Chapter 391

Chapter 391: Shu Ji in Poor Health

Ink City sat near Shu Ji’s equator. It was one of the few major cities in the original habitable zone on this mostly unlivable border planet, and it was also the rain-soaked city the key clue dug out of the captured black-robed cultivator’s memory pointed toward.

Hearing the guide’s casual mutter, Yu Sheng’s expression shifted slightly. “Unsettled?” he asked, intrigued. “What do you mean? Has public security gotten worse?”

“It’s not about public security,” the guide said, in that easy tone locals used to scare outsiders. “Supposedly, a lot of weird things have been happening lately. I heard qi deviation among cultivators has spiked. People often hear and see terrifying things while entering meditation trance, or even just sleeping and dreaming—and even those with deep cultivation can’t avoid it. There were even rumors that someone got so scared in meditation they died on the spot, though that part’s been getting debunked recently.”

Another guide chimed in. “But ordinary people like us, who only learned basic qi inhalation and spirit-nurturing breath, don’t seem to be affected. The street rumor is that it’s some kind of heart demons plague that only targets cultivators above a certain level. Either way, it’s got everyone on edge.”

“Widespread qi deviation and auditory-visual hallucinations…” Yu Sheng frowned as he listened and instinctively glanced at Xuan Che. “And on a border planet like this…”

“What does the star-guardian elder say?” Xuan Che stepped forward half a pace and asked seriously.

“The star-guardian elder?” The guide waved a hand. “A lord like that doesn’t have time to worry about petty matters in a single city. The Ink City lord did organize people to investigate, but from what I saw in the news, they don’t have any leads. The public notice just reminds everyone to set up protection when meditating, stay up less, get angry less, and avoid arguments that shake your Dao heart.”

He snorted. “That last one’s the most useless. The rumor-makers and the debunkers are having a field day, and none of them can keep their Dao hearts steady.”

Yu Sheng didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Xuan Che and Immortal Yuan Hao were there, and this kind of topic was right in their territory. The two of them chatted a bit more with the guides, asked about recent news in Ink City, and then asked generally about Shu Ji’s situation these past days—without digging too deep. Ordinary starport guides only knew so much.

From the conversation, Yu Sheng gradually formed a rough impression of Shu Ji’s current state.

Calm and ordinary.

As one of countless border planets far from the Grand Void Spiritual Axis capital, with little to offer beyond a few resources, Shu Ji barely had any presence in the Featherwing Starfield. It wasn’t even an important channel for outside contact—because just 1.25 light-years away, the Yao Lu star had a large star gate built over ten years ago that connected directly to the Alglade Starfield and the Deep Space Starfield, and it had almost sucked up all the traffic.

And Shu Ji… just like its name, it was a quiet little place out on the long border.

“Actually, this place used to be glorious,” one of the guides said with a sigh. “Back when there were spirit mines here and on a few nearby worlds, it was lively. Every day there were countless freighters lining up in high orbit to pass customs. At the craziest point, in a single solar year, they launched seventeen heavy loading platforms into orbit in just over four hundred days.”

He shrugged. “Now there’s still a bit of spirit ore, but most of it isn’t allowed to be mined anymore. They say some places were dug too hard and already affected the earth veins, so they need to be protected.”

At that, the guide in the light-gray uniform shook his head and clapped his hands once. “Alright, enough chatting. You want to land on the surface, right? Let me check… Okay, the docking fee for your big ship has already been paid, so you can leave it here without worry. The entry windows into the atmosphere are fully open right now. You just need to register your atmospheric vehicle. Shuttle, or a small celestial ship?”

“Me, me, me!” Foxy rushed over, practically bouncing.

The guide stared. “…Huh?”

Foxy ran off, flopped onto the ground, and transformed into a massive nine-tailed fox. Then she scampered back and pawed at the “temporary mobile immortal driving license” hanging from her neck, proudly holding it up.

“Ah. Got it, got it,” the guide said, finally understanding. He pulled out a mirror-like magic tool to inspect and register the jade token around Foxy’s neck, then reminded Yu Sheng out of habit, “Follow traffic rules. Don’t speed during low-altitude flight, and no drinking when using an atmospheric vehicle…”

Yu Sheng nodded along, then asked, honestly curious, “Is it me who can’t drink, or her?”

The guide considered it. “…Neither of you drink.”

