Chapter 544: Secrets, Bargains, and the Market’s Rising Stakes

This, of course, was the most important thing. Song Chi never really thought he could keep his true identity hidden forever.

But that would only hold up until the sixth-tier Timeworld Tree. As for the seventh-tier Timeworld Tree? That was something he’d never reveal—over his dead body.

Something that could help a Star-Annihilator-class Ship break through to tier eight and even grant a second chance at life—no, calling it a strategic resource hardly did it justice. If word got out, even immortal overlords and the Flame-Wielder Kings of the Four Great Pillars couldn’t help but covet it.

On top of that, given the Song Family’s current situation, a sixth-tier Timeworld Fruit—forget about now, even in the next few centuries, only the Calm‑Sea Dragon‑Xiang would have any use for it. As for the clan elder, Song Wujian, he already had one of his own.

So instead of letting it gather dust in his collection, why not trade it with other Star Tower members in exchange for rare resources or high-tier components? Clearly, that was the smarter move.

Thanks to more than a hundred years of relentless cultivation, the sixth-tier Timeworld Tree in the sanctuary had already produced one round of fruit. Now, a second crop was hanging on the branches. Before long, he’d have another sixth-tier Timeworld Fruit in his hands.

All in all, when the Heavenly Ruin battleship was ready to ascend to Star-Annihilator-class, he’d never be short of sixth-tier Timeworld Fruits.

That wasn’t even counting what he had—both families were pouring Void Crystals into the Timeworld Tree Sanctuary, and soon it would be harvest time there as well.

…

Having said all that, Song Chi didn’t elaborate any further. The people with him didn’t press for more, either. How much they actually believed, and what they really thought—well, only they knew.

Song Chi could guess a few things, but he didn’t care. This was all part of his plan, after all.

Only by doing this would Star Tower members come looking for him in private, hoping to trade for truly rare treasures.

A dozen minutes later, Corpse Dog logged in again.

“Jingzhe, here are sixty-eight Time Fragments. This is all I could gather for now—take them.”

He handed Song Chi a storage box, then added,

“I know this isn’t nearly enough to trade for your sixth-tier Timeworld Fruit, but how about this? If my next breakthrough succeeds, I’ll help you three times at no charge. Even if I don’t make it, I’ll keep collecting Time Fragments for you whenever I can.”

Of course, Song Chi didn’t refuse.

Three free assists from a Star-Annihilator-class captain was more than he’d expected.

Star Tower members might get along, but favors aren’t always handed out for free. Just like when Song Chi helped Cui Yulong—payment came in the form of Dense Black‑Hole Stone and Void‑Escape Stone.

Finishing up with Corpse Dog, Song Chi turned to the others—Heavenly Dragon, Yulong, and the rest—completely unbothered, and asked them straight up if they had any Time Fragments.

Time Fragments, a special kind of time-based resource, were just like Space Fragments. They only came from star domains absolutely saturated in temporal energy, or from certain rare secret realms endowed with the Law of Time.

There was one other way: if a secret realm with the Law of Time collapsed, it would also generate Time Fragments.

No matter which of the three sources you chased, though, it was always a massive challenge. Song Chi had asked the clan elder before—while the clan vault did hold a small stash, those had all been picked up over the past three thousand years during random expeditions. The Song Family had no way to produce Time Fragments reliably.

With the discussion wrapped, Song Chi took out his Silver Apple, Law Fruit, 10,000-Year Dragon-Blood Fruit, and a few other resources. With these fairly valuable items as bargaining chips, he managed to acquire quite a few Time Fragments from his fellow Star Tower members.

When he was finished, he spent a hefty sum of mall credits to buy some more from the Star Tower Mall. Adding those to his family’s vault, he finally had just enough to upgrade the Timepiece Chessboard component to seventh-tier.

At the Omniverse Market, Song Chi took out the Time Fragments he’d scraped together from all kinds of sources and began the upgrade process.

[Spend 200 units of tier-zero Floating-land Origin + 20,000 Eon Energy Points + 5 Time Fragments to upgrade Timepiece Chessboard from lv0 to lv1?]

