Beyond the Timescape

Chapter 52: Colleagues

The setting sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a fading, bloody afterglow over the mountain path.

Xu Qing adjusted the brocade box on his back and glanced at the darkening sky. The round-faced cultivator’s words echoed in his mind, cementing his understanding of the Seven Blood Eyes.

The main city might project an illusion of order, but beneath that veneer lay a lethal underbelly. Nightfall amplified the malice. In this hyper-competitive meat grinder, there were always those willing to bare their fangs and butcher their peers just to secure a better chance at survival.

It wasn’t a matter of right or wrong. It was simply the law of the jungle.

Xu Qing had no intention of becoming stepping stones for someone else’s ambitions. His hand brushed against the brocade box. He needed to find a secluded shadow to slip the item into his Storage Bag unnoticed.

He quickened his pace.

Near the foot of the mountain, two figures in pristine gray Daoist robes came into view.

It was Zhou Qingpeng and Xu Xiaohui.

Xu Xiaohui possessed delicate features. Though the standard-issue gray robe was meant to be uniform, the way it draped over her curves lent her an undeniable allure.

Beside her, the already handsome Zhou Qingpeng looked downright elegant in his new Sect attire. Xu Xiaohui stared at him, her eyes slightly glazed with infatuation.

Though whether she was infatuated with Zhou Qingpeng himself or the Dharma Boat he now owned was up for debate.

Spotting Xu Qing, Zhou Qingpeng let out a hearty laugh and stepped forward.

“Xu Qing! You finally made it down. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Xu Qing’s expression remained an unreadable mask, but his internal alarms instantly blared. He stopped seven or eight zhang away, his gaze locking onto Zhou Qingpeng’s exposed neck. His right hand hung casually by his side, mere inches from the leather pouch concealing his black iron spike.

“We’re all disciples of the Seventh Peak, and we entered the Sect in the same Novice batch,” Zhou Qingpeng said, his tone earnest as he cupped his fists. “None of us have established a foothold yet. I think we should look out for each other. That way, when trouble comes, we’ll have an extra friend—an extra connection.”

Xu Qing’s paranoia didn’t waver, but the pragmatic logic in Zhou Qingpeng’s words was sound. He gave a curt nod.

Zhou Qingpeng’s smile held. Recognizing Xu Qing’s aversion to idle chatter, he kept it brief. They exchanged communication imprints from a distance, after which Zhou Qingpeng bid farewell and led Xu Xiaohui away.

Watching them leave, Xu Qing looked down at the identity token in his hand. The communication exchange had used this very token as a medium.

*Can it transmit voices?* Xu Qing examined the token with a sliver of curiosity. He channeled a thread of spiritual energy into the cold metal. Instantly, a projection of his own personnel data materialized in his mind.

The sensation was entirely alien. He continued his trek, splitting his attention to study the token’s functions.

Once inside the city limits, he ducked into a shadowed alleyway and slipped the brocade box into his Storage Bag. He deliberately chose not to don the gray Daoist robe, keeping his grime-caked leather coat on instead.

During the day, a scavenger’s rags would stick out like a sore thumb in this pristine metropolis. But at night, the dark, filthy leather acted as urban camouflage. More importantly, the disguise served as a filter for trouble.

Scavengers were universally destitute. Any predator desperate enough to target a penniless scavenger would likely be weak enough for Xu Qing to slaughter without breaking a sweat.

By the time he emerged from the alley, he had mastered the token’s voice transmission function and reviewed his employment assignment.

“Homicide Department?” Xu Qing murmured. He didn’t know the exact operational parameters of the department, but the name alone suggested it was a brutal and dangerous place.

The reporting time was set for tomorrow. The token also contained the location of his assigned berth for his small boat.

For disciples who owned a Dharma Boat, the Sect automatically assigned a berth and granted a one-month grace period. After that, a monthly fee of 30,000 contribution points—equivalent to 30 Spirit Stones—was required. Failure to pay would result in automatic revocation of the berth.

