The day after the synthetic medicines arrived, Chen Chuan also received the ancient route map of the Throat of the Star Spirit sent over by Delegation Leader Xie.
The map was borne on some unknown tree bark, possessing excellent toughness and pliability; unrolled, it measured over a meter long.
Aside from the ancient trails traced in fine lines, bizarre and wondrous creatures were depicted across various spots, surrounded by the deities of the First Folk. The stylistic motif and coloration formed a cohesive whole, blending the grotesque with the sacred, tinged with a primitive, rustic flavor.
He studied it for a long while. Beyond the ancient paths themselves, he sensed that more information might be concealed within, though he could not decipher it for now. Even setting that aside, the piece could well be considered a work of art on its own.
According to what Delegation Leader Xie had said previously, this had originally been in the private collection of a Kawatua noble.
Kawatua was only one state away from here; ten days was enough for a round trip, but managing to retrieve the item and bring it back along the way while evading numerous covert surveillance nets was truly no easy feat.
He suspected that members of the covert service had taken action, perhaps even activating several sleeper agents who had never been used before.
He glanced over and saw Delegation Leader Xie's accompanying notes—a cross-referenced text comparing the map against the one-eyed elder's memories.
For the most part, they matched up and provided even greater detail. A few discrepancies were only natural; after all, so many years had passed, and changes were inevitable.
Delegation Leader Xie advised him to stick to this route, suspecting that the journey along it might well be part of the ritual itself.
Chen Chuan agreed with this view. If an ancient ritual could endure for thousands of years, there had to be something profound to it. If they could not fully understand it themselves, respecting past precedent as much as possible would save them a great deal of trouble.
Now that he had everything in hand, he could set out once he finished his preparations.
The covert department had also confirmed that none of the other martial artists posed any problem, allowing him to depart without worry.
Actually, the likelihood for the three had been low from the start. Wang Tongshan and Ka Zhijie came from respectable backgrounds and were martial artists themselves; unless something was wrong with their bound oaths, there was no reason for them to do such a thing. Could the Federation give them anything that Great Shun could not?
As for Gui Zihan, he hailed from the provinces and knew no crucial intelligence, nor did he possess channels to obtain it.
On the other hand, Chen Chuan knew this news could hardly be kept secret. Ten days was more than enough for certain factions in the Federation to make ready; people might very well trail or intercept them on this trip.
The Federation knew his public information and would certainly dispatch capable operatives. Thus, he had no intention of underestimating any incoming foes. At the same time, he looked forward to such adversaries; ever since slaying Su Kuo, he had not fought anyone for quite some time.
Those in the realm of the Longevity View could always maintain their combat power at its peak without fear of regression, yet sparring with opponents at his level still offered positive benefits for his growth.
After another day of preparation and a meeting with Delegation Leader Xie to discuss several matters, he set off for his destination that afternoon.
The Throat of the Star Spirit was situated in Atahorca State in the south-central Federation, which served as one of the transit junctions connecting east and west.
As a member of the diplomatic mission, he naturally could not go there without a pretext. The report submitted to the Federation stated that he was inspecting assets invested in by Great Shun.
Great Shun held various investments across the Federation's states, particularly substantial ones wherever sacred lands or sacred valleys had been pledged as collateral, precisely so that their personnel could operate there at critical moments.
The federal government had once tried to shut out Great Shun's capital, but most state center cities were beyond full federal control. Especially on the West Coast: hostile toward Great Shun though it was, loopholes in the laws and regulations were actually easier to exploit there, and local councilors were much simpler to deal with.
Taking an airship there would have taken about two to three days, but every nation in the world kept strict vigil against foreign martial artists. Without a domestic martial artist accompanying them, foreign practitioners acting alone were prohibited from taking airships, for someone of that caliber could travel anywhere in the Federation at will, posing far too grave a threat.
Thus, they were traveling to their destination by train. To prevent trouble, Chen Chuan and his entourage had chartered the entire train; aside from the train crew, everyone aboard had been brought from the diplomatic mission.
Security was handled by squads led by Yuan Qiuyuan, Qin Qingque, and Su Wei, while Gao Ming, Wei Chang'an, and the others had flown ahead by airship to Atahorca Center City to scout the way and handle the paperwork and transfer procedures.
Inside the carriage, Gui Zihan sat cradling his sword, looking out the window at the passing scenery. He appeared to be merely sitting, but in truth, his breathing remained closely attuned to the ancient sword in his grasp, the two weaving a wondrous rhythm.
