Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Bai Yuan

Wen Zhao’s lips curved into something between a smile and a challenge. “You want to cooperate with me?”

Wang Jie didn’t dodge it. “Yes.”

“You’re bold.” She tilted her head. “What can you offer me?”

Wang Jie smiled. “If I’m not helping you, I’m helping your enemy.”

The shift in Wen Zhao’s expression was sharp. The words hit too precisely.

Because the second batch of trialists really did include someone she called an enemy.

And this man—Wang Jie—was strong.

“What do you want to know?” Wen Zhao asked at last.

Wang Jie glanced up at the sky. “Not in this rain.”

—

They found shelter in an abandoned high-rise, sitting near the edge with Xue Ju between them like a silent guard. Outside, the world was washed into gray—rain turning heaven and earth into one continuous sheet.

Wen Zhao spoke first. “The trial has two possible goals. Complete either one, and you pass.”

“First: rule the natives. Make them afraid to resist.”

“Second: defeat every other trialist.”

She leaned back slightly, calm as if reciting doctrine. “Two paths. Either one qualifies you as a Jia Yi Sect disciple.”

Wang Jie nodded. He wasn’t surprised. “Who’s the strongest in the first batch?”

“Me.”

Wang Jie stared.

Wen Zhao smiled, bright and amused. “So you defeated the strongest trialist in the first batch.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it or not, I’m the strongest.” She shrugged. “That’s why I haven’t teamed up with any trialists. And I won’t.”

Wang Jie’s gaze tightened. “Then what about the second batch?”

Wen Zhao’s expression darkened. “Second batch trialists are all Eighth Seal. With my current strength, I’d still be near the top—but one of my enemies in that batch is dangerous.”

She paused, then looked at him as if weighing something. “But you don’t actually need to focus on the second batch. You beat me.”

Her smile returned, thin and cold. “What you should focus on is the third batch.”

Wang Jie’s breath caught. “There’s a third batch?”

Wen Zhao’s eyes glittered. “Who told you there isn’t?”

“Ninth Seal?” Wang Jie asked.

“Yes.”

Wang Jie’s jaw tightened. “Don’t tell me there’s a fourth batch too.”

Wen Zhao didn’t answer.

The silence was loud enough to hurt.

Wang Jie slowly clenched his fist.

Wen Zhao glanced at him, and for the first time there was something like pity in her gaze. “The first batch and second batch are still manageable. At least they can talk. Negotiate.”

“But the third batch…” She exhaled softly. “By then, your fate depends on you.”

She tapped her fingers lightly against the umbrella handle. “Native lives don’t matter to them. You’re all going to be thrown into the interstellar battlefield anyway. Dying early or dying late—it’s the same.”

“That’s Jia Yi Sect’s belief,” she continued, voice steady. “And it’s the belief of the truly powerful races in the universe.”

Wang Jie held her gaze. “Powerful races?”

Wen Zhao looked up, as if the ceiling couldn’t contain what she was describing. “Jia Yi Sect is strong—strong enough that even someone a random stone hits might have the power to wipe out your Blue Star in a single strike.”

She smiled faintly. “But they aren’t the strongest.”

“Deep in the universe, there are civilizations and species beyond imagination. Starry Sky Behemoth. Things you and I can’t even properly understand.”

She stroked Xue Ju’s neck. The dog nuzzled her hand and whined softly, affectionate.

“I’ve seen a claw tear open space itself,” Wen Zhao said, voice calm as if describing the weather. “The size was impossible. And an elder told me… what I saw was only the tip of that claw.”

“One light swipe. Hundreds of planets in its range shattered.”

“And I’ve seen a feather,” she added, eyes distant. “A bloodstained feather that blotted out the starry sky as it drifted down. Dozens of planets clung to it, soaked in blood.”

Wang Jie sat very still, staring at her as if she’d stopped sounding human.

Wen Zhao noticed. She smiled again, almost gently. “I’m not lying. It’s real.”

Then her tone hardened. “But you don’t need to know it.”

She looked at him sharply. “Trial-ground natives rarely enter Jia Yi Sect. Not because you’re weak, but because your power is wrong.”

“You call it Imprint Power,” she said. “But it’s Lockforce.”

Lock. Ceiling. Limit.

“A lock means your upper bound has been fixed,” Wen Zhao continued. “Your limit was set long ago. You can’t break it. The interstellar battlefield is where you’re meant to go.”

