Chapter 244

Chapter 244: Single-Leaf Skiff

Zhi Nan Xing left. The farewell was nothing more than a seed of goodwill—maybe useful in the future, maybe not.

War really could change a person.

A few days later, someone arrived who left Wang Jie stunned.

Xing Xue.

“Senior Xing Xue?” He couldn’t believe she’d come personally.

Xing Xue smiled at him. “Surprised?”

Wang Jie bowed deeply. “Disciple never imagined you would come in person.”

Li Tong He, Elder Ming, and the others all came to greet Xing Xue.

The entire Command Hub bowed.

Xing Xue waved her hand and dismissed everyone, her gaze turning cold as it swept over Elder Ming.

Elder Ming’s face went pale.

Xing Xue didn’t strike him. She simply said, voice like ice, “If it weren’t for the Council of Elders, his second half of life would not be so comfortable.”

It was obvious she knew exactly what Wang Jie had endured in Ying Yang Battlefield.

Wang Jie felt warmth rise in his chest.

Having backing really was good.

Xing Xue looked at Li Tong He, her gaze softening. “You’re Li Xiang’s son.”

Li Tong He bowed. “Greetings, Senior.”

Xing Xue’s eyes turned complicated. “Your father and I were friends. But something happened… and your father died without forgiving me.”

Li Tong He’s expression tightened as well, unsure what to say.

Xing Xue waved him away.

Soon, only Xing Xue and Wang Jie remained.

“I came to deliver your reward,” Xing Xue said. “But tell me first—why did you choose this?”

She reached into her storage ring and pulled something out.

A small boat.

A skiff.

A single-leaf skiff.

Wang Jie stared at it, blank. “I… chose this?”

Xing Xue gave a helpless laugh. “What do you think?”

Wang Jie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d picked at random. How could it be a boat?

And why would the Zhi Vault even contain a boat?

It really was a boat—something you’d use on a river.

Small, too.

You couldn’t even fit two people inside.

“Senior,” Wang Jie said, unable to stop himself, “why is there something like this in the Zhi Vault?”

Xing Xue looked at the skiff. “I don’t know either.

“Zhi Vault selection is based on silhouettes. I’ve chosen several times in the past—I remember seeing this shape.”

“It’s been stored for a very long time.”

“What does it do?” Wang Jie asked.

“It’s sturdy.”

Wang Jie stared.

Xing Xue rubbed her forehead. “I studied it on the way here. It seems… other than being sturdy, it doesn’t have any obvious use.”

Wang Jie reached out and pinched it, testing the material.

If even Xing Xue called it sturdy, then it had to be absurdly sturdy.

“I can’t damage it,” Xing Xue said, matter-of-factly. “Even with my star-refining realm cultivation.”

Wang Jie’s eyes widened. “That sturdy?”

“Maybe that’s why it made it into the Zhi Vault,” Xing Xue said. “But beyond that, there’s nothing. I asked the family—they don’t know either. The only reason it was collected is because it’s sturdy.”

Wang Jie suddenly hated that word.

Sturdy enough to be collected—how sturdy did it have to be?

Still, for something so sturdy, it wasn’t heavy at all.

Xing Xue sighed. “Enough. You chose it, and the choice can’t be changed.

“Keep it. Use it as a defensive chen artifact.”

Wang Jie’s face twitched. How? Wear it on his head?

He sighed and put the skiff into his storage ring.

Bad luck.

Xing Xue stayed for a long time afterward, talking with him—most of it about First Main Battlefield.

Only then did Wang Jie learn the truth.

First Main Battlefield’s enemy wasn’t the Four Great Nebulae.

It was another bridge-pillar.

Ancient Sword bridge-pillar—also called Xidou bridge-pillar.

“It’s a terrifying bridge-pillar,” Xing Xue explained. “It used to be similar to our Beidou bridge-pillar—divided by nebulae, filled with star chains and star belts.”

“But at some point, a sword was driven into Xidou bridge-pillar vertically.”

“The sword is so vast you can’t see its end.”

“The appearance of that sword changed everything.”

“All cultivators in Xidou bridge-pillar are constantly comprehending sword intent, which created countless sword path powerhouses.”

“Over there, not cultivating sword techniques makes you an outcast.”

She continued, voice steady. “That sword is broken—shattered into seventeen pieces.

“Xidou bridge-pillar’s regions are divided by who controls each sword fragment.”

“The strongest faction is Sword Court. They control nine fragments, so they’re also called Nine Sword Domain.”

“And First Main Battlefield’s enemy is called Feng Ge.”

“Three Sword Domain.”

“They’re positioned at the very bottom of Ancient Sword bridge-pillar, connected to Fourth Nebula—so the border where the two bridge-pillars meet became First Main Battlefield…”

Xing Xue told him more—especially how Feng Ge cultivators fought, how they trained, what to watch for.

She was trying to give him every possible chance to survive.

She must have already learned about his bargain master’s situation. Otherwise, with Wang Jie’s merit, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be denied a return to the sect.

This “trial” was truly life and death.

When Xing Xue finally prepared to leave, she looked at Wang Jie with complicated eyes.

“That road is hard,” she said softly. “But if you walk it through, you’ll step into a different life.”

“Child—forget the past. Only look ahead.”

