Lorel stood up, her gaze fixed on the white streaks in Chubbs's hair. "Chubbs," she said, her voice still thick with unshed tears. "What was the deal? With the spirit island. Why is your hair white?"
Chubbs's voice was calm, but as genuine and loyal as it had always been. "Do not worry, my lady. Let us go."
Although Lorel wanted to ask more, to demand an answer, she could see a sudden, new independence in him. She had no idea what he had been through in the shadows of the silver forest, but deep in her heart, she felt an immense, sympathetic pain. Coming to the Sky Ocean had been a conscious decision for all of them. But she knew they would leave this place forever changed.
Yet she knew she could not lament forever. For Ning. For Chubbs. For all those she cared for, she had to move ahead.
She moved closer to the crater. Yun lay silent within it, his life slowly dwindling away. She had learned some healing spells , but she knew it was over for him. And even if she could, she would not help him. After looking at him for a few seconds—the boy whose grief had turned him into a monster—she simply said, "No more." Then she turned and walked away.
With Chubbs, she used her **Shidow** to ascend into the liquid-gold sky. As expected, as they rose, the oppressive, tomb-like barrier of the Spirit Isle simply… parted. A seam opened in the unseen dome, letting them pass through into the open Sky Ocean. The deal was indeed the answer.
Below, Lilia was the last person on the island, her back broken, riddled with pain and fury. She could not move. All she could do was curse at the retreating figures of Chubbs and Lorel, and at all the others, for abandoning her in this sea of corpses.
In the sky, Lorel and Chubbs floated forward. The journey was quiet. Chubbs did not make a single pleasantry, did not call her "my pearl" or "my only hope." He was trying his best to be the same, but he wasn't quite like the boy from the market. The silence held a new weight, a gravity earned in the dark.
Yet Lorel respected his silence. She would wait. Once Chubbs was ready to open up to her, she would listen.
The duo rapidly left the vicinity of the Spirit Isle, as if they wanted to put that haunted shadow far behind them.
***
Somewhere out of the Sky Ocean, in the real world.
In a massive, austere training hall carved from black stone, Xian stood bare-chested. He held a masterfully crafted blade of dark, chaotic Qi in his hand, its edge humming with silent negation. His wife sat on a simple stone bench at the side, her elegance a stark, luminous contrast to the grim surroundings. She looked to a low table where over seventy candles stood with only one slowly dimming.
Her eyes caught the moment the last candle guttered, dimmed, and went dark.
She turned to Xian, her voice a soft chime in the stillness. "Is this not enough, Xian?"
Her words forced him to let his training flow halt. The dark blade dissolved into mist. Xian glanced at her, then at the extinguished candle. He let out a light sigh, a sound that held the weight of countless plans. He walked towards her.
"My love," he said, his voice gentle, a tone reserved only for her.
"So many lives have been given already," she said, not looking at the candles, but at her own clasped hands. "I have already accepted that I will never be able to feel what it is like to fly, that the Wheel of Destiny is not for me to learn in this life."
Xian's demeanor shifted. The gentleness hardened into absolute, unyielding conviction. "That will never happen," he barked, the sound sharp in the hall. "As long as I draw breath, it will never happen." He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "The **Miedao**, the **Zhadao**, the **Wudao**… they are almost ready. A little more, and they will be perfect. By then, we will move in the open. We will let the world know of us, and you will have a path they cannot deny you."
His wife sighed, bailing her fists within his grasp. "Who is it next? Liang? What if he never opens the scroll? What then?"
Xian shook his head slowly. He reached up and gently touched her cheek, turning her face so she had to look into his eyes—eyes that held a universe of devotion and ruthless purpose. "Have I ever disappointed you?" he asked.
His wife froze. Memories cascaded: the time they were hunted, the nights he spent screaming in pain perfecting the corruptions for her sake, the absolute, terrifying lengths he had gone to for a single chance to rewrite her fate. She couldn't muster the strength to argue against him now. How could she?
Xian smiled, a true smile that softened his harsh features. "Trust me, my love."
***
Back in the Sky Ocean.
Gen, Liang, and Kang Mao had left the domain of Shelia. The trio flew through the golden void, navigating their way toward the location Gen was indicating from the strange pull of the chess piece.
"Gen's orientation ability is worse than that of a blind person," Kang Mao stated, his voice flat with annoyance as they corrected course for the third time.
Gen scratched his head, peering into the shimmering haze. "Just trust me! It's this way."
Liang hesitated, pointing a finger in the opposite direction. "Gen Jiang, did the fool chess piece break your head or something? We already went through this stretch of nothing an hour ago."
Gen laughed, a bright, infectious sound in the eerie quiet. "No, no, *this* way!" He banked sharply, leading them on.
Gen had explained everything about the chess piece and Master Yujin to his best friend, and even to Kang Mao, which had caused their bond to grow stronger, forged in shared strangeness.