“Which is why trialists don’t treat you as people,” she said plainly. “And Jia Yi Sect doesn’t treat you as people either.”

Her voice didn’t change. “Because people are cheap. There are too many.”

Wang Jie asked question after question. Wen Zhao answered what she could. Some things she didn’t know—or didn’t bother to explain.

The more she spoke, the quieter Wang Jie became.

Hearing it was brutal.

And yet it sounded like truth.

At last, Wang Jie asked, “Why are you still here?”

“Cultivating,” Wen Zhao replied.

“Looking for disaster materials?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hide it. “The wild is better for cultivation than a base. I planned to take your base and make you gather materials for me. You ruined that.”

Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed. “Zuo Tian is going to break through Eighth Seal.”

“I know,” Wen Zhao said.

“You know him?”

“I only know that smart people find loopholes,” Wen Zhao replied. “That Zuo Tian is clearly smart.”

Wang Jie nodded slowly. “As long as the fact he broke through isn’t known by a second Blue Star person, then it doesn’t count.”

Wen Zhao’s mouth curved faintly. “Correct.”

“Jia Yi Sect isn’t what you need to worry about,” she said. “They’re watching regardless. The only thing that matters is whether a second Blue Star person knows.”

She leaned back. “That is the loophole.”

Wang Jie stared at her. “So we’re cooperating now?”

Wen Zhao considered him. “We can.”

“Then let’s go,” Wang Jie said.

Wen Zhao’s brows lifted. “Where?”

“Shang Jing City,” Wang Jie said, voice flat. “We kill Zuo Tian.”

Wen Zhao looked at him for a long moment. “This is cooperation, not obedience.”

Her tone was calm, but final. “I’m not going.”

“I’ll help you break through Ninth Seal,” Wang Jie said. “You help me kill Zuo Tian.”

“I can break through on my own.”

“I’ll teach you the finger art.”

That finally cracked her composure. Wen Zhao stared at him, surprised.

Then she smiled. “Deal.”

Wang Jie nodded once. “One more thing first.”

“What?” Wen Zhao asked.

Wang Jie glanced at Xue Ju and smiled.

A moment later, outside in the pouring rain, a wail tore through the wilderness.

—

The storm fed the plants. In this era, rain didn’t soothe the world—it woke it up.

Jin Ling Base’s safe zone had once stretched fifty kilometers in every direction. But after the ten-year metamorphosis period, that safety ring shrank day by day.

The same happened everywhere.

With Zuo Tian’s call spreading through the Five Major Bases, more people went out hunting mutant plants and beasts. The battles were harder now, casualties heavier. But the disaster materials were richer.

A hundred kilometers north of Jin Ling, a white shadow cut through the rain and skimmed the edge of a lotus pond.

Xue Ju.

From the pond, a wood-colored lotus root lashed out like a whip. At the same time, palm-sized floating weeds burst upward like a storm of blades, filling the air.

Xue Ju bared its teeth in a low snarl—except it used to have a beautiful tooth on each side.

Now it only had one.

The memory of losing the other seemed to offend it. It somehow looked tragic.

Wen Zhao lifted a hand. Finger force became a sword.

Sword qi fell like rain, knocking the floating weeds from the air. The remaining slashes cut into the lotus root and snapped off a section.

A heavy rumble sounded nearby.

Not long after, Wang Jie arrived by the pond with a bundle on his back so large it looked absurd. It bulged with disaster materials.

“You’re not taking any?” Wang Jie asked, noticing Wen Zhao’s hands were empty.

Wen Zhao glanced at him. “Of course I’m taking them.”

“Then how—”

Wen Zhao lifted her hand and showed him the ring on her finger. “Storage ring. Everything goes inside.”

Wang Jie stared at it. “You can store things… in a ring?”

Wen Zhao shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. It works. That’s enough.”

Wang Jie remembered something and pulled a ring from his clothing. “Like this?”

Wen Zhao nodded. “So you’ve killed trialists.”

Wang Jie’s eyes brightened. “Then I can use it—”

“No.” Wen Zhao cut him off. “Once a storage ring recognizes its master, only the master can open it—unless you use the master’s blood. Otherwise it’s useless.”

Wang Jie clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“You have more?” he asked.

“No.” Wen Zhao’s answer was immediate. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t give you one. They’re valuable.”

