The journey, one which I expected to last a while, began in silence.
We boarded back the chariot amidst the ashes and soot of the mountain, and took off into the sky.
Over the next week, a routine developed.
I'd land the chariot once a day so that the kids could run around a bit and practice their arts. In the meantime, Long Tao would go off someplace and always come back with a new kind of an animal that I'd never seen before--such as a tiger with six horns jutting out of its skull, or a hippo-like thing with sixteen limbs, or even the freakin' rabbit the size of a bull--and he'd expertly cut and prep the animal before conjuring up a feast for us to eat.
His cooking had gotten massively better to the point I can confidently say he's surpassed me. With the added benefit of him using the meat that clearly had traces of Qi in it, propelling our cultivation further, it was no contest.
During those seven days, my mind was largely preoccupied with two things: establishing the 'curriculum' for when I teach the kids basics of science, and the art that I was yet to make for Wan Lan. The latter was more of an 'afterthought', to be fair, after I'd gotten tired of thinking about the goddamn states of matter and atoms and quarks and every other term that I can vaguely recall but can't quite properly fit into the correct context.
As I no longer have to cultivate actively, I found myself with a lot of free time to spare. Sort of like that brief period of about four months when my PC crapped out and I could not afford to fix it.
Man, it was not fun sitting in silence with my thoughts.
Anyway, by the week's end, we'd finally reached the first destination: Spirit Vein City.
We landed on the outskirts, some two to three miles north of it, but even from this far out... I felt it. The dread.
Looking over, there was no city-wide formation that stood there when we last visited. I could see the faltering towers leaning, and recognize the fact that the teleportation array was not functioning. Most of all... I could smell blood and rot even this far out.
My heart tensed and the kids must have noticed it as they stealthily tried to 'clean up' the air around us. I pretended not to notice it, boosting my sight with Qi. However, even at my current level, seeing things good three miles out was... difficult. I could make out the shambled walls and the debris scattered around them, but not much past that.
"Let's go," I announced and they followed. Regardless, we'd changed our appearances since we were last here, so we won't be recognized on the spot.
The closer we got to the city, the more ominous the feeling was; there was a layer of... heaviness that wasn't visible but was present looming over it. Sort of like going from the rich part of the city to the 'slums'. The feeling itself changes, not just the space.
It was at about four hundred yards away that we came to a halt as there were dozens of Divine Senses scanning us, most of them coming from within the city or from what remained of their outer walls. I frowned; by now, I'd kind of assimilated into this world on this one thing. The feeling I get when someone uses Divine Sense on me directly is uncomfortable.
"Someone really is looking to die," that was Han Yimu, surprisingly. No, it probably makes sense; it was a taboo here, and I can only imagine how more severe it was in the Upper Realm to so brazenly inspect someone.
"Why don't we just return the favor?" Dai Xiu said.
"Or better yet, return the favor," Xi Zhao said with a small hint of anger in his voice, reaching for his sword.
I'd like to believe that I did a relatively decent job managing their, uh, murderous desires and such. Not the perfect job, far from it, but as good of a one as I could have. They don't go out killing indiscriminately, they don't go out of their way to antagonize other people, and when they do kill, there's at least some justification for it.
But it was also in moments like these that I realized no matter how hard I try, it's like throwing cups of water into a forest fire. It's not their nature to kill, I defy that, but the world as they understand it demands that of them... and I'm the only one trying to say the opposite.
"No," at least, they still listened to me. "They haven't attacked us, so they must not perceive us as a threat. Let's just see what happened and leave quickly."
They swallowed whatever anger was bubbling and retreated their killing intents. I, on the other hand, could now see well enough the people who used their Divine Sense on us.
... and I have a sneaking suspicion that the kids will get their chance to go on a little bit of a spree soon enough. I mean, I could turn around and walk away right now and avoid it, but the lesson I've come to recognize is that it only buys so much time. If we walked away, quite a few of them would follow us. And we'd have to kill them in order to board the chariot and leave without leaving a trace of ourselves behind.
So, may as well skip the ceremony and forge ahead. The old (new) adage of 'We ain't gonna stir shit up, but we will kill back' or something... it sounds good enough.
We made our way over and, even as we reached the dilapidated walls giving way to the broken-down city beyond them, we were never attacked. There were quite a few eyes on us, both from near and far, but we ignored them.
There weren't 'gates', per se, just a cleaned-up pathway through the spanning ruble of bricks, stones, and scorched wood. The streets were nothing like I remembered them; there were practically no people anywhere, there were no open shops, most of the buildings showed signs of rapid deterioration--which meant there were cultivators throwing shit at each other nearby--and once we crossed the main entryway, we came across the first major one: there was a giant crater the size of a major parking lot where the building for the teleportation array used to stand.
It was about a hundred yards deep, its slanted sides uneven and jagged, and there was a pile-up of bodies at the very bottom of it. We stood briefly on the edge, looking down, before I sensed someone walking up to us.
Glancing over, it was a man who looked to be in his fifties, with a scarred left eye and short, white hair. He was wearing loose, brown robes which kind of expertly hid the layers of armor underneath, and each one of his strides was quite peculiar, meaning he was using a movement art even to just walk. Why? Hell if I know. Practice, maybe?
"Greetings, Fellow Daoist," his voice was--ah, look at this motherfucker, trying to use illusion arts on us. "What brings ye' all here to our little slice of heaven?"