At that moment, Gen suddenly felt something—a distant, subtle *wrongness*. It was like a very potent, familiar Qi had just… turned into faint particles, dissolving on the wind. Had someone else died here? He wasn't really surprised. The Sky Ocean was truly one of the most dangerous places he had ever visited. Without sufficient strength, they would have died seventy times over already. No wonder the sects waited almost a year before it was opened.
After a few more days of flying, the trio finally arrived at another island in the Sky Ocean. This one, however, wasn't empty. A fair number of cultivators moved across its rocky, crystalline surface, all converging towards the center of the island.
It was from that center that Gen felt the distinct, vibrant pulse he was seeking. The **Zenith Sky-Root**.
He bailed his fist. *This was it.* Obtaining this root was his real reason for coming to the Sky Ocean, and it was just there now.
Liang, on his side, pointed towards the gathering crowd. "Looks like things will be animated here. But we have to be careful, Gen. We cannot let ourselves be surprised by the Wild Edge Sect Leader."
Gen nodded, his eyes scanning for threats. "Understood."
Kang Mao laughed beside them, a dry, amused sound. "How many enemies do you two have in the Sky Ocean?"
Gen and Liang exchanged a look, their shared history—a tapestry of reckless challenges, stubborn pride, and unwavering loyalty—shining in their eyes. A genuine, tired laugh escaped them both.
"Quite a few already," Gen said, grinning.
Without another word, they dove toward the island.
Gen, Liang, and Kang Mao landed on the island's rocky shore. The terrain was different here—jagged, crystalline outcroppings and wind-smoothed stone spires replaced the silver forests and mossy glades. The air was thinner, sharper, carrying a faint, sweet scent that seemed to emanate from the island's heart.
At the very center, rising from a flat plateau, was a statue. It was carved from the same dark, lustrous stone as the chess piece Gen had faced, but this one was larger, life-sized. It depicted a horse, but rendered in a powerful, humanoid stance—a knight poised to charge. **Another piece of Master Yujin's puzzle.** A flicker of excitement warmed Gen's chest.
But unlike the hidden chamber in Shelia's domain, this piece was in the open for all to see.
Strangely, none of the two dozen or so cultivators scattered around the plateau seemed to care about the statue. Their attention, their tense postures, their greedy eyes, were all fixed on what lay at the statue's feet.
A single plant.
It was small, unassuming, with four broad leaves that glowed with a soft, internal light, casting shifting star-like patterns on the dark stone around it. The air above it shimmered with condensed, potent Qi.
Among the murmured conversations, Gen and Liang caught the words, clear as a bell: "…the Sky Zenith Root…"
*This was it.* The very reason they had braved the ocean.
However, on this entire island, there was only one. Its rarity made it the absolute center of a silent, seething tension.
Gen, Liang, and Kang Mao moved with practiced casualness, weaving through the scattered groups of cultivators. Many wore the colors of minor sects or bore the marks of lone wanderers. Their auras were guarded, watchful. Thankfully, while many knew *of* Gen Jiang—the boy who had killed a Divine General—very few knew what he actually looked like. Before his father's death, his world had been the Jiang Mountain and the capital. Here, in this lawless sky, he was just another young face in the crowd.
They managed to get within twenty paces of the root without attracting overt hostility. The tension was a live wire in the air.
Then, Gen's sharp ears picked up a hushed, resentful conversation between two older cultivators.
"…heard that Baili Feng declared no one would touch the Sky Zenith Root until he was defeated. The arrogance of that boy."
"He has the right to be. He's awakened the Crown acupoint. **Fendow** at his age… it's monstrous. And with that Cloud technique of his…"
"He thinks we're just training dummies here for his amusement. Where are we supposed to find 'Gen Jiang' for him to fight?"
Gen tensed slightly, his jaw tightening. His name in these whispers felt like a target being painted between his shoulder blades.
His gaze followed the speakers' resentful glances to the edge of the stone plateau, right beside the looming knight-statue.
There, seated in a perfect lotus position on a bare rock, was a boy. He looked to be sixteen, dressed in simple grey and white robes. His eyes were closed, his breathing imperceptible. An aura of absolute, icy quiet surrounded him, so profound it seemed to swallow the ambient sounds of the Sky Ocean. It was **Baili Feng**.
And with his presence alone—a silent, unspoken ultimatum—he was holding all these hungry, powerful cultivators at bay. He wasn't blocking the root. He was simply *there*, a gatekeeper whose only condition for passage was a fight he did not believe any of them could give him.
Gen exchanged a look with Liang, who gave a minute, wary nod. Kang Mao simply smiled.
They had found the root. But to claim it, they would have to walk through the storm of Baili Feng's expectation, and the desperate ambition of every other cultivator on that rock.