“There is such a thing?” Qianye was deeply perplexed.
Even though both of their Yuan power leaned towards dusk, it was still said there could exist mutual repression and conflict. Unless one cultivates secret methods like the Yin family’s “Huayu Technique,” advanced enough to finally heal others. This was a commonly known truth.
However, Qianye had simply wanted to neutralize his own Yuan force, a harmless situation since neither of them was inclined to confront. But no one expected Song Zining’s side would be so untouchable.
Song Zining said, “Fine, let’s change the topic. So you’ve advanced your kung fu skills to such a realm—No wonder you’re growing so self-assured.”
“What exactly realm is this?”
Zining gave him a glare and replied seriously, “A level even a lot won’t approach till reaching divine general rank! In general, it could practically be mastered only by the high-end divine generals.”
“I myself don’t really see it as any great power,” Qianye truthfully responded.
This only increased Zining’s frustration into laughter; he gnashed his teeth slightly, “Not particularly impressive, you say? And yet you can thrice leave me in bloodshed’s wake!”
Qianye could only chuckle and drop the subject. Blunt honesty would lead nowhere—he suspected Zining had simply been weaker to begin with, while he still struggled to pull back power unleashed, which, of course, constituted mistakes.
Zining scowled, throwing another scornful look in his direction, suddenly growing solemn and intense as he warned, “Qianye, you tread your own destined road now. Though no absolute assurance against hindrances lies ahead of you, the path does ascend boundlessly toward the sky. Keep treading onwards. What you’ve done in my past you already deserve to know—I kept nothing secret from you. But other than that, make no inquiry, nor attempt to uncover further details; remember well!”
Something invisible had seized Qianye’s heart, crushing it. Fixing Zining with a gaze, this time Zining didn’t shrink back one bit—as he met Qianye’s gaze directly with calm intensity.
After a brief pause, Qianye reached out to pat Zining’s shoulder. “Okay.”
Meanwhile, the floating barge proceeded down south arriving at Nanqing.
The city had regained its prior vibrancy and productivity, with merchant houses ceaselessly transporting laborers, materials, and components towards the metropolis to be integrated onto airborne ships: equipment hulls, panels, and various integral assemblies.
Merchants’ masters sensed keenly the emergence as this grand framework of Song Zining’s started operation—it displayed extraordinary efficiency. As one artisanal item exited a workshop it immediately traveled to the next establishment in line, transformed into input material for an upcoming product.
Every aspect of the crafting district had coalesced into integrated layouts. Hardly any crafts shop faced excessive distances for logistics.
This well-kempt system exceeded initial projections of productivity when it launched publicly in earnest. The merchants tuned acutely toward profit scents—efficiency here meant lower costs for heightened gains; likewise, mass production guaranteed even more profit.
Upon neutral ground beyond any realm of conflict—the demand for aerial combat-capable warships designed for survival outmatched supplies, and if the open requests weren’t moderated by policy limitations, production orders might already be backed up beyond the upcoming century.
After enduring previous tremors of turbulence, it was evident to the merchant guilds and rival factions that Song Zining had ultimately constituted the core in this immense enterprise he had built—an irreplaceable figure.
By commanding the top-secret knowledge of high-level engines essential to ships, he held exclusive leverage over key components that essentially determined an empire’s entire production lifeline. And no countermeasure could resolve this critical bottleneck—he built ships of immense power rivalling the mightiest imperial fleets; against vessels of the Neutral Lands, Song Zining’s designs were overpowering in every respect.
Yet because of their overwhelming weight—the Neutral Lands had no engine yet developed capable of even setting such vessels aloft without strain.
Hence, Zining holding that engine leash firm could reduce even this fleet, mighty as it may seem, into immobile sluggish carcasses.
With such an undeniable assessment in mind now across every faction’s minds, the merchant groups quickly stifled ambitions of rebellion. Willing now only to assist by reinforcing and bolstering the production network’s backbone—profit potential under protection was already far superior to former ventures ever imagined.
