The night is the eternal theme of the Domain of Eternal Night.
Endless night and shadows cover this vast and desolate continent, leaving only fleeting gaps for the sunlight.
To those deep, far-seeing eyes that gaze upon several or all the continents, the Domain of Eternal Night is like a shadow at the edge of vision, not worthy of much attention. In this dark region, the replacement of an expeditionary general isn’t even worth a number in the gazette, let alone the formation of a small mercenary group which would be completely overlooked.
Yet, on this land shrouded in shadow, a profound and immense darkness is slowly moving, aiming to cross through the shades of gray and engulf all light.
When a storm is about to come, even during the day, the sky is dark and gloomy.
On the edge of the Domain of Eternal Night, an airship sails closely under dense clouds. Gales blow fiercely, causing it to sway, sometimes even shifting dozens of meters suddenly. In the strong winds, the steel frame creaks ominously, with some parts visibly deforming as if they could break at any moment.
This is not the weather for an airship to fly. The gales aren’t the worst; the black, bottomless clouds above are continuously filled with lightning, the most perilous threat. If struck by a bolt, this star-class airship, capable of crossing between two continents, would plummet to the ground in flames.
In the cockpit, the burly captain pilots the ship, sweat drenching his head, his eyes fixed ahead. Through the porthole, all he sees are the deep, dark clouds and dancing lightning. The howling wind sounds like the roar of a beast, filling their ears.
Two more force lights flicker atop the airship. Lights that can illuminate a whole parade ground on the ground now barely penetrate the storm clouds, casting a terrifying glow to the writhing electrical snakes. Ahead, it’s still a hell of raging storms.
Suddenly, the cockpit door bursts open, and a pale young man rushes in, shouting, “We can’t go on! The power furnace has already exceeded its limit, and the support frame is starting to deform. We must land, quickly! If we continue, we’ll fall apart!”
“What did you say?!” the captain roars. But his voice is drowned out by the wind and thunder, like a few buzzing flies.
The young man comes closer, almost touching the captain’s ear, and shouts, “I said, the airship will fall apart! We must land immediately!”
The captain roars back, “Impossible! If we dare to land now, that person will tear us all to pieces!”
“But…” The young man tries to argue, but finally just curses, “Madmen! All madmen!”
He leaves the cockpit, not demanding to land again. Fear of “that person” seems to surpass fear of the storm and thunder.
The airship is like a lone boat in a stormy sea, struggling to move forward, always on the verge of destruction.
In the cabin, two rows of warriors sit along the walls, their strength astonishing, all at levels six or seven, yet their faces are grim. In such violent turbulence, they rely on safety harnesses to keep them strapped to their seats, for falling out means hitting something inside the cabin or, worse, being thrown out through the door or porthole.
The spacious cabin houses three people who can move freely. The warriors look at them with awe, knowing that in this environment where sudden ascents, descents, and lateral shifts of over a hundred meters occur, not only can they move freely, but they can also train in combat.
Near the cabin door stands a young, heroic man, his general’s star on his shoulder standing out. As the youngest general of the Broken Winged Angels, Bai Longjia attracts attention wherever he goes. But now, he looks no different from any ordinary man.
The center of attention in the cabin is a pair of women, one large and one small.
The woman in simple, ancient attire, who appears plain at first glance but reveals sharpness and pride upon deeper observation, is Bai AoTu, the one who can make the proud Bai Longjia as obedient as a kitten.
Opposite her is a young girl, her big, innocent eyes sparkling, a child’s face hinting at exceptional beauty. She looks only twelve or thirteen, holding a dagger and circling Bai AoTu, attacking incessantly.
The airship shakes violently, the girl’s steps unsteady, but she never falls, always finding openings to launch deadly attacks. She is like a cunning, vicious snake, capable of delivering a lethal bite even when severely beaten.
Watching, Bai Longjia rubs his face, not wanting to admit the chill in his hand. It’s not from the turbulence, but from watching the girl’s training, which makes him uneasy.
