Chapter 105

Chapter 105: Borrowing the Road

More than ten days slipped by in the blink of an eye, and Wang Jie still hadn’t returned.

Huai Si had no choice but to leave. He couldn’t afford to waste all his time waiting on Wang Jie.

A few days after Huai Si departed, Wang Jie finally came back.

The disaster materials were gone. He needed to gather more.

Huh?

Had the ships changed?

He stared at the vessel parked closer than his own. It wasn’t Huai Si’s.

Huai Si’s ship was already gone.

Wang Jie said nothing and headed for his own ship.

The other ship’s hatch slid open. A man stepped out and strode straight toward him. “Junior Brother, how long have you been on Deepweight Star?

Have you seen a storage ring?”

Wang Jie didn’t even slow. “No.”

The man’s lips curled as he moved to block his path. “Junior Brother, only the owner can open a storage ring. Nobody else can use it.

If you happened to pick one up, please return it. Senior Brother will reward you handsomely.”

Wang Jie looked him over. “And how do you know you’re my Senior Brother?”

The man blinked, clearly not expecting the question. Then he laughed, stepped closer, and set a hand on Wang Jie’s shoulder. His voice stayed gentle, but the cold underneath it was unmistakable. “Junior Brother, your temper isn’t very good. Should Senior Brother teach you how to show respect?”

Wang Jie answered with a fist to the gut.

The man’s eyes bulged. He nearly vomited on the spot, doubling over and staggering back with both hands clamped over his abdomen, his strength draining away as if someone had pulled the plug.

Wang Jie walked past him without a word, boarded his ship, and left.

It took the man a long time to draw a full breath again. When he finally lifted his head to the starry sky, his face was ashen, fear and wariness burning in his eyes.

One punch. Just one punch—and he hadn’t even managed to react, much less dodge. Worse, it had left him limp.

That man was far stronger than he was.

Most terrifying of all, he couldn’t sense Wang Jie’s realm at all.

He was at the peak of Star-breaking Realm, ranked in the top ten of the Inner Sect. Yet he couldn’t read Wang Jie in the slightest.

Far beyond Deepweight Star, Huai Si stared at his personal terminal, his expression heavy.

One punch?

Just one punch, and he’d won.

And Huai Si still couldn’t tell Wang Jie’s realm.

Since when had Frostglow Sect produced a disciple like that?

Huai Si had been stationed here for ten years. He’d thought he understood everything on this backwater world.

Meanwhile, Wang Jie watched the black starfield stream past his ship, replaying the encounter again and again.

It had to be Huai Si.

The pretext had been pathetic. That man hadn’t come to retrieve anything—he’d come looking for trouble. Wang Jie couldn’t think of anyone else who would bother.

But why did Huai Si keep targeting him, again and again?

Was there something wrong with him?

Wang Jie decided to contact Jin Chu and the others and have them look into it.

A guest elder held authority in the sect, but that authority didn’t include investigating disciples. A guest elder was only half a Frostglow Sect member, while disciples were the sect’s foundation.

He flipped open his personal terminal. Just as he was about to send a message, a strange sound brushed his ear—thin at first, then clearer.

Instrumental music.

Where was it coming from?

And why did cold creep up his skin, as if his body remembered winter?

He glanced at the control console. The ship was silent. Yet the music drew closer, louder, as though someone were marching straight toward him.

He looked out into the void. Deep black. The occasional star streaked past as a narrow line of light. At this speed, even if something outside were playing music, sound shouldn’t reach him.

But the music kept swelling.

Something bleak and inexplicable spread through his chest, a sorrow so sudden it tightened his throat. Goosebumps rose along his arms. Every hair stood on end.

The music sharpened, sharpened—

And then, in the blink of an eye, the entire world turned gray.

The ship. The universe. Everything his eyes could reach drained into a washed-out, colorless stillness.

Time seemed to freeze.

Even the ship’s motion through space halted, as if it had been pinned in place.

A figure stepped through the ship’s hull as though it were mist. It wore a tall white hat and scattered yellow paper money that floated down in slow, weightless spirals. A long white pole rested in its hand as it walked forward, step by measured step.

Straight toward Wang Jie.

He tried to focus, but he couldn’t make out a face—only a blur, as if multiple features had been smeared into a whirlpool.

Behind it came more figures, blowing and striking all manner of instruments.

Only one was clear: a middle-aged man walking at the center. His expression was blank. His eyes were dull and colorless, like dead glass.

Space rippled like water.

The instruments blared—high and piercing—yet Wang Jie could hear his own heartbeat just as clearly, pounding louder and louder until it felt like it was trying to tear its way out of his ribs.

Then a voice sank into his ear, low and suffocating, dragged out as though spoken from the bottom of a well.

“Borrow… the road.”

Wang Jie didn’t know how he moved.

One moment he was in the way; the next he was stepping aside, his body obeying some ancient instinct.

The procession passed him, instruments wailing, and walked straight through the ship—through metal and glass as though they weren’t there. Their forms rippled outward like a wave, thinning into nothing until they vanished completely.

When the last figure passed through, the gray washed away in an instant. Color rushed back into the world as if repainted with a single stroke.

The ship resumed its flight toward its destination.

Warmth returned to the air.

Wang Jie’s legs went weak. He caught himself before he fell.

Cold sweat soaked his clothes. His face felt drained of blood. He stared at the empty space behind him.

Nothing.

No music. No paper money. No figures.

He yanked up the ship’s surveillance feed.

The recording showed only him standing there, dazed, stepping aside once. Nothing else. No gray world. No procession. No rippling space.

