Gazing at these magnificent ship structures, I couldn't help but wonder about their intricate creation process. Undoubtedly, it must have been an expensive endeavor, considering even Liu Feng had never encountered anything like this.
Perhaps the presence of the inner elder was indeed to safeguard these flying vessels. When Liu Feng was accepted, only the outer elders were involved.
Some inner elders oversaw the first part of the exam when talented individuals were still available to select from. The first part was talent assessment, which was when someone's spirit roots were tested.
As the selection progressed, it was to find students who were not talented but still had something else going for them. There were intelligence tests to determine whether they knew anything about alchemy. But in the end, it was the combat exam. In which the rabble did their best to hide from the disciples of the sect finding them. Most people in this part of the exam were average-talented and just there to fill in the numbers.
Liu Feng had found himself among the less fortunate, relying on a combination of luck and cunning to evade detection. He had shown nothing special during the talent or intelligence exams. His cousins might have been able to arrange something for the third part to let him pass, but there was no memory of Liu Feng ever being directly told they had helped. He may have passed with his own efforts.
Anyway, back to the cool flying ships. All the ships bore signs of wear and damage except for the one Song Song and I had used. Our avoidance of conflicts at sea with other disciples likely contributed to this assessment.
Exams typically took place near the sect, minimizing conflicts with inner disciples.
The encounter in Greengrass Town before the exam likely fueled animosity between them. Numerous deliberate factors were designed to incite conflict among the disciples. Whoever orchestrated this, I hoped to never cross paths with them.
As I gazed at the shifting clouds above, for a moment, I could have sworn I saw movement within their billowy whiteness. However, the illusion faded upon a closer look, perhaps a trick of the light.
Turning my focus to the flying ship, I roamed the deck in search of inscriptions. While I possessed some knowledge of arrays, it paled compared to the complexity exhibited here. Array Conjurers could inscribe Qi-infused symbols called inscriptions onto objects at a certain level of mastery, bestowing them with lasting effects even without an Array Conjurer around to keep them up.
Of course, my speculation regarding the construction of the flying ship centered around arrays, but the reality could be entirely different. Nonetheless, considering the multitude of arrays required to withstand wind pressure, support weight, and manage other factors, even pondering its creation was mind-boggling.
After hours of marveling at the ship's design and wandering its decks, I was suddenly jolted back to reality. My dormant fear of heights resurfaced as I fought the urge to peer over the edge too often.
Despite my cultivation abilities, the prospect of plummeting from such a height was terrifying. While the ship didn't move at breakneck speed, the thought of an unexpected fall lingered uncomfortably. I resolved not to tempt fate and slowed down, attempting to blend in with the others and brace for whatever awaited us.
Suppressing my disappointment, I made my way below deck. Contrary to its exterior appearance, the interior was surprisingly modern, with a long wooden hallway lined with numbered doors. Room number five awaited me—a small, private space for the journey. I carefully set my backpack on the bed, mindful not to disturb Speedy, who was still napping.
The room was tight, barely accommodating the bed and allowing for an open door. It was a welcome thing since we didn't have to sleep on hammocks like those pirates in movies. Also, the place was impeccably clean.
I settled onto the thin mattress, which with its wooden base, offered little comfort. Adjusting myself to find a tolerable position, I couldn't ignore the discomfort of bones against wood. Nevertheless, accustomed to enduring discomfort, I directed my gaze to the wooden ceiling and closed my eyes, seeking rest before the next unknown challenge emerged.
Feeling a bit paranoid without Song Song's presence and being outside the safety of the Sect grounds was understandable, given my past experiences in this world. It often felt like everyone here was on edge, ready to resort to violence at the slightest provocation.
Of course, by "everyone," I meant cultivators in particular. The average person was more concerned with providing for their families than martial arts or conflict.
With my eyes closed, I reached out with my senses, trying to attune myself to the flow of Qi around me. I tried to drift asleep, but it was hard to calm my nerves enough to drift off to sleep.
However, as I focused inward, I became aware of some lingering injuries from past battles. Yet, that wasn't what caught my attention.
"Huh, I've broken through," I muttered, surprised by the revelation.
It wasn't the dramatic breakthrough I had anticipated, nor had it occurred during a heated battle.
No, it could have happened during one of those intense battles when I was too preoccupied with survival to notice.
Opening my eyes, I rubbed my chin in contemplation.
