Beyond the Timescape

Chapter 93: Like a Phoenix, Like an Eagle

Rain lashed against the sandy shore as Xu Qing’s silhouette emerged from the gloom.

He stepped over skeletal remains—half-buried in the sand and freshly exposed by the torrential downpour—and stopped at the water’s edge to gaze out at the churning sea.

Veiled by the storm, the violently heaving waves seemed to harbor endless peril.

Xu Qing thought of the Departed Path Sect’s vessel. It had already vanished into the tempest.

He knew no Foundation Establishment cultivator would dare set foot on Sea Lizard Island, nor would they linger recklessly in the immediate waters. However, if a Foundation Establishment expert truly harbored murderous intent, their most logical move would be to lie in wait on the outer perimeter.

They would be waiting for Qi Condensation cultivators returning laden with Sea Lizard skins, or perhaps waiting for their own dispatched subordinates to return.

Xu Qing couldn’t be certain if the Sea Ghost and Departed Path Sect forces had been escorted by a Foundation Establishment expert. But if they had, that expert had likely already received word of the massacre. In the chaos of the battle, it was impossible to completely silence all outgoing messages.

Thus, Xu Qing didn’t depart immediately. Instead, he sat cross-legged in the mud, closing his eyes to silently circulate his cultivation, allowing the chilling rain to wash over him as he restored his depleted stamina.

Only after recovering the majority of his strength did he open his eyes. A dense, freezing light flickered in his gaze as he stared into the horizon.

If there really is a Foundation Establishment cultivator… Xu Qing weighed his options, forcefully suppressing his own killing intent.

He had no idea how many Foundation Establishment experts the enemy might have. Unless pushed into an absolute corner, he refused to engage in another bloodbath.

Rising to his feet, Xu Qing walked into the shallows and retrieved his Dharma Boat. With a wave of his hand, a series of mechanical clicks and clacks echoed from the hull. The exterior remained unchanged, but a secondary, miniature flying boat detached from its underbelly.

This was a custom modification installed by Zhang San—an emergency escape pod designed for deployment if the main Dharma Boat was ever destroyed.

It was not a standard Sect-issued vessel. Its internal structure was radically different, and it completely lacked the defensive and offensive arrays of a true Dharma Boat. However, Zhang San had ruthlessly optimized it for one thing: speed. Pushed to its limits, it could outpace a standard Dharma Boat by more than double for a short duration.

The caveat was that using it for long-term oceanic voyages was practically a death sentence.

Xu Qing stared at the decoy for a moment, a flash of cold decisive logic in his eyes. He took the Dharma Boat’s control jade slip, recalibrating its navigation arrays for autonomous sailing. He locked it onto the exact coordinates of their arrival route, maximized all its defensive shields, and watched it surge into the storm.

Forcing down the pang of loss over the expensive vessel, Xu Qing turned and stepped into the small escape pod.

Before giving the order to submerge, he looked back at Sea Lizard Island one last time.

The island was a dim, monolithic shadow in the rain. The wind howling through its canopy sounded like thousands of whispering voices, murmuring about the blood soaked into its roots.

The rainy night was restless, yet the mountain remained deadly still.

Xu Qing stared at the peak for a long moment. Then, he bowed deeply toward the island.

“Pardon the intrusion, Senior.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he commanded the flying boat to dive beneath the waves.

The instant the canopy breached the surface, Xu Qing sealed his aura completely. A massive shadow eclipsed the water around him as the Spirit Sea Dragon Whale arrived, swallowing the pod within its protective embrace.

Hidden from the violent night storm above, Xu Qing shot through the abyssal depths like a silent torpedo.

This was the most pragmatic strategy he could devise: two vessels, one visible, one hidden, fleeing in entirely different directions to shatter any Foundation Establishment lock-on.

As he sped away, the silent, blood-soaked island suddenly trembled. Slowly, monstrously, the entire landmass began to sink. Furious seawater rushed over the peaks, instantly scouring away the stubborn gore that the rain had failed to wash clean.

Moments later, when the island breached the surface once more, not a single microscopic drop of blood remained. Even the shattered boulders and splintered trees had eerily reverted to their pristine, untouched states.

Far beneath the island’s foundation, in the crushing black trenches of the sea, a pair of monolithic eyes slowly blinked open. They stared indifferently in the direction of Xu Qing’s fleeing vessel. Much later… they slowly drifted shut.

Half an hour later.

Inside the escape pod rocketing through the deep, Xu Qing snapped his eyes open. He retrieved the control jade slip for his main Dharma Boat.

His eyes narrowed to slits.

The jade slip had crumbled to dust in his palm.

His decoy Dharma Boat had just been annihilated.

