Chapter 230

Chapter 230: Can We Skip It?

“I’ve heard about Skyport,” Li Cai said. “There’s a starry-sky behemoth there that can turn the void into frozen earth. It’s called a polar earthworm. They’re a nightmare. Born at the Roaming-Star Realm.”

“That’s exactly why Second Star Cloud abandoned Skyport,” someone replied. “Otherwise, with Skyport’s position, Ying Yang Battlefield would’ve been theirs ages ago.”

“Skyport sits near the Han Hai battlefield. If Second Star Cloud set up a command hub there, Han Hai would inevitably fall to them—and once Han Hai fell, a huge swath of Ying Yang Battlefield would follow.”

Wang Jie nodded. “If that’s true, and they’d still rather grind against us at a massive cost than reclaim Skyport… that tells you how frightening those earthworms really are.”

Someone raised their voice. “Listen up. This is a high-difficulty mission. Rescue Zhi Nan Xing and every one of you will receive an enormous reward. He’s direct bloodline of the Zhi family.”

Eyes shifted, almost involuntarily, to Zhi Qing Po.

Zhi Qing Po wasn’t direct bloodline. His status wasn’t even in the same league as Zhi Nan Xing’s. If Zhi Nan Xing hadn’t been the one trapped in Skyport, there wouldn’t have been this kind of commotion—let alone enough to drag in people like Di Zi, an elder’s disciple.

Wen Yuan lifted a hand. “Um… can we not go?”

“No.”

The ship pivoted without hesitation and set course for Skyport.

From the Fourth Nebula command hub, ship after ship lifted off and streamed away.

On one vessel, two figures stood side by side: Yue Jian, the one responsible for the edict platform, and Wu Jiang.

“I didn’t think a single Zhi family member could mobilize even the two of us,” Wu Jiang said, expression flat.

As Elder Wu Yuan’s disciple, he should have been on the Han Hai frontline. But not long ago, Wu Yuan had arrived personally, slaughtered the opposing forces until they didn’t dare show their faces, and Wu Jiang had been allowed to return.

Yue Jian’s voice stayed soft. “He’s direct bloodline of the Zhi family. And I’m curious, too—why did he go to Skyport?”

“With his record, he’s been in Ying Yang Battlefield long enough.” Wu Jiang walked to the edge of the ship and stared into the starry sky. “There’s no way he doesn’t know what Skyport is.”

“Those earthworms are troublesome,” he added. “But the ice slurry in their bodies is good stuff. Amazing for cultivation.”

A stern voice cut in from behind. Elder Ming. “Your mission is to rescue Zhi Nan Xing. Don’t get dragged into a fight.”

“Yes, Elder.”

Far ahead, not too distant from the Han Hai battlefield, the starry sky had turned pure white.

Countless stars had been stitched together by frozen earth, forming a colossal, drifting continent—a white landmass hanging in the void.

The ground was absurdly hard. Even Roaming-Star Realm cultivators struggled to break it.

Deep beneath a sunken pocket of that white earth, a ship lay skewered into the ground at an angle, sealed in ice.

Inside, Zhi Nan Xing panted, forcing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t look outside.

Just a few meters away, beyond the hull, a gigantic earthworm lay asleep. If it woke, he would die—no second chances.

This was Skyport.

A forbidden land where even the battlefield froze solid.

He hadn’t wanted to come. He’d been driven here.

The mission he’d accepted had been nowhere near this place. Yet the enemy had found him anyway, trapped him, and forced him back step by step until there was nowhere left to retreat.

They knew who he was.

They knew he was direct bloodline of the Zhi family.

So they hadn’t killed him. They were using him as bait, drawing rescuers into Skyport.

Zhi Nan Xing understood it was a trap. But he still had to call for help.

Otherwise, he was dead.

He kept his eyes shut and didn’t dare make the slightest sound.

That day, the sector outside Skyport filled with ships arriving from every direction.

Wang Jie’s ship slid into the gathering.

“This is big,” Wen Yuan whispered, eyes bright with envy. “Even an Elder showed up. This is what direct bloodline gets you.”

Zhi Qing Po frowned. Something felt wrong.

He couldn’t explain it, but the unease wouldn’t go away.

Wang Jie watched the screen as messages flickered across the channel—ship-to-ship coordination, orders, confirmations. Many of the arrivals were organized teams led by battle troopers, battle guards, and even battle elites.

Wu Jiang was among them: Elder Wu Yuan’s disciple, a man who spent most days butchering enemies at Han Hai.

“Senior Sister Yue Jian is here,” Li Cai said, grim. “Looks like this rescue is under her command.”

Wang Jie’s gaze sharpened. Senior Sister Yue Jian wasn’t merely strong—she could command. That was why she stayed stationed in Ying Yang Battlefield, managing the edict platform.

Rumor said every mission posted through the edict platform was organized by her—who moved, when they moved, where they moved. If that was true, then everything they’d done recently had passed through her hands.

And now she was here in person.

That carried even more weight than sending an Elder… though Elder Ming had come as well.

In the distance, immense silhouettes advanced: warships.

They were the highest-grade ships Black-White Heaven could field in Ying Yang Battlefield, the kind that usually appeared only at major fronts.

Now they were converging here, treating Skyport like a full-scale battlefield.

A voice crackled through the comms. “I am Yue Jian. From now on, everyone follows my command.”

“Skyport spans a wide region, formed from frozen earth. I’ve divided it into zones. The plan is simple.”