Of course, there did exist stubborn minds—conspiracies scheming to simply swallow Nanqing at once via sheer brute force. However, such goals could only be achieved by military might; and in order to seize Nanqing without opposition—Qianye inevitably presented himself as a primary barrier standing in their way.
After all Qianye’s past victories, despite holding apparent 16th-degree Yuan power—his bloodline, though dormant to most knowledge, left its threshold unseen. No less than mid-grade Yuan strength at the Sixteenth Level still left many desperate and hoping against hope that the laws of combat might be defied and Qianye’s rank surpassed, leading into eventual victory—since not once yet in any war, had he faced an actual true divine-general warrior head-on!
Qianye knew full-welling how he had turned from the target, into the hunter—he suspected vengeful pursuit and retribution would inevitably follow from Zhou Bushi eventually, it was only just a matter of timing. Just by how Zhou had dealt with Nanqing’s preceding Tide Hearing City’s Lord, it was plain—Qianye was certain his hatred had festered, and that Zhou, watching patiently, eagerly anticipating even the subtlest flicker of deterioration in strength, the smallest signs of fatigue in determination; at just those instants—Bushi would pounce, merciless and voraciously tearing Qianye into a thousand shreds.
Qianye refused fear or avoidance, still walking across the capital during set routines. The same timing and patrolling pathways every morning—he made the signal of unwavering defiance clear: Let all would-be stalkers strike from the shadows if dared!
The consequence? Those who watched and considered betrayal hesitated.
Each suspecting hidden, cunning schemes lay beneath the seemingly simple provocations, waiting patiently like a fishing hook concealed in muddy waters to ensnare prey within their reach.
Thus such an open invitation—how many truly would fall into the snare foolish enough to charge recklessly into his traps?
Very rare indeed—none would believe the cruel twist awaiting all in this scenario. For truly Qianye made absolutely no special preparation. The only weapon present would be himself.
Half a lunar month swept on rapidly under this strange peace, each dawn saw him patrol. Rest times only devoted themselves to relentless training.
Darkness and flame’s high headquarters attracted Yuan force currents across the heavens. The sky above was perpetually dim, leaden thunderclouds swirling densely, shaping massive whirlpools visible above; only fading somewhat at daybreak.
Such supernatural scenes could escape none paying adequate attention, instantly recognized for what they foretold: A being reaching the divine general ranks, powerful enough to command nature and alter skies—a divine general who had risen into a category of his own.
That reinforced pre-existing conspiracy theories further. That such an elite general surely waited, hidden in secrecy—Qianye the distraction aboveground while the real threat concealed himself strategically. Thus every foe grew further hesitant—and peace within tensions reigned.
However Qianye grew impatient. This prolonged stillness gnawed on him. Night Shadow’s farewell words continuously echoed painfully in his thoughts—many sudden premonitions drove the urge to seek dangerous extremes.
Yet already his path through “Thaun’s Cutting Techniques” enhanced via Yin Zhi’s ancient tomes’ Radiant Sections stood as the most refined method possible, already nearly unsurpassed in speed. So was there any method further to accelerate his growth?
The blood clans did possess faster ways of stealing another life-force essence. However with each such theft came inevitable, irreversible corruption of one’s ancestral bloodline, which accumulated over time lowering ultimate attainable potential. Though swift—the price exacted itself in unavoidable impurity.
Such paths remained popular with many of that tribe—for born with fixed boundaries predestinating their entire fate early in life, as long it remained below thresholds of degradation preventing them from advancement entirely, a few lost degrees might pale in comparison. The brutal and endless war-torn nights in perpetual shadow forced hard bargains: power at any costs when life itself remained short-lived. Yet—such parasitical means grew impotent near such upper limitations, failing beyond a critical line in their process.
