The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 390. Upheaval

The docks of Fun Streak Island buzzed with restless energy as rows of slaves quietly marched toward a large ship anchored by the bay.

Their steps were heavy, burdened not only by their chains but also by uncertainty. Heads bowed, eyes flickering with nervous anticipation, each of them carried the scars of a cruel past and the hesitant hope of an unknown future. Some whispered prayers under their breath, grateful to leave the hellish arena behind. Others looked over their shoulders with haunted expressions, unsure if what awaited them would be any better.

The ship before them—The White Pearl—gleamed like a silver beacon in the morning light, its arrays humming softly beneath its reinforced hull. A month ago, Tyler White had claimed ownership of a Level 3 Fishery which was almost destroyed after attacking a Dragon Boat. That zone now needed workers—managers, guards, builders, and laborers—and Tyler had decided to fill that gap using talent from the most unlikely source: the very arena where countless had fought for survival.

These slaves weren’t ordinary. Most were Master-level cultivators, and a select few had even reached Grandmaster level. Powerful individuals reduced to pawns—but not for long. Tyler had paid a hefty price to secure them, especially since he planned to start small businesses and outposts across various northern islands in the near future.

As the last of the slaves filed onto The White Pearl, Tyler stood at the end of the dock, overseeing the operation. He double-checked the manifests with Darla, who was coordinating from the deck, her clipboard held tight as she gave rapid orders to the crew.

Then, as if from nowhere, a squeaky, rhythmic sound echoed through the bustle.

Creek...squeak...creek...squeak...

A clown—decked in his usual outrageous attire, complete with checkered pants and a crooked smile painted too wide—rode toward the ship on a unicycle. His hat had bells that jingled with every spin. In one fluid motion, he tossed something through the air toward Tyler.

Tyler caught it instinctively.

It was a playing card—an Ace of Spades.

Immediately, a mental voice echoed in Tyler’s mind through a telepathic link. The tone was low, clear, and—unusually—devoid of humor.

Tyler’s brow furrowed. He examined the card again, flipping it between his fingers, deep in thought.

Lily, who had been leaning casually against a crate nearby, noticed his unusual expression and stepped closer. "What’s wrong?" she asked.

Tyler replied "It’s the Clown. He wants me to stay. Says it’s about a Teleportation Hub."

Lily raised a brow. "So? Are you going?"

Tyler tapped the card against his palm and gave a small nod. "Here’s the plan. You take The White Pearl and escort the slaves to the Level 3 Fishery. Organize them, assign teams, assess who can lead. I’ll stay behind and see what the Clown really wants. Once you’re done, come back, and we’ll leave together."

Their conversation was casual to any outside observer, but beneath their calm expressions, a more urgent dialogue played out silently through Divine Sense.

"This feels off," Lily said, her Divine Sense like a sharp whisper in Tyler’s mind. "During the negotiation, the Clown was unusually... normal. No riddles. No theatrics."

"Exactly. That’s what’s bothering me," Tyler replied. "Something serious is going down. His usual playfulness looked forced. If he’s reverting now, there’s something bigger at play."

He scanned the harbor subtly. The usual circus-themed chaos still surrounded the island—jugglers throwing fire, mechanical animals parading down the street—but something in the air had shifted.

"If things turn bad, activate Mode Shadow on the ship," Tyler added.

Lily nodded, her eyes briefly glowing as she relayed mental commands to Darl and the others onboard.

"Take Mana with you," she said. "Keep her cloaked. If something happens, she can help you."

"Already thought of that," Tyler said aloud with a small grin, then turned and gave Lily a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I’ll be back before you know it."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well don’t get caught."

As Tyler prepared to leave, Mana emerged from behind and took a key. She then opened an imaginary door from Tyler’s chest and entered inside.

Tyler looked at his chest with confusion.

"She has a Key? And where the heck that door comes from?" Tyler muttered.

Lily turned toward the ship, watching as the slaves settled into their quarters.

┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉

Tyler sat in giant flying balloon basket, its a Lydia Coin designed balloon. The balloon floated gently through the misty skies of Fun Streak Island, following the designated sky paths. Independent flight was strictly forbidden here, but these balloons were an exception.

He was headed for the Circus’ tent.

After a smooth descent, the balloon docked near the Tent. A pair of pirates wearing circus uniforms escorted Tyler through a twisting corridor that smelled faintly of burnt sugar and alcohol.

