Chapter 5 - Chapter 1: Another Transmigration

On the dark cyan boulder platform, dense patterns glowed with faint golden light like living creatures, casting the surrounding morning mist in a hazy warm yellow. Finn opened his eyes to a piercing chill. The sky above was a clear pale cyan, with wispy clouds drifting gently—no sign of the gray decay brought by mechanical pollution in the apocalypse. This was neither the Earth settlement where he had fought tooth and nail for survival nor the isolated mountain where he had lost consciousness. "Damn it, did I transmigrate again?"​He propped himself up, his muscles aching with exhaustion, but the old wound in his chest was soothed by a faint wisp of spiritual qi, the stabbing pain gone. The crystal shard Lily had left in his palm still held a faint warmth, though its surface had dimmed significantly, shrunk to the size of a pinky nail, and its spiritual fluctuation had weakened drastically.​"Cough..."​A soft cough beside him made Finn whip his head around, his heart lurching. On this three-zhang-diameter formation platform lay seven other young people in modern clothes—clearly, they had all been swept here by that colorful beam of light.​The closest to him was a tall man with wheat-colored skin stretched over defined, muscular lines. His camouflage uniform was caked in dust, and the moment he woke, he grabbed the pistol at his waist, his eyes fixed sharply on the edge of the platform, exuding the taut vigilance unique to soldiers. Finn recognized him as an active-duty serviceman from some country in the apocalypse.​Not far away, a young man in black-rimmed glasses squatted at the platform's edge, his fingertips brushing gently over the inscribed boulder. His brows furrowed, his gaze intense as if deciphering a complex mechanical structure, utterly oblivious to the commotion around him—there was even a hint of excitement playing at his lips. He seemed to understand these ancient runes. Standing quietly beside him was a woman with black hair, her figure slender and graceful; even her profile revealed flawless features and an air of nobility. Her long black hair cascaded freely, her eyes calm as still water, as if nothing around her concerned her—only the faint furrow in her brows betrayed a trace of unease.​In the opposite corner, a blonde girl huddled with her knees drawn to her chest. Her pretty face was disheveled, her light blue eyes filled with helplessness and fear, her pale fingers clutching her skirt tightly. A small cross pendant pinned to her collar made her look exactly like an ordinary survivor in need of protection in the apocalypse.​Standing beside her was a middle-aged woman in a red short shirt, her wavy long hair framing a face with natural charm. Panic lingered in her eyes, yet she scanned the crowd quickly, taking in everyone's condition at a glance. Her fingers twisted a lock of hair unconsciously, hinting at a sharp wit and wariness.​Besides them, two more lay unconscious: a black elder around sixty and a young man dressed as an office worker. Finn didn't recognize any of the seven. Instincts honed by apocalyptic survival made him shrink back instinctively, pressing himself against a protrusion at the platform's edge, hiding in partial shadow. He didn't speak hastily, but watched everyone quietly while keeping a close eye on the movement beyond the platform.​By now, the area below the platform was packed. These people wore unified robes of cyan, white, and moon-white, with long swords at their waists and hair tied in topknots. Some stood on clouds, others on the ground, their gazes fixed uniformly on the eight people on the platform—a mix of curiosity, surprise, solemnity, and scrutiny. The ancient, obscure syllables of their whispered conversations were unintelligible to Finn, yet from the faint glow of spiritual qi on their swords and the aura surrounding them, he felt a dangerous presence far surpassing the mechanical weapons of the apocalypse.​"These people... are cultivators?" The bespectacled young man finally stopped touching the stone, pushing up his glasses, his voice brimming with disbelief. "The legendary Immortal Cultivators?"​The soldier snorted, his fists tightening further: "Who cares what they are? They don't look friendly—stay sharp, everyone."​The woman in red looked wary: "Dressed like this, they're just like the Eastern immortals in novels, but their eyes don't seem kind."​The blonde girl shrank closer to the woman in red, her voice a barely audible whisper: "Will... will they hurt us?"​The black-haired woman remained silent, her gaze sweeping slowly over the cultivators' robe styles, a faint flicker of thought in her eyes.​Finn didn't join the discussion. He noticed that the cultivators' positions, though seemingly disorganized, actually formed an encircling formation. Their long swords, though sheathed, were all at the ready—clearly, they saw the eight of them as potential threats. The spiritual qi in the air grew thicker by the moment, carrying the fragrance of plants and trees, yet also exuding an invisible pressure. Several of the auras were particularly powerful, as heavy as mountains, making him hold his breath instinctively.​Just then, the crowd suddenly stirred, parting to make way for a wide path. A figure in a golden-patterned Taoist robe, surrounded by several imposing elders, walked slowly toward the platform.​The cultivators' whispers reached Finn's ears. Though still unintelligible, he could sense deference in their tones—these must be the rulers here. In a matter of breaths, the leading golden-robed Taoist reached the formation, his sharp eyes sweeping over the eight people on the platform. After pausing briefly on each, he finally fixed his gaze on the bespectacled young man, who seemed the calmest, and asked in a voice as loud as a bell, carrying the unique spiritual resonance of a cultivator: "Who are you? Why have you emerged from my sect's ancient teleportation formation?"​Even without understanding the words, everyone felt the dignity and inquiry in his tone.​Panic erupted among the eight on the platform. "What is he saying?" The blonde girl turned pale with fright, clinging tightly to the woman in red's sleeve. The two unconscious people also woke up. The office worker shouted in Japanese: "What's happening? Where is this place?" Though Finn didn't understand Japanese, he guessed the eight of them were from different parts of Earth.​"I don't understand a word!" The soldier paced anxiously. "Language barrier—how do we negotiate?"​"Could he be asking about our origins?" The black-haired woman frowned, speaking in Chinese. Finn had been fascinated by Chinese culture on Earth and could understand simple Chinese.​The soldier clenched his fists, staring warily at the golden-robed Taoist, silently cocking his Desert Eagle—apocalyptic experience had taught him that strength was the only language that mattered, no matter where he was.