What was that?

A hallucination?

He sat down hard and gulped water. His hands were still trembling. That hadn’t been a dream.

But if it wasn’t a dream, it had left no trace at all.

He searched for any similar incident—anything that matched what he’d seen.

There were no records.

It was as if, across all of history, no one else had ever encountered such a thing.

That made it worse.

For a long time afterward, reality felt strangely flimsy, as if it could peel away at any moment.

It took him days to truly recover.

Even his body stayed weak for days, like he’d come down with a serious illness. The exhaustion ran so deep that even his usual exercises couldn’t pull him back.

It was eerie. Terrifying.

Back in Frostglow Domain, at Mist Peak, Luo Yan was delighted to see him return. “Greetings, Senior!

…Eh?

Senior, you don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Wang Jie said, his voice faint. “How’s the material collection going?”

Luo Yan forced a bitter smile. “Not well. Prices have shot up. The Outer Court disciples are fighting to buy everything, and even slaughterstone’s price has risen.”

“How did that happen?”

“This disciple asked around. They say someone bought up the best disaster materials in the Outer Bazaar. Now rumors are spreading that war is about to start again.

“The Outer Court disciples are hoarding materials like mad. Forget Ninth Seal or Ten Seals—there’s barely any Fifth Seal material left.”

Wang Jie fell silent.

He was the one who’d bought them.

He hadn’t expected it to cause this kind of panic.

Now it wasn’t just a matter of money. Even with money, he might not be able to find what he needed.

A voice carried down from the cliff. “Disciple Xia Zhen Zhen requests an audience with the Guest Elder.”

Wang Jie had Luo Yan receive her. Soon, Luo Yan led Xia Zhen Zhen in.

“It’s been over half a year,” she said with a smile, bowing. “Master, have you been well?”

“I’ve been fine,” Wang Jie replied, returning the smile. “Why are you here?”

“I was passing by the forging path to handle something, so I came to see you.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Master, your complexion is awful. Did something happen?”

“No. I pushed my cultivation too hard.”

“I see…” Xia Zhen Zhen chatted with him for a while, as if she truly had no other purpose. When Wang Jie asked where disaster materials were most plentiful, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Master is already at Ten Seals. Even if you deepen your imprint color, you shouldn’t need that many materials. If you need them, I can help find some.”

“I’m not using them for myself,” Wang Jie said. “I want to use star-refining to extract lockforce and try to help lockforce cultivators break their limit—so lockforce cultivators have a future.”

Xia Zhen Zhen blinked, then nodded slowly. Who didn’t want to climb higher?

If lockforce cultivators had no future, then they would pry one open.

Even if the chances were slim.

“Master’s ambition is admirable. If anyone has the most disaster materials, it’s Alchemy Branch,” she said. “They need endless trials for pill-making. Disaster materials are cheap and have varied effects. They’re perfect for experimenting.”

“Alchemy Branch…” Wang Jie frowned. “I don’t know anyone over there.”

Xia Zhen Zhen saw the problem and smiled. “If Master wants to meet people from Alchemy Branch, I can introduce you.

“I’m close with Xia Xiao Nian, a fellow True Disciple. He’s a master alchemist of the pill path.”

Wang Jie’s eyes brightened. “Then I’ll have to trouble you. Thank you.”

“Do you want to go now, or later?”

“I’m free anytime. It depends on you.”

“I’m free too.” Xia Zhen Zhen rose. “Let’s go.”

Wang Jie followed her out, gratitude lingering in his chest.

The pill path, forging path, and formation path all lay on Mist Peak. Mist Peak was vast, but the trip still wasn’t too troublesome.

Luo Yan watched them leave, envy plain on his face. Xia Zhen Zhen was one of the True Disciples—someone with limitless prospects. He hadn’t expected their guest elder senior to know her.

He had to serve Senior well. If Senior ever helped him enter the Inner Sect, that would be everything.

As he was thinking, another visitor arrived.

“I am Xia Xiao Nian,” the man announced calmly. “I’m here to pay a visit to the star-refining Master.”

Luo Yan stared, momentarily blank. Then he recovered enough to bow. “Senior Brother arrived too late. Senior already went to visit you.”

Xia Xiao Nian paused.

At Mist Peak’s Pale-moon Mountain—the heart of Alchemy Branch—the so-called “mountain” was really a sprawling range that stretched across nearly half of Mist Peak. Its territory was even larger than the forging path and formation path combined.

Alchemy Branch was Frostglow Sect’s largest dedicated branch. Disciples could learn other methods besides cultivation, and Frostglow Sect members favored the pill path most of all.

Xia Xiao Nian greeted Wang Jie with a solemn bow. “Disciple Xia Xiao Nian greets Guest Elder Master.”

“You’re too polite,” Wang Jie said. “You don’t have to call me Master. Just call me Wang Jie.”

“Master is Master. How could I address you by name?”

“You really don’t have to be that formal.”

“This isn’t formality,” Xia Xiao Nian said, utterly serious. “It’s respect.”

Wang Jie could only swallow his words. This True Disciple was older than him, yet his respect was obvious—and there wasn’t a trace of arrogance.

He was even more straightforward than Xia Zhen Zhen.

Xia Zhen Zhen rolled her eyes. “Enough, Xia Xiao Nian. What were you doing just now? How did you end up behind us?”

“I went to visit Master.”

“Which Master?”

“Master Wang Jie.”

Wang Jie went quiet.

He looked between them, then finally understood.

“So Master Luan wants to see me?”