Qianye, however, was a rare exception—thanks again to Yin Zhi and his profound alchemical treatises’ mysterious core chapters. With purification elevating his dark-gold blood force to the status of the ancients’ bloodlines, impurities remained near-inconsequential. His own potential thresholds remained staggeringly high.
Still, this route did impose balances. Built upon Yin-Zhao dualism: a foundation that couldn’t tilt or shatter—lest catastrophe result.
Hence, he’d needed to follow each step with discipline—for patience remained an unavoidable necessity.
Half a month had passed with the heavenly mansion and Lord Wolf maintaining complete silence. The prior events almost felt unreal given the quiet.
But the quiet itself became unbearable! Should Zhang Bushi hide for ten long years—Would Qianye wait ten long years, constantly alert and prepared—his way he definitely would refuse!
The resolution struck Qianye: he stepped out of meditation. With summoned attendants, gave swift marching orders—immediately locate Nanqing’s most powerful mechanical vehicle on command—time now for action immediately.
“Qianye Sir,” the attendant replied with caution, “would you like us to inform Master Zining where it was your intent to travel?”
“The City of Hearing.”
“To Hearing?”
A smile formed at Qianye’s lips. “As its Lord appointed, I believe duty now calls.”
Stunned speechless, hurriedly the aide rushed forth returning after moments pushing one wildly impressive piece of machinery: A monstrous creation of over a metric ton and impossible to command safely by regular people. Originally forged by coalition merchants under the brief occupation by Zhang Xuance—it previously served his transport, then naturally later falling into ownership by Flame Darkness.
The engine roared to life like thunder. Leaping over and into the speeding craft—Qianye vanished into dust clouds rising behind him.
Not wasting time, the aide took to his heels across half of bustling Nanqing searching factories at full speed to finally locate Zining laboring amidst one structure.
Having heard the full tale, Zining gave a dismissal wave. He sighed slightly and stated aloud, “Just knew this guy couldn’t contain stillness for too long!”
Taking out his fate-straw diviner rods—a traditional method for gauging auspicious paths—he intended to calculate Qianye’s journey safely.
However, as soon as those first diviner rods left his fingers without having even hit ground—they suddenly triggered a shiver across his skin—his hairs stood rigid. In an instant of lightning reflex he snatched everything still mid-falling midair. Closing his eyes and holding rigid breath, he became indistinguishable to the world of consciousness—as though a corpse.
Only after a drawn-out time did the hovering unseen crackling energy encasing his entire body retreat slowly, dispersing into ether.
Zining opened sight again and slowly stood, wiping icy sweat collected along the brow.
Gazing into what remained between his fingers two rods revealed thin fractures now etched upon each piece—he broke into an even heavier cold sweat at once—the merest split-second’s additional delay on his side could very well have triggered absolute self-reckoning disaster: An uncontrollable counter-reaction too fierce to bear or survive for a second!
Despite withdrawing as quickly as possible the reverberatory scare lingered. What could possibly have created such a backlash? Whose attention exactly had Qianye now involuntarily drawn?
Curiosity overtook caution temporarily, so Zining resolved not to directly divine further details but observe larger cosmic signs briefly. Moments later emerging from trance—massages a throbbing temple. The visual seen in his trance only confirmed confusion further still.
Celestial charts twisted into an obscurity, pierced by innumerable paths and constellations overlapping chaotically—like a sewing needle-thread tangle. As it turned out—benevolent or malevolent powers were watching him increasingly—beings far reaching from across sky-bound heavenly domains watching keenly beyond Void space. Any future divination into Qianye’s situation had become akin to attempting open daylight daylight crime—discovery practically guaranteed if pursued further foolishly.
Even so—as Song Zining reflected slightly—he ended up with a subtle chuckle: “This is even better. All those plotting against Qianye will meet with their deserved painful failures.”
Within a chamber of meditative quiet elsewhere—robed elder poured words aloud in chanting as he let fateful counters drop forth.
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