Star Calendar year 6321.
The Xianzhou's New Year's Day had arrived once more.
Every household proudly displayed fresh couplets, while banners fluttered high with the four bold characters that read "Peaceful New Year," brushed in elegant ink. Those four words carried the deepest prayer of the entire Xianzhou Alliance: may every year pass in tranquility, and may the fires of war never touch their skies again.
Yet that dream still felt impossibly distant.
No matter how relentlessly the Cloud Knights hunted down the Abominations of Abundance, the creatures' numbers across the galaxy's habitable zones barely seemed to dwindle. It was as though some invisible scale maintained a cruel equilibrium between hunter and hunted. Certain disreputable factions had even dared to whisper that the endless conflict was the only thing sparing the Xianzhou from a catastrophic population explosion brought on by their own immortality. Such a hellish argument earned nothing but cold stares from the Alliance. Not drawing their swords against those voices was already the greatest act of restraint the Cloud Knights could muster.
Some time had passed since the devastating campaign that left Jingliu's expeditionary force shattered. All who had fought on the front lines, save for the late-arriving reinforcements, received a three-year leave after the brutal operation. Many veteran Cloud Knights had succumbed to mara, their minds fracturing under the weight of what they had witnessed. Most of those over four hundred years old chose retirement rather than risk the slow descent into madness. The shadow that lingered in their hearts was not something every soul could simply face and overcome.
Kanzaki had never once brought up that war of his own accord, and both Xueyi and Hanya had quietly respected his silence. The losses had been so staggering that a dark cloud still hung over the whole of the Xianzhou. Even during the earlier campaign to reinforce Cangcheng years ago, the Alliance had not suffered nearly so many casualties. It had taken nearly two full years for the oppressive atmosphere weighing on the Cloud Knights to finally begin to lift.
Now, with the New Year celebrations in full swing, the streets and alleys overflowed with vibrant festivity. Children in bright new clothes darted through the crowds, their laughter pure and innocent, untouched by the scars of battle. Even the usually solemn and clinical atmosphere of the Alchemy Commission felt lighter, brushed by the season's warmth. Most patients arriving for treatment offered small smiles when greeting the healers.
Except for Kanzaki.
He carried a simple bouquet of flowers that bloomed with exceptional brilliance during the New Year season. Their petals glowed softly in the corridor light, yet deep within his eyes lay an inescapable gloom. Each step he took echoed heavily down the long hallway as he approached the intensive care ward.
The life-support equipment inside hummed with a monotonous, cold rhythm, its steady ticking unusually sharp in the profound silence. Bright sunlight poured through the window, spilling across the sleeping figure on the bed and casting shifting patterns of light and shadow. The light danced, the shadows moved, yet she never woke.
Kanzaki walked to the bedside and gently replaced the old bouquet with the fresh one. He had performed this quiet ritual countless times now. Flowers bloomed and withered, only to be replaced again, mirroring the endless cycle of day and night. But the woman lying there remained forever trapped on the battlefield of Sipusa Star from two years ago, as if her spirit had never truly left that blood-soaked ground.
"It's very lively outside," Kanzaki said softly as he pulled a chair closer and sat down. His voice sounded low and hollow in the sterile room. "It's another new year, Jingliu."
There was no answer. There never was.
The fierce warrior who had once turned her own body into a blade to tear through enemy ranks now lay with a face of perfect calm, like a sleeping beauty frozen in time. Only her ice-colored hair, scattered across the pillow, had lost its former supple luster.
Kanzaki reached out and carefully placed his hand on Jingliu's slender, pale wrist. His brow furrowed deeper as he felt the faint pulse beneath his fingers. It was still the same—growing weaker with each passing day.
The condition ravaging her body was so bizarre that even the most renowned doctors of the Alchemy Commission had exhausted every possible treatment and found themselves at a complete loss. The vitality that Long-life Species took such pride in had not simply vanished. Instead, it was being relentlessly devoured by a black hole deep within her. That black hole was none other than the Core Esse, the very organ unique to the Xianzhou's Long-life Species.
What should have been the primary source of their legendary longevity now refused to output energy. Instead, like a greedy infant, it endlessly absorbed power from Jingliu's limbs, bones, and every single cell, sustaining only its own existence. Her prolonged sleep was not the result of any external injury. It was because even the energy required to maintain basic conscious function had been completely consumed by her own Core Esse.