“Do it!”

Resources like Floating-land Origin, Time Fragments, Titanite Crystal—they all vanished like water, and soon enough, Song Chi had leveled the Timepiece Chessboard all the way to lv70.

“Whew, that was just enough!”

With only three Time Fragments left, Song Chi thought luck really was on his side.

Upgrading further would give him plenty of headaches later, but for now, he’d hit the max limit for his battleship’s component.

Taking a look at the seventh-tier Timepiece Chessboard’s stats, he was floored—they’d changed completely.

Universal cooldown reduction had shot up from 35% to 70%.

Time resistance jumped from 1,600 to 21,000.

Law of Time insight bonus surged from 230% to 440%.

Plus, the “Time • Chessboard” trait had seen huge improvements—now, even the lowest-powered domain built with 36 Timepieces ran at 45 times real-time, up from 10 times before. With 72 pieces, it reached 90 times, and so on. Duration had increased from 10 minutes to 45 minutes, and cooldown dropped to just 240 hours.

The “Time • Game” trait had its cooldown reduced from 100 years to 65 years, with duration up to three hours.

The “Flow of Time • Prison” and “Nine Lives Game of Life and Death” abilities, however, stayed the same—seemed those were fixed traits.

…

Star Tower grand hall.

“Thanks!”

With that, Song Chi handed the jet-black, top-grade Flow of Time Platform component back to Whitebrow, offering a heartfelt thank-you.

A jet-black time-based component—how could he not be grateful?

If he’d been asked to lend out his own Black Hole Evolution Layer component before, Song Chi knew he could never have agreed.

It wasn’t about being stingy—components at that tier were priceless. Even with all the power of the Omniverse Market, the Heavenly Ruin only had three black-grade components. Lending one out on a whim? Impossible.

Still, after this experience, maybe his outlook would change a little.

After chatting for a while longer, Song Chi made his way to the Star Tower mission desk.

But as he did, he noticed Whitebrow wasn’t leaving—instead, he was heading to the desk right alongside him.

“Whitebrow, you taking a mission too?”

“Yeah.”

His reply from behind was as calm and simple as ever.

Song Chi, long used to it, didn’t mind and went on.

“Secret realm exploration mission?”

As luck would have it, not long after, Song Chi and Whitebrow both took on a secret realm exploration mission that’d been posted for decades.

In all that time, the details had gone through many updates.

Back twenty years ago, the newly discovered cosmic secret realm was officially named the Blood War Secret Realm. Even though it was just the lowest grade, there were blood war natives at eighth-tier inside and nearly ten seventh-tier Blood War Overlords—so the danger was unmistakable.

The reason this mission was still pinned to the Star Tower board, after all that time, was that the Blood War Secret Realm, despite its deadliness, was just as valuable.

Prolonged exploration had identified its greatest prize—a rare oddity called the Blood War Stele. Not only could it be transformed into a battleship component, it was an uncommon type with control immunity.

Its effect was similar to the Behemoth Heart on the Heavenly Ruin, granting its user immunity to status effects. But unlike the “Bimon Dominator Body” from the Behemoth Heart, the Blood War Stele’s immunity was always on—no activation needed.

But that wasn’t even the best part. According to explorers, there were Blood War Steles of silver and even gold sanctum grade hidden in that realm.

Song Chi, naturally, was very interested in the Blood War Stele.

He’d rushed to get the Timepiece Chessboard before, which was why he hadn’t taken this mission. Now that he had it, the Blood War mission was his first choice.

The Behemoth Heart component’s quality was just too low; Song Chi had long wanted a high-grade control immunity device. This was his chance.

Once both had accepted the mission, the Star Tower AI chimed in.

[Mission accepted. Please be patient. In half a year, the main hall’s escort battleship will arrive!]

“See you in six months.”

“Yeah.”

…

BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ!

Omniverse Market, market entrance—intense spatial fluctuations coalesced into hundreds of swirling vortexes.

A new market trade session had officially begun.

This was Song Chi’s first market event after ascending to sixth-tier, so he made a few key changes.