Wang Jie raised a brow. “Trialists all have them. How can they be valuable?”

Wen Zhao laughed softly. “You misunderstand what trialists are.”

She leaned slightly forward. “Do you think just anyone can become a Jia Yi Sect trialist?”

Then she offered an example. “If the Three Gods and the Five Extremes on Blue Star were choosing disciples, who would have a better chance—the people outside the walls, or the children of wealthy clans and tycoons?”

Wang Jie understood at once.

These trialists weren’t just arrogant because of a title. They were arrogant because they had always been above others.

Yan Si, after all, was some kind of prince.

Wen Zhao glanced at Wang Jie’s bundle. “If you think it’s too heavy, I can store it.”

Wang Jie tightened the straps. “I’m fine.”

Wen Zhao shook her head, amused, then patted Xue Ju and moved on.

They’d agreed to cooperate. Wen Zhao would help Wang Jie kill Zuo Tian. Wang Jie would teach her the finger art.

Their destination was Shang Jing City.

But before they went, they needed preparations.

Disaster materials. As many as possible.

So for ten days they hunted around Jin Ling, keeping within a hundred-kilometer radius of the base. Beyond that was too dangerous—food became a problem, and even Imprint Power might not be enough to get back.

Plenty of cultivators wandered farther anyway, living by instinct.

But wild living was a knife at the throat. Even the Three Gods and the Five Extremes couldn’t swear they’d survive forever out there.

And the truth was simple:

On Blue Star, mutant plants and beasts outnumbered humans by far.

Even after ten years of apocalypse, even after the rise of the Three Gods and the Five Extremes, the world still wasn’t ruled by people.

Humans lived penned in behind walls.

Unless hot weapons returned.

But the moment the apocalypse began, a mysterious force destroyed every hot weapon and the equipment needed to build them. Hong Jian had once said production was possible again now—but no one dared.

If the same force struck twice, it would be annihilation.

So they hunted. Ten days. Gather as much as they could.

Then they would go to Shang Jing City.

—

In Shang Jing City, sunlight poured into a quiet courtyard.

Under a sun umbrella, a beautiful young girl in a white dress read at her leisure. Servants watered shrubs in front of her. In a corner behind the house, a black cat slept, lazily scratching its head before settling again.

“Xiao Lan,” the girl said without looking up. “Go wake my dad.”

The servant flinched. “Miss… I don’t dare.”

The girl finally glanced toward the corner. “Little Black. You go.”

The black cat’s eyes opened, sharp and cold. In a blur, it sprang to the second floor.

Not long after, a furious roar came from inside. “Little Black! You dare scratch me? Just wait—when I catch you, I’ll skin you and dry you into cat jerky!”

A soft meow answered.

Little Black leapt down and landed neatly in the girl’s arms.

A middle-aged man in pajamas stormed out, glaring at the cat with murderous outrage.

The girl looked at him calmly. “Old Dad. The sun’s already high. Time to get up.”

All the fury drained into weary helplessness. “Xiao’er,” he pleaded, “Old Dad got dragged into a conversation with that Zuo Tian half the night. I slept late. Let me sleep a little longer.”

The girl’s name was Bai Xiao.

The man was Bai Yuan—one of the Three Gods.

Bai Xiao’s smile was bright and sweet, and somehow more dangerous for it. “Middle-aged men should sleep early and wake early for their health.”

She tipped her head. “Or are you saying you can finally swing that sword?”

Bai Yuan’s expression turned guilty. “Not yet.”

“Lazy,” Bai Xiao said.

Bai Yuan sighed. “What kind of daughter forces her old father to improve? I’m already trying.”

Bai Xiao’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re invincible now?”

Bai Yuan puffed out his chest. “That’s right.”

“Satisfied?” Bai Xiao asked.

“A little,” Bai Yuan admitted.

Bai Xiao’s gaze sharpened.

Bai Yuan recoiled. “No! Not satisfied at all. Fine, fine—I’m going to cultivate right now.”

He turned to flee.

Bai Xiao’s voice floated after him, mild as a breeze. “Remember to invite everyone to my birthday party. It’s around the same time as the Shang Jing City meeting. If we don’t invite them, it’ll look bad.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Bai Yuan called back, already halfway gone.

Bai Xiao lowered her gaze to her book again, smile unchanged.