, taking his grimy appearance and shabby clothing into account.
"Do you have the Qi Crystals?" he finally asked.
"Ah, I don't." Harry suddenly realized.
No, he didn't have any Qi Crystals on him.
Somehow, he had forgotten that out in the real world, he had to pay for food with money, not with merit points. This was no longer the Swan Sea Sect.
"I'm afraid we can only serve paying customers," the waiter said haughtily.
"Er… how about this?" Harry tried to bargain. "You let me eat here, and I'll work for you? Please, I'm starving. I haven't eaten in like four days."
"My apologies, but we don't need help at the moment."
"Look, I can't pay right now, but I can definitely make it up some –"
His plea was suddenly interrupted by a loud and irritating voice.
"Who the hell let this beggar in here? You don't even have any money, yet you want to eat here? You're an eyesore, now screw off!"
In a flash, Harry's anger ignited. He was holding in a lot of rage over the destruction of the Swan Sea Sect. Right now, his temper was like a boiling pot of water. The slightest bit of heat could set it tipping over.
The source of the voice was a well-dressed man, sitting at a large table in front of a pile of food. This man looked to be a few years older than Harry, but his cultivation was only the 1st level of the Qi Absorption Realm. Despite that, he looked towards Harry with an unbridled expression. As for where he got his confidence and arrogant attitude from, Harry had no clue.
"Didn't you hear me? Screw off and stop ruining the mood –"
"Shut up," Harry snapped.
In an instant, a deathly silence fell over the restaurant. For some reason, the diners seemed more surprised by Harry's attitude than the belligerent man's.
The man's eyes narrowed, and he got out his chair, treading towards Harry with large steps.
"What'd you say?" he held his face inches from Harry's, and ground those words out through gritted teeth. Flecks of spit landed on Harry's face.
"I said, shut up," Harry spat back. "Shut your mouth, or I'll do it for you."
"Bastard, do you know who I –"
"Fuck you!"
POW!
Harry's hand flew through the air in a perfect curve, and ended its trajectory right on the man's face. To the others in the restaurant, all they saw was a blur – one moment Harry's hand was by his side, the next moment, it smashed into the man's cheek. There was a clear, crisp, slapping sound, and then the enormous force behind Harry's strike sent him flying through the air.
CRASH!
The man sailed through the air, lading against the far wall. He crumpled into a moaning heap on the floor.
"I told you to shut up!" Harry hissed, slowly walking towards the fallen man. The rest of the restaurant had stopped eating long ago, and was watching the confrontation with wide eyes.
"Bastard, you dare to hit me? I'll have your head for this!"
"My head?" Harry leapt over and grabbed the man, and effortlessly lifted him into the air.
"Why do I always run into people like you?" Harry smashed him against an empty table, sending his ears ringing. The table shattered, and the man let out another yell of pain. Then Harry grasped the man by the throat, and pinned him to the wall of the establishment.
"People who run their mouth, people who think they can order me around? You want my head, is that what you said?"
"You, you – " the man tried to form words, but couldn't, not with Harry's grip on his throat.
"If I wanted, I could have slapped your head off back there, got it?" Harry shook the man a few times, letting his head bounce off the hard wall, then dumped him onto the ground. As angry as he was, he still had a bottom line. Harry wouldn't kill a man just over a verbal insult.
The man lay there, dazed and groaning, until he was finally able to stand up and form some words.
"My father will – "
"If your father comes, I'll beat him up too," Harry sneered, then kicked the man straight out the door of the restaurant. His scream of pain could be heard as he sailed through the air.
The diners were dead silent, all eyes on him. Clearly, this beggar was a ruthless and deranged individual who attacked others for the slightest provocation. None of the diners wanted this crazy man's attention focused on them next, so they all stayed silent. Especially the waiter, who had been planning on insulting Harry too, thanked the stars that this idiot beat him to it.
Taking a few deep breaths, Harry entered a state of relative calm. And then, he realized what he had done.
"Perhaps I really am condemned," Harry muttered. He was only in the city for a few minutes, but already made an enemy.
He turned to leave the restaurant, but then his vision fell on the table the man was sitting at.
Unable to ignore his rumbling stomach anymore, Harry ran over and began to eat the mountain of food. He devoured a juicy chicken thigh, wolfed down four slices of bread and a plate of roasted vegetables, then chugged a glass of juice. A plate of ribs, a pile of wings, some kind of fruit, two bowls of soup, all of it disappeared straight down Harry's throat.
"Delicious," he sighed in contentment.
Since that man wouldn't be around to enjoy this meal anymore, he saw nothing wrong with eating it himself.
"Sir, um..." the waiter delicately tried to say something to Harry, who ignored him and was busy stuffing his face. Finally, he blurted it out.
"The man you just attacked... his father is a marshal of the city! He'll definitely show up to settle accounts!"
"Mhuhguuuun," Harry said with his mouth full, ignoring the waiter's warning.
"Er... I really mean it..."
Harry swallowed his food, and shot the waiter an annoyed glance.
