242: Chapter 240 Target: Tianyuan

The golden flying boat cut through the waves in the sea of clouds at an incredible speed, resembling a streak of light piercing the horizon.

Yun Ming stood at the prow, his robes snapping loudly in the wind.

The fox lay on his shoulder, its nine tails hanging down like a fluffy scarf, eyes squinted as it napped in the breeze.

The name of the flying boat was carved into the bow in three ancient seal script characters—"void-piercing boat."

Fifth-Grade High Grade, a treasure obtained from a draw.

Entirely golden, the hull was covered in intricate formation patterns. When fully activated, it could cover a distance of a hundred thousand miles in just ten days.

The interior cabin was barely ten square feet, unable to hold many people, but it was the fastest flying Magical Artifact Yun Ming had ever seen.

He had owned this flying boat for several years but had kept it stored within the map of mountains and rivers, rarely using it.

Now, it was finally being put to use.

Yun Ming withdrew his gaze and looked toward the hazy gray horizon to the northeast.

That was the direction of Tianyuan City—the capital of the Zifu Immortal Dynasty and the hub of the seventy-two provinces.

Leaving Qingyao City had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

But while it seemed sudden, he had felt a premonition in his heart for some time.

The Third Prince had been defeated, True Lord Luoyun's Nascent Soul had fled, and Qin Zhao and Shen Yizhi were nowhere to be found. The Crown Prince's army would arrive within days; Qingyao City could not be held. He wasn't afraid of the Crown Prince; no matter how powerful the Crown Prince was, he wouldn't personally come to capture a Loose Cultivator.

What he feared was trouble.

The Crown Prince's subordinates would come to recruit him; if they came once, they would come again, and if he refused once, there would be a second time. He didn't like being disturbed, and he liked being forced to make choices even less. Rather than waiting for someone to come to his door, it was better to leave first.

Where to go? The East Xuan Region was too chaotic, the Ximing Continent was too desolate, and the Southern and Northern Heavens were too far away.

After weighing his options, there was only one place that was both stable and prosperous—Tianyuan City.

The heart of the Zifu Immortal Dynasty. The entire city spanned hundreds of miles, its walls towering into the clouds, with the city's protective formation running day and night.

The city was a picture of prosperity, filled with shops and markets everywhere.

Mortals, Cultivators, officials, and royalty—all sorts of people were mixed together there.

There, one could find the best pill pavilions, Artifact Shops, and Formation Halls, along with the most comprehensive collection of Cultivation Techniques, Pill Formulas, and Materials. As long as one had money, anything could be bought. More importantly, there was order. The laws of the Zifu Immortal Dynasty were enforced most strictly there; no one dared to cause trouble in Tianyuan City. Even the Crown Prince could not arbitrarily arrest people there.

Yun Ming had lived in Qingyao City for over a decade. He had grown accustomed to that small courtyard, that bamboo chair, and that nameless little tree. But being accustomed didn't mean he couldn't leave. He had traveled many places—the Sunset Glow Sect, the Cangxuan Immortal Sect, the Qingxuan Sect, and Qingyao City. At each place, he thought it would be his final stop, yet he never stayed long at any of them. Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps it was his own choice. He didn't want to run anymore, but this time, he had to.

The void-piercing boat was incredibly fast; the wind howled as the mountains and rivers beneath him retreated rapidly.

It had been several days since Yun Ming set out from Qingyao City, and he had seen many refugees along the way.

They were everywhere—on the official roads, in the wilderness, and along the riverbanks.

They came from the north, from the east, converging from all directions, all heading toward the same destination—Tianyuan City.

There, there were walls, there were guards, and there was a way to survive.

He did not stop. He couldn't save everyone. The Zifu Immortal Dynasty was so vast that someone would eventually have to handle these matters, but it wouldn't be him.

He wasn't here to save the world; he was just an alchemist.

The void-piercing boat flew for another half-day.

As the sun dipped low, the clouds at the horizon were dyed a dark red. Yun Ming stood at the prow, intending to find a place to land and recover his spiritual energy, when he suddenly heard sounds from below.

It wasn't the wind, nor was it birdsong; it was the sound of people. Someone was shouting, someone was crying, and someone was laughing. That laughter was unpleasant—not a happy laugh, but the kind of chilling, unrestrained laughter that made one's skin crawl. Yun Ming frowned and sent his Divine Sense downward.

In the wasteland, there was a grove of withered trees. The trunks were bare, their branches reaching toward the sky like claws, casting grotesque shadows in the twilight. Beneath the trees was a small clearing where one person sat, another stood, and a third lay on the ground.

The one lying down was a young girl. She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, dressed in rags with several large holes that revealed her thin, frail body. Her hair was spread messily on the ground, her face covered in dust and tear streaks. The corner of her mouth was split, with a trickle of blood seeping out. Her eyes were closed, her eyelashes trembling. Her hands were tied behind her back with a hemp rope, and the skin on her wrists was already chafed raw, revealing tender red flesh. Her mouth wasn't gagged, but she didn't scream. Perhaps she was tired of screaming, or perhaps she knew it was useless.

The one standing was a man. In his thirties and burly, he was two heads taller than the average person, with a thick waist and arms thicker than the girl's legs. He wore a grey-blue martial outfit of decent fabric, but it was soaked with sweat and clung to his body, outlining blocks of solid muscle. A large saber hung at his waist, its scabbard inlaid with several Low-Grade Spirit Stones that glinted dimly in the twilight. His face was full of coarse flesh, his eyes small and cloudy, and a smug grin hung on his lips. He crouched before the girl, one hand pinching her chin while the other held a waterskin, forcing water into her mouth. Water overflowed from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her neck and into her collar, soaking her tattered clothes.

