Having grown used to the deep and tolerant gaze of Yin Que, Ning Li instinctively resisted eyes that were too aggressive.
Even before meeting him formally, she had already formed a prejudice against this person in her heart.
Was that a vision of the future?
The Gobi desert, deformed creatures, unfamiliar companions—a desolate wasteland as far as the eye could see.
In the future, she obviously possessed four Divine Gifts, yet why couldn’t she find a trace of happiness in herself?
If owning so many Divine Gifts couldn’t make her happy, if becoming stronger couldn’t make her happy, then what could?
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking that I might become someone incredible in the future.”
“You’re already incredible now.”
After Yin Que praised her, he didn’t see joy or satisfaction on Ning Li’s face; she seemed to be caught in a whirlpool, a hint of confusion still between her brows.
“Why aren’t you happy?”
Noticing how Ning Li gazed at him for a long time, Yin Que had some guesses, “Was I not in that vision?”
“No.”
Ning Li found it hard to describe her future self.
She looked very unfamiliar, with a cold and powerful aura.
It didn’t seem like a temporary separation from her teammates, but more like a complete parting of ways.
If, one day in the future, their small team was destined to scatter, then maybe it would be better now—before bonds and feelings grew deeper, perhaps it was better to cut things off, to avoid greater unpleasantness later.
She didn’t like to drag things out, and her words came quickly, “You weren’t there.”
“It looks like we went our separate ways.”
“Maybe it’s because I don’t fit in with this team, or maybe it’s because they found out I’m a terrible person.”
“Ning Li!”
Yin Que cupped her face, pain flickering in his otherwise calm eyes, “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re a good person.”
But Ning Li knew very well—she wasn’t that good.
She was different from Yin Que.
He loved this world.
But as for her, she didn’t really care what happened to it.
After obtaining the Divine Gift of the Samsara Orb, all she thought about was how to make herself stronger, how to better adapt to this cruel world—she never considered how to use the Samsara Orb to improve the lives of ordinary people.
If Yin Que was the owner, he would definitely think about how to use the Divine Gifts to benefit everyone.
But as for her, she would always put herself first.
“Even if the world ends tomorrow, I wouldn’t care.”
Ning Li heard herself say that.
She no longer wanted to pretend—if they were destined to part ways, she might as well make things clear now.
Yin Que sighed softly, “Didn’t we agree to go watch the sunset in the 73 Zone together, see the Aurora in the 132 Zone, gaze at the endless stars in the 199 Zone, and stroll under the falling flowers of the 251 Zone?”
At this, Yin Que paused.
“We’re in the 199 Zone right now. Tonight, we can see the stars.”
Yin Que said no more.
Pale words could never compare to vivid scenes; lengthy descriptions fell short of the shock of witnessing with one’s own eyes.
“Before the end of the world, let’s really look at this world together.”
Ning Li looked into Yin Que’s eyes.
His gaze was always so accepting, as if it held the whole Starsea within—vast, deep, and captivating.
“I hate those people who hunted me as well. Compared to being forced to swallow the Amber Eye, I actually wanted to keep it for myself. That night when Xiao Hei found the Amber Eye, I gave myself plenty of excuses to keep the bead. In truth, I never wanted to hand it over from the start.”
What you pick up belongs to you.
Everyone relies on their own skills.
Unfortunately, the bead only brought endless trouble.
That was the first time Ning Li had been driven to desperation, with no way out—forced to dispose of the Amber Eye in a rush.
How could she not regret it?
There were many ways to expand one’s spiritual sea, but there was only one Amber Eye in this world.
It was so flawless and clear—she just wanted to keep it forever.
Yin Que gave a gentle laugh, “I’m really glad you found the Amber Eye.”
Now, looking back, he already knew who had wanted the bead.
Fortunately, his lost treasure never ended up in Qi Sihui’s hands.
“But it’s such a pity. That bead, I really… really liked it.”
Her voice trailed off, soft enough that only if you listened closely could you hear.
Yin Que pinched Ning Li’s face, laughing lightly, “Ning Li, I feel the same helplessness. Unfortunately, even if he died again, he probably wouldn’t drop a bead as pure as the Amber Eye. When a sentinel dies with no attachments, only then will he leave behind such a pure bead. But now, he already has ties and regrets.”
“Maybe the future me will turn bad. The version of me in a black trench coat looked cold and dashing—honestly, she seemed like a full-blown villain. Even I’m surprised by how world-weary she seemed. What happened over the years to make her become like that?”
Yet she didn’t want to know.
She wasn’t curious, not interested in gossip, even if the subject was herself.
“If that day really comes, it won’t be your fault.”
Ning Li blinked, “Then whose fault will it be?”
“It’ll be my fault.”
If the future Ning Li really became a villain, did terrible things, then it must mean he hadn’t done enough—making her lose hope in humanity again.
Someone who truly gave up on the world wouldn’t care for praise or feedback from others.
But she clearly liked being praised so much.