Warships would spearhead the push, crashing into the zone with the densest polar earthworms and making enough noise to draw them all in. Support teams would split into two groups: one led by Wu Jiang, searching one direction for Zhi Nan Xing; the other led by Yue Jian herself, sweeping the opposite direction.

If neither group found him, they would pull the earthworms from both directions toward the main front.

Elder Ming would hold the fleet together.

It was blunt.

It was clean.

And it would work.

“Operation begins.”

The order left no room for argument. Warships surged forward. Beams hammered the frozen earth, turning the white void into a storm of dazzling light.

Wang Jie adjusted course with several other ships, following Yue Jian along one search direction.

In the distance, polar earthworms burst upward from beneath the ground.

Most of them stared, stunned. It was their first time seeing a creature like that.

Calling them “starry-sky behemoths” wasn’t quite accurate. Polar earthworms couldn’t roam the void. Even with Roaming-Star Realm battle power, they couldn’t move freely through space. They could only tunnel through frozen earth.

But they could freeze the void itself, spreading their territory outward until the stars were stitched together by white ground.

So in another sense, the name fit perfectly.

Wang Jie watched a massive white earthworm slam into a warship. The ship’s beams barely seemed to affect it.

A moment later, the creature shattered into pieces.

Elder Ming had struck. A Hundred-Star Realm expert’s power was still terrifying.

“These polar earthworms are born at Roaming-Star Realm,” Li Cai said, voice tight, “but their ceiling is Roaming-Star Realm too. Like machines—no growth, no decline.”

“And because they only exist in Skyport, nowhere else, they were never included on the Star Beast List.”

Wang Jie glanced at him. “Star Beast List?”

“A ranking compiled by Star Vault Vista. It lists starry-sky behemoths across the universe and ranks them by threat.”

“Is it complete?”

“Of course not. The universe changes all the time. New species appear constantly. Even Star Vault Vista can’t claim to know everything.”

Zhi Qing Po spoke quietly. “If you encounter a top-ten starry-sky behemoth from the Star Beast List, your only choice is to run.”

Li Cai nodded. “Especially the one ranked first—the ancient calamity, the Death Bee.”

Wen Yuan swallowed. “Ancient calamities were only confirmed as real because the Death Bee was discovered. Before that, everyone said they were made-up stories. Now we know they weren’t.”

“They say the Death Bee can smell the world of the dead,” someone murmured. “Who knows if that’s true.”

Yun Ju scoffed. “You believe that? What world is there after death?”

Han Song’s voice was low and heavy. “The dead realm that’s been active in First Nebula for years isn’t a ‘world of the dead’ either, so I don’t believe it. But we don’t truly understand the dead realm. It’s too early to draw conclusions.”

“Maybe once we reach Hundred-Star Realm, we’ll be able to glimpse the truth.”

Their quiet debate eased the tension—just a little.

Wang Jie stared into the white distance. A world after death…?

His mind flashed to the middle-aged man, Sang Le. The yellow paper. The warning: do not touch it.

Was there really nothing beyond?

Not long after, their ships crossed into Skyport.

The void turned to white frozen earth beneath them. They spread out, forming a loose line to cover as much ground as possible.

An earthworm erupted upward, spewing ice slurry that became a freezing white rain. Shields flared across every ship. The rain struck, blooming into plum-blossom patterns before frosting over the barriers in a heartbeat.

A massive body slammed toward one ship.

A cultivator on that vessel charged out, blade flashing. Pale-gray starforce vibrated in strange waves as he slashed into the worm, leaving only a shallow cut. The worm recoiled, then its mouthparts sprayed ice slurry straight at him. He spun his blade to block as he retreated back into the ship.

More polar earthworms surfaced.

More ships came under attack.

Wang Jie’s alarms shrieked. Something struck from below.

Han Song stepped out, hammer in hand, and brought it down.

The impact split the earthworm from head to tail.

Shock rippled through the surrounding ships. Eyes turned toward Han Song—wide, wary, impressed.

Han Song’s combat power exceeded three hundred thousand. He could fight Qiao Xi head-on. In raw strength, he was no weaker than anyone here—an expert artisan needed a powerful body to begin with.

Two white streaks tore through the air toward him.

Han Song raised an eyebrow, swung the hammer in a broad arc—and blackflame surged out. The ice slurry melted as the fire swept forward. It struck both earthworms.

They shrieked, twisting violently, then crumbled into ash.

Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed. That blackflame…

It looked exactly like Han Ling’s.

“Senior Brother Han Song,” Wang Jie asked, “are you related to Han Ling, one of the Six-Path Roamers?”

Shi Wei answered for him. “People ask that all the time. They’re not related.”

“Switch out,” someone ordered. “Yun Ju.”

Yun Ju’s face tightened, but he stepped forward. Han Song withdrew, and Yun Ju took his place outside the ship, meeting the next wave.

The line held and kept searching. Every ship on this mission carried at least one Roaming-Star Realm powerhouse.

Even so, ships still broke apart.

There were too many earthworms, and the frozen earth didn’t hinder them at all. When a ship went down, survivors scrambled onto neighboring vessels.

Wang Jie looked out and felt his scalp tighten.

White bodies surged from the ground—dozens, then more.

Over a hundred.

That was over a hundred Roaming-Star Realm threats.

A single polar earthworm might not match a true Roaming-Star Realm cultivator, but in those numbers, it became a nightmare made real.