Perhaps in a moment when I was fully absorbed in the struggle and hadn't realized the shift within me. It was an intriguing thought. There were times in my last world when someone with their life in danger performed feats of strength impossible for them. Like the mother lifting the car off her children and that whole spiel.
Did being in dangerous situations help temporarily push the body past that level needed for a breakthrough?
Closing my eyes again, I focused on sensing any changes within my body. At first, there weren't noticeable differences. Upon closer examination, it felt like my mind and body had fused into a seamless whole.
It was challenging to describe it in scientific terms, but it was as if my nervous system and physical form had become perfectly aligned. My reflexes had likely sharpened, and my perception seemed heightened, tuned to a broader spectrum of stimuli.
I was still human but somehow enhanced—like removing limiters that hindered my ability to harness Qi and grow with it.
Interesting…
If I were a bit more crazy, perhaps I would have entertained the idea of dissecting nine-star Body Tempering Cultivators and ordinary people to compare and discern the exact differences. But such a notion was quickly dismissed. I also wouldn't be able to stomach the gruesome nature of such work, even with donated corpses. While cruelty in battle was one thing, engaging in it outside combat was another matter entirely.
Fortunately, my breakthrough had occurred naturally, without the need for artificial enhancers like pills. My foundation seemed to have no impurities or flaws, which boded well for my progression into Qi Gathering. Since I could already sense Qi, the breakthrough should be smoother for me than for most.
Although I couldn't help but wish that the breakthrough had happened during a more tranquil moment, allowing me to savor the experience, I was almost tempted to purchase a pill to quicken the process, if only to fully feel the changes happening.
"Well, time to update my stats," I murmured, rising from my bed and retrieving my books from my backpack. It had been some time since I'd made new entries in my stats book.
I took out a brush from a slender wooden box, uncapped an ink bottle, and prepared to record my progress.
As I poised the brush to write, the entire ship jolted violently. With the ink bottle open, disaster seemed imminent. Still, instinct kicked in, and I swiftly sealed the lid, averting a messy spillage, albeit with some ink staining the door.
The sudden clamor of a ringing bell reverberated through the ship, signaling an alarm.
I hastily stowed my belongings back into my backpack. I rose to my feet, ready to investigate the cause of the disturbance. While there was a possibility that remaining inside might offer some safety, I knew that being informed was paramount.
Whatever warranted the attention of the outer elder could pose a significant danger. It was also probably not something I could deal with. Still, I preferred to make an informed decision rather than remain in the dark.
In moments like these, knowledge was power, and staying inside might prove even riskier than venturing out. One could never know these things unless they were informed of what was happening around them.
As I reached for the door handle, a pang of concern gripped me as I glanced at my backpack.
Taking Speedy into a potential battle could put him in harm's way, but leaving him behind seemed equally risky. With uncertainty looming, I ultimately decided to keep him close, slinging the backpack over my shoulder before stepping out into the hallway.
The constant tolling of the bell echoed through the corridors, a relentless reminder of the urgency of our situation.
Clearly, this wasn't just a simple alarm bell but likely an array designed to alert us to imminent danger.
Others emerged from their rooms, their expressions ranging from confusion to panic. Amidst the chaos, I spotted Yang Cho, who met my gaze with a nod of acknowledgment. No words were necessary as we fell into step beside each other, joined by the rest of our team.
As we made our way onto the deck, a chilling sight greeted us: a faint yellowish barrier encircled the ship, and below us, the vast expanse of the sea rushed up to meet us with terrifying speed.
"Shit!" Yang Cho's expletive cut through the chaos as the ship collided with the unforgiving waves.
The impact reverberated through the vessel, sending shockwaves rippling through its structure. With a sickening lurch, we were plunged into the depths, the pressure of the water pressing in on all sides.
Frantically, I reached out for anything to anchor myself to but found only flailing bodies amidst the chaos. We were at the mercy of the relentless current, tossed about like ragdolls in its merciless grip.
Just as panic threatened to overwhelm me, a firm tug on my backpack halted my descent. It was Yang Cho, his grip firm as he clung to the doorframe. His strength was our only lifeline in the chaos below.
Above us, the battered ship struggled to stay afloat, its once-sturdy frame now vulnerable to the elements. Some of our comrades were cast overboard, while others remained trapped below deck, fighting to reach the surface.
Coughing and gasping for breath, I struggled to clear my lungs of saltwater, the sting a bitter reminder of our perilous predicament. But amidst the turmoil, one question burned in my mind:
What the fuck had just happened?