## Chapter 8: Ascension Anxiety and Unforeseen Umbrellas
The grand gates of Verdant Spring City shrank below, becoming mere etchings on a vast tapestry of obsidian mountains and sprawling valleys. Wang Ling clung to the polished railing of the Azure Dragon Court airship, his knuckles white, Fluffy pressed tightly against his chest. Below, Old Man Fu was a tiny, waving speck beside the imposing figure of Patriarch Li. Bin was probably already mucking the stable. A pang of profound loss hit Wang Ling, sharp and unexpected. His simple, terrifyingly predictable life was gone, swallowed by the clouds.
The airship wasn't what he'd imagined. No billowing sails or roaring engines. It was a sleek, elongated vessel sculpted from pearlescent white stone that seemed to drink the light, etched with flowing silver runes that pulsed faintly. It glided silently through the high-altitude winds, propelled by some unseen force that made the deck vibrate with a low, resonant hum. It felt less like a ship and more like a sliver of polished moon fallen from the sky.
Envoy Lian stood at the prow, a statue carved from ice and starlight, radiating an aura of absolute command that silenced the wind itself near her. Her two attendants moved with silent efficiency, checking glowing panels set into the deck. Lady Chen stood a respectful distance away, her twilight robes blending with the gathering dusk, her intelligent grey eyes constantly observing Wang Ling with the focused curiosity of a scientist studying a novel, potentially volatile compound.
Wang Ling felt like that compound – unstable and out of place. The deck was spacious, open to the sky, yet shielded by an invisible barrier that kept the biting cold and thin air at bay. He shivered anyway, partly from the chill, mostly from dread. The journey to the Azure Dragon Court could take days, Envoy Lian had stated coldly. Days trapped with beings who could erase mountains with a thought, and a scholar who dissected soap bubbles. He missed the smell of manure.
*Ding!*
**[Daily Check-in Available!]**
**[Host is experiencing High-Altitude Environmental Discomfort!]**
**[Contextual Reward Unlocked!]**
**[Would you like to Check-in now?]**
Wang Ling mentally groaned. *High-altitude discomfort? You think?* He confirmed, hoping for a warm coat. Or maybe an oxygen tank. Or a parachute.
**[Daily Check-in Complete!]**
**[Reward: 1 x Compact Travel Umbrella (Automatic Open, Windproof), 1 x Pack of Earl Grey Tea Bags (20 Count), 1 x Travel-Sized Sewing Kit]**
An umbrella. Tea bags. A sewing kit. Wang Ling stared at the System notification, then at the items now in his Inventory. An *umbrella*? On an enchanted airship shielded by god-knows-what? Tea? While hurtling through alien skies towards cosmic bureaucracy? The sewing kit felt like a particularly cruel joke. He was unraveling at the seams, not his clothes. He left them stored, the absurdity a bitter counterpoint to his fear.
* * *
The days blurred into a haze of silent tension and profound boredom. Envoy Lian remained an immovable pillar of cold authority, speaking only to issue brief commands to her attendants or to occasionally fix Wang Ling with that dissecting silver gaze. Her questions were sparse, sharp, and impossible to answer satisfactorily:
"What is the fundamental principle behind the 'sound thing'?"
"Describe the material composition of the 'shiny foil'."
"Explain the conceptual resonance of the safety pins against Void Essence."
Wang Ling stammered out fragmented, nonsensical answers about "high frequencies," "reflective surfaces," and "just... holding stuff together." Each response seemed to deepen the unsettling intensity in Envoy Lian's eyes, confirming his utter ignorance while simultaneously highlighting the terrifying power he wielded unknowingly. Lady Chen watched these exchanges like a spectator at a high-stakes duel, her fingers sometimes subtly tracing patterns on a small jade tablet she carried, recording everything.
Wang Ling spent most of his time huddled near the stern railing, as far from Envoy Lian as possible, playing his Gameboy. The familiar pixelated world of Hoenn was his only refuge. He battled gym leaders, grinded levels for his Torchic (now a Combusken!), and tried desperately to ignore the impossible vistas unfolding below – floating mountains wreathed in perpetual storms, deserts of glittering blue sand, forests where the trees glowed with internal fire. It was breathtaking and terrifying. He kept expecting a rogue dragon or a territorial sky-whale to smash into them.
Lady Chen approached him during one of these gaming sessions. "Finding solace in your... luminous slate?" she inquired, her voice calm. She gestured to the Gameboy.
