Chapter 170: Preparations Before the Battle
Through the [Eye of Secrets], Xu Zhi could immediately tell whether the surviving cat was her familiar or that unknown creature from midnight. The moment she looked, she saw at once that the winner was indeed her own cat.
Perhaps it was because the midnight one had exhausted itself too much before emerging, while her familiar had been waiting in ambush, or maybe the small aberration’s suppression had played a role. In any case, the result was good.
Xu Zhi originally wanted to take out the game console to see whether her cat had changed after devouring the midnight cat’s soul, but the console was lagging terribly. When she tapped on the familiar icon, the screen spun endlessly without loading. With no other choice, she put it aside for now.
These days, Xu Zhi didn’t need to rely entirely on the game console to monitor changes. Through her own eyes, she could clearly see that the kitten lying in the cage — seemingly exhausted — was actually absorbing a vast energy that did not belong to it, yet was of the same origin as itself.
It just seemed to be having some trouble digesting it.
After a moment’s thought, Xu Zhi tossed the now-useless relic bone into the cage as well. The instant it landed near the black cat, the cat turned into a wisp of dark smoke and merged into the bone.
And that solid piece of bone, as soon as it was enveloped by the cat’s black mist, began turning transparent.
“Looks like adding a bone won’t make it take on a physical form,” Xu Zhi murmured.
That was all for the better.
She swallowed a little uncomfortably. Whenever her body was injured and every part of her was in pain, or when she was surrounded by tension, she would sometimes forget the discomfort in her throat. But now that things had calmed and she herself had mostly recovered, that soreness became all too noticeable again.
Xu Zhi sighed softly. She wondered how long it would take before she could fully ignore this feeling.
What surprised her was that even though her throat bone had been completely shattered, [Curse Speech] hadn’t died. It still lived, parasitizing what was left of her damaged throat. Apparently, as long as the part of her body where [Curse Speech] resided wasn’t completely torn out, it wouldn’t die.
As she waited, Xu Zhi took a brief rest. Recently, she felt she’d been far too busy. Thinking back to the early days of the catastrophe, she used to do nothing but stare idly at the game console, waiting for her familiars to make new discoveries.
Now, she was so busy that her feet barely touched the ground.
It seemed that once her strength reached a certain point, the more she understood, the busier she became.
Even though she never wanted to shoulder any so-called responsibility — and the phrase “with great power comes great responsibility” meant little to her — everything that happened was tied to everyone, including herself. She couldn’t avoid it.
Hopefully, once this was all over, she could finally enjoy some free time.
After resting, Xu Zhi returned to studying and mastering [Authority].
*
Night in Cloud City was utterly still — windless, moonless. Yet in the city’s center stood a colossal tree reaching up to the heavens.
Golden, mysterious patterns spread across its massive trunk, faintly glowing in the dark mist.
The branches swayed gently, stirring a soft breeze that lifted the black hair of the girl leaning against the trunk with her eyes closed. In the tranquil silence, several gray moths fluttered around her — sometimes passing through her body, sometimes alighting on the branches — playful and curious. But the girl remained oblivious.
She seemed completely lost in her own world, unaware that these moths — these invisible energies — would occasionally leave her body to explore the surroundings on their own.
It was as if, in certain moments, even these intangible forces possessed their own life and will.
*
Half a month passed.
Xu Zhi came to deeply realize how obscure and difficult [Authority] was to comprehend. Despite her focused study during these days, her progress was minimal.
Still, she did make one discovery.
The [Fragment] she had absorbed earlier hadn’t been fully integrated. When she attempted to delve deeper into [Authority], it seemed to stir the remnant energy of that fragment. She was now trying to use [Authority] to connect with that energy — to see what might happen.
But just as she was experimenting, a sudden feeling stirred in her heart, and she opened her eyes.
The moment she did, the game console beside her flickered — as if rebooting itself. After a brief black screen, the display lit up again.
The backlash caused by leaking secrets seemed to have eased; at least, the visuals were clear again.
The battery, however, was still in bad shape — only around thirty or forty percent.
Xu Zhi hadn’t moved much over the past half-month, always leaning against the smaller aberration’s branches. She stretched her stiff limbs a little, then raised the console and asked softly, “Feeling better now?”
[…About half and half.]
Xu Zhi almost replied, You could’ve just hinted at it instead of being so blunt; no need to suffer for it. But she swallowed the words, realizing they were hypocritical. Deep down, she wasn’t worried — she was pleased that the Narrator had chosen to tell her more.
In the end, she only smiled lightly. “Half is good enough.”
The Narrator, knowing her too well, didn’t mind her casual response. After recovering a bit more, it asked:
[It doesn’t seem much time has passed. How’s your progress?]
“Average,” Xu Zhi sighed.
“I told Zhong Lingfan everything. She wrote back saying she’d hinted the situation to the Federation. She’s currently using their resources to run some research. If things go well, she might be able to help.”
[Is that so? That’s good.]
The Narrator didn’t question whether lower-tier Transcendents could be of much help. Instead, it sounded genuinely hopeful.
From that, Xu Zhi realized how different its “personality” was from her own. If she had to describe it, it would be something like a fair, meticulous, calm, and gentle good person — except for the moments when it subconsciously mirrored her own mannerisms.
[And you?] the Narrator asked again.
Xu Zhi shook her head. “About the same. I can feel I’ve reached a bottleneck. My transcendent rank can’t advance anymore. I’ll have to find another way. I’ve been trying something, but… it’s difficult.”
The problem was, she didn’t know if she had enough time left.
“But I really want to know — who did this?”
To sever the path itself — such a heaven-defying act.
[Unspeakable.]
[It’s a secret that, if spoken aloud, would overturn the world. The moment I utter it, I would be erased from existence by backlash.]