He realizes that if he were to fight, even a slight hesitation would result in multiple wounds. This little one, no matter how dire the situation, always finds a way to counterattack.
The girl has only ignited five force nodes, not a remarkable talent, a result achieved only after Bai AoTu gave her many potions. Yet, level and force strength aren’t everything; these seasoned warriors can only secure themselves with the ship, highlighting her incredible combat instinct.
Though she looks young, Bai Longjia knows she’s actually around fifteen. Even if she trained from birth, she couldn’t have reached her current level.
Truly, there are geniuses in the world. Even Bai Longjia, the next leader of the prestigious Bai family, can’t help but think so.
This girl is a born combat genius, her judgment and intuition unmatched. Bai Longjia feels a twinge of envy. Sadly, while she excels in one area, she lacks in another. Her talent in force cultivation is average, and even with numerous potions, it’s unlikely she’ll advance to a higher rank.
Her limited force drains quickly in such extreme conditions, leaving her nearly exhausted.
Bai AoTu deflects her knife, saying, “That’s enough for today. Go rest and recover.”
The girl bows respectfully, then runs to a corner to eat her rations, savoring each bite as if it were the finest delicacy, though it’s just compressed military food, tasteless and rough.
Bai AoTu leans against the wall, eyes closed, meditating. Bai Longjia walks to her side, glancing at the girl, and says softly, “Sister, do you think we can really control Kong Zhao?”
Without opening her eyes, Bai AoTu replies, “Kong Zhao is a double-edged sword, powerful when used well, dangerous when mishandled. Do you lack confidence in yourself?”
Bai Longjia smiles bitterly, “Kong Zhao is a monster. If not for her average talent in force cultivation, I’d have no confidence at all.”
“Don’t forget, Kong Zhao is now a Bai. After this battle, her name will be known, and whatever she achieves will be for the Bai family.”
“But… do you really think the Bai name will hold any sway?” Bai Longjia hesitates, then asks, “Sister, how confident are you in controlling her in the future?”
Bai AoTu pauses, then says, “Fifty-fifty.”
The airship continues to struggle, rising and falling like a frog avoiding a downpour. Miraculously, it doesn’t crash, gradually fading into the distance amid the storm and lightning.
Black Stream City remains calm, with no trace of the unrest caused by Wu Zhengnan’s incident. Even the dark races, once active outside the city, have decreased. To those with keen eyes, this is not a good sign. Only an impending war and the city being in a war zone would cause the dark races to withdraw their forces.
The city divides into two clear parts. The upper echelons are tense, many leaving, while the rest are busy with their duties. The lower classes, on the other hand, enjoy a rare period of ease, indulging in cheap alcohol, their demands modest.
As the leader of a new mercenary group, Qian Ye is somewhat of a figure in Black Stream City. Wei Potian, despite his usual brashness, has kept their relationship discreet, sparing Qian Ye the wrath and assassination attempts from Wu Zhengnan’s former subordinates.
Thus, Qian Ye, leading a mercenary group of several hundred, is merely a third-rate figure in the city. Such a minor character draws little attention, except from those equally insignificant.
Wei Benian has gone to the barracks, where the rebuilt Seventh Division is stationed in Yunfan City’s Four Waters Base. Originally, Black Stream City had two permanent regiments, but Wu Zhengnan’s death and the ensuing chaos left only a skeleton crew, fewer than three hundred.
Recruitment notices are everywhere, with over a dozen recruitment points set up across the city. New recruits receive a silver coin instantly. Through this, Wei Benian aims to gather as many soldiers as possible, though their quality is poor, even weaker than Qian Ye’s new mercenary group.
Qian Ye stands near a recruitment point by the southern gate, watching for a while. Dressed as a typical hunter, with a large backpack, he planned to leave the city to survey the surrounding wilderness. But as he left the courtyard, he felt someone watching him. This strange, observed feeling made him alert—caught so quickly? By a local or Wu Zhengnan’s remnants?
But he quickly dismisses both possibilities.
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