Master of the System

A massive crane was flying through the sky. On top of it, Azalea and Grandpa Vremya were sitting side by side. She hadn’t planned on only renting one crane from the sect, but she didn’t expect Grandpa Vremya to be so stingy. It wasn’t like the sect had forgone his salary just because he was imprisoned. Receiving ten spirit stones a month for ninety years, Grandpa Vremya would be considered rich amongst the mortals—as long as he hadn’t consumed all the stones during his cultivation. Azalea didn’t think he did, but it wasn’t like she was in charge of his wallet. She was only in charge of his identity token because the old man still hadn’t asked for it back.

“We’re here,” Azalea said and patted the crane’s neck. It descended, breaching through a layer of clouds that had been obscuring the ground from view. A massive city was sprawled underneath them. The red roofs and golden roads were striking, and when Grandpa Vremya opened his eyes, for a brief moment, he thought he was looking at a massive formation. In fact, it likely was a massive formation. As the capital of the strongest human empire, it had to have some defenses in place. Although it might not have looked as ethereal as the Moon Lotus Sect, the capital city of the Frostwind Empire had its own type of charm.

The crane dipped down and the red and gold colors turned into a blur. Grandpa Vremya’s brow furrowed as the motion lifted him off of the crane, and he was about to grab onto its feathers when Azalea placed her hand on his knee, keeping him firmly rooted to the bird. She grinned at him, the wind blowing her hair wildly up into the air. “Were you scared?”

Grandpa Vremya rolled his eyes. Azalea had commanded the bird to plummet without warning him first in order to surprise him. Now that he thought about it, that wasn’t the first time she had tried to prank him. It was no wonder why her cultivation was so slow. Her personality didn’t suit the technique she was cultivating.

Azalea snorted upon seeing Grandpa Vremya’s reaction. “Alright, no one wants to admit they were terrified; I understand.”

Before Grandpa Vremya could respond, not that he was going to, the crane descended on the ground. As soon as it did, he and Azalea were surrounded by armored guards. One of the guards was particularly handsome; he was also the only guard whose visor wasn’t down. “First Princess,” the handsome guard said with a helpless smile on his face, “how many times do I have to tell you to land in the designated landing zones?” His gaze landed on Grandpa Vremya, and for a brief second, his face turned stiff. “You must be….”

“This is my junior brother from the sect,” Azalea said. “He’s here for the wine-brewing competition.”

“The Moon Lotus Sect has junior brothers?” the handsome guard asked, a confused expression appearing on his face. “Didn’t only one male ever get accepted around a hundred years ago?” The handsome man’s eyes widened. “Is this him?”

“That’s right,” Azalea said, her chest slightly puffing out. “Vremya, this is—”

“I don’t need to know,” Grandpa Vremya said, causing the handsome man’s face to distort. “The competition begins tomorrow, right? I still need to go to the marketplace.”

Azalea glanced at the handsome man before grabbing Grandpa Vremya’s arm. “I’ll lead the way.”

“First Princess…,” the handsome man said and followed after the two, but Azalea turned her head back and glared at him, causing him to halt his steps. He ground his teeth together as the soldiers behind him awkwardly shuffled around, their armors clanking amongst their soft coughs.

“That was pretty rude of you,” Azalea said to Grandpa Vremya after the two had gone a distance away. “If you want to fit into society, you have to follow social norms. I’m just telling you this because it doesn’t seem like your grandmother taught you much about society. What was she even thinking, teaching a child how to make wine?” Azalea shook her head. “Speaking of which, what kind of wine are you presenting at the competition?” She scanned Grandpa Vremya’s body, but it didn’t look like there were any bottles hidden within his robes.

“I haven’t made it yet,” Grandpa Vremya said. “That’s why we’re going to the market.” He conveniently ignored the part about being rude. What did it matter if he was a little rude? There were some people worth establishing karma with, and there were some people who’d cause him to regret meeting. There was a clear plan within his head to becoming an avatar of gravity, and none of them involved whoever that guard was.

Azalea stopped and stared at Grandpa Vremya. “Do you even know how wine is made? The competition is tomorrow. How are you going to make wine in a single day? Even if you do manage to make something that isn’t grape juice, your competitors have been aging their wine for decades, maybe even centuries.”

Grandpa Vremya rolled his eyes and walked forward, forcing Azalea to continue leading him. The god of brewing had left behind a book with his techniques as compensation for using Vremya’s fast-time world. Some of those techniques, the ones usable by lower lifeforms, were embedded in Grandpa Vremya’s mind. He might not be able to claim the title as best wine creator, but with his knowledge, he could easily claim the title of second best—the best being the god of brewing, of course. “You’ll see tomorrow,” Grandpa Vremya said. “I need grapes.”

Azalea let out a defeated sigh and led Vremya towards the market with the grapes, conveniently forgetting to let go of his arm. Usually, she’d only ride a carriage through the streets, but she was starting to understand why some people preferred to walk. It was slower, but it allowed people to spend more time with one another. Not like spending time with Grandpa Vremya meant anything. The old man was focused on cultivating with his eyes closed. She could probably lead him to a trafficker and sell him for money without him even noticing. However, it was still something, and she was a bit disappointed when the walk ended. “We’re here, at the food market.”

Grandpa Vremya’s eyes opened, and he approached a countertop. There were boxes, each filled with a different fruit, placed on top of it. Grandpa Vremya picked up a bushel of grapes and … picked a single grape off of it.

“Hey! What are you doing?” the old lady at the countertop asked, shouting as she climbed to her feet. “You can’t eat before you purchase!”

“I’m not eating it,” Grandpa Vremya said. “I’m purchasing it.”

The old lady stared at Grandpa Vremya as if she were looking at an escaped mental patient. “You want to purchase a single grape?”

Grandpa Vremya glanced at the box of grapes. He rummaged through it, moving a few bushels out of the way, and plucked three more grapes. “I’ll buy these four.”

Azalea had the urge to hide her face with her hands. Had Grandpa Vremya never gone to a marketplace before? What kind of socially inept person tried to buy four separate grapes? “You’re suppose to buy them by the bushel….”

Grandpa Vremya snorted. “And get scammed?” he asked. “These four grapes are the only ones suitable. The rest are trash. Imagine if you were buying spirit stones from me, and I sold you a bunch of rocks with each stone.”

Somehow, Azalea felt like Grandpa Vremya had a point, but at the same time, something deep inside of her told her he was wrong. She cleared her throat and stepped up to the counter, pulling out a spirit stone. The old man and the old lady, who looked like they were about to slit each other’s’ throats, glared at her. “I’ll pay for the bushels,” Azalea said to the old lady, unintimidated. She turned towards Grandpa Vremya. “And you can have those four grapes.”

The old lady broke out into a wide smile and snatched the spirit stone out of Azalea’s hand. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

Grandpa Vremya frowned, but before he could say anything, Azalea tugged on his arm and dragged him away. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s embarrassing being there,” Azalea said, her expression dark.

“I still need more grapes,” Grandpa Vremya said. “How am I supposed to make a bottle of wine with only four grapes?”

Azalea groaned. “Can you please buy the grapes normally?”

Grandpa Vremya was about to object, but then he thought about the spirit stone Azalea had spent. She didn’t even take the bushels with her either. Clearly, she overpaid for the four grapes even if they were high-quality. “Fine,” Grandpa Vremya said and exhaled through his nose. “It’ll be more time-efficient to do it your way if every shopkeeper is going to behave like that scamming woman.”

Azalea’s eyes lit up as she stared at Grandpa Vremya’s face. Perhaps he wasn’t a complete blockhead? There was still hope.