Time passed quickly. Minutes later, a spatial gate was triggered.

Not long after, a creature walked through—clutching an enormous spiked mace, eyes darting with caution.

It had a dog’s head and a humanoid body, but its life energy was weak.

“A gnoll?”

One glance was all it took for Song Chi to lose interest.

Gnolls were basically the lowest rung of the Sea of Stars. There were tons of them, but their limits were just too low.

This second-tier gnoll crept warily toward the market entrance, its beady eyes drawn almost magnetically to the glowing rules screen beside the main doors.

As it read the brightest law-script there, its narrow little pupils went as wide as saucers.

“Ei—Eighth-tier… Golden Sanctum Oddity!”

A faint, stuttered whisper caught the ear of Luke, the goblin, who was browsing nearby. He bolted over at once, as fast as his legs could move.

“W-Where? Where’s the eighth-tier? Where’s the Golden Sanctum Oddity?”

He looked to the gnoll, whose line of sight was almost level with his own, and with those two small fangs visible in his mouth, followed the gnoll’s gaze to the top of the rule screen.

Today’s Market Projection Token exchange rates had completely changed. From now on, it would take six silver oddities to trade for one Market Projection Token. In exchange, the token’s valid years would increase to a hundred.

But if you paid with a Golden Sanctum Oddity, just one would get you a Market Projection Token with a five hundred-year duration—and five opportunities to summon the Market Projection in that span.

Note: The Market Projection now possesses eighth-tier combat power.

That new info instantly wiped the smile off Luke’s face. Only moments ago, his transformation into a vampire had granted him a lifespan several times longer than before—now, it just seemed hollow.

What was two thousand years of life compared to an eighth-tier golden oddity?

With that on his mind, flickers of fourth-tier magic gathered around Luke’s stumpy legs as he sped off toward the inn.

For centuries, the Viscount’s House behind him had poured everything into exploring the stars beyond the Silver Continent. Backed by advanced machines, their range had expanded further than anyone imagined. Along the way, they’d found not just the fifth-tier Starflower, but plenty more.

Among their finds: a golden sanctum-grade starsea oddity.

Ever since, the old ancestors of the Viscount’s House had tried everything to unlock its power. But after a hundred years, nothing worked.

At last, the elders all agreed—it was just a special material. Of no use to them.

But even so, the implications of a gold oddity were massive—so much so, even the oldest of the Viscount’s ancestors refused to let Luke bring it to the market for trade.

“This time, I have to convince them!”

Flying toward the inn, Luke clenched his fists, the red glow in his eyes growing with his excitement.

And Luke wasn’t alone. Plenty of market regulars had the same reaction as news spread.

Song Chi, watching everything unfold from a bird’s-eye view, couldn’t help but feel pleased.

So far, it looked like his adjustments had worked out perfectly.

Why make these changes, though?

The Market Projection’s combat power had jumped from seventh to near-eighth tier—a leap like that, the price couldn’t stay the same forever.

He’d weighed the pros and cons carefully before adjusting the cost of the Market Projection Token.

Sure, this would filter out many alien traders. Song Chi knew that. After all, it was a whole different equation asking for two or six silver oddities at once.

Still, he had no regrets. The appeal of golden sanctum oddities mattered far more to him now.

A five-hundred year, five-use token; he was betting certain alien powers would take notice.

The Night Elves, Fifth-tier Half-Rats, the Witcher Civilization—they were his likely targets.

For now, this was just laying the groundwork. No one actually asked about it by the end of the market session.

It didn’t matter—Song Chi was sure they’d come knocking sooner or later.

Time passed. In a flash, half a year was gone.

This day saw Song Chi and Whitebrow meeting again at the Yaoguang Star Tower. They stood atop the Great Wall of Civilization outside the Tower, waiting for the main hall’s escort battleship, eyes drawn to the starless void ahead.

It was then that Whitebrow suddenly said quietly,

“Word is, the Four Great Empires are about to launch a full-scale war on the Eight‑Armed Serpent Demon Civilization.”

PS: Only one chapter today.