“Drink! Drink for me!” the man’s voice was gruff, carrying an air of command.

The girl choked and coughed a few times, water splashing from her nose. She tried desperately to turn her head, but her chin was held firm, leaving her unable to move. Her tears flowed even more fiercely.

“No... please don't...” Her voice was hoarse, sounding as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

The man ignored her. After finishing the water, he tossed the waterskin aside, stood up, and looked down at her. His gaze swept over her body, from her face to her neck, from her neck to her chest, and from her chest to her legs. His grin widened, revealing a row of uneven yellow teeth.

“You’ve got a decent face, just too thin. Eat more; you'll sell better once you're fattened up,” he muttered to himself, as if speaking of a very ordinary matter.

The girl's body suddenly stiffened. She opened her eyes—eyes that should have been beautiful, but were now swollen like peaches, bloodshot and filled with nothing but fear and despair.

“Sell... sell where?” her voice trembled.

The man crouched down and poked her cheek with a rough finger. “Tianyuan City. There’s a venue there that specializes in taking little girls like you. If you’re lucky, some Cultivator will take a fancy to you and keep you as a maid, and you’ll never have to worry about food or clothes again. If you’re unlucky...” He paused, his smile turning even uglier, “If you’re unlucky, you can still be traded for quite a few Spirit Stones.”

The girl's pupils contracted violently. She struggled desperately; with her hands tied behind her back, she used her feet to kick and her knees to strike. Her feet kicked the man's shins, but he remained motionless. Her knees struck his thighs, but he didn't even flinch.

“Let me go! I beg you, let me go!” the girl’s voice was shrill and tearful. “My father will give you money. He’s very rich; he’ll give you whatever amount you ask for!”

The man’s smile faltered for a moment. “Your father? Isn't your father dead?”

The girl froze. “No... my father isn't dead... he’s still...” Her voice grew smaller and smaller, losing its conviction.

The man snorted, stood up, unfastened the large saber from his waist, and thrust it into the ground, hilt-up. He crossed his arms and looked down at the girl. “Stop pretending. I’ve been on this road for over a decade; what kind of person haven’t I seen? You escaped from the north; your home is gone, your parents are gone, and you ran out all by yourself. Right?”

The girl opened her mouth to retort but couldn't speak, because what he said was true. Her home was gone, her parents had long since vanished, and her only companion, her grandfather, had already passed away. She had run out alone, blending into the crowds of refugees, not daring to stop during the day or sleep at night. She thought she had escaped the flames of war and reached a safe place. she never expected to encounter someone like this.

“You... you're going to sell me in Tianyuan City?” Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

“That’s right.” The man crouched down and patted her head like he was patting a puppy. “I have connections in Tianyuan City. A little girl like you can be traded for at least a hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones. That’s enough for me to live on in the city for half a year.”

The girl's tears fell again. She stopped struggling and stopped crying out. She simply lay on the ground, staring at the hazy gray sky above as the light in her eyes faded bit by bit.

In the distance, at the edge of the withered grove, stood a third person. It was an old man, appearing to be in his sixties or seventies, with white hair and a slight slouch, wearing a dusty cloth robe. He leaned on a staff that was worn smooth at one end. He stood there, watching everything unfold, but he didn't move. There was no anger in his eyes, no sympathy, only a numb, indifferent coldness from having seen it all before. After watching for a while, he shook his head, turned, and left. His figure vanished into the withered grove, his footsteps growing fainter until they were swallowed by the wind.

The wasteland fell silent again, save for the sound of the wind through the dead branches and the girl's suppressed sobbing.

The man kicked the girl's foot. “Stop crying. Crying won't help. We're in the middle of nowhere; no one's coming to save you. Behave, and you'll suffer less.”

The girl bit her lip and swallowed her sobs. She closed her eyes, tears sliding from the corners and dripping onto the parched earth.

The man nodded in satisfaction. He bent over to untie the rope on the girl's feet—her feet were also bound, the rope so tight that her ankles had already swollen.

Just as his hand touched the rope, a golden light descended from the sky.

The light wasn't blinding, but it was bright. it fell from the Nine Heavens, passing through the clouds and the withered grove, landing directly in front of the man. As the golden light dissipated, a figure stepped out. He wore a moon-white long robe, his long hair was tied back, and he looked young, with a pure white fox perched on his shoulder. The fox's nine tails hung down, swaying slightly, its eyes narrowed as if it were napping.

The man looked up, stunned. His hand remained on the rope, forgotten. His mouth hung open. He stared at the young man who had suddenly appeared, his pupils contracting violently. He couldn't sense any aura, no Spiritual Pressure, no killing intent—nothing. This person seemed to have appeared out of thin air, as if he had dropped in from another world.

The girl also opened her eyes. She saw the young man who had stepped out of the golden light. Her eyes brightened for a moment. It wasn't the wild joy of seeing a savior, but a very strange light, as if she recognized him, as if she had been waiting for him for a long time. That light flashed and vanished quickly, obscured by the tears in her eyes and the shadows of the twilight.

Yun Ming looked down at the man crouching before the girl, his face expressionless.

“Let go.”