The Celestial Nexus Array did not open like a door.
It unfolded.
Shen Hao found himself standing on a narrow path that had no floor, no ceiling, and no walls in any way he understood. The world around him curved inward like the inside of an endless spiral, every surface made of quiet, drifting starlight. Here and there, faint clouds of Qi floated in slow currents, bending and stretching as though they were alive.
There was no sound except the low hum of his own breathing inside his mask. Even the light here felt weightless, like it was falling without touching anything.
The tunnel turned gently ahead of him, and its turn seemed to go on forever.
A fragment of rock drifted past. It spun lazily, catching glimmers of starlight before disappearing into the bend.
For a moment, Shen Hao wondered if time had slowed, or if this place simply refused to be measured at all.
Then, without warning, a thin streak of white light appeared across the far end.
It spread like a crack across glass, glowing more brightly with every heartbeat. The shape didn't break all at once, it pulsed, widening in silence. The air shifted around him, as though the tunnel itself had taken a deeper breath.
And then,
A sharp, soundless flash.
The wall at the far curve split open.
Beyond the tear was a different sky. A real one. Blue, open, and scattered with pale clouds.
Mo Han's voice, calm: "We've arrived. That's your exit."
Shen Hao's eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask.
Shen Hao, quiet: "That was… fast."
Mo Han: "The array folds both time and distance. It is built to bring you here in moments."
There was no reason to hesitate. Shen Hao stepped toward the opening, letting the light pass over him, and crossed.
The moment he set foot outside, the passage behind him closed with a soft, short pop, like water swallowing a stone. When he glanced back, there was nothing but the wide, open air.
He stood at the edge of a plain where green grass moved under a long, slow wind. Hills rose in the distance, their slopes marked by lines of dark forest. The air here smelled clean in a way that made him stop for a breath longer than usual, cool, sharp, and untouched by the smoke of cities or the rot of beasts.
Shen Hao reached up and removed his mask. The breeze met his face without resistance.
Shen Hao, to himself: "Fresh. Clean. Doesn't smell like monster breath."
Mo Han's voice in his mind: "Mount Sheng is just beyond that ridge, about a hundred kilometers north."
Shen Hao glanced toward it.
Shen Hao: "Perfect. We'll head there now and..d..."
A voice cut through the wind like a thrown spear.
Voice: "YOU THERE!"
Shen Hao turned his head toward the sound.
From the shadow of the trees on both sides, people emerged in a sudden rush, first five, then ten, then far more, until the ground seemed to tremble under the rhythm of their steps. Weapons caught the sunlight as they ran.
At the front was a man marked with streaks of silver paint across his chest, his expression tight with anger.
Leader, shouting: "I WON'T LET YOU ESCAPE THIS TIME, BLACK VALLEY DOG!"
Shen Hao blinked once.
Shen Hao: "…Black Valley?"
He lifted his hand slightly, palm out.
Shen Hao: "Wait, I think you've got the wrong..g..."
A hiss cut the air beside him.
An arrow passed so close it tugged at a strand of his hair.
The arrow buried itself in the dirt behind him with a dull thock.
Shen Hao lowered his raised hand. His eyes shifted slightly, following the movement of the attackers as they closed in.
A young man in light armor was already charging from the left, sword angled for a diagonal strike. The grass bent under his steps, his breathing loud and uneven, even from several paces away.
Shen Hao shifted one foot back, letting the strike pass harmlessly in front of him. The blade cut nothing but air.
Shen Hao, low voice: "I was talking."
Another came from the right, swinging a hammer heavy enough to leave a dip in the soil with every step. Shen Hao tilted his head slightly, the weapon passing close enough that the wind of it brushed his ear. The hammer struck the ground where he had been standing, sending a small shock through the earth.
Dust and pebbles scattered.
Lingfeng's voice, amused: "They're trying so hard. It's almost endearing."
Shen Hao, calm: "They're all within the early ranks. Peak of the fourth stage at most."
An arrow whistled from somewhere in the trees. Shen Hao didn't look at it. His hand rose without hurry, catching it between two fingers before dropping it at his side.
The silver-painted leader pressed forward through the rush, shouting orders, his blade raised high. Around him, the others moved in a half-circle, attempting to close every gap.