“Berth 33 in the Mystic Zone of the 79th Harbor?” Xu Qing looked toward the sea. He melted into the shadows, moving with extreme caution and speed, leaving as little trace as possible.

Time passed, and twilight gave way to full night.

Across the city, thousands of households bolted their doors. The daytime clamor was replaced by an eerie silence.

The darkness swallowed Xu Qing’s form. He narrowed his eyes and quickened his pace, becoming acutely aware of the city’s nocturnal savagery.

He witnessed killings, desperate chases, cold-blooded pursuits, and violent robberies.

Xu Qing observed it all from the shadows, then averted his gaze and continued on his way without getting involved.

In the darkness, his figure moved like a ghost.

He also passed by brightly lit gambling dens and brothels, revealing another facet of the city’s prosperity.

Perhaps due to his heightened caution and stealth, no one attacked him along the way.

Still, he occasionally felt cold, malicious stares from the darkness. But upon noticing his scavenger attire, most chose to ignore him, as if he didn’t exist.

Xu Qing remained silent, speeding onward. After another hour, he neared the harbor.

There were over a hundred harbors. Xu Qing’s destination was the 79th Harbor in the purple zone.

While searching, Xu Qing’s expression suddenly shifted. He hid at the mouth of an alley and looked ahead.

The sound of hurried footsteps and whistling came from the distance. Soon, a group of cultivators in gray Daoist robes came into view, their expressions stern and murderous, radiating a chilling aura as they rushed forward.

Some were on the road, others on nearby rooftops, as if conducting a search.

Their robes bore a badge with a bloody character for Capture.

Xu Qing narrowed his eyes. He sensed the spiritual energy fluctuations from these Seven Blood Eyes disciples, many of whom exuded a palpable killing intent.

“Homicide Department?” Xu Qing guessed.

One of the cultivators, a young man with phoenix eyes, spotted Xu Qing in the corner. Despite Xu Qing’s excellent concealment, the sheer number and vigilance of the group made detection inevitable.

The phoenix-eyed youth strode over, his gaze cold.

As he approached, a wave of murderous intent washed over Xu Qing. Xu Qing’s body tensed. He felt an intense sense of danger from this man; even before he arrived, his aura spread like a chilling wind.

Such killing intent could only belong to someone who had taken countless lives.

Xu Qing knew that fleeing now would trigger an immediate attack due to the locked qi. So he stood his ground, not retreating, and met the youth’s gaze. His right hand rested on the leather pouch containing his black iron spike, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Identity token!” the youth demanded upon arrival, his eyes sweeping over Xu Qing before settling on his right hand.

Several other disciples closed in, loosely surrounding Xu Qing from all sides. Their expressions were icy, as if they would strike at the slightest sign of abnormality.

Noticing where the youth’s gaze lingered, Xu Qing became even more determined to change his habits. He cautiously took out his identity token and handed it over.

The youth examined it, his cold expression softening slightly, replaced by a hint of surprise. He smiled at his companions.

“We’ve actually run into a newcomer reporting to our Seventh Peak’s Homicide Department.”

“Alright, everyone, rein it in. Don’t scare the kid off before the criminals even get a chance at him,” he said. At his words, most of the surrounding auras receded, though a few still locked onto Xu Qing.

“So it is the Homicide Department,” Xu Qing thought, feeling the locked qi on him diminish significantly.

The phoenix-eyed youth returned the token to Xu Qing and gave him another appraising look.

“Kid, you’re interesting. Hurry up and get out of here. The city’s dangerous tonight.”

Xu Qing nodded, took back his token, and was about to leave when a piercing, agonized scream tore through the night sky from the distance.

The sound was sharp, followed by a roar.

Xu Qing’s expression tightened. He immediately turned to look and saw a dark figure on a distant tower building, spurting blood as it fled through the air.

Though its spiritual energy fluctuations were chaotic, the aura of Foundation Establishment made Xu Qing’s heart tremble.

