Chapter Eighty-Seven: Seeking the Path

The old man was momentarily stunned by how easily he had succeeded. "I thought you were hiding your cultivation with some treasure, but you truly are a mortal. How extraordinary—to find a mortal here, in the Land Forsaken by the Gods." He withdrew his short sword, gave it a gentle shake so the blood vanished, and slid it back into his sleeve. Unwilling to give up, he picked up a leaf from Zhou Tian's body and examined it closely, finding it was indeed just an ordinary leaf. With a sigh, he turned toward the great tree. With a wave of his hand, the tree rustled loudly and transformed into a verdant short staff that fell into his grasp. The village beneath the tree dissolved like a mirage, and with a single stride, he vanished a hundred miles away, leaving only Zhou Tian's corpse and a scattered plain robe behind. That robe was nothing special, merely an ordinary garment, now stained with Zhou Tian's blood; the old man couldn't be bothered to retrieve it.

Time passed swiftly. This place was on the edge of the Land Forsaken by the Gods, sparsely populated. In twelve hours, not a single soul passed by. When the reset time elapsed, Zhou Tian revived where his corpse lay. His face was blank, lost for words. Seeing the robe beside him, he sighed, muttering softly, "At least he didn't take my clothes." He dressed himself, thankful not to have to wander the wilderness with his bare backside exposed.

Raising his gaze to the sun overhead, he recalled the Land Forsaken by the Gods had a day-night cycle of about thirty days, unlike Fuyu Prefecture. According to the information Zhou Tian had found, the original Sun God and Moon God had perished, and now the celestial bodies moved on their own. No one really knew why the cycle had become what it was.

Picking a direction at random, Zhou Tian teleported along his path. Though his courteous approach had ended in disaster, at least he’d accomplished one of his two goals: he’d found clothes, which was something. After all, the locals here were simple and honest. His other goal was to quickly discover where the people of the Nine Provinces were—what had happened after his death, whether Tianling and the others were safe. That matter concerned him deeply.

After teleporting for about three hours, Zhou Tian arrived at a place resembling a main road. While flight wasn’t difficult for cultivators, in the Land Forsaken by the Gods, not everyone dared to fly through the sky. On one hand, some fierce beasts were fiercely protective of their territory, and passing overhead was seen as a provocation. On the other, the region was full of all sorts of powerful beings; one never knew if a terrifying old monster below might crush you simply because he disliked seeing you fly above him. Thus, only those extremely confident in their strength dared fly through the air.

On this road, there was a wheel rut—so deep it could only have been made by something carrying a tremendously heavy load across the firm earth of this land.

Seeing the wheel rut, Zhou Tian’s eyes brightened. Where there was a rut, following it in either direction would lead to signs of civilization. He dropped his shoes with a slap, slipped them on, and strode off in the direction pointed by his toes.

His teleportation range now spanned 1,000 meters—a kilometer. With such speed, it took only half a day for Zhou Tian to spot signs of life. It was not a settlement, but a procession—about a hundred soldiers, all clad in gleaming silver armor and riding black, single-horned warhorses.

In the center, two carriages were each drawn by four unicorn horses. One was a passenger carriage, its frame and curtain both white, with a flower-like motif carved on its wall. The other transported goods, its wheel rut the one Zhou Tian had traced. The goods were shrouded beneath white cloth, embroidered with the same motif as on the carriage wall.

Zhou Tian halted far from them, hesitating. That "honest" old man had left him disgusted and wasted a day; if he approached these soldiers and was skewered without warning, he’d lose another day. As he weighed his options, the white curtain of the passenger carriage lifted, and a figure in a white robe emerged—a young woman, crowned with a floral wreath, black hair cascading to her waist. Her form was concealed by the robe; though not strikingly beautiful, she possessed an ethereal air.

Zhou Tian fixed his gaze on her headpiece, certain he'd seen it before. After a while, he suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't that the wreath worn by that birdman?"

He remembered: when they were ambushed, the birdman—whose name nearly matched that of a certain angel from his previous life—had worn such a wreath. "So these people are followers of the birdman’s divine order. I don’t know which pantheon that birdman belongs to, but judging by appearances, it shouldn’t be an evil one. They probably won’t kill strangers on sight," Zhou Tian pondered. After all, with his radiant aura, the birdman could hardly be from a Lovecraftian pantheon.

After some deliberation, Zhou Tian decided to take a chance—at worst, he’d be killed again. But he definitely couldn’t approach from behind, lest he appear to be stalking them. Conveniently, the young woman stepped down and began conversing with the leader of the procession. Zhou Tian flashed around, making a wide detour to get ahead of them and waited.

The procession moved slowly, mainly because the goods carriage set the pace. Zhou Tian waited a long while before they reached him.

As they approached, Zhou Tian assumed the appearance of a traveler hurrying along. Hearing the sounds behind him, he turned with a look of joy and stepped forward. Up close, Zhou Tian saw the leader of the soldiers was a young man—blond-haired, blue-eyed, somewhat handsome, reminiscent of foreigners from his previous life.

Seeing a stranger on the road, the captain reined in his mount, signaled the procession to halt, and raised his lance. A milky white glow extended from his palm along the weapon. "Halt! Who are you?" The captain leveled his lance at Zhou Tian, barking his challenge.

"Gentlemen, I am Jianjie, young master of the Sickle family from Hammer City. I came out to travel, hoping to stay at a village nearby, only to find it was a trap set by an old monster. My guards fought to the death to protect me, and I barely escaped. If you would escort me back to my family, I will reward you generously!" Zhou Tian spoke without blinking, sounding entirely credible. His eyes even brimmed with red, and the hatred in his expression was not feigned.

"Hammer City, Sickle family? I've never heard of them," the captain frowned, his lance unwavering, ready to skewer Zhou Tian at the slightest provocation.

"Never heard of them? Impossible! Hammer City is renowned, and the Sickle family is noble... Wait—where am I?" Zhou Tian’s expression shifted from incredulity to sudden realization, furrowing his brow as he asked.

(Dear readers, please vote for recommendations. Thanks to Kaiyan for the reward, much appreciated.)