For the next few breaths, Shen Hao stepped and turned, never in the same place for more than a heartbeat. A hammer strike here, a spear thrust there, none of it touched him. His cloak shifted in the wind as he moved, its folds trailing behind him like a shadow with its own rhythm.
By the fifteenth attempt to land a blow, his expression had not changed.
Shen Hao, quietly to himself: "Enough."
He took one measured step forward.
The air changed.
From deep in his core, Qi surged outward in a single pulse, silent, invisible, yet heavy as stone. It rolled across the grass like a wave, pressing into the ground and bending the blades low. The trees nearby rustled, not from wind, but from the weight of what he released.
Birds fled without sound.
Every attacker froze where they stood, their bodies seizing as though caught in an unseen net. One by one, knees buckled. Blades dropped to the ground. The sound of them striking the dirt was small, almost fragile.
The silver-painted leader stayed upright the longest, one knee forced into the soil, his breath coming through clenched teeth.
A younger fighter to his left tried to crawl forward, his palms digging into the dirt for grip.
Random attacker, straining: "W-we… won't give up…!"
Shen Hao exhaled slowly, the sound barely louder than the wind.
Shen Hao: "Your spirit is fine. Your choice of target… less so."
The leader's head lifted slightly. His eyes searched Shen Hao's face, then studied the ground between them.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.
Leader: "Wait… this man… he's not… one of them."
No one moved.
Leader, more certain now: "If he were, we'd be dead already."
Shen Hao's eyes narrowed just enough to show interest.
Shen Hao: "Finally. Some logic."
With that, he let his presence withdraw, the crushing pressure dissolving into the quiet air. Those who had fallen gasped for breath, their shoulders sagging as though someone had lifted a weight from their backs.
One by one, they stood, though none yet dared to approach.
And then, as if following some silent agreement, they pressed fists to palms.
All in unison: "We apologize… Senior."
The sound of the bowstrings had stopped.
Shen Hao's gaze moved across the group. Their eyes no longer burned with the certainty of enemies, but with the uncertainty of people realizing they might have made a mistake.
He lowered his hand, letting it rest loosely at his side.
Shen Hao, calm: "Don't call me 'senior.' Shen Hao will do."
The leader straightened, the silver paint on his chest cracked and faded in places. For a long moment, he said nothing,just studied Shen Hao's face like a man testing the truth in a stranger's words.
Finally, his voice came.
Leader: "Then, Shen Hao… you should know why we came at you."
A brief glance passed among his people before he spoke again.
Leader: "We are the Tarsa. We were not born here. Our first home was a green world called Eldaros."
His eyes did not wander as he spoke, but his tone carried the weight of something remembered too often.
Leader: "Our sun grew into a red giant. Hotter. Hung lower in the sky with each season. It swallowed the rivers first. Then the forests. Then the cities."
One of the younger fighters shifted uneasily, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword.
Leader: "When the heat became fire, only a few hundred of us escaped. We carried our dead with us for the first journey… until there was no more ground to bury them in."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Leader: "We found this realm and settled. It was quiet. Safe. For a time."
His voice hardened now.
Leader: "Then came the ones from the Black Valley. They said they would guard us. We refused. They killed many of us. Took what they pleased. They have been coming ever since. There leader is at beginning realm level eight peak"
An older man at the back of the group lowered his head.
Older villager, quietly: "We thought you were one of them. They wear masks too."
Shen Hao was silent for a while, the wind stirring the grass between them. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Shen Hao, in thought: "Peak of the eighth stage, was it?"
A faint exhale left him.
Shen Hao, inwardly: "At last… something worth putting down."
The Tarsa shifted under his gaze, some avoiding his eyes, others holding onto that smallest flicker of hope they feared to name.
The leader took one step forward, lowering his head just enough to show respect without surrender.
Leader: "We have nothing to offer you… but if you could… help us...s...."
Shen Hao: "Take me to your village."
The words landed like stone in still water. The ripples passed through the group; shoulders eased, jaws unclenched, and for the first time since they had appeared, their eyes seemed lighter.
The leader turned toward the tree line.
Leader: "Come. It's not far."