{The injury isn’t the real issue; we should be able to find healing abilities at headquarters. However, Matt Chao’s ability is something we can’t deal with… That’s probably why he let Xiao Yu go. She might not survive the next deep sleep of midnight.}
[What does that mean?]
{Zhao Anlong once said that anyone Matt Chao sets his sights on will die by his sword in their sleep. For now, all we can do is keep her from falling asleep. Otherwise, Matt Chao could directly enter our base.}
「Damn bastard.」
Yang Zicang clenched his fists.
That so-called Matt Chao actually dared to lay a deadly hand on a girl of seventeen or eighteen.
At this moment, Yang Zicang’s mind was in turmoil, leaving him with no mood to prepare more fully for entering the Yore-Realm. After all, resources here were scarce too, and the original plan to seek out high-tech items—such as generators, steam engines, or lathes—had to be abandoned.
[Give me a few days, and I’ll personally finish him off.]
At the thought of this, Yang Zicang, vexed and furious, took the initiative to return the 1NInvest, severed the Syn-Link, and spoke harshly to Liang Xi:
–Liang Xi, I’ll trouble you to come with me again later to our new stronghold.–
–Are we going to clean up?–
–No, I’m going back there again.–
Liang Xi stared at him in shock. At this moment, the youth was genuinely envious—he too longed to go in and acquire a skill.
……
A few hours later, the two carried water, food, flint, several books, and a sword, preparing to return to the new cross-point.
Robin Lo had originally bounced along eagerly wanting to follow, but was met with a cold glare from Yang Zicang.
Watching the two leave, Robin Lo clicked his tongue.
–This Warren Wang is a real fool.–
……
This time, the straw mat was covered with a soft wool blanket. Though it was summer, the temperature in the dimensional space was not high.
Nearby lay several reference books—basic materials on physics, chemistry, and pharmaceuticals. The sword and metal sphere rested on the other side of his body, while Yang Zicang held the statue in his hand.
He had instructed Liang Xi that these items could be moved away once he fell into a deep sleep.
At the same time, Liang Xi had split seven hundred years from the remaining millennium of Chronos on his body, passing it to himself for unforeseen needs.
He had firmly resolved to stir things up to no end inside—without a powerful ability, he wouldn’t last more than a few days.
Raising his right arm, Moxel glimmered into radiance at his fingertip, condensing into a shape resembling an envelope, as the surrounding environment swirled in chaotic rotation.
[I begin using this complete postal emblem for the second time, remaining uses 1/3.]
Consciousness was extracted, once again drawn into the chaotic vortex, hurled toward the distant end of the mind’s realm.
[The Lost Court, Star of Cyan and White, at your service.]
……
–Caw, caw, caw.–
A flock of wild ducks, startled, flapped their wings and flew away.
Yang Zicang held his head as he rose, realizing he had once again appeared on the same hilltop where he had left last time.
The clothes from the previous visit were gone, replaced by what he had worn this time. All his belongings were scattered around him, but there was no small statue—just like the previous entry, where there had been no –page.–
Yang Zicang bent down, picked up the metal ball Liang Xi had found, tossed it lightly, and turned to look at the overgrown small platform behind him. The thatched hut had long fallen into ruin, but ahead, there were traces of discarded offerings.
–Every time I enter, it’s right after a comet has passed. It must have been decades already.–
Yang Zicang sighed with emotion, sensing that in the decades since his departure, some had known he had gone up this mountain and had come here to pay tribute.
The distant landscape had changed somewhat. A new town had appeared at the foot of the mountain, and further away, more bamboo groves and trees had grown.
It seemed that this time, even without him, those who had obtained spirit tools and weapons over the past millennium had finally managed to survive the demonic calamity on their own.
……
Organize the items brought in, especially the few books.
Development across the continent is uneven, but not by a cross-era margin. For now, most regions remain tribal, but with these books, Yang Zicang believes the world will undergo rapid progress.
After all, basic science is the cornerstone of all inventions and creations.
He arrived at a bustling town, where many were still clad in primitive animal hides, and only a few wore linen garments.
Twenty years later, Yang Zicang left this town and ventured elsewhere.
……
Zarguda, the –First Follower,– clad in a gray fur cloak, knelt before the statue of a deity.
Most of his life had passed, yet ever since he had caught a glimpse of that sage in his youth, he never again beheld his true visage.
–O revered Undying King. Grant us your sacred decree—why have you departed… Have you forsaken us?–
Inside the great hall.