Wang Ling flinched, instinctively covering the screen. "It's... just a game. From home. Pokémon. You catch creatures and battle them." He braced for derision or more probing questions.
"Creatures?" Lady Chen tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. "Fascinating. A simulated bestiary? A training paradigm encoded within light patterns? Does it teach combat techniques? Qi manipulation?"
Wang Ling blinked. "Uh... not really? You just... press buttons. Make them use moves like 'Ember' or 'Scratch'. It's... fun?"
"Fun," Lady Chen repeated, jotting something on her jade tablet. "A pedagogical tool disguised as recreation. Ingenious. And the power source?" She eyed the power bank connected via a cable. "A self-contained spirit-stone array? Remarkably compact."
Wang Ling sighed. "Batteries. Just... stored electricity." He gave up trying to explain. "It helps pass the time."
"Indeed," Lady Chen murmured, her gaze lingering on the flickering screen. "A microcosm of order within chaos. A comforting constant." She didn't pry further, but Wang Ling felt exposed, like his last tether to normalcy was being cataloged.
* * *
On the third day, the weather shifted. The clear, cold skies gave way to towering banks of bruised purple clouds that roiled like living things. Jagged forks of crimson lightning cracked within them, not striking downwards, but arcing horizontally, spiderwebbing across the sky. The airship's protective barrier flared brighter, the resonant hum deepening to a stressed whine. The deck vibrated noticeably. Even Envoy Lian turned from the prow, her expression hardening.
"Spirit Tempest," one of the attendants stated, his voice tight. "High-grade chaotic energy discharge. Common in the Shatterpeaks region. The barrier will hold, Envoy, but navigation will be imprecise. Recommend holding position until it passes."
Envoy Lian gave a curt nod. The airship slowed, then stopped, hovering amidst the chaotic light show. The crimson lightning flashed constantly, casting strobe-like illumination across the deck. The air crackled with static, making Wang Ling's hair stand on end. Rain began to fall – not water, but shimmering droplets of condensed chaotic Qi that sizzled and popped against the invisible barrier like acid rain. The sound was unnerving.
Wang Ling huddled deeper into his simple robe. A few stray droplets, defying the barrier's edge due to the storm's intensity, spattered onto the deck near him, hissing and leaving tiny, smoking dimples in the pearlescent stone. One sizzled perilously close to his foot. He yelped, scrambling back. He was going to get dissolved by magical acid rain! On an airship! The indignity!
Instinct, honed by years of Shenzhen downpours, kicked in. He needed cover. He yanked the compact travel umbrella from his Inventory. It was a simple black canopy with a sturdy plastic handle. He pointed it towards the storm, fumbling for the automatic open button.
*FWUMP!*
The umbrella sprang open with surprising force. Not just opened, but *snapped* into place with an audible crack of displaced air.
**Everything changed.**
The chaotic crimson lightning flashing directly overhead? It *bent*. Not away from the ship, but away from the *umbrella*. Jagged bolts that had been licking towards the barrier veered sharply, repelled by an invisible field radiating from the simple black canopy. The sizzling rain hitting the barrier near Wang Ling didn't just sizzle; it *vaporized* before even touching the energy shield, disappearing in tiny puffs of harmless steam a foot above the canopy. The oppressive static charge surrounding Wang Ling vanished, replaced by a pocket of unnerving stillness. The violent vibrations of the deck smoothed out beneath his feet. Even the howl of the wind seemed muted within a ten-foot radius of the open umbrella.
Wang Ling blinked. The rain wasn't hitting him! The little umbrella worked! He adjusted his grip, holding it more securely. "Huh. Good umbrella." He felt a flicker of relief. At least he wouldn't get dissolved.
To everyone else, the effect was staggering.
**Envoy Lian:** Her silver eyes widened, not in fear, but in pure, analytical shock. She *felt* the localized reality shift. The chaotic storm energy didn't just deflect; it was *repelled* by a fundamental principle radiating from the mundane object – a principle of absolute *Shelter*. It wasn't a shield; it was a declaration: *No Chaos Shall Touch This Spot*. The umbrella's field interacted seamlessly with her ship's barrier, reinforcing it locally with an authority that made her own Core Formation power feel... derivative. She saw the bent lightning, the vaporized rain, the pocket of calm. Her mind raced, trying to parse the impossible physics. A mortal umbrella imposing cosmic order?