"Fine, fine. Just let me finish this meal first."
Harry turned his attention back towards eating, and the waiter helplessly stepped aside, not knowing what to do. As far as he was concerned, this matter no longer had anything to do with him.
The rest of the loaf of bread, half a chicken, a salad, Harry's hands and mouth were like a whirlwind, swallowing all in its path. The rest of the restaurant patrons stared at him with disgust, no doubt offended by his atrocious table manners.
Not much longer, the waiter's warning came true. From outside came the sound of clanging metal and stomping feet, then a whole group of men barged into the restaurant. They had weapons drawn, and once they stepped inside, the entire restaurant was blanketed with a thick and heavy oppressive pressure.
The man Harry attacked stood right in the front, a red palm print still clearly on his face. By his side was an older man, dressed in the uniform of a city marshal, and the rest of the men must have been his subordinates. They bristled with killing intent, ready to put the person who had attacked the marshal's son down.
"Father, it's him!" the man yelled, pointing at Harry, who was still working his way through all the food.
"He's the one who slapped me, then continued attacking me. He even said he would beat you up if you showed yourself!" As he spoke, he put a very aggrieved expression on his face, but within his eyes, Harry could see the glint of victory.
"And even now, he's eating my food!"
As a group, the men marched over to Harry – who was still busy shoveling food into his mouth.
"Boy, you have big guts to attack my son," the city marshal fumed.
"Get on your knees, and cripple your cultivation. Then slap yourself on the face 100 times, or else I'll give you a taste of hell."
"Your son has big guts to come back," Harry retorted.
"I was kind enough to let him off with just a slap. But he didn't appreciate my kindness, and actually came back for more. Once I finish my meal, I'll beat you up, then teach your son another lesson."
"Boy, you dare to bluster with your pathetic cultivation? I'll – "
"The one with the pathetic cultivation is you. To only be at the 6th level of the Qi Absorption Realm at your age… did you live your life as a pig?"
The man's face warped into an ugly scowl, and his hand shot forward like lightning to grab at Harry. Moments before it grabbed his neck, Harry rotated his full strength and struck back.
The city marshal's hand met Harry's – he sneered, about to break all the bones in Harry's hand – then frowned when he found Harry's body was as tough as stone. If anything, Harry's grip was actually the one hurting his hand.
That slight pause was all the time Harry needed. His other hand traced a marvelous curve through the air, he slapped the city marshal across the face with all his might.
SLAP!
Unlike his son, who Harry sent flying across the room, the marshal was only knocked back a couple steps. But it took multiple steps to disperse Harry's strike, and when the marshal lifted his head, everyone in the restaurant thought their eyes would pop out their sockets. Both he and his son had matching cheeks, with identical palm prints on them.
"You – you – BOY, DIE!" he roared, and Qi exploded out from his body. He was absolutely furious, and no longer held anything back. He, a grand city marshal, was actually slapped by a junior with weaker cultivation!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he was. The physical pain he was feeling was nothing to his current mental state. This slap would forever be in his past, a tarnish on his reputation. For the rest of his life, he'd be known as the city marshal who was slapped in the face by a junior. His power raged forth, ready to turn Harry into mincemeat.
"STOP!"
At that moment, another man burst into the restaurant. With his appearance, all the rushing Qi froze in midair, mere inches from striking Harry.
Both Harry and the city marshal turned to look at the source of the voice. Harry didn't recognize him, but the city marshal obviously did, as a trace of worry appeared in his eyes.
"Aren't you the formation master of the city? Why are you stopping me?" the city marshal glared unhappily.
"The city head wishes to see this man," the proclaimed formation master snapped back. Then turning to Harry, he adopted a friendlier look.
"I've been searching for you, and thank goodness I made it in time. The head of the city would like to see you. Do you have the time?"
"The – the head of the city?" Harry asked blankly. It couldn't be, he had already offended the head of the city?
The formation expert seemed to realize what Harry was thinking, and quickly reassured him.
"Young man, please be at ease! The head of the city wishes you no harm, and is very interested in meeting you, that's all."
"Why would that be? I only just arrived."
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that here. Now, please, follow me."
"Alright. Lead the way," Harry agreed, realizing he had no choice in the matter. He couldn't sense this man's cultivation at all, and he was doubtful he could win if a fight broke out. In any case, it got him away from the city marshal.
Rather anticlimactically, the brewing fight ended. The marshal and the son helplessly watched as Harry walked off with the formation master. They knew this formation master worked directly for the head of the city, and if he requested someone's presence, they had no ability to interfere.
"Father…" the man whined, still clutching his head. "This –"
"Hmph. It's not over. We'll see what they want with him. If it's nothing important, we'll kill him as he leaves. Even if it is, we'll still find a way," he glared in the direction Harry had left, nursing his sore cheek.
This was an injury that would never heal, at least, not mentally. Just the mere thought of the slap sent his rage boiling.
"Word of this can't get out, or we'll lose our position. All the commoners who saw me get slapped… kill them all," he glared at his subordinates ruthlessly, and pointed into the restaurant.