So, there really was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Do I dive deeper, mask my presence, and pray they abandon the search? Or do I burn my reserves and run? Xu Qing’s absolute pragmatism made the choice instantly. He chose the latter.

His survival would not be left to the whims of an enemy’s patience. The deep ocean held its own apocalyptic terrors; if he played a waiting game and the Foundation Establishment cultivator refused to leave, he would be trapped in a fatal crossfire.

He pushed the escape pod’s propulsion arrays to the redline while forcibly compressing his own aura into absolute nothingness.

The crushing volume of seawater naturally dampened his signature, and his unique immunity to Mutagen allowed him to dive to depths that would mutate normal cultivators, granting him an unparalleled stealth advantage.

The only variable was whether the fragile escape pod could survive the crushing hydrostatic pressure.

But Xu Qing knew this was not the time for doubt. He piloted the pod through the lightless trenches at a terrifying velocity. Not long after, his pupils shrank to pinpricks.

A chilling, predatory intent swept down from the surface, raking across the water like a searchlight.

Moving in absolute silence, Xu Qing angled the pod deeper into the abyss.

Yet, the lethal sensation clung to him. Worse, the hull of the escape pod began to groan and buckle, unable to withstand the compounding oceanic pressure and the corrosive saturation of Mutagen. Realizing the pod was seconds from implosion, Xu Qing abandoned it. He stored the crumbling vessel, merged his physical body entirely within the Spirit Sea Dragon Whale, and continued his lightless sprint.

Time bled away. An entire night passed.

The suffocating threat from the surface slowly diluted, yet a few stubborn tendrils of intent remained hooked into his presence. They had locked onto him using some unknown esoteric art.

Xu Qing didn’t dare relax. Gritting his teeth, he prepared to plunge into the extreme depths to forcefully snap the lock-on.

Suddenly, his mind violently shuddered.

An apocalyptic, indescribable Pressure crashed down from the heavens, instantly flattening the ocean’s surface for hundreds of miles.

Though hundreds of fathoms deep, Xu Qing felt the sheer, world-ending terror of that Pressure.

This was not Foundation Establishment. This was the aura of a cosmic leviathan manifesting in the mortal sky. The instant that Pressure descended, the predatory tendrils locked onto Xu Qing shattered, recoiling in sheer panic.

Heart pounding, Xu Qing seized the opening. He pushed his speed to the absolute limit, fleeing until he had crossed a vast expanse of ocean. Only when he was certain the tracking auras were completely gone did he slow down.

He continued underwater for a while longer, but he knew he couldn’t stay submerged indefinitely. The deep sea might be quiet now, but a prolonged stay would inevitably invite worse horrors.

After repeatedly confirming the surface was clear, Xu Qing cautiously ascended. The moment the crown of his head broke the water, he swept his gaze across the horizon—but his eyes immediately locked onto the heavens, his breath catching in his throat.

It was supposed to be dawn. Instead, the sky was an abyss of pitch black.

A monolithic canopy of black clouds had swallowed the sun. It stretched for hundreds of miles, casting the entire sea into an unnatural, suffocating twilight.

Xu Qing was dead center in its shadow.

Deafening gales and apocalyptic thunder echoed from within the churning mass. Serpentine streaks of lightning violently tore through the dark, as if the heavens themselves were undergoing a localized tribulation.

Wherever the cloud bank passed, the ocean violently contorted, whipping into massive squalls as if prostrating before the divinity hidden above.

But the weather was merely a byproduct. What truly paralyzed Xu Qing was the entity concealed within the storm. Even catching a partial glimpse of its silhouette triggered a biological, life-level suppression. Xu Qing’s muscles locked solid, his soul screamed, and his mind was wiped completely blank.

Only his eyes remained functional, forced to witness the blurred, terrifying majesty of the sovereign within the clouds.

It was a gargantuan avian beast, wreathed entirely in an inferno of black flames. It was a chimera of myth: a phoenix’s crest, a serpent’s neck, a swallow’s jaw, a tortoise’s back, and a leviathan’s tail!

Beneath the mantle of black fire, its true plumage radiated a blinding, iridescent spectrum that the dark flames failed to smother. As it soared through the tempest, it exuded an aura of absolute, untouchable sanctity.

Faintly, impossibly, its divine resonance felt eerily similar to the oppressive aura of the Fragmented Face of God.

It was overwhelmingly clear that the mere presence of this entity had terrified Xu Qing’s pursuers into abandoning their hunt.

Heaven and earth quaked. As the black clouds surged toward the horizon, the bright morning sky gradually bled back into the world. The crushing suppression lifted, and Xu Qing’s body violently seized as he instinctively gasped for air.