Pursuing it was a middle-aged man in a purple Daoist robe, his expression imposing and majestic. His spiritual energy surged like a blazing fire, even from a distance, far more powerful.

As he closed in through the sky, the purple-robed man raised his hand. A long spear materialized in his grip, which he hurled forward with immense force.

The void seemed to shatter, unleashing a massive shockwave that rumbled outward. The spear, ignited by friction, transformed into a fiery dragon that shot toward the fleeing figure.

From afar, it looked as if the sky were being torn apart, the dragon’s light dazzling and spectacular.

It moved with blinding speed, piercing through the air with a deafening shriek. Unstoppable, it penetrated the dark figure’s chest, pinning the body with a thunderous crash onto the street’s blue bricks. The impact sent a storm-like shockwave sweeping in all directions.

Clean, efficient, and utterly devastating!

This scene shook Xu Qing to his core. The slain figure felt comparable to the Vajra Sect’s Patriarch in power.

As for the purple-robed man’s spear strike, it was overwhelmingly powerful. Xu Qing knew that if he were the target, he’d have no chance of dodging—certain death.

“It’s the Director!”

“Let’s go!”

The Homicide Department disciples around Xu Qing showed excitement, ignoring him as they sped toward the battlefield at full speed.

Even after they left, the shock and the spear’s splendor lingered in Xu Qing’s mind. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, his eyes filled with longing.

“I wonder when I’ll be able to do that,” Xu Qing murmured. He took one last deep look in the direction where the purple-robed man had vanished, then turned and hurried away.

He felt the night’s unrest and pushed his speed to the limit. After half an hour, he finally found the 79th Harbor.

The harbor was different from the city. It was darker here. Though guards patrolled with vigilance, they avoided pedestrians upon sight. Clearly, their caution wasn’t for maintaining order but for protecting themselves from harm.

Upon seeing Xu Qing, they did just that—glanced at him and quickly moved away without a word.

Xu Qing watched the retreating patrol cultivators warily, falling silent. His understanding of the Seven Blood Eyes’ danger deepened.

He slowly approached the harbor. Here, the damp sea breeze was more pronounced, the sound of waves rising and falling. The 79th Harbor was horseshoe-shaped, with seawater sloshing inside, constantly lapping against the shore.

The boats within were mostly spaced apart, as if each maintained a wary distance. They were similar in size but varied slightly in design. Upon closer inspection, their basic shape resembled the small, black-canopied boat from Xu Qing’s vial—over two hundred of them.

But the 79th Harbor was vast, and these boats occupied less than twenty percent of the area.

Though some boats had lights on, the place was eerily quiet, with no disciples in sight. It seemed that for everyone, nightfall marked the peak of vigilance.

Xu Qing also noticed that the spiritual energy here was dense, as was the Mutagen, seemingly emanating from the sea.

The dark seawater obscured the view, hiding whatever lay beneath.

This unknown bred unease, as if the depths concealed immense danger. Just a glance made Xu Qing’s hair stand on end, giving him a feeling akin to being in a forbidden zone.

“Cultivating here would surely accelerate progress, and it would be a constant trial…” Xu Qing muttered. He quickened his steps and found Berth 33 in the Mystic Zone.

The location was somewhat remote, with few boats nearby.

Arriving there, Xu Qing cautiously surveyed his surroundings. Once sure it was safe, he took out the small vial from the brocade box and opened it. A flash of light emerged, and the small black-canopied boat flew out, landing on the water and expanding on its own.

With a soft splash and ripples, a boat three zhang long and one zhang wide appeared before Xu Qing.

It was entirely black, each plank carved with numerous glowing runes that emitted a dark light and a strong spiritual energy pulse, quite impressive.

The canopy seemed made from some mutant beast’s hide, its scales clearly visible, looking very sturdy. At the bow, there was a statue.

The statue was a massive crocodile head, its maw wide open to reveal sharp, ferocious teeth, exuding a fierce and savage aura.

From a distance, the small boat looked like a giant crocodile floating on the sea.