The sounds of screams rang out, but they were quickly silenced.
Harry, meanwhile, was led deep into the center of the city, where a large, ornate building stood. The formation master went straight inside, and Harry followed. Inside, he was brought through a number of long corridors, then finally in front of a thick and richly-decorated door. The formation master opened it, and ushered Harry inside.
When Harry walked in the room, the first thing he noticed were the portraits.
Dozens, no, hundreds of them, covering every inch of every wall. They ranged in size, some the size of his head, some stretching from the floor to the ceiling. They covered the entire room, and when Harry looked up at the ceiling – he almost collapsed in disbelief. The ceiling, too, was crammed with them.
As for the subject of the portraits, they all depicted the same thing. A tall, rather handsome, blonde man, wearing fancy robes and showing off a large, toothy smile. He stood and sat in all poses, winking or smiling or grinning from all directions, creating a kaleidoscope on the walls of this room.
'Ok… what did I get myself into now?'
On the far end of the room was a desk, and behind the desk was the subject of all the portraits. It was the same man, same robes, with the same hair and large, fake smile. He beamed as Harry entered the room, and didn't seem to be offended by the way Harry gaped at the walls.
"Welcome, welcome! Stunning, isn't it? My little collection of portraits? HAHA! Would you like some refreshments? Some tea?"
"No thanks, I just ate," Harry declined.
Not hearing, or perhaps not caring, the man poured three cups of tea anyways.
"I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you here, aren't you?"
"Well, yes."
"HAHA! Well, allow me to get straight to the point. To put it simply, I am searching for a personal disciple!" the man beamed at Harry, who blankly stared back.
"A... disciple?" Harry repeated, wondering if he misheard.
"Yes, a disciple, HAHA!"
"Wait, why me?"
"Why you? Indeed, a very good question. I'm sure you'll have your doubts unless I explain myself, HAHA! Now, when you entered my Locked Heart city, you stepped across a line on the ground, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, that line is actually a runic formation that my formation expert set up. We call it the Spirit Boundary, HAHA! When you step across it, it will determine your cultivation level and the rank of your Magic Spirit. But of course, it's very difficult to construct such a large formation, and unfortunately, it can only measure up to Rank 3 Magic Spirits."
Harry's senses were on full alert now.
"Every once in a while, we get a visitor who doesn't register on the Spirit Boundary. There are two options – the first is that the person is Spiritless, and we don't bother them. The second is, HAHA, their Magic Spirit is above Rank 3! In other words, Rank 4!"
Harry did his best to keep his face at a neutral expression. He hadn't expected that moments after entering the city, and without him even realizing it, one of his greatest secrets had been exposed.
"HAHA, no need to look so tense! I mean you no harm, so please, relax!" the man flashed Harry a large grin, showing all his teeth. It did nothing to calm Harry down.
"How do you know I'm not a Spiritless cultivator?"
"Of course you aren't! Why, you're at the 2nd level of the Qi Absorption Realm!"
"Ah – of course," Harry agreed. Indeed, it was pretty much impossible for a Spiritless cultivator to reach the Qi Absorption Realm.
"Would you mind bringing your Magic Spirit out?"
"I'm afraid I can't. My Magic Spirit is indeed above Rank 3. The problem is, my Magic Spirit doesn't listen to me," Harry used the same excuse he had given to Sullivan and Daniel.
"What do you mean?" the man frowned.
"I mean, it doesn't come out when I try to summon it. I've never even seen it."
"Curious," the man muttered. "How curious, HAHA! I've never heard of such a thing. Well, there are ways to force it – I mean, HAHA, I'm sure it'll show itself eventually. Anyways, not to worry."
The man took a long sip of his tea, all the while intently staring at Harry. There was something off about that gaze of his, something that unnerved Harry. He just couldn't quite place his finger on it.
"As someone with a rare Rank 4 Magic Spirit, there's no doubt of your cultivation talent. You'll definitely ascend to the peak of the empire! But to reach those heights, wouldn't it be easier to have a renowned teacher looking after you? It would be my honor to train and nurture a talented seedling as yourself. Well, what do you think?"
The man expectantly beamed at Harry.
"Wait, wait a minute," Harry interjected. "It's not that I'm unwilling – but, who are you?"
The man recoiled sharply, almost as if bitten by a snake, and looked at Harry with an incredulous expression. The way he looked at Harry was totally out of place, as if Harry had committed some unspeakable offence instead.
"You don't know my name? You mean to say, you don't recognize me?"
'Oh great, he's a narcissist,' Harry groaned. But of course he was, the portraits gave it away.
"I'm not from around here, and this is my first time in the city," Harry tried to explain in a way to avoid offending this man.
"I see, I see," the man sighed. "It seems my fame hasn't quite reached every corner of the empire yet, has it? Well, HAHA! No need to worry, I understand! One day, one day, HAHA!"
"Now, where are my manners? My name is Gilderoy Lockhart. What's yours?"