Right then, Immortal Yuan Hao stepped forward too. With a wave of his hand, he pulled out his chainsaw sword. “Register mine as well. I usually do sword flight.”

The guide went numb.

To a local from the Featherwing Starfield, seeing someone ride a chainsaw sword was far more outrageous than seeing someone ride a nine-tailed fox. He leaned in with the spirit-link mirror for a long moment before looking up uncertainly. “Immortal Elder… this ‘flying sword’… it isn’t a spirit treasure, is it?”

Immortal Yuan Hao didn’t waste words. He tossed the chainsaw sword into the air and jumped up, standing steadily on it. “Just tell me whether this is sword flight or not.”

The guide’s eyelid twitched. His cultivation was shallow, but as a starport employee, he’d seen plenty. With the mirror’s help, he could tell at a glance that the chainsaw sword had zero flying-sword function. It could “fly” only because the immortal elder was strong—his spiritual power was simply enormous.

But raw numbers were king.

The guide quickly registered Immortal Yuan Hao’s chainsaw sword as a flying sword, then registered Xuan Che’s ice flying sword too—finally, something that looked normal. At last, the paperwork was done, and Yu Sheng’s group left the orbital starport.

A massive silver-white nine-tailed demon fox cut a bright streak through space from the platform’s edge. Nine jets blazed as she shot straight toward the gray-blue planet below.

Beside the nine-tailed fox flew Immortal Yuan Hao, riding his chainsaw sword.

And next to Immortal Yuan Hao flew Xuan Che—the only honest child in the team whose art style looked even remotely normal.

On the starport platform, the guides watched the distant streaks flashing through space and couldn’t stop marveling.

“No wonder she’s a silver fox high immortal from the Grand Void Spiritual Axis… Are the immortal foxes from the capital star all like this now? She flies with such presence. She’s nothing like our local foxes.”

“Not really. That five-tailed golden fox who came from the Grand Void Spiritual Axis a couple days ago seemed pretty normal. I didn’t see her tail shooting flames.”

“Maybe it’s just fox style. She’s nine-tailed, after all. For a nine-tailed high immortal, anything is normal.”

“…Then what’s the deal with that Borderland guy? Even a nine-tailed silver fox listens to him like that.”

“Who knows? All I know is he’s carrying two documents. His captain credentials were signed personally by Special Operations Bureau Director Bai Li Qing, and his pass was signed personally by Immortal Yuan Ling of Thousand Peak Spirit Mountain. I don’t think that’s something we should ask about.”

—

After a stretch of high-speed flight, Shu Ji’s thick atmosphere grew more and more distinct. Light from the dim orange-red star shone on the top of the atmosphere, making it glow in the dark of space.

Yu Sheng could feel it clearly: there were far fewer facilities and craft around Shu Ji than around the Grand Void Spiritual Axis.

That was normal. The Grand Void Spiritual Axis was the capital star of the entire Featherwing Starfield, and this place was a remote border mining planet slowly sliding downhill.

But something still felt off.

As the gray-blue planet grew larger, the feeling sharpened. Shu Ji seemed to give off a kind of… weakness.

It wasn’t just the lack of orbital traffic. It wasn’t only that it looked more desolate than the Grand Void Spiritual Axis. No matter what, this was still a fully developed ecological planet. Even at its bleakest, it held far more life than the bare, uninhabited rocks out in the void—at least judging by its surface.

Yet that visible vitality still couldn’t cancel out the weakness Yu Sheng felt, out of nowhere.

This planet wasn’t in good shape.

Yu Sheng frowned, unsure how he could simply sense a planet was subhealthy. After a moment, he turned to the big nephew sitting beside him.

Zheng Zhi was tense all over, gripping a tuft of fox fur so hard he barely dared breathe.

As an ordinary person who’d spent over twenty years living quietly in Boundary City, his first trip to space being a straight plunge into a planet’s atmosphere on a nine-tailed fox with flaming tails was… a little much.

“Do you see anything that looks off?” Yu Sheng asked.

Zheng Zhi jolted. Only after Yu Sheng repeated himself did he understand. Still clutching the fur, he cautiously leaned forward and peeked at the gray-blue planet rushing closer.

“N-no. I don’t see anything.”

“Is that so…” Yu Sheng murmured. Then he described the feeling as best he could.

As expected, no one understood what he meant.

But no one dismissed it, either.

Whether they understood it or not, one thing was clear.

This planet’s state really did seem abnormal.