She was just overly wary, not truly world-weary.
Yin Que always understood that age and maturity weren’t directly proportional—maturity depended only on experience.
When he was twenty-four, his mother’s world still only revolved around love, untouched by the secular world.
Though his relationship with his stepfather was lukewarm, he had to admit, his stepfather protected his mother well.
That was also why he was sure that, even after his death, his mother would continue to live well.
His mother’s world was peaceful; she always lived in an ivory tower.
But Ning Li’s world was crammed full of negativity.
Even so, she still tried to give positive feedback—whether to Yuan Yuan, to other guide students, or to him.
Yin Que glanced at the sky, “In one more hour, we’ll be able to see the stars.”
Ning Li also looked to the horizon.
Yin Que pulled her into his arms, threading his fingers through her hair—a hug that made her feel safe.
“Feeling any happier now?”
Burying her head in Yin Que’s clothes, Ning Li’s muffled voice replied, “More than just a little.”
It turned out that speaking the words buried in her heart wasn’t as hard as she’d imagined.
Was it because she was saying them to Yin Que?
He always gave her gentle answers she could accept.
Yin Que chuckled softly.
Pei Yujiu and Ting Rui were a hundred meters away, smoking, the smoke swirling around as they chatted about all sorts of things.
Mostly, Ting Rui did the talking while Pei Yujiu listened.
With so much adventure in recent years, his life could be made into a serial drama—if it aired, it’d be a hit, since each day was full of peril and thrills.
He’d already picked a title:
“Ting Rui’s 1825 Days.”
Of course, the commander’s tumultuous life could also be a drama—he’d call it “Revival.”
“When the commander returns to Sky Island, I’ll get started on this.”
Ting Rui laughed heartily, his voice carrying far, obviously enjoying the idea.
He meant it.
If no one knew how he survived the past five years, wouldn’t all those moments on the run have been in vain?
Pei Yujiu’s smile was always faint, as if the wind might blow it away at any moment.
Fortunately, Ting Rui was long used to his detached manner.
Ever since Wen Yu died, he’d been like this.
Ting Rui glanced back quickly, “Suddenly remembered that Sister Xi Dian has been married for over three years.”
Pei Yujiu took a deep drag, “Since she’s married, it’s no longer appropriate to mention her.”
“That’s because you died too early and don’t know her recent news.”
Ting Rui also took a drag and exhaled thinly, “She married Qi Sihui and gave him a son, almost two years old now. Next time we meet, we can’t even be friends anymore.”
When the conversation over there ended, Ting Rui and Pei Yujiu slowly returned to the team.
By the time they returned, the smell of smoke had almost faded from them, and night had fully fallen.
Ning Li casually found a place to sit, Yin Que right beside her.
Earlier, the 199 Zone had seemed unremarkable, but once night fell, the entire atmosphere changed.
The stars here were truly awe-inspiring, densely packed across the sky.
Ning Li had never studied astronomy and didn’t know what any of the stars were called.
But Yin Que had clearly studied astronomy seriously.
“That cluster is M45 Pleiades—doesn’t it stand out? The very bright one you’re pointing at is Sirius, one of the brightest stars in the sky.”
“See that set of stars shaped like a coiled dragon? That’s the Eastern Azure Dragon Seven Mansions… and to the south, that group spreading like a vermilion bird’s wings is the Southern Vermilion Bird Seven.”
Ning Li was once again impressed by Yin Que’s knowledge.
Chin resting on her hand, she gazed at him.
How did he know so much?
Did he have no other hobbies?
Was it just reading all day?
“Why aren’t you looking at the stars?”
Because compared to the unchanging stars, Ning Li was more curious about Yin Que by her side.
“Which star do you like best?”
Yin Que asked.
Ning Li pointed at random.
Yin Que laughed, “That’s Ziwei Star. A star full of charm and romance.”
Ning Li really knew how to pick, so he praised her again.
His praise was always so genuine.
There were countless stars.
Listening to his explanations, Ning Li eventually fell asleep.
Yin Que draped his coat over her, found her a comfortable place to lie down, and kept watch by her side, gazing up at the stars until dawn.
At daybreak, the group hit the road again.
In the empty landscape of Ning Li’s mind, there was now a map of the stars—the stars of the 199 Zone.
The world seemed just a little bit cuter to her.
The four of them traveled day and night, and after a week, they safely reached the 192 Zone.
Maybe because she was used to being hunted when making bamboo cakes, this journey didn’t feel tiring to Ning Li.
She’d been through worse.
She could have taken a night watch, but she’d never had a turn.
The 192 Zone, like the previous 191 Zone, was still troubled by battles.
But things were better in 192 Zone than in 191 Zone—no need to retreat or give up the safety line.
They kept to remote routes, purposely avoiding crowds.
Two of the four couldn’t have their identities revealed, so they had to be careful.
Because the route was remote and skirted the front lines, they sometimes encountered lone deformed creatures.