The borderlands, a jagged scar across the continent, faded into a blur of grey rock and dead grass beneath them. Feng Kail stood atop the massive, obsidian-scaled back of Egneel. The phoenix-dragon, a creature of legend and ancient fire, moved through the clouds with a speed that defied the laws of nature. Unlike the flickering, taxing flight of a standard cultivator, Egneel's movement was effortless—a fluid, predatory glide that tore the sky asunder.
Xu Guifei sat behind Feng Kail, her eyes scanning the vast, rolling terrain below. They were no longer traveling; they were hunting, and the distance that would have taken a merchant caravan months to traverse was being devoured in a matter of days.
The decision to abandon their original path had been sparked in the dim, smoky confines of a waypoint tavern tucked into the crevices of the border mountains. Amidst the low, desperate murmurs of mercenaries, thieves, and traveling merchants, one rumor had cut through the cacophony like a blade: the Great Auction of the Vermilion Kingdom.
"A high-level artifact, forged in the fires of the lost era," a merchant had whispered into his ale, his eyes wide with a mix of avarice and terror. "And the Ever-Burning Scroll —an ancient alchemical technique rumored to be able to refine pills that can break the bottleneck of the Spirit Realm. They say it was recovered from the ruins of the First Epoch."
For Feng Kail, this was an opportunity that could not be ignored. If he was to challenge the Great Clans, his internal progress alone would not suffice. He needed tools—legendary weapons to channel his void-devouring energy and alchemical secrets to accelerate his cultivation to levels that even the clan elders feared.
"The Vermilion Kingdom is thousands of miles to the east," Kail said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind against Egneel's scales. He leaned forward, resting a hand on the beast's neck. Egneel let out a low, vibrating hum, a sound that resonated deep within Kail's own chest. "If we maintain this speed, we can arrive a week before the auction begins. It gives us time to scout the city, evaluate the competition, and secure our position before the wolves start circling."
Xu Guifei adjusted her cloak, the fabric snapping violently in the slipstream of their flight. Her sharp, calculating gaze never left the horizon. "An auction of that magnitude will draw the eyes of the Great Clans, Kail. They don't simply walk to such events. They will travel in grand, gilded air-ships, escorted by flying formations of their elite disciples. They are obsessed with ancient relics. If they hear even a whisper of the Ever-Burning Scroll, they will turn the kingdom upside down to claim it."
"Let them," Kail replied, his gaze locked on the distant, shimmering outline of the Vermilion capital. He reached into his robes, feeling the cool, solid weight of the obsidian box containing the Frost-Core. "The clans believe the world is their playground. They have spent centuries convincing the common folk that they are gods. But they don't expect someone to arrive unannounced, someone who doesn't care about their hierarchy or their fear-tactics. They are about to learn that the prize is not theirs to claim."
As they crossed jagged mountain passes and sprawling, lawless forests, the world below transformed. The further east they flew, the more pronounced the influence of the Great Clans became. Massive, clan-controlled fortresses dotted the landscape like festering sores on the earth, their defensive arrays glowing like beacons against the twilight. These were centers of power where the Qi was artificially concentrated, stolen from the surrounding lands to ensure that only the clans could reach the higher levels of cultivation. It was a stark, infuriating reminder of the world they were preparing to defy.
Egneel, sensing the tension in Kail's grip, let out a sharp, piercing cry that echoed across the valley. The beast dove, dropping thousands of feet in seconds, before leveling out just above the tree line of a vast, ancient forest. They moved in silence, a shadow cast against the clouds.
"We are entering the lions' den," Guifei remarked as the capital city finally loomed ahead—a sprawling megalopolis of white stone and gold, surrounded by walls that seemed to touch the very heavens.
"Good," Kail said, smoothing his robes and signaling Egneel to descend. "It is far easier to slaughter a lion when you are already standing in its throat."
They landed in a secluded, mist-covered grove on the outskirts of the capital. Egneel dissolved into a swirl of blue embers, tucking himself away into the spiritual space within Kail's own soul, leaving behind a faint warmth that reminded Kail of his potential. They walked toward the massive, gilded gates of the capital, blending into the endless stream of cultivators, mercenaries, and spies.
The air in the city was heavy, not just with the humidity of the surrounding wetlands, but with the palpable, suffocating weight of intense Qi. Every street corner, every tea house, and every stall was occupied by people who were clearly not commoners. The Vermilion Auction was not merely a trade event; it was the focal point of a continent-wide power struggle.
Kail and Guifei checked into a modest, secluded inn tucked away in the shadows of the city's lower markets. In the privacy of their room, the world felt smaller, quieter. Kail sat on the floor, the Frost-Core box open before him. The blue, frigid energy swirled, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls, biting at his fingertips with a cold that could shatter stone.
"Two months," Kail whispered to himself. "Two months to transform this core into a blade, and two months to ensure that when I step into that auction house, i will definitely get what i want."