But the instant the oxygen hit his lungs, the apocalyptic entity deep within the receding storm suddenly turned its head.

It cast a single, indifferent glance at the ocean.

Dozens of miles from Xu Qing’s position, the sea instantly inverted. Water erupted toward the sky in biblical pillars, generating a localized hurricane. The ambient Mutagen in the area skyrocketed to lethal concentrations, physically dragged toward the entity’s gaze.

Even from his distant vantage point, the sheer displacement of water violently tossed Xu Qing, leaving his mind ringing with a deafening roar.

The phoenix-eagle casually withdrew its gaze, melting back into the black clouds. Amidst rolling thunder, it vanished past the horizon.

It took a very long time for the churning sea to finally settle. When it did, Xu Qing exhaled a long, shuddering breath. His face was devoid of color, his mind still reeling from the shock.

The sheer terror this divine bird inspired was unlike anything he had felt on this voyage. Even the colossal giant hauling the bronze dragon carriage across the ocean floor felt inferior to the majesty of this avian god.

“What in the world was that… and it was flying toward the South Phoenix Continent…” Xu Qing muttered. Then, a chilling realization struck him.

“The Phoenix in South Phoenix…”

During his time at Seven Blood Eyes, Xu Qing had devoured countless classified archives in the Homicide Department. He recalled the Sect’s designation for the gargantuan restricted zone lying beyond the Truth Mountain Range—a cursed landmass occupying seventy percent of the South Phoenix Continent.

“The South Phoenix Continent’s ultimate nightmare… the Phoenix Forbidden Zone.”

His heart pounded against his ribs. He formulated a terrifying hypothesis, but after a moment, he took a deep breath and ruthlessly buried the thought. He would cross-reference the archives when he returned.

Refocusing, Xu Qing submerged once more. After sprinting underwater for several hours and confirming the absolute absence of pursuers, he breached the surface, deployed his escape pod, and launched it toward the horizon.

Three days passed in a blur. Xu Qing sailed with extreme paranoia, constantly deploying countermeasures to scan for trackers. Only when he was utterly convinced that the deadly locks were gone did he finally let out a long sigh of relief.

He wagered that the phoenix’s passage had inadvertently scrambled his aura, blinding his would-be assassins and erasing his trail.

Still, Xu Qing refused to drop his guard. Though he remained above water, he pushed the pod to its absolute limit, hemorrhaging Spirit Stones without a second thought to maintain maximum velocity.

Over those three days, his grievous wounds had mostly knit back together. Color returned to his face, and the bone-deep exhaustion from the massacre finally ebbed away.

Reflecting on the bloodbath, even with his monstrous combat prowess, he had been pushed to a point of physical and mental fatigue he hadn’t felt in years. However, the staggering haul made every drop of blood worth it. A rare look of pure satisfaction graced his features.

Beyond the three priceless divine lizard molts, he had secured over a dozen Qi Condensation eighth and ninth-level molts. The lower-tier skins numbered in the dozens.

He had also plundered several heavy magical treasures and artifacts.

The crown jewels of his mundane loot were three talismanic treasures. Though their runic inscriptions were worn and their remaining uses severely limited, their market value was undeniable.

As for hard currency… Xu Qing did a quick mental tally. He had looted over four thousand Spirit Stones.

Rogue Cultivators were notoriously destitute. The only reason his haul was so astronomical was because he had systematically butchered the entire island, meticulously stripping every single corpse. The vast majority of the wealth had come from the deep pockets of the Sea Ghost operatives.

The Departed Path Sect zealots, on the other hand, had been disappointingly broke. Xu Qing had thoroughly searched their robes, finding them virtually penniless, much to his irritation.

However, looking at the grand total, he easily forgave their poverty.

Excluding the divine lizard molts, I’ve pulled in nearly twenty thousand Spirit Stones’ worth of assets. Sitting on the deck, surrounded by his organized spoils, Xu Qing adjusted the pod’s heading, cutting a white wake toward Seven Blood Eyes.

With his breakthrough in power and his newly acquired fortune, Xu Qing didn’t even flinch at the exorbitant Spirit Stone cost required to keep the pod at maximum speed.

His extended time on the water had ingrained a profound reverence for the ocean’s horrors. Now that his pockets were overflowing, his only goal was to get back to port immediately.

Burning Spirit Stones by the handful, the escape pod screamed across the water at over twice its original cruising speed. By Xu Qing’s calculations, he would reach the Sect in three days at most.

As he entered the territorial waters of the South Phoenix Continent, the ambient danger drastically decreased. It wasn’t until he was roughly half a day out from the Seven Blood Eyes port that he finally encountered another vessel.

It was a heavily armed warship, bearing down on his position at high speed.

