Chapter 26
"The land cities are no longer safe for me," Ling Xu said as she occasionally glanced downward, where the stretches of land with villages and small kingdoms looked like an aging chessboard.
"But the good news is, I've mapped dozens of sky cities while we were in the cave—based on the accounts of fishermen I saved before the plague spread, and from stolen maps I took from the corpse of that blue-robed commander."
She pulled out a thin cloth scroll from beneath her robe, unfolding it mid-flight.
On the cloth—its ink faded in places but still legible—was a pattern of glowing points scattered across the sky like sleepless stars, dozens of sky cities with names that sounded like songs.
Tianzhu, Yonglan, Feixue, Qianji, and many others, all floating at different altitudes, connected by bridges of light that could only be traversed by cultivators of certain levels.
Huan Zheng let out a soft whistle at the sight of the map, his lazy eyes suddenly glinting with something akin to admiration—or at least, his version of it.
"You did all this while lying there with wounds all over your body?"
Ling Xu did not answer with words.
She simply smiled—a smile no longer as bitter as before, yet not entirely sweet either, a smile that seemed to exist between two worlds like herself—then rolled the map back up and slipped it into her robe with a speed that made Huan Zheng almost unable to believe she was the same girl who had once lain weakly atop rubble, her breath barely holding on.
"The comparison between land cities and sky cities," she finally said, her voice turning more serious, more measured, like a teacher explaining an important lesson to her most troublesome yet talented student, "is like comparing earth and sky, Huan Zheng—sorry, Zheng Huan. The number of sky cities alone is three times that of land cities, and that's only the beginning. Their infrastructure, their buildings, their defense systems… all of it exists at a level even the greatest land city could never reach in a thousand years."
She pointed toward the northwest, where through the mist a flicker of golden light could be seen, blinking like the eye of a giant watching the world from above.
"That is Tianzhu, according to the fishermen. The twelfth largest sky city in this world. Its walls are made of crystal that can reflect Qi attacks, its streets are lined with lanterns that never extinguish, and at the center of the city—"
She stopped, swallowing as if forcing down a bitter potion she had taken too many times.
"At its center, there is a monument of the Gods' victory over humanity. One hundred meters tall. Made of gold and bloodstone. And every day, at the foot of that monument, captured lowly humans are executed in public—as entertainment, as a warning, as… art."
Huan Zheng—now Zheng Huan—said nothing for a moment, only clenching and unclenching his fist beneath his loose black robe, as if testing the strength of his fingers for something he had yet to decide.
"Then we will infiltrate Tianzhu," he finally said, his voice flat, but his eyes—hidden beneath the shadow of his hood—burning with the same pale blue fire as that night in Xuelan Camp.
"Not as Ling Xu and Huan Zheng, but as Lin Xue and Zheng Huan. As wandering healers with no past, no grudges—only the intent to treat wounds and gather fragments… until the time comes."
Now, the journey of Ling Xu and Huan Zheng to each sky city was colored with unique moments and adventures that stirred curiosity—while also attracting the attention of their enemies.
The sky of Tianzhu was not as beautiful as it seemed from afar—or perhaps its beauty was too perfect, making it feel artificial, like a painting coated in too much varnish, stripped of its living pulse.
The clouds did not move naturally but were controlled by a massive Qi formation rotating slowly beneath the city, creating an illusion of day and night that was too orderly to feel mysterious.
Meanwhile, on the surface, streets of pale blue crystal reflected the light of thousands of lanterns, making the entire city feel like it existed inside a glowing gemstone.
Ling Xu—now Lin Xue—stood at the edge of the central plaza, her hood covering most of her face, her vigilant eyes observing the crowd of cultivators arriving from all directions, all gathering toward a massive stage erected at the center of the square, where an announcement had just been delivered by a white-robed elder.
A team-based flag-capturing competition, they said, would serve as the entrance test for anyone wishing to be recruited by the prominent sects of this sky city.
"This is insane," Ling Xu whispered to Huan Zheng, who stood beside her with half-closed eyes, his arms already folded as if preparing to sleep while standing.
"We came here to hide, not to join some game that will draw everyone's attention."
But before Huan Zheng could respond—or more precisely, before he could yawn again—both of them were already pulled apart by unfamiliar hands, dragged in opposite directions by a crowd too dense to resist.
And when Ling Xu realized it, she was already standing in the middle of a team led by a young woman with silver-blue hair and the cultivation aura of the Twentieth Level of the Single Star.
Meanwhile, across the wide field, she could see Huan Zheng's lazy figure joining another team, surrounded by cultivators who looked enthusiastic, though unfortunately unaware that their new teammate was a man who preferred sleeping over fighting.
"Don't worry, my lady," the female team leader said to Ling Xu with a smile far too bright for the situation, "we will win. I've won this game three times in a row."
Ling Xu only gave a faint smile beneath her hood, not mentioning that she was more concerned about the team member on the opposite side, who already seemed to be lying down on the grass despite the match not yet starting.
The match unfolded in chaos that oddly resembled a choreographed dance—dozens of cultivators of varying levels running across the five-hectare field, attacking, blocking, and competing for the red flag fluttering at the center like a beating heart in a gladiator arena.
Ling Xu, forced by her team leader to remain in the rear area because she was considered too weak at the Eighteenth Level of the Singular Star—when in truth she could annihilate half the opponents if she wished—could only stand beside her team's flagpole, occasionally deflecting minor attacks that slipped through the front line, her eyes constantly searching for Huan Zheng amidst the chaos.
And then she saw him.
At the eastern edge of the field, beneath an artificial cherry blossom tree whose petals never fell due to an eternal enchantment, Huan Zheng—now called Zheng Huan—lay flat on the lush grass, his hands tucked behind his head as a pillow, his legs casually crossed, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the warm sunlight, as if there were no ongoing battle around him at all.
To be continued…