Kanzaki slowly withdrew his hand. Ancient texts of the Xianzhou recorded similar symptoms only in those on the verge of falling to mara or suffering from a curse that targeted the genes of the Long-life Species. Yet Jingliu's sea of consciousness, though sealed shut, remained perfectly clear, showing no trace of the chaotic turbidity that accompanied mara.
If the true cause could not be found, she would continue to sleep like this until the last of her strength was drained away. In her current state, the difference between life and death already felt paper-thin.
The door opened quietly. Jiao Ling entered carrying a basin of warm water. When she saw the figure seated by the bed, she offered a respectful bow.
"Lord Kanzaki, you're here."
"Thank you for your hard work in caring for her," Kanzaki replied.
"You are too kind."
Jiao Ling's fluffy ears perked up slightly as she shook her head. "Not only is this part of my duty as a healer, but in that brutal battle, if Jingliu hadn't saved my younger brother back then, the Jiao family line would have ended right there. I only have him left as family now."
"Jiao Xu… he seems to have retired. How is he now?" Kanzaki asked.
"He started a family with a woman nineteen years his junior. She is heavily pregnant now and due to give birth any day."
Jiao Ling set the basin down, soaked a towel in the warm water, wrung it out carefully, and began gently wiping Jingliu's body after removing the hospital gown.
"She should have been invited to the wedding feast," Jiao Ling continued softly, "but fate has been so unfair… I only hope she is blessed by the heavens and can wake up in time for my nephew's full-moon celebration."
"I hope your words come true," Kanzaki said, turning his gaze away.
Seeing the calm mask he wore, Jiao Ling felt a quiet pang of unease in her heart. As a healer, she understood better than anyone how dire Jingliu's situation truly was. She had pored over every ancient and modern medical text the Xianzhou possessed, yet no record of this exact condition existed. A cure still seemed impossibly far away.
Taking advantage of her position, she had already learned the tragic background shared by master and disciple. Survivors of Cangcheng. In the entire Xianzhou Alliance today, no one carried a heavier burden of sorrow than those who had lived through that catastrophe. And yet here they were, former Cloud Knights of Cangcheng, still walking the path of the Hunt to protect the very Alliance that had once failed them.
In her quiet hope for Jingliu's awakening, Jiao Ling felt the same ache that burned inside Kanzaki.
A soft knock sounded from outside the ward.
"Please wait a moment."
Jiao Ling finished wiping Jingliu with gentle precision, then helped her into a clean, pure white garment before calling out, "Please come in."
The door opened, and a tall, imposing figure stepped inside.
"Greetings, General."
Recognizing the visitor, Jiao Ling bowed deeply once more and quietly left the room to give them privacy.
Sha Feng nodded casually in acknowledgment, his gaze settling on Kanzaki.
"As expected, I didn't even have to guess to know you'd be here."
Kanzaki remained silent.
"I have already contacted the Zhuming Xianzhou on your behalf," Sha Feng continued. "Lord Yanting's medical skills are the finest among the Vidyadhara High Elders. Perhaps he will have a solution."
"Thank you, General, for keeping my worthless disciple in your thoughts."
"If she is worthless, then there are no Cloud Knight rookies left who can be called worthy."
Sha Feng let out a low chuckle, but the persistent heavy atmosphere surrounding Kanzaki made him release a long, weary sigh. How could he not understand? No one appreciated this disciple more than her master, and no one knew better than Kanzaki just how deeply he cared for her. She should have been a rising star whose future achievements would one day rival—even surpass—his own.
He could only sigh at the cruel impermanence of the world.
"General, I have a request. I wonder if you would grant it?"
"Speak," Sha Feng replied, momentarily startled.
Kanzaki stood up and met the general's eyes directly.
"I wish to see the Marshal. I request the General to submit a letter of recommendation."
"For Jingliu?"
"Yes."
Sha Feng's brows drew together for a long moment before he finally gave a slight nod.
"I can do that, but I cannot guarantee the Marshal will see you."
"Kanzaki is deeply grateful."
The words hung in the quiet ward as sunlight continued its slow dance across the still figure on the bed. Light and shadow shifted endlessly, yet Jingliu remained lost in her long, unbroken sleep, her fate now resting on the fragile hope of one final audience with the Marshal.