Wang Jie bowed deeply, sincerely.

This elder had saved him. Helped him. Given him a ladder upward. Tried to grant him stability.

He felt that intent clearly.

The day after Xing Xue left, the warship was ready.

They set off for First Main Battlefield.

First Main Battlefield was at the very bottom of Fourth Nebula, so they could use nebula stream to reach it at the fastest speed. The warship would only bring them to nebula stream.

They represented two people.

One was Wang Jie.

The other was Zhi He.

Zhi He was the Zhi family expert who had reinforced Yun Que at Skyport—a powerhouse on the level of a six-path roamer.

Wang Jie had been shocked when he learned of him. He hadn’t expected Black-White Heaven to have someone comparable to a six-path roamer outside the official seat.

Li Tong He’s explanation had been simple: in the same era, they couldn’t let two Zhi family members hold the six-path roamer title. It would crush the confidence of the other disciples.

Zhi He was Zhi Lan Xue’s brother.

Wang Jie gave Zhi He a brief glance, then looked back out into the void.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Zhi He suddenly spoke.

His voice was rough, distant, like someone who hadn’t spoken in a long time.

Wang Jie turned to him and nodded.

Zhi He’s fist clenched. “How did she die?”

Wang Jie knew exactly who he meant.

He paused, then answered honestly. “Skeleton clan. One strike.”

Zhi He’s eyes turned bloodshot. His teeth ground together. “One strike?”

“I’m sure,” Wang Jie said. “He killed her with one strike. Senior Sister Lan Xue’s Spring-Autumn Hand—he knocked it down with twelve palms.”

Zhi He lowered his head, the pressure rolling off him in waves.

After that, the two of them didn’t speak again.

They rode nebula stream to the lowest point.

And that meant they had arrived at First Main Battlefield.

First Main Battlefield was the lowest point of Beidou bridge-pillar’s nebula stream, heavily fortified.

Their arrival had already been reported.

They were separated immediately.

Zhi He was assigned to Hao Qian Domain.

Wang Jie was assigned to Cloudstream Domain.

A middle-aged man spoke as they rode the warship toward Cloudstream Domain.

He looked rugged. His voice was hoarse. And his “humor” was the kind that made your skin crawl.

“Cloudstream Domain,” he said. “Think of it like a lake flowing through the starry sky—only much bigger, and much more dangerous.”

“The ‘water’ isn’t water. It’s cloudstream, made of some weird stuff. If you fall in, you’ll sink straight down. Almost nobody survives.”

“The only thing that can float on it is a star.”

“So once you get there, don’t fall in.”

“And don’t drink it either. If you do, your organs will sink to the bottom. Ha!”

A few people turned pale.

Wang Jie sat in a corner, listening, his mind slowly sketching the shape of Cloudstream Domain.

Compared to Ying Yang Battlefield, this place sounded far more lethal.

“All right,” the man said. “Now look to your left.”

Everyone looked.

Wang Jie did too.

An endless asteroid belt stretched across the void. The rocks drifted in silence, so still it was hard to believe they were in motion at all.

“The asteroid belt runs sideways through the entire starry sky, all the way past the edge of the bridge-pillar,” the man said. “It’s Beidou bridge-pillar’s last line of defense against Ancient Sword bridge-pillar.”

“It looks like nothing, but anyone who dares enter… heh.”

He let out a cold laugh. “It’s full of orbital dust.”

“Orbital dust is nearly invisible to the naked eye. It’s used for surveillance, disguised as space debris. Unless cultivators constantly release starforce to search, you won’t find it.”

“Now look to your right.”

They looked.

More emptiness. More asteroid belt. Nothing obvious.

“That side is packed with orbital sinking thunder,” the man said. “Once someone is spotted by orbital dust, if they enter the orbital sinking thunder’s range—boom!”

He shouted the last word so loudly that several frightened cultivators jerked.

The man threw his head back and laughed. “That feeling is great.”

“Besides those, there’s orbital fog, ice-crystal cloud thunder, and more. The defense line has no gaps. Impressive, right?”

Wang Jie stared out into the void again.

To spread defenses like that across an entire starry sky—how many resources did it take?

Could Black-White Heaven really afford it?

No. It had to be Beidou bridge-pillar as a whole.

Black-White Heaven led the war, but it didn’t bear the entire burden alone.

Still, the man’s behavior was unsettling.

Either the battlefield had driven him half-mad, or this was just who he was—he seemed to enjoy scaring people.

Along the way, he explained Cloudstream Domain, but he also shouted sudden nonsense just to startle them.

The slaughterstone planet cultivators were already terrified, knowing the battlefield would kill most of them. After being harassed like that, some finally snapped and started causing trouble.

The man suppressed them personally, grinning like it delighted him.

Wang Jie swept him with a cold glance and ignored it.

He looked at the void again.

The asteroid belt was vast. Endless.

No matter how far he stared, there was no edge.

If you followed the asteroid belt far enough in one direction, you’d eventually reach the edge of the bridge-pillar.

So what lay beyond the bridge-pillar?

With that thought, he slowly closed his eyes and rested.

He didn’t know how much time passed.

A sudden scream tore through the cabin.

Wang Jie’s eyes snapped open.

What happened?

Someone was pointing into the void, voice shaking. “Th-that… what is that?”