Chapter 186: Instinct

Any explosion resulting from a Force array would cause significant upheaval, let alone the array drawn by Anwen himself, which stood amongst the most sophisticated ever recorded in魔裔 history. Despite Anwen’s formidable abilities, the resulting backlash left him singed and smudged with soot, his hair and eyebrows partially scorched.

Bai Kongzhao widened her eyes, somewhat puzzled regarding the occurrence.

“That’s merely a mistake due to not having used it in a while. I messed a couple spots up,” Anwen jestingly admitted to himself.

“You never draw incorrectly,” the girl stated firmly. At Anwen’s level, misrendered glyphs in a primary array were inconceivably absurd.

“Perhaps this array just should not be activated at all within this zone,” Anwen murmured ruefully shaking his head. “It’ll be night soon. Let’s prepare for the night ahead.”

The girl nodded and rested by the stone wall. This spot was the best place for resting in the wild; safe, hidden, and enabling immediate ambush opportunities upon intruding enemies. Without the briefest second thought, the girl chose that place. Anwen surveyed the site again afterward and found it indeed unmatched across entire camp.

Yet, observing where she’d chosen stirred a vague sensation from within — inexplicable grief. Sighing, Anwen proceeded to inscribe a new Force-aiding array. When halfway through, he abruptly uttered in realization and then pulled out a knife, using its flat surface as a spade to begin digging. Though the ground was rocky and impenetrable, at touch of blade it behaved like crumbling rot. Moments later — more than a man-length dug deeply — Anwen felt his knife tip suddenly strike nothingness, breaching access to an obscured chamber beyond.

Swinging the knife further widening the hole’s lips, Anwen plunged in, scanning.

Inside the secluded chamber, it stood very dim without a threadline of light leaking in. Though entirely black, its absence affected little魔裔 who retained dark-sight abilities. Modest in scale, the chamber’s side walls bore numerous shallow alcoves with sealed-mud wine vessels carefully stored inside.

Right at chamber center, a mound was formed upon which sprout one sole tree-sap. Time-stained and unmeasured by years, the lack of ambient rays had kept its growth extremely stunted, with merely scattered limbs extended. Yet the tip held a couple fresh leaves still thriving—miracle it had sustained life even for decades sealed in.

Unable to distinguish what type this young plant might descend from initially, Anwen sensed something not of the mundane from its enduring qualities. Lashing with the knife’s edges, Anwen loosened root with soil undisturbed, lifting it together wholely, tucking it respectfully inside a space-pouch kept for that reason. Returning outward, he seized a wine-jug off its shelf, pricked the sealing layer of mud. Instantaneously, concentrated pungent vapors erupted and filled the space.

Anwen furrowed his brows; this feral scent of fermented alcohol threatened anyone unprepared — particularly himself for whose tastes leaned consistently toward the cleanly pure. Without further tolerance, Anwen dropped it to rest back as-is, ensuring hermetic-sealed as prior. Despite the unpleasantness that filled nostrilia though came his growing excitement — ancestral records described native tribes of Great Whirl occasionally crafting strange, potent tincts. Perhaps even the one now before him. Evident with its aged-stone aroma that told of decades — hundreds? — of accumulated age deep hidden here.

Reassessing other jars, disappointment came with most found drained to nothing; compromised seals and worm burrows explained the loss to ghost-dust residue — no longer useful. But among many empty relics came several found filled still — three and one split jar full remaining.

Content with the haul gained, he gathered his belongings together, hoisted with him another sealed bottle-jug, climbed then leapt from secret chamber shouting aloud: “Come! Have I something to reveal for us tonight!?”

Silence replied; none responded.

Alarmed now and suddenly noting — night had set far past initial twilight. Cold swept across air, chilling down into sharp freeze.

Beneath rock face shivered the girl curled inside her garments shaking from the creeping frosts. Cheeks bleached deathly-pale and trembling lips darkened blue like winter berries. An instinctively hugging posture taken.

“I—I’m…cold…”

Instant upon feeling chill settle around, a sudden change came over Anwen. His ancestral records always depicted this vortex’s cold-night peril as exaggerated fiction. Now, though dusk still approached its initial turning point, vitality already withering fast like descriptions of the dead midnight hour recorded.

Anwen had underestimated previously the seriousness this event could bring. With natural魔裔 durability sufficient defense, he’d assumed merely a minor helping hand sufficient for her protection.

But the night revealed this Great Maelstrom’s Cold Night to surpass expectations far beyond comprehension — not ten but hundreds of times graver than what history ever suggested.

Thoughtful in contemplative stillness, memories scrolled back regarding prior teachings and instructions regarding cold resistance measures, preparing accordingly.

The魔裔 doctrine recounted Cold Night as a condition worsening only as one descended deeper into Great Maelstrom’s core regions. Instant understanding struck Anwen like a thunderbolt — this severity they now encountered implied their current positioning deeper than they had thought possible! Already into territory that was regarded as peril beyond measure; a place so deep that many even at his station as魔裔’s prince might find fatal should uncautious approach taken.

The previous playful ease had vanished. This was territory marked heavily with risk unknown. If not careful, this魔裔’s scion was not invincible. One miscalculation… and that life itself might be laid here silently.

As mind worked, hands reacted instinctively as suddenly he experienced the jar leaving his grip altogether — snatched.

Before Anwen even fully turned around, girl had flung the mud-top, tilting wine into mouth as swiftly as possible. Small in body but abyssal seemingly, she gulped all down in mere breaths, faster than Anwen could react or even prevent.

“Do noth—this substance must be—!”

Too late.