**Lady Chen:** Her jade tablet slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the deck. Her hidden artifact, usually a low hum, was screaming silent alarms directly into her mind. Readings spiked off her mental scales – *Conceptual Negation: Chaos*, *Localized Reality Stabilization: MAX*, *Passive Harmonic Dampening: Unprecedented*. She stared, open-mouthed, as chaotic lightning actively avoided the black canopy, as if afraid. The umbrella wasn't protecting Wang Ling; it was *commanding* the storm to leave him alone! She fumbled for her tablet, her hands trembling, desperate to record the impossible energy signatures, but her device was overloaded, its surface flickering erratically.
**Envoy Attendants:** They exchanged stunned glances, hands hovering near their weapons. They saw the Envoy's reaction. They felt the sudden calm radiating from the mortal. The umbrella looked flimsy, laughable. Yet, it casually defied a Spirit Tempest. This was no coincidence. This was deliberate, effortless power displayed with terrifying nonchalance.
Wang Ling, oblivious, shifted his weight. The umbrella tilted slightly. As it moved, the pocket of calm shifted with it. A tendril of crimson lightning, probing near the edge of the newly defined "shelter," was instantly severed where the umbrella's influence ended, dissipating with a frustrated crackle. The movement was small, casual. The effect was profound.
*He controls it,* Lady Chen thought, her blood running cold despite the shelter. *He defines the boundary of safety with a tilt of his hand. He doesn't fight the storm; he dismisses it.*
* * *
The tempest raged for another hour, but within the sphere of the umbrella's influence, it was merely a light and sound show. Wang Ling eventually sat down on the deck, leaning against the railing, the umbrella held propped beside him. He pulled out his Gameboy, the screen visible in the storm's intermittent flashes. The umbrella's field even seemed to stabilize the air, making the pixels clearer. He battled Winona's Altaria, the chaotic sky forgotten, absorbed in the digital challenge.
Envoy Lian watched him, her icy composure fractured. The mortal sat playing with his luminous slate, sheltered by an artifact of unimaginable power he treated like a common rain shield. The implications were staggering. What *were* these objects from his "distant home"? Tools? Toys? Fragments of a lost, transcendent civilization? His ignorance seemed genuine, which made it all the more terrifying. Was he a vessel? A key? The safety pins negating Void Essence, the umbrella commanding cosmic storms... these weren't isolated incidents. They were a pattern of reality-defying absurdity.
Finally, the storm passed. The purple clouds dissipated, revealing the familiar bruised sky and the distant, jagged peaks of the Shatterpeaks receding behind them. The airship's hum returned to normal. The barrier stabilized.
Wang Ling, noticing the calm, looked up. Rain stopped. Lightning gone. He pressed the button on the umbrella's handle.
*FWIP!*
It snapped shut with the same decisive efficiency. The pocket of absolute calm instantly vanished, the ambient energy of the high-altitude flight returning – the hum, the slight breeze, the thin air.
Wang Ling stored the umbrella away, relieved the storm was over. He stretched, completely unaware of the three pairs of eyes fixed on him with varying degrees of awe, terror, and insatiable curiosity.
"Are we... are we nearly there?" he ventured hesitantly, looking at Envoy Lian.
She didn't answer immediately. Her silver gaze swept over him, then towards the horizon where the first, faint glimmers of a different kind of light were beginning to appear – not sunlight, but a soft, pervasive golden radiance emanating from beyond the curve of the world. The light of the Azure Dragon Court's celestial realm.
"Soon," she stated, her voice colder than ever, yet carrying a new, unsettling weight. "Prepare yourself, Wang Ling. The Court... will have questions." Her gaze lingered on the spot where his Inventory resided, the hidden vault of mundane, world-bending terror. "Many questions."
Wang Ling swallowed hard, the brief respite provided by the umbrella and his Gameboy vanishing. The terrifyingly polite scrutiny of Lady Chen was bad enough. Now he faced the full, incomprehensible might of the Azure Dragon Court, armed only with tea bags, a sewing kit, and the lingering memory of a really good umbrella. He pulled Fluffy closer. The faint golden glow on the horizon felt less like a destination and more like the opening maw of an unimaginably complex, dangerous beast. The Mortal Dust was far behind. The realm of gods awaited, and its Envoy looked at him like he was the most perplexing, terrifying puzzle in the cosmos. The absurd adventure had just ascended to terrifying new heights.