The spacious vertical elevator descended like a floor being lowered, and from it emerged ranks of Divine Generals, who lined up on both sides, forming a crescent-like encirclement around Hestia and her group of Sword Guardians.
The current ruler of Thousand Towers City, Gu Qianlou, elder brother of Gu Yongrong, stepped out slowly. Draped in a black cloak trimmed with gold, he resembled a solitary and somber monarch of ancient times. His face was concealed by a metal mask shaped like a bird, lending him an air of sinister majesty.
From beneath the mask, his dark eyes swept across the scene, dismissing the frail Sword Guardians with disdain. He seemed only interested in identifying the audacious individuals behind this disturbance.
Finally, his gaze settled on the black-haired girl in the snow-white dress at the center. Her resemblance to his late sister, Gu Yongrong, caused his expression to shift slightly.
“Capture her,” he ordered coldly.
“Understood.”
Hundreds of brightly armored Divine Generals charged toward the Sword Guardians flanking the girl, while thirty black-armored generals, each bearing four fluttering flags on their backs, advanced slowly to encircle Hestia.
Each of these black-armored generals possessed the power of Dragon Sequence 5, their dense auras and restrained magical energy exuding an air of both mystery and menace.
The so-called Divine Generals were originally elite warriors of ancient dynasties. As humanity entered the interstellar era, monarchies faded into history, and their transcendent martial arts and esoteric techniques transitioned into transcendent combat sequences. These remnants formed the foundation of the Divine Generals’ Hall.
Hestia sensed the thirty black-armored generals before her were subtly connected, their movements like a looming black cloud. Even the surrounding Aijeka particles seemed to slow in their presence, exerting an oppressive force.
Resonance techniques…
In the past, only the War Sequence could use large-scale resonance to form nearly invincible battle formations. Such techniques were long coveted by other sequences. Over time, various sequences developed their own versions, though these were limited in scope and scale compared to the War Sequence.
Ancient dynasties and prominent families had studied such formations extensively, and it seemed the black dragon-like array before her was a direct result.
Hestia considered her options. Without revealing her unique ability, relying solely on the capabilities granted by her Azure Bird Branch pathway would make dealing with this formation extremely challenging—possibly even resulting in her capture.
Should I use my unique ability?
In the ancient past, Hestia might have unleashed her talent fully, soaring like a true azure bird to overturn the dire situation. But this was the Rose Federation—a civilization spanning countless star systems, hosting myriad species and trillions of individuals. Its technological and military might could obliterate worlds effortlessly.
She wasn’t ready to expose herself entirely to this vast and overwhelming world. Though her Songstress ability could undoubtedly secure support from influential figures and mega-corporations, Hestia wasn’t willing to take that path.
Life should be explored step by step, she thought. She wanted to experience all its colors, even those tinged with tears, frustration, and sorrow.
True happiness is the serenity found after enduring life’s storms, not the fragile purity cultivated in a greenhouse.
The world isn’t all rainbows, it’s also full of cruelty and filth. If you want to defend your ideals from ridicule, either conceal them well or stand tall and fight back, proving the doubters wrong.
Having dreams doesn’t guarantee success, but the will to uphold them can help one endure life’s darkest moments, honing strength far beyond the ordinary. That is the most precious quality.
If she relied solely on her Songstress abilities to win and alter the present, she feared she’d lose the courage to wield her blade in the future.
Choosing easy and convenient shortcuts every time would render her unable to traverse the rough and rocky mountain paths later. The inertia of comfort is a formidable force, gradually lulling one into complacency and weakness.
In the interstellar era, advancing technologies had made life increasingly comfortable. Yet, the proliferation of shortcuts eroded people’s resolve. Entertainment was cheap and easy, while learning remained arduous. Tapping away at keyboards and engaging in online arguments was exhilarating, but hands-on practice was tedious and burdensome. The repeated destruction and reconstruction of knowledge were always painful.
Her eyes opened slowly. As the black-armored generals advanced, tightening their encirclement, Hestia leaped into action. Her hair and dress whirled in the air as her silver sword clashed with descending blades and halberds. The sound of relentless strikes echoed, sparks flying, and shards of crystal scattering as they fell.
Moments later, her blade shattered, dispersing into fragments of silver light. In mid-air, Hestia spun like a swallow, ascending gracefully. A new sword, gleaming with a green hilt and silver blade, coalesced before her.
Sword light danced wildly as silvery arcs shot into the formation below, severing enchanted weapons, shredding black banners, and slicing through armor.
The counterattack was swift. The black-armored generals shifted formations, their auras sinking. The silver arcs of Hestia’s sword were dulled as if swallowed by a black cloud, their power dissipating and unable to sever their weapons’ shafts.
“Ha!”
The thirty black-armored generals turned their gazes upward in unison, their painted masks emitting colors that seemed to seep into Hestia’s body. Her movements faltered as if struck, blood spilling from her lips.
Falling to the ground, barely steadying herself, she was beset by a barrage of blades and halberds. Though she managed to deflect several, new strikes rained down relentlessly, leaving her gasping for breath.
Amid the relentless attacks, her sword finally broke. Forced back by a thrusting halberd, she evaded desperately. But as a vertical blade strike came crashing down, it confined any hope of escape.