Anwen stopped short at her lips, already emptied clean. She smugged a relaxed, pleased expression. Exhaled deeply satisfied:

“Much better… At least…warmer now.”

“Just how—”

“Just was cold,” she answered, shrugging as if natural thought. “Believed death near — saw you retrieve items before, thinking they might produce some warmth. Grabbed, drank. That felt best solution.”

Anwen faltered. Could not quite chide. Having traveled together a month, he’d come to understand that this wild child existed driven largely instinctively like a free spirit of this untamed earth — in moments of life’s brink; Cold Night included, she would react instinctively for survival.

Soul-deep instinct, which overruled all thought — even consequences he had tried preparing for.

Letting a prolonged, resigned sigh from lips, he tried explaining gently:

“Not blaming drink-take away — though it mustn’t be drank raw this way. Requires preliminary filtering first — certain properties still too… unpredictable. Some… side-effects. Now, whatever transpires — can only blame this method’s premature adoption.”

He spoke, another sigh interlaced between sentences — regret mixed in heart. Such an awakening of one’s heart via force — robbed by happenstance — stripped it all of any beauty. The image — beautiful once — now dulled senselessly, much as a horse feeding on fresh carnation roses. What might’ve once bloomed delicately was merely squandered in its first contact with brute nature.

“Huh… what’s gonna happen?

Still slightly confused, she asked sleeplessly, while a rosy hue bloomed from cheek toward forehead. Swerving unsteadily as suddenly gravity pulled too suddenly — she toppled.

Instant intoxication.

Anwen startled a moment — gently sat next to the now-drunk girl — calmly awaiting further development.

Shortly, she began releasing faint snorts— peaceful like sleeping leopard cub nestled deep. And so remained, perfectly calm — until first dawn light broke.

While far westwards over东海 (East Sea), titanic war had barely concluded its thunder.

Along shores near Listening Tide City, remains of fiery wreaths painted skyline. Former Spun-Mage’s encampments burned — their bodies strewn everywhere, countless Silk-Spiders reduced to scorches fields. One needed merely see such devastation to deduce an Imperial decisive triumph.

Even in the prior engagements prior before魔裔 fully vacated or Vampires mostly withdrew — their allies seemed to have slight advantages over the terrain and air both. Spidom didn’t vacate solely due to the false belief that this new Commander, nicknamed a Future God General by some propagations — didn’t believe this宋子宁 (Zining Song) existed much threat. Their Command had sought to teach him — hard lesson.

However once battle broke— Spidom’s fleet found itself tormented, manipulated — by fleet tactics so unpredictably shifting, evading, feinting left, attacking right; elusive. The repeated attempts of launching full-offensive against his flagship failed continuously — each strike found only minor harassing vessels. Entire day of these elusive movements — small victories taken in capturing several stray vessels and down some patrols — but their goal, Zining Song’s command flagship remained elusive to them all day as he danced on their nerves.

After a taxing long day spent in such fruitless assaults and growing desperation amidst the Spidom’s ranks; their fleet finally made plans to return. Their vessels nearing the critical mark: drained in reserves — energy low.

Right at this critical moment — the Imperium’s grand fleet emerged without herald or warning sign whatever.

Outbreak had sealed their fate — at the moment when Vampiri withdrew completely to evade engagement. Well-rested war-bearers slammed relentlessly upon Spidom, who found no resistance against the turning tables. Battle transformed into massacre instant. Survivors consisted mainly of powerful ones who boarded high-velocity escape ships in last desperate flights — all remaining vessels left wounded and dying; ground-based forces left entirely behind, perishing entirely as battlefield offerings of this battle.

Currently, transport ships landed repeatedly — deploying scavenger mercenaries cleaning battlefield. Combatant ships fanned strategically outward— vigilantly guarding possibility still that remnants lurked.

Elite commanders and prominent experts from across factions gathered aboard Song’s lead ship to offer congratulations in grand fashion. The grandeur of this fleet-battle remained considerable even upon reviewing recent engagements. Beyond its magnitude; far more meaningful came its implications. Control access over the Great Whirlway meant significant leverage — and宋子宁 demonstrated his tactical finesse magnificently here. His future — a captain within Imperium’s Fleet itself — now lay within grasp.

Imperium’s Navies weren’t equivalent private levies of Noble Houses at large — requiring enormous financial backing for construction and logistics support; few elite Houses alone even could fund such efforts — let alone large numbers. True organized fleets of considerable numbers had long been dominions strictly held either directly Imperium rule or House of Emperor stewardship itself — key balancing arm held under Central War Ministry. Unlike land-warfare, in the vastness that separated oceans and stars above, individual powers counted far less until rising to rank of Supreme Field Marshal; the role of commander required not simply natural genius but disciplined refinement over hard-earned decades at sea commanding.

For such a young rising star demonstrating brilliance so swiftly upon first opportunity made the eyes of sharp-lookers blink twice, hearts beating with fresh intrigue.

Clans seeking inroads recognized Song as the breakthrough into Imperium’s navy ranks — long held untouchable fortress. Likewise Emperor’s Circle — considering his extensive web of influence—especially rumored close ties established via Li Regent — felt such young blood may shift alliance under right maneuverings if they pulled in correctly at appropriate moment.

Thus before wreckage even cleared, emissaries flocked in swarms.

Some curious and inquiring, few desiring face visibility alone, greater many seeking a privileged first step towards what many perceived — securing their future fortune — in hitching aboard to an impending rising starship of Zining Song.

And yet on Song’s countenance at that same hour lay no victory glow—rather subtle shadow over brow. For the man who so decisively broke enemy fleet apart mere minutes ago now bore hidden worries behind a practiced smile.