Eventually, they arrived at a lavishly decorated room—half bar, half performance stage. Crystal bottles glimmered under neon lights, and the walls were lined with circus-themed memorabilia. At the center, atop a polished oak table, sat the Clown—squatting in a bizarre pose, mixing drinks like a bartender at a carnival gone rogue.

"Shake, shake, shake..." he muttered to himself while shaking a cocktail shaker far longer than necessary. Then, without offering it to anyone, he downed the drink himself with a dramatic gulp.

"Ah... my friend... Tyler White! Hahaha!" the Clown slurred, his painted face twisting into a grin far too wide to be natural. His tone was cheerful, but his bloodshot eyes told another story.

Tyler took a seat across from him, crossing his arms. "What happened, my friend? I doubt this meeting is really about building a teleportation hub."

The Clown stopped in the middle of making a Moscow Mule and let out a slow, exaggerated laugh. "HAHAHAHA... As expected! You noticed something was wrong!"

Meanwhile, outside the Island, The White Pearl was slowly departing the harbor, moving steadily toward the mysterious Pink Mist that encircled Fun Streak Island. The mists shimmered like silk under the sun.

Back inside, the Clown leaned forward, whispering in a hoarse voice, "You see, I have... a gift. Or maybe it’s a curse. Who knows? It activates randomly—like a switch flipped by the universe itself—and gives me a glimpse... of the future."

Tyler narrowed his eyes but remained silent, listening.

"It’s not always clear," the Clown continued. "Sometimes it’s a dream. Sometimes a vision. Sometimes it’s just a gut-churning scream inside my skull. But every time... it’s real."

He stood, motioning for Tyler to follow. They walked through a dimly lit hallway into another room—this one darker, colder. The walls were black with streaks of red, and strange devices lined the perimeter.

Tyler immediately recognized it.

This was the Clown’s infamous punishment chamber. A place where he dealt with slaves for fun. He had a twisted name for it: "Candy Crush."

"Once," the Clown said, pausing before a large steel platform, "I saw a future where my brother succeeded beyond me. Married a beautiful women. Succeeded in Life. I... didn’t take it well."

His voice faltered for the first time, and regret flickered in his eyes.

"I killed him," he said simply. "All because of a vision."

Tyler tensed, his instincts sharpening.

"I had a new vision. My Fun Streak Island getting destroyed. And the Culprit is..."

The Clown reached into his sleeve and suddenly threw a playing card toward him.

Tyler caught it reflexively. It was the Joker—blank-eyed and smirking.

Thinking it was another telepathic message, Tyler activated his Divine Sense and probed the card.

That’s when it hit him.

A sudden flood of chaotic laughter exploded inside his mind—a thousand voices cackling at once, each louder than the last. His spiritual consciousness trembled under the weight of it. It wasn’t just noise. It was a Divine Sense attack, like his own Brain Freeze, but twisted into something nightmarishly unpredictable.

Tyler clutched his head, gritting his teeth as the pain intensified.

At the same time, out in the open sea, The White Pearl glided silently into the Pink Mist. The temperature dropped. The Sound of wind and Water cease to exist.

Lily stood on the deck, holding tightly onto the card they had received from the islanders.

A loud rumble shook the water.

Out from the deep rose the Two-Headed Sea Serpent, its eyes glowing crimson as it loomed before the ship. Lily stepped forward and raised the card with confidence.

But the serpent didn’t back down.

Instead, it locked eyes with The White Pearl... and growled.

This time, it wasn’t responding to the card. It saw the ship not as a vessel—but as prey.

Back in the chamber, Tyler stumbled backward, disoriented.

And that’s when the Clown struck.

With surprising strength, he shoved Tyler into a pit hidden beneath a trapdoor in the floor. Tyler barely had time to react before he landed hard inside a cylindrical cell with curved steel walls.

Above him, the Clown leaned over the edge, eyes wild, breath uneven.

"I’m sorry, Tyler," he said softly. "I really am. But I saw it. I saw you... destroying my entire island. The Culprit is YOU"

His voice rose to a scream, echoing down the shaft.

"I CAN’T LET THAT FUTURE HAPPEN! Hahahaha!"

A massive mechanical press began to descend from above—gears grinding, steam hissing from unseen vents. Its surface was lined with glowing sigils designed to suppress magic and cultivation. freewebnoveℓ.com

Tyler was still in pain. He placed his hand on the Giant Candy for balance.

Above him, the Clown laughed maniacally as he walked away, leaving only echoes and the sound of metal crushing downward.