Chapter 23: Cranes and Sunset Chats
With personal charm, Zong Ji tamed a few black cranes.
He tucked away his fan, standing amiably on a crane to let it feel his weight.
Not stopping there, he gleefully trained two others to carry silk ribbons in their beaks, creating a fluttering, ethereal effect in the air.
Black cranes: …
They didn’t dare breathe, meekly lowering their noble heads, trembling under the merfolk’s bloodline pressure nearby.
Plus, this black-clad, fan-wielding guy didn’t seem like a good sort.
His talk of “reason” was undercut by the near-tangible sword aura on his fan’s edge, scaring the cranes into silent resentment.
As seven or eight-tier beings, black cranes were local tyrants in Illusory Sea Flower City’s waters.
Yet today, they met two tough nuts and could only swallow their pride, cursing their luck.
“Anything unusual in the Sea of Illusion lately?”
Zong Ji sat casually on a jagged rock by the bay, rewarding a crane with a pat before tossing an embroidered ball.
He watched it flap swiftly to fetch it from the waves, utterly content.
“The seas near Central Continent seem off. Maybe a ruin’s about to surface.”
With Zong Ji present, Xi boldly climbed onto a shore rock, sprawling out under the blazing sun.
Its scales gleamed, tail flicking lazily, hair swaying in the sea like dancing seaweed.
As a newly born merfolk, Xi knew little of the vast ocean, unversed in many areas.
Not knowing the ruins’ origins was normal.
Xuanyu Continent’s five regions, true to its “floating void” name, sat on a massive drifting island.
The Sea of Illusion cradled these lands like a mother, boundless and unfathomable, akin to “heaven round, earth square.”
Central Continent’s seas?
Zong Ji’s first thought was the Moon-Sinking Pool he’d mentioned yesterday.
But it wasn’t time for that yet.
It’d open only after Jing Zhe hit the Ten Thousand Demons Sect and reached immortal-tier, unlocking the weapon-bursting dungeon.
After the conference, Zong Ji planned to tail Jing Zhe for scraps, dipping into the Moon-Sinking Pool to gear up head-to-toe.
Though unwritten in the main text, Zong Ji’s One Sword to Immortality outline detailed countless spiritual and immortal weapons in the pool, including two divine ones for Jing Zhe.
After the pool came the ancient divine tomb’s emergence, so Zong Ji had opened the cheat vault wide, ready to skyrocket Jing Zhe.
“Cool, I’ll hit you up after the Northern Continent to explore together.”
The seaside weather was perfect.
Chatting with a friend, watching the sea—nothing wrong with that.
As the sun set, Zong Ji pulled out the wine casks swiped from Emperor Dong Yan, sipping as the sunset’s glow bathed the bay’s blooming flowers in decadent hues.
Illusory Sea Flower City’s scenery was legendary across Xuanyu.
The bay sat beneath low island bases, blanketed in pale pink flowers.
A breeze scattered petals like a goddess’s offering, drifting on the sea with the sunset.
Sunset clouds and lone cranes soar; autumn waters blend with endless skies.
Zong Ji was the world’s greatest on the surface, but deep down, a literati.
Before transmigrating, he lived by his pen.
Scholars were sentimental, sensory creatures, rooted by beauty, spilling timeless verses.
Zong Ji didn’t call himself a writer—just a web author—but this scene stirred his chest with indescribable emotion.
He only wished he were a painter to capture it forever.
Xuanyu legend said couples watching Flower City’s sunset would attain immortality.
But cultivators rarely felt emotions, growing colder at higher realms, unmoved by the world.
Thus, few high-tier cultivators had partners; most stayed single.
In Tai Xu Sect, save for Danyang Peak’s master, every peak lord and elder was a lifelong bachelor.
Sword cultivators, after all, epitomized coldness, unlike passionate blade cultivators.
Zong Ji had it worse.
Asexual, he’d never tasted love’s sour stench.
Even watching the sea, he was stuck with a half-human, half-fish buddy, heart unmoved.
“What’s that?”
Xi tilted its head curiously, its androgynous beauty leaning closer, face flickering in the sunset like a mythical siren.
“Wine. Tasty stuff.”
Dong Yan’s gift was top-notch.
With Zong Ji’s picky palate, one sip pegged it as over a century old.
Aged with spiritual energy, infused with rare treasures, the wine’s aroma wafted miles even against the sea breeze, intoxicating just to smell.
“I wanna try.”
The merfolk caught the scent, its dark golden eyes gleaming.
It propped itself up, nearly diving into Zong Ji’s arms to taste it.
“No way. Kids don’t drink.”
By demon age, Xi was barely fifteen or sixteen in human years.
Zong Ji wouldn’t corrupt a minor.
If it got hooked, swimming in the sea, where would it get booze?
Zong Ji was doing this for Xi’s own good.
He flipped his palm, stashing the wine, and pulled out homemade Tianshan shaved ice from his Qiankun bag, slapping it onto Xi’s face.
Zong Ji loved tinkering with oddities.
Xuanyu’s obsession with cultivation left its cuisine lacking, appalling his Great Celestial Dynasty taste.
Years ago, he’d had Xi fetch caviar from the seabed, winning the sea ruler’s stomach.
“Fine.”
Xi knew Zong Ji meant no harm, sulkily flopping back onto the rock.
Merfolk had no gender or strong preferences.
But for some reason, Xi felt oddly close to Zong Ji.
There was a strange aura about him, like the fleeting wonder Xi felt in the merfolk stone, aligning with the Heavenly Dao before birth.
Lost in thought, Xi fell asleep.
It hadn’t rested so peacefully in ages, as if transcending its body, returning to the cosmos.
Zong Ji lingered in the bay, pulling out his fishing rod.
Despite using the juiciest bait, no fish bit.
Then he realized a sleeping mermaid, apex predator, lay nearby.
Who’d dare swim up?
“…I’m off. Catch you later.”
He kicked the dreaming Xi back into the sea, dusted his hands, and rode a crane away.
Xi, splashing awake, bewildered: ???