Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 122: Lying Low

Filthy.

Chaotic.

A nauseating mix of salty brine and an unwashed stench.

This was Aizen’s impression of the common shelter as he entered.

There were no lamps, and the interior felt suffocatingly dark. Every face seemed unfamiliar and cold, their features obscured by shadows.

Clutching the twenty copper coins he had earned, Aizen silently made his way to a corner and sat down.

"Get lost, newcomer! You don’t know the rules of the undercurrent here, do you? This spot’s ours!"

A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, his tone harsh and threatening. Even up close, his face remained shrouded in gloom, though his menacing demeanor was palpable.

"Undercurrent" was a term from the Magus World, referring to the unspoken rules of a group or territory. Judging by the man’s accent, he wasn’t a local from the northeast region.

Aizen didn’t respond. He slowly stood up.

Lying low was wise, but being too submissive would only invite more trouble. If he allowed himself to be pushed around, it would be impossible not to draw attention as an easy target.

Maintaining his blank, wooden expression, Aizen regarded the man as if he were nothing more than a barking dog.

"I said move, you bastard!"

The man raised a calloused, powerful hand, aiming to slap Aizen across the face.

"Smack!"

Before the hand could land, Aizen’s narrow blade, still in its scabbard, appeared in his hand and struck the man’s face with precision.

The blow wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to leave the man’s nose and mouth bleeding, and loosen a few teeth. The man stumbled back, crying out in pain, clutching his face.

"You dare fight back, you piece of—!"

A burly young man, built like a small bull, stormed over from the side, glaring at Aizen. However, upon noticing the narrow blade in Aizen’s hand, he hesitated and stopped short.

"Calm down, everyone! Calm down!"

A deep, resonant voice, like the sound of wooden blocks colliding, cut through the tension.

The flicker of an oil lamp entered the shelter, carried by a man whose presence commanded respect. Beside him were several others, but all eyes were on the rugged figure at the center—a tall, muscular man with dark skin, a full beard, and a single eye.

The gathered laborers murmured in deference.

"Boss !"

"Boss , the newcomer’s pretty vicious!"

The one-eyed man,John, known as "Boss," was no ordinary dockworker. His brother-in-law was a supervisor overseeing this section of the docks, and John himself had trained in martial arts, giving him some status as a Magus figure.

"Everyone settle down and get some rest," Captain ordered with a wave of his hand, his voice calm but authoritative. Then, his gaze shifted to Aizen.

"They call you ’Wood,’ right? Captain mentioned you. I heard you know a few moves."

Aizen remained silent, his blank expression unchanged.

John continued, his tone steady. "This is my territory, and rules are rules. If you want this spot, you need to pay some tea money."

This was clearly a demand for a bribe.

It was a common practice—every trade and profession had its hidden rules. John, being called "Boss," was the one maintaining order in this space.

Rules existed to protect the interests of those in power. The higher one stood, the more invested they were in maintaining the status quo, ensuring no one disrupted the system.

Aizen remained silent for a moment, his expression inscrutable, before slowly reaching into his pocket for the coins.

Aizen silently counted ten copper coins and handed them over.

John’s expression softened slightly. With a nod of his head, one of the burly laborers beside him stepped forward to collect the coins.

"Edgard, take this and find another spot. This ’Wood’ here was brought in by Captain," John said with a chuckle, addressing the man Aizen had displaced.

The laborer tossed five copper coins to the disgruntled man as a form of compensation. Seeing this, the man had no choice but to pocket the money and back off with a sullen expression.

"All right, everyone, rest up early. And remember the rules—don’t wander off at night except to the hidden snow," John reminded the group before turning and strolling away.

The hidden snow was an old term for the latrine. It derived from a historical anecdote involving Azel Master of Snow Mountain and Hidden Spirit Temple, where the monk had once served as the keeper of the toilets. Over time, the term filtered into Magus slang to mean "outhouse."

Aizen reclined against a wooden beam in the dark corner of the shelter. The spot was filthy and hidden but warm and relatively isolated. After the brief skirmish, others kept their distance, leaving him more space.

Though the shelter was crowded, each person still had about ten square feet of personal space, preventing it from feeling unbearably cramped.

The dock itself was under the control of the Overseas Hundred Alliances.

All goods passing in and out were managed by this powerful organization under government supervision. The dockworkers were a mix of hired laborers, including some Sorcery fighters who had fallen on hard times.

Typically, even a struggling Sorcery practitioner could find work as a guard for wealthy households or join a small gang as an enforcer. But those roles were not easy to enter—or leave—freely.

As a result, some destitute Sorcery wanderers ended up as temporary laborers at the docks, hauling cargo to fill their bellies.

The pay was high for manual labor—twenty copper coins a day. Five days of work could earn nearly one tael of silver, enough to draw many young, strong men to this backbreaking trade.

Aizen had disguised himself as one of these fallen Sorcery fighters, blending seamlessly into the humble ranks of dock laborers.

Who would suspect that the dignified envoy of the Heavenly Demon Clan, stationed in Great Plain City, would stoop to hiding among the labor force of the Overseas Hundred Alliances? 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

His disguise was flawless. No one questioned his identity. Even the ever-watchful supervisors were fooled by his dull and unassuming demeanor, lowering their guard entirely.

The State of the Great Plain City Docks

Over the past five days, the Heavenly Demon Clan’s operations in Great Plain City had suffered severe disruptions.

The docks, in particular, were a key loss. The Clan’s influence had been entirely purged from the area, which was now fully controlled by the Overseas Hundred Alliances and Turtle Rock Ridge.

Although these two factions operated under nominal government oversight, they reaped enormous profits from their control of the docks.

Among the two, the Overseas Hundred Alliances had seized the largest share of the territory, with Turtle Rock Ridge holding less. Tensions between the factions were rising, and even minor skirmishes had broken out recently.

Meanwhile, the Heavenly Demon Clan’s retreat left significant resources in the hands of their rivals, a loss that had infuriated the Clan’s elders.

The failure to maintain control had sparked outrage among both factions within the sect. Some were even bitter over Aizen’s slaying of Jade-Faced Little Flying Dragon, blaming him for the current state of affairs.

If not for the lack of suitable leaders in the sect to take over, Aizen’s position would have been in jeopardy. For now, he had bought himself ten days of leeway.

In ten days, he planned not only to reclaim the sect’s lost resource points but also to seize even more territory.

His strategy was clear: stir chaos, fan the flames of conflict between the Overseas Hundred Alliances and Turtle Rock Ridge, and exploit the resulting disorder to advance his plans.

The storm was coming, and Aizen was ready to ignite it.