This was a form of cultivation maintained at all times, lending him a stern, aloof demeanor that kept others at arm's length. Even the train attendants did not dare approach, hurriedly scurrying away after setting down supplies.
Chen Chuan sat across from him, reading a newspaper. A light screen projected from his boundary credential swiftly displayed the translated text, allowing him to read without the slightest hindrance.
When he finished, he picked up the hot beverage beside him and took a sip, casting his gaze outside. The vast wilderness rushed backward before his eyes; from time to time, low shrubs and red rocks flitted past, while the distant horizon stretched remote and desolate.
Gui Zihan suddenly glanced outside, his gaze piercing toward a bird in the sky. "That bird has been following us for two days," he said.
Chen Chuan set down his cup and said calmly, "As expected." He glanced ahead. "We'll be entering a tunnel soon."
The Central Split-Ridge Mountains ran through the central Federation, dividing east and west like a crumpled scar. Due to the rugged terrain, the train had to veer south, loop around, and then head north, passing through a tunnel over twenty kilometers long.
Gui Zihan's eyes instantly sharpened with vigilance. A tunnel was an ideal spot for an ambush.
Within two minutes, darkness swallowed their view as the train plunged into the tunnel. The rhythmic rumble of the cars amplified at once, bringing a slight fullness to their ears.
The dark barely affected either of them; they could still clearly perceive everything inside and outside the carriage.
Even so, an attack remained a distinct possibility. A martial artist could easily collapse a section of the tunnel to bury them within.
Gui Zihan watched with taut vigilance the entire way.
Chen Chuan remained unperturbed. He doubted their enemies would strike here. Given their speed and destructive power, they could easily break out before any trap fully closed. Moreover, destroying a vital transit corridor connecting the east and west coasts just for the sake of a few individuals was hardly worthwhile.
In under half an hour, the train emerged from the tunnel. Bright light streamed through the windows once more, illuminating their figures and expressions.
Chen Chuan glanced at him. "Nothing will happen on the journey. The real test lies ahead."
After a pause, Gui Zihan suddenly asked, "Why didn't you bring the other two?"
"Very simple," Chen Chuan replied. "You are stronger than they are."
Gui Zihan said earnestly, "I won't hold you back."
Chen Chuan nodded. He glanced at the route map on the carriage wall; after the tunnel, a little over a day of travel remained.
Right at that moment, he noticed a portion of the mental transmission from above the Layered Heavens had restored itself. That meant another of the seeds he had scattered was gone.
Counting this one, five of the seeds he had dispatched had disappeared one after another over this period. Their timing varied. In most cases, he sensed it was not due to an inability to sustain their ego, but rather external environmental shifts or strange, inexplicable attacks. Unable to resist, the seeds would collapse on their own.
Evidently, conditions in the Federation were harsh indeed.
Only two remained now, and there was no telling how long they could hold out. If neither succeeded, he would have to prepare a second batch.
Meanwhile, in Arantawa State—the most sparsely populated state in the northern Federation—most of the population was concentrated in the center city. Beyond that, a few hundred thousand people were scattered across the vast, flat plateau.
At this moment, a pale-purple mote, borne along by the winds of the open wilderness, drifted into a dilapidated town.
The town seemed uninhabited for years. Its wooden buildings stood in ruin, peeling paint exposing drab greyish-brown planks. Many windows had long since shattered, leaving empty frames behind. The lettering on the tavern's signboard had faded into illegibility, and its half-open door creaked and rattled whenever the wind swept through.
On the tavern's porch, several battered chairs lay strewn across the floor, alongside a broken barrel choked with windblown sand and withered weeds.
After drifting in, the purple seed tumbled along with the gusts, drifting and darting down the weed-choked street, seemingly at the mercy of the wind. Yet as it passed a two-story residence, it suddenly paused, then dipped down inside.
Atop a pile of clutter in the corner lay a somewhat damaged marionette. It was clearly an older model from Progenitor Company, likely abandoned here because its owner could not afford its upkeep.
The purple seed circled the marionette several times before drifting downward, slipping in through one of its eyes.
Passing through the neural aperture, it reached the brain. Then, the mutated tissue bundled around the seed began to unravel outward.
The energy stored within released rapidly, stimulating swift proliferation of the mutated tissue. Threads of golden mutated tissue crept across the marionette's vital structures, mending and filling critical damaged sections while activating the artificial mutated tissue inside.
After a while, the long-dormant heart began to beat. The clotted, solidified blood reliquefied, surging through the body.
A moment later, the marionette opened its eyes.
Chapter 1074