The firelight inside the cave gradually dimmed, and the wind outside had quieted, leaving only the sound of their breathing interweaving in the still air.
After their meal, Gu Qing did not rest. Instead, he picked up stones and beast bones from a nearby pile. Holding a stone, he began skillfully grinding and chipping it, and slowly the rough shape of a stone sword emerged, its faint glint radiating a sharp, cutting aura.
At the same time, he picked up a few thick leaves and laid them beside the stone, focusing as he began inscribing talisman patterns. Spiritual energy flowed slowly from his fingertips; every line had to be meticulously drawn, without the slightest error. Layer upon layer, the patterns stacked, spiritual light flickering between the leaves like ripples on water—fading as quickly as they appeared, visible only to one who concentrated. The process continued for a long while; silence reigned in the cave.
Milton remained seated nearby, saying nothing, only watching. His purple eyes grew deeper, reflecting the flicker of firelight at times, and at others catching subtle, unspoken glimmers. Anxiety, reassurance, and another, more resolute emotion quietly coalesced in the stillness.
Finally, the stone sword was fully shaped in Gu Qing’s hands, and the spiritual patterns on the talismans were set. The cave was silent, save for the faint flow of light across the leaves, echoing the cold gleam of the sword.
Gu Qing collected the stone sword and leaves, tidied the cave, and lifted his gaze toward the dark, windblown night outside, ready to step out and inspect the demonic energy.
At that moment, Milton finally spoke, his voice low but resolute: “Aren’t you going to let me come with you?”
Gu Qing’s foot paused. He turned to look at Milton, his gaze deep and cold as a winter night. “This is not your battlefield.”
Milton stared straight into his black eyes, unyielding. “I won’t let you face danger alone.”
Gu Qing was momentarily stunned. His thin lips moved, but no sound came.
Milton stood and stepped before him, purple eyes fixed intently on Gu Qing. His tone was calm but firm: “If you go, I follow. If you don’t speak, I’ll find out. You know I’ll do this.”
Gu Qing remained silent for a moment, then exhaled softly: “…Don’t leave my side.”
A faint glimmer flashed in Milton’s eyes as he nodded.
Inside Gu Qing’s spiritual sea, the little Dao spirit gushed excitedly and teasingly: “Aiyaaa—Gu Qing, you’re such a softie! The general says it, and you agree just like that!”
Gu Qing’s expression stayed calm, his gaze fixed on Milton. His fingertips curled slightly, the intent of his sword flowing rapidly in his spiritual sea, instantly suppressing the spirit’s chatter.
The little Dao spirit squirmed, whining, “That’s not fair! I haven’t finished talking yet~”
The two stepped out of the cave together. The night wind blew, carrying sand and a bitter chill.
Gu Qing stopped in the open and raised his hand, summoning spiritual energy. A miniature detection array formed in his palm.
It was the result of fusing interstellar technology with cultivation techniques. The array unfolded into a three-dimensional map, hovering above his palm, clearly showing the flow of demonic energy.
The brightest point marked the area of greatest concentration—deep within the northern mountains, hundreds of kilometers away.
Milton stood beside him, scanning the projection with a slight frown. He had never seen spiritual energy used in such a precise, real-time manner. Surprised, he said only, “My mental sea is stable. I can deploy Silver Crown.”
With that, he summoned his mecha—Silver Crown—from the spatial interface. The giant silver-white machine appeared in the night, sleek and streamlined, its armor gleaming coldly under the moonlight.
Milton leapt into the cockpit. Gu Qing immediately took the co-pilot seat, their shoulders nearly touching in the cramped space.
Milton looked at him. This was the first time a male insect had sat in his mecha, and they were fighting side by side. Silver Crown hummed, then tore through the air, heading north.
Soon, it descended onto a vast desert, the wind whispering across the empty sands. Milton and Gu Qing exited the machine, surveying the endless dunes.
“Are you sure it’s here?” Milton asked, glancing at Gu Qing, suspicion in his brow.
Gu Qing closed his eyes, his divine sense rippling like water through the ground.
A flash of silver appeared in the spiritual sea. The little Dao spirit bobbed up, chattering: “Eh, eh, eh, Gu Qing! Something’s down there! Feels like… a seal? And it’s really old! But how do we dig it up? It’s not like we’re pulling radishes!”
Gu Qing detected a massive, ancient, and powerful presence underground. But as he prepared to investigate further, the ground shook violently—
“Boom—!” Sand erupted, cracks splitting the earth, as if something was struggling to break free.
“Gu Qing!” Milton’s pupils widened. Instinctively, he reached out.
Gu Qing was faster, grabbing Milton’s wrist and shouting, “Move!”
They returned to the cockpit. Silver Crown rose into the air.
The desert quaked beneath a torrent of sand as a colossal palace slowly emerged from the ground.
Multiple tiers of eaves and halls rose in layers, golden tiles gleaming, until the entire palace floated above the dust. The main hall was majestic, flanked by four side halls like circling stars. Arched bridges spanned the structures, crystalline and suspended in air.
A seven-colored light curtain enveloped the palace, making it glow like a dream, as if a divine apparition had descended.
Milton sat in the cockpit, staring at the floating palace, his heart almost stopping. Shock, disbelief, and unease washed over him simultaneously. He forgot to breathe.