Hundreds of robust men, clad in crude armor and gripping bizarre relics of sanctity, gazed at the leader at the front, their faces steeped in lamentation.
Since the desolate ancient times, every sixty years, a sign of monsters’ arrival would emerge, lasting about a year. In that year, the one destined to confront the calamity from the age of old would invariably appear.
He is known as –the One Who Appears Between Two Sexagenary Cycles.–
This year is referred to as the –Jiazi Term,– but last time, the –Undying King,– the one who was supposed to respond, never showed up here.
The followers of the Sacred Flame, scattered across the continent, have all gathered at the holy temple today.
For more than two decades, these warriors—clad in custom tunics and wielding sacred relics—have traversed the entire continent, confirming one fact: during the previous Jiazi Term, there was no sign of that holy one anywhere on the continent.
After the prayers and confessions, the leader of this company rose to his feet, a dignified glint in his eyes.
–You have labored bravely, warriors. The city is ready with fine wine. For the next seven days, feast and rejoice to your hearts’ content!–
–Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo!–
The crowd leaned on their weapons and let out thunderous cheers.
A smile crept across Zaguuda’s face. Perhaps this batch of warriors were the incarnations of the Undying Lord, or perhaps that fleeting figure in memory was merely a man his predecessor had dredged up from somewhere.
……
Supported by two statuesque young women, Zaguuda made his way back to the rugged stone palace behind the temple.
He could feel the life force within him waning year by year.
According to legend, every time a Chief Follower passes the title to the next generation, that Being is present. He couldn’t help but wonder—when his own turn comes, what would he do if the Being fails to show up?
–Dad.–
A boy with slightly yellow hair walked over.
–Have you practiced martial arts today?–
–Sigh… yes, I did.– The boy replied, guilt written all over his face.
Zagu nodded with satisfaction. –Only the bravest warriors can become Followers. Don’t let my hopes down.–
The round-faced boy grinned and said:
–Dad, the warriors are back. I want to go to the city to collect some rewards for them.–
Zagu glanced coldly at the boy, who looked around fifteen or sixteen. His evasive gaze irked him a little.
–Don’t cause any trouble.–
Ashizagu, his face still slightly protruding, breathed heavily, a flicker of joy surfacing on his face.
–Got it.–
Without a second thought, he took off running. Along the way, passing a maid outside the door, he didn’t hesitate to grab a handful of her thigh beneath her skirt.
……
–It really responded!–
Morris lay on the bed, trembling with excitement. The response from the Wish Talisman had just come.
–Quick… go to sleep, now.–
Wrapped in the embrace of dozens of small, green, raw-like fruits, the more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn’t.
–This is terrible!–
Three minutes here, half an hour passed there, and who knows how many eons had slipped by in Yore-Realm. Bobori watched him like this, a bit bewildered, but the blond youth still came up with an idea.
–Morris, I have an idea, but you’ve got to hold on—I’ll open the door in a few minutes.–
Morris turned his head from under the blanket, asking warily, –What are you up to?–
–Just watch and see.–
Before long, the air grew thick with the pungent smell of charcoal and alcohol.
……
Morris found himself wide awake in a forest; he hesitated for two seconds before snapping back to reality, quickly sat up, and perched on the edge of the bed.
That damn bastard wasn’t afraid of suffocating himself, was he?
–You’re Morris? Hello, can you understand my language?–
Suddenly a voice came through, and Morris looked up. In the forest, a young Asian man holding a black lance stood behind the grass as if passing by, gazing at him and… at the wooden bed beneath his backside.
–Hello… uh, yes.–
The two exchanged glances. Morris glanced at the sun in the sky and said in fairly standard Chinese: –Are you the master of this dream? How should I address you?–
–Just call me ZiCang. Which country did you come in from, and you even speak Chinese.–
–I’m what you folks call a foreign teacher—most people in the cities around here are from your hemisphere.–
He rose from the dark brown solid wood bed, stepping onto the soft grassy ground, his gaze sweeping through the forest with vigilance.
In the distance came the chirping of birds and the faint sound of flowing water, as sunlight filtered through the gaps in the canopy, dappling his body.
–These several cities?– Yang Zicang tilted his head and shot him a glance.
–Huh, you don’t know? Someone who’s earned a complete postal crest, yet hasn’t even heard of Hubville’s existence?–
–What kind of place is that?–
Morris stroked his tawny hair:
–Really don’t know? Ah, let me put it this way. There are still plenty of strange cities like the one you’re in across this world, and it’s Hubville that connects them all. I guess we’re not from the same city.–
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