Though it proudly flew the colors of the Seventh Peak’s Coast Guard Department, Xu Qing’s paranoia instantly spiked. Beneath the waves, his Spirit Sea Dragon Whale tensed, ready to erupt into violence at a moment’s notice. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the Coast Guard’s escort: five Spirit Sea Dragon Whales patrolling beneath their hull.

One of them looked distinctly mutated. While it shared the baseline morphology of a Dragon Whale, its jaws and dorsal structure horrifyingly mirrored a megalodon.

The sight sent a cold thrill down Xu Qing’s spine, redoubling his vigilance.

Soon, the massive warship crested a wave, looming large in Xu Qing’s vision.

The colossal hull was etched with dense, overlapping arrays that pulsed with terrifying spiritual energy. Over eighty heavy magical ballistae bristled along its armored flanks, capable of unleashing devastating bombardments. On the main deck, over thirty Seventh Peak disciples stood at attention.

It was a floating fortress of pure, unadulterated violence.

“Seven Blood Eyes, Seventh Peak, Coast Guard Department on active patrol. Vessel ahead, halt and identify yourself,” a magically amplified, authoritative voice boomed across the water.

“Seventh Peak, Homicide Department, Xu Qing,” Xu Qing replied smoothly, his tone flat as he stared down the warship.

The thirty-plus cultivators on the deck were visibly deferred to a single young man standing at their helm. Clad in a billowing gray Daoist robe, the young man’s eyes crackled with electric intensity. He radiated an oppressive, heavy aura—the unmistakable pressure of Grand Perfection Qi Condensation.

Hearing Xu Qing’s name, a sharp, calculating glint flashed across the young man’s eyes.

“Xu Qing?” A familiar voice echoed from the back of the Coast Guard ranks. The crowd parted, and a figure stepped forward. It was Zhou Qingpeng.

His face lit up with genuine surprise. After waving down at Xu Qing, he turned and respectfully murmured a few words into the ear of the Grand Perfection leader.

The young man gave a curt, expressionless nod.

Grinning, Zhou Qingpeng cupped his fists and vaulted over the warship’s railing, landing lightly on the deck of Xu Qing’s escape pod.

“Xu Qing! Never thought I’d run into you all the way out here. Heading back from a haul?”

“Been out for a while. Heading back to the Sect,” Xu Qing replied, his eyes briefly flicking back to the young man on the warship.

“That’s my boss, Ding Xiaohai. Commander in the Coast Guard,” Zhou Qingpeng puffed out his chest proudly, before sweeping a critical eye over Xu Qing’s tiny vessel.

“Man, what the hell did you run into? Your ride is looking rough… The Coast Guard technically has the authority to board and search everything that moves, but we’ll give you a pass.” Zhou Qingpeng laughed, exchanging a few more pleasantries. After Xu Qing congratulated him on his new posting, Zhou Qingpeng cupped his fists, preparing to jump back.

Just before he launched himself, he paused, leaning in close to drop his voice.

“Listen, Xu Qing… after you dock, don’t head back out for a while. The Coast Guard just received a high-priority red alert. The deep sea is heavily unsettled right now. My boss said that some absolutely terrifying existences have randomly started surfacing.”

A visible shudder passed through Zhou Qingpeng’s eyes. He didn’t elaborate further. With a quick pivot, he launched himself back onto the deck of the warship.

“Terrifying existences?” Xu Qing’s pupils contracted, his expression hardening. He cupped his fists in silent thanks to Zhou Qingpeng.

A deep, reverberating horn blasted from the Coast Guard warship as it slowly banked, churning the water as it resumed its patrol route.

As Xu Qing watched them depart, Ding Xiaohai, the Grand Perfection commander, stood at the warship’s railing. He cast a sideways glance at Xu Qing’s fading escape pod, then stared intensely into the water, his eyes tracking the faint, monstrous silhouette of the plesiosaur lurking beneath it.

He turned slightly toward Zhou Qingpeng.

“Zhou Qingpeng,” Ding Xiaohai said, his voice a low, flat rumble. “Your batchmate… is not simple.”

Zhou Qingpeng blinked, lowering his head respectfully.

“Senior Brother Ding, during the Homicide Department’s Night Dove purge, there was a rumor. They said a regular patrolman bypassed the captains and personally decapitated the enemy leader…”

“That was him,” Ding Xiaohai stated, a profound, chilling respect lingering in his eyes.

Hearing this, Zhou Qingpeng’s breath hitched. He turned his head, staring wide-eyed at Xu Qing’s distant vessel.

Through the mist and the spray, he could just make out the silhouette of the young man standing motionless on the bow. The ocean violently pitched and heaved around him, but the boy remained as still and unyielding as a mountain of ice.