Chapter 37
Meanwhile, Ling Xu in the front seemed to challenge the limits of patience and endurance.
His steps remained firm and far-reaching, unshaken even though for a brief moment they slowed down.
Huan Zheng's gaze remained fixed, watching that figure through eyelids that opened and closed repeatedly with increasingly reckless speed—affirming that the distance between them was not merely physical space, but a chasm separating determination and capability.
His body, constantly drained, adapted to extreme pressure.
Yet with every opening and closing of his eyes, the markings of inability to catch up easily were carved deeper— as if time itself restrained his steps, while Ling Xu remained far ahead, forcing his awareness to bend at an unnatural limit.
The weight of that irritation thickened in every heartbeat, embedded so deeply in the depths of Huan Zheng's heart—one that even in the midst of such tremendous pressure could not be eroded.
Though his body was exhausted, his mind and spirit remained sharp, refusing to yield merely because of matters that seemed trivial to the outside world.
He who had once transcended Humanity, conquering levels only dreamt of by the strongest cultivators, could still feel the bitterness of anger piling up, gnawing at his patience as the distance with Ling Xu continued to widen.
Every indifference from the Young Master etched invisible wounds, awakening a fury greater than the physical pain he had long grown accustomed to enduring.
Huan Zheng's journey was filled with the most deliberate of torments, endured with a body that had nearly reached its ultimate limit.
The elders' demands, the juniors' judgmental titles—all seemed meaningless before the achievements he had reached.
Every step felt like a long trial squeezing out his strength and consciousness, leaving behind a weariness that pierced into his very marrow.
But for Huan Zheng, all of it was nothing more than shadows of the past, a reminder that no pressure could ever defeat him when determination and willpower united in one unstoppable motion.
The title of Wheel of Cultivation, once reminding others of those who had surpassed levels both quantitatively and qualitatively, now lost its meaning.
The power he had once grasped, capable of conquering the Realm of Humanity to its peak, rendered every insult or challenge as nothing more than passing wind.
Yet his irritation toward Ling Xu continued to burn, fueling the urge to keep surging forward, beyond the limits of stamina and ability—affirming that even if the body could be squeezed until empty, the soul would still refuse to submit.
The sky above stretched mercilessly, watching over Huan Zheng's body still trembling from poison and the extreme pressures he had just endured.
Every step and every movement felt like a new trial, though he had not yet rested, wielding power to regain the strength lost due to the bombardment of cultivation poison that attacked every level and foundation.
The peak of the Wheel of Cultivation, once held with ease, now crumbled, leaving behind only the ruins of power: five Supreme Dao Points, ten Great Celestial Grains, four Heavenly Longitudes, and three Stellar Foundations.
Without Ling Xu's aid in giving him forty-nine fragments of the Grand Stellar Essence, his body and soul would have nearly perished, and even with that aid, the Mustraya poison hidden within the fragments made every step feel like holding back death with every breath.
In a condition that should have left him weak and vulnerable, Huan Zheng's anger only burned fiercer.
Yet he realized, understanding that anger directed straight at Ling Xu would only destroy himself faster than the lag he now felt.
His temporary compliance was not a sign of weakness, but a strategy for survival, regaining what little strength remained while holding back the surge of fury threatening to explode from the depths of his heart.
Every heartbeat flared silently, burning with frustration and injustice, yet he restrained himself, choosing to redirect his energy toward one more crucial goal.
"Stay attached to Ling Xu even at the brink of destruction."
The damage left by the poison was unavoidable, making Huan Zheng's every movement heavier, and every wing felt as though pulled down by invisible gravity.
Yet the drive not to fall behind still forced his body to move, to surge beyond what should have been impossible, while his awareness waged war, heat clashing against the freezing remnants of Mustraya's effects embedded within the Grand Stellar Essence itself.
Ling Xu remained ahead.
Far, his figure at this moment seemed untouchable, unreachable even by the suffering and poison that had shattered the very core of Huan Zheng's strength.
His power that had once conquered the Wheel of Cultivation was now reduced to fragments, yet his resolve stubbornly refused to collapse.
The sky, once filled with the pulse of flight energy, finally subsided, leaving his body slowly lowered back to the ground.
Ling Xu, who had pushed his acceleration endlessly throughout the journey, now began to slow his rhythm of force, easing what little stamina remained, nearly drained dry.
His breathing was steady, as though every second of flight had been nothing more than part of an endless training routine.
When his feet at last touched the ground, the world around him felt more tangible, the solid earth welcoming him with restrained relief.
He did not glance back, not feeling the need to ensure whether Huan Zheng was still following.
A faint laziness took root, not only toward the figure behind him, but also toward any attachment that bound itself to excessive scrutiny.
The path stretching ahead was no longer a mere empty trail, but an artery connecting humanity with a purpose so alike.
Crowds bustled on either side, carrying the noise of life in stark contrast with the long solitude of flight before.
Ling Xu gazed around, seeing how the branching paths interconnected at greater points, revealing clear signs that he had truly arrived at the destination he once doubted.
Footsteps echoed among strangers, each preoccupied with their own affairs, as though none realized the exhaustion or vigilance he carried.
His glances shifting right and left only ensured direction, while the rest he let remain calm, adjusting his body to the new atmosphere pulsing with life.
In the distance, the structure marking Xuelan Camp slowly revealed its face.
Though called a camp, the fortress unveiled something different, far beyond the image of a mere cluster of makeshift tents.
Tall walls loomed, layered with ancient carvings depicting the grandeur of the Gods and Goddesses before they were cast down, scornfully overthrown by humankind in the Discord of Harmony.
The gates, silent witnesses of that border, towered high like watchtowers, dominating the surrounding lands.
Its intricate design, unique to the wisdom of cultivation, became the arranger, the meticulous organizer of every traveler who passed.
Ling Xu stepped closer, sensing how the atmosphere shifted as every detail of the structure revealed itself, as though watching history still breathing through stone, metal, and carving.
To be continued…