The departure of the eccentric group left a weird taste of discomfort in Amamuren's mouth. Their leisurely demeanor towards their surroundings marked them as true oddballs.
Yet, gazing at them put the boy in a daze. As if Amamuren had witnessed the birth and extinction of many worlds through their eyes.
Mo Yingui glanced at the milk-drinker, who was still in awe. "So," he began, breaking the silence, "how did the journey go this time?"
Only months ago, he still remembered a boy who made light of every situation. Coughing up tasteless jokes as if he lacked the common sense to read the room.
But, his tone had completely changed. Amamuren had hesitance in his movements. He seemed to weigh his actions against an invisible scale before committing to them.
The middle-aged man cracked subtle a smile. "Seems like you've finally realized something, Amamuren," he thought.
The boy looked up at the standing man as he drained the last of his milk.
"Well, I guess a thing or two about what people really are like when they think no one is watching them…" Amamuren replied to Mo Yingui's question.
The slight, bitter emphasis on the word people did not escape Mo Yingui's ears. It was a testament to the power of comprehension; how a single, sharp insight can reshape a soul. It can take seconds, hours, days, months, or years to make such a breakthrough in one's heart, yet some remain stagnant for a lifetime.
"Are you satisfied with the recent journey?" Mo Yingui asked.
"I am."
"Amamuren," The man leaned in with mischief in his eyes, "did the 9 people who just left seem special to you? I noticed you couldn't take your eyes off the two ladies."
"Please stop teasing, master…" Amamuren sighed, "It's just… It felt like any of them could flip the world inside-out. Both figuratively and literally."
"Well, you're not wrong. They're what every living creature aspires to be."
"… So they truly were immortals…"
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In a world full of slaughter and decay, Wàn Shān Chéng has stood as a defiant anomaly: prosperous, unyielding and fully autonomous.
It was no coincidence that refugees across the fractured continents dreamed of its gates. It was a fictional paradise within reality.
Wàn Shān Chéng gets many visitors all year round. Carriages of many traders lined the throughfares. The air was thick with the scent of spices and loud sounds of laughter.
Two traders were in a seemingly heated argument. The style of their fashion gave them away immediately. One draped of brown, muddy clothing of Werian, and the other in embroidered purple silks of the Oros.
Though their faces were crimson, and veins pulsed at their temples, the fellows would not dare act rashly within this city under the shadow of supreme master overlooking the vast strip of mountains.
Among these seemingly endless, snow-capped peaks, one remained especially brilliant. At its absolute zenith, a place where the air should have been too thin to breathe, the frost gave way to a miracle.
One would hardly guess that the snowy peak is filled with flowers and a nice cool breeze at the very top. Everything prospered: the fruit trees groaned from their massive yields, the flowers bloomed with vibrant colors, white rabbits darted through the perpetually green grass. It all came to a brilliant picture like that of a fairytale.
A humble wooden house stood with a small backyard at the edge of the peak, overlooking the miniature world of Wàn Shān Chéng. Surrounded by flora and fauna, topped off with a swing under the rich apple tree.
A vague silhouette swayed gently on that wooden swing, a playful grin tugging at her bright red lips.
A sudden gust of wind blew by, carrying with it a heavy presence.
"Elder Bai," the woman remained unmoved. "I take it that you didn't come here to disturb me for no reason?"
"Your eminence, I dare not!" A man replied, eyes widening with a flustered expression. He dropped to one knee, "The main road to our city has been blocked by a massive avalanche near the third mountain."
"Hmm, that area is not a hazardous zone, are you saying that someone tampered with it?"
"Yes. We believe that it was a collateral result of a clash between our neighboring countries."
"Haah…" She sighed, "I've warned them not to dare get their dirty feet anywhere near my mountains. Have they lost their wits, or simply their fear?"
"We can dispatch a team to clear it," Elder Bai said, bowing lower until his forehead nearly touched the soil. "However, I did not wish to overstep or deviate from your grand vision, my lady."
She chuckled, the sound like silver bells. "Grand vision? Elder Bai, you've certainly gotten better at flattery in your old age."
"S-surely you jest!"
The woman inhaled deeply, holding it for a few breaths of time. She opened her dark brown eyes with a sharp look and pointed towards the distant third peak. With a slow, fluid grace, she gestured her index and middle fingers upward towards the bright sky.
"You may go now."
The man bowed and left.
She sensed yet another presence behind her. This one did not carry the frantic demeanor of a subordinate, but a steady feeling of an equal.
"Harald Van-Gik Zeus," she chirped, her voice shifting into a coquettish lilt that would have sent Elder Bai into a state of cardiac arrest. "It's been a while~."
"There's no need to be so formal, miss Bellissima Celestia." A voice replied.
A man in pink sweater with bright blue jeans stepped into the light. Being labeled as an immortal by Mo Yingui and Amamuren, that would mean he should be confident in his movements, right? But, he took modest strides towards the woman.
Bellissima patted the narrow wooden slat of the swing next to her, a space barely wide enough for one person, an open invitation for him to be close enough to feel her warmth.
Harald paused. He looked at the tiny sliver of wood, the swing was clearly meant for a single-person use. He then looked at her expectant, shimmering look. Harald's eyes softened and cracked a smile. He, however, opted for a nearby wooden chair instead.
"I didn't think you'd visit me," smile widening at his caution, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I was passing by this world, so I thought I'd say hello."
Bellissima began to swing again, her movements more rhythmic and vigorous. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, embracing the wind as her white dress billowed like a cloud.
Even the deep shade casted by the apple tree couldn't hide the glow of her face, a big bright smile.
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A big smile of death and despair lingered over the faces of two kings', whose castles were ravaged by huge clusters of jagged boulders.
Though rulers of opposing forces, separated by leagues of contested land, they faced the same ruin.
In the wreckage of the Werian throne room, his crown lay crooked and dusted with white powder of pulverized marble. His lips slowly curled up in a grotesque manner, revealing a jagged, hollow smile. One of pure unadulterated fear, it was as if he had stared directly at the sun and had realized that he'd already gone blind.
Across the border, the Orosian monarch mirrored the same expression. He looked at the boulder slammed next to his seat that had narrowly evaded him. Only a laugh of fear could be squeezed out of his mouth.
A smile made out of pure horror is a fascinating thing to behold. What else could they have done? Not only did they look at rubble, but also the potential that came with it. After all, this was but a warning from a being that could raze the whole continent to the ground.
All sorts of frantic images flashed through the kings' minds. They knew for a fact who had sent the message. The guardian of Wàn Shān Chéng, the supreme master – Bellissima Celestia.
Their thoughts spiraled out of control into a tornado of hypothetical doom. Is she furious? Or she is possibly getting ready to finish the job. Or she might already be launching another attack!
Wild theories raced through their minds, fueled by the ego of the men who had thought they were important enough to be hated. However, one idea failed to come up. The reality, what truly was happening.
Never in a million years would they have imagined the reality: that the very same woman was currently giggling like a young maiden on a wooden swing, her heart fluttering with the presence of an old friend.
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