Instinct drove him to search for an energy core, anti-gravity devices, anything mechanical—but there was nothing. No supports, no engines, only an ancient palace, seemingly violating all known laws, standing alone in midair.
He had never seen anything like it—neither insect technology nor the legacy of any civilization.
He turned sharply to Gu Qing.
Gu Qing, however, only stared at the palace. His black eyes were cold and fathomless, as if he already understood what it was.
The little Dao spirit’s voice was unusually serious: “Gu Qing… this isn’t an ordinary palace. Look at those runes—all seals. Something’s being held inside.”
Gu Qing frowned slightly. “…I didn’t expect to see this kind of seal in this world.”
At that moment, a golden staircase extended from the palace gate to the ground, hovering as if inviting them.
Silver Crown descended again. The two walked side by side to the stairs.
Milton’s gaze remained locked on the floating palace, his fingers tightening with unease. Everything was alien, absurd, like a forbidden realm detached from reality.
He looked to Gu Qing, who remained calm and steadfast, black eyes deep, unmoved by anything. Under Gu Qing’s steady gaze, Milton’s inner wavering subsided.
“This place is unusual. The path ahead… may be dangerous,” Gu Qing said calmly.
Milton drew a deep breath, eyes resolute, his tone unwavering: “I’ll go with you.”
The little Dao spirit squealed in the spiritual sea: “Woooah! This general’s coolness just skyrocketed! I give a hundred points!”
Gu Qing said nothing further, stepping onto the staircase.
The steps glowed faintly underfoot. After a few steps, Milton suddenly paused, frowning.
He felt an invisible pressure increasing subtly, each step weighted, a sensation of the entire world pulling him downward.
“…Gravity’s changing,” he murmured, alert despite his calm voice.
“This is a trial staircase. The higher you go, the heavier it gets. Nine hundred ninety-nine steps in total.”
Gu Qing’s tone remained even; his pace never faltered. Milton said nothing, silently following. The sides of the staircase were no longer empty.
Shattered armor and rusted weapons were scattered about, bearing scorch marks. Embedded metal limbs retained the insect-like curved silhouettes, though eroded and faded. Torn banners swayed without wind, as if still crying out.
Milton surveyed the surroundings silently. His purple pupils narrowed slightly in surprise and caution. One embedded metal emblem on a stone step caught his attention. Clearly not a modern military insignia, its design archaic and weathered, but still faintly recognizable as an insect clan symbol.
A shiver ran through him. He sensed the bloodshed and despair that had occurred here. Those who had fallen were likely his kin.
“There was a war here,” he said hoarsely.
“Not just war,” Gu Qing lifted his eyes to the palace above. “A massacre.”
Step by step, Milton felt the invisible pressure intensify. Each step pressed into his bones and muscles, subtly testing his limits. Yet their steps remained steady, unwavering.
Milton glanced at Gu Qing in quiet astonishment. His companion’s steps were calm and resolute; even as the pressure increased, he walked as though on level ground. His physical ability left Milton stunned—Gu Qing’s prior assessment level had been only F-class.
Finally, they reached the top, standing before a side hall. The bronze-colored doors bore intricate carvings, runes pulsing with a latent force.
Gu Qing did not step forward immediately, scanning the surroundings with steady eyes.
Beneath the broken stone walls, the foundation’s patterns were faint. Gu Qing crouched, touching weathered spiritual traces with his fingertips, tapping out residual spiritual energy.
“…There were countless formations here.”
“Most have been destroyed. But one can still see the complexity—defensive arrays, offensive arrays, concealment arrays, sealing arrays… even traces of teleportation and soul-binding.”
Gu Qing examined broken pillars and shattered talisman stones, murmuring: “Styles differ… seems from multiple sects.”
The little Dao spirit floated out quietly, twirling, whispering in awe: “Eh? Eh eh eh?”
Gu Qing stood, unusually serious: “This palace was likely built jointly by multiple cultivation sects.”
“But why here?”
“…Unknown.”
The revelation stirred unease in Gu Qing, but he said nothing, only checking his storage container and confirming the state of the talismans and stone sword.
He then fixed his gaze on the dense runes on the door. A heavy seriousness surfaced—every inch of the door was covered with high-level seals and complex arrays. The interwoven runes and thick aura seemed to trap whatever lay within, making escape impossible.
These arrays were of the highest cultivation level—defensive, offensive, with soul-binding and teleportation restrictions. Each rune and line radiated the weight of ages, showing the builders’ extraordinary skill and caution.
Though Milton could not decipher the symbols, he felt the immense aura radiating from the door. Each step closer was like touching an invisible barrier; his chest tightened, instinctively warned of danger.
Yet he looked to Gu Qing—the calm, steady presence stood like a rock before danger. He clenched his fists, his heartbeat settling, a quiet resolve rising within.
The little Dao spirit whispered: “…Gu Qing, I think this trouble will be bigger than we imagined.”
Gu Qing extended his hand, fingertips hovering before the doors. He inhaled deeply, speaking softly to Milton: “Prepare yourself. Once we step inside, there may be no turning back.”
Milton’s purple eyes were calm as water. He drew his energy gun from the storage container: “Whatever lies ahead, I’m with you.”
Two shadows stretched under the moonlight, covering the side hall doors.
Inside, the sealed aura waited, as if for a destined visitor—and as if holding its breath, ready to unleash a long-dormant storm.