These Divine Generals were the elite of Thousand Towers City. Their formidable strength, combined with seamless coordination, gradually cornered the young woman.
Parrying another strike, just as Hestia prepared to dodge a sideward halberd thrust, another blade descended obliquely, carving a long wound across her body. Blood soaked her snow-white dress.
Despite her injuries, Hestia stood again, her bleeding arm steady as dark red droplets slid from her sword’s tip.
Seeing her resilience, the black-armored generals paused, surrounding her without further strikes. After all, Gu Qianlou’s orders were to capture, not kill, the girl.
Execution depends on context. Despite her defiance, Hestia was Gu Qianlou’s niece and Gu Yongrong’s daughter—beloved by the Sword Guardians. Killing her recklessly would be unwise.
Gu Qianlou snorted dismissively, stepping forward into the array. He stopped ten meters from Hestia.
“You returned here just to bring so many people to their deaths?” he asked coldly.
“No,” Hestia shook her head, glancing back at the Sword Guardians, who were still fighting.
“You should retreat now. There’s no need to follow me,” she said again when they didn’t heed her words.
“This is an order.”
Hearing this, the Sword Guardians had no choice but to gradually retreat, while Gu Qianlou raised his hand, signaling the Divine Generals to momentarily hold their attacks.
“Good. At least you have some sense,” he remarked coldly.
Hestia sighed softly. In truth, she had never intended to involve the Sword Guardians in this. Her original plan was to face Gu Qianlou alone—whether she succeeded or failed, she could have escaped easily. However, Ge Lianfeng had misunderstood her intentions and used the Sword Order to summon everyone, creating the current situation.
“I didn’t return for revenge, nor to divide Thousand Towers City,” Hestia began to explain.
“Even my mother never told me anything about Thousand Towers City when she was alive,” she added with a shake of her head.
“Oh? Then why are you here now?” Gu Qianlou asked, his gaze fixed on her through the mask.
Hestia wiped the blood from her blade and slowly returned it to its sheath. Her heart was a storm of mixed emotions—nervousness, determination, and a touch of nostalgia.
“I know you, and everyone in Thousand Towers City, have your own convictions. If everyone were to scatter recklessly, it would surely lead to an uncertain fate,” she said, her words resonating with many present.
“However, staying here only forces us to relive the past over and over, unable to move forward. Surely you can see that such a future is no better.”
“Hmph.” Gu Qianlou did not voice opposition, but neither did he agree.
“Even the grand city of Qianlou was built step by step by our ancestors during perilous times. If they could escape to this place and establish Thousand Towers City, then why can’t we build a new Qianlou City elsewhere?”
“How naive of you, to think it’s so simple,” a tall Divine General behind Gu Qianlou stepped forward to retort.
“Every star region in the Federation is already occupied by powerful forces—be it extraordinary factions, mega-corporations, or national organizations. They have divided up all available territories. How could we possibly make a place for ourselves?”
“What’s more, migrating across star regions is an immense challenge. Moving a small population is one thing, but are you suggesting abandoning the tens of thousands of people in this city?”
“What if we don’t go to another planet but instead move to the northern regions within the same area?” Hestia proposed.
“On my way here, although the land was desolate, there were plenty of open areas. Since the Verdant Veil’s economy migrated south, many northern districts have been left vacant.”
“And how is that any different from staying here? Most of the infrastructure would still need to be rebuilt,” the Divine General scoffed, shaking his head.
“Moreover, the Federation government of the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region has already declared it won’t provide management AIs for cities in the northern districts.”
“If we’re in the Northern Second District, that might be a problem. But if we move to another area, I believe it’s possible to secure a Federation management AI,” Hestia countered calmly.
“Heh, do you think you can just apply for one? Do you even know how much a T2-grade management AI costs on the black market?”
“At least 3 billion Federation credits—and that’s for an outdated, decommissioned model.”
Many thought Hestia would be rendered speechless by such questioning, her arguments collapsing under their weight. But after a few seconds of silence, she spoke again.
“What if I can make it happen?”
In fact, back at the pavilion, Hestia had already contacted Edess Academy via email, inquiring about potential support from the Federation for a relocation effort. Unexpectedly, she received a detailed response.
Fernandi had provided comprehensive plans for city reconstruction and relocation efforts to other regions. For Edess Academy, equipped with 14 T2-grade AIs for research, creating and analyzing such plans was a matter of minutes. Moreover, Fernandi had already investigated Hestia’s family background and surmised her intentions.
“If Miss Hestia requires armed support, we can deploy forces within two hours to eliminate any resistance in Thousand Towers City,” Fernandi had said casually during a call, revealing the true power and influence of Edess Academy within the Verdant Veil.
Understanding the implications, Hestia had not opted for military force.
“Just send over a brand-new T2-grade AI. Defeating my uncle might feel satisfying, but it would demoralize the people of Thousand Towers City,” she explained, unwilling to act selfishly without considering the future.
“Understood. The supersonic transport is en route and will arrive in one hour. Also, enjoy your holiday, Miss Hestia~”
As Hestia concluded her explanation, a sleek, bird-like craft pierced through layers of atmospheric resistance, approaching the northern wastelands forgotten by the Federation.
Its whistling sound echoed as the white contrail streaked across the blue sky, like a mythical messenger bird delivering divine decrees.