Chapter 93: Vermillion Bird City

The hour of the Pig had arrived, and a cold wave swept in.

Four crimson coffins stood starkly amidst the vast white snow, their surfaces emitting a faint phosphorescent glow, flickering like dimming lightbulbs, exuding an eerie aura.

To the north, Ren Ye sat on the ground, curling his body as much as possible, burying himself in his fur coat to keep warm. Every now and then, he would peek through the gaps in his coat to observe the four players standing watch.

To the left of the four coffins, Li Yan and Tang Feng leaned against one of the caskets, hands tucked into their sleeves, bodies hunched, shivering from the cold.

At first, Li Yan had attempted to strike up a conversation with Tang Feng, hoping to break the awkwardness between them, but after just one exchange, the conversation died out.

“What do you do in real life?” Li Yan asked.

“I have a mental illness. Been on leave for almost a year now. Why?” Tang Feng looked at him with a resentful gaze.

“Ah… never mind, then.”

Li Yan cursed inwardly—just his damn luck. Who could hold a normal conversation with someone who was mentally ill?

And so, with that single sentence, the conversation collapsed. The two fell into silence, staring longingly at the full moon above, trying to think of happy thoughts to distract themselves from the biting cold.

To the east, Guo Cai’er squatted on the snow-covered ground, hugging her knees, staring blankly at the glistening snowflakes.

Too much had happened to her in a short span of time. The treacherous struggles in the Star Gate, the brutal fights for survival. And in the real world, she had just lost her mother…

Now that she had finally stopped moving, everything suddenly quieted down. It dawned on her that, within this brief period, she had lost so much—so much that she hadn’t even had time to grieve.

She had always thought herself clever—so clever that even while lying inside a coffin, she was still scheming.

But in the end… after all the calculations… her mother was gone, two of her teammates were dead, and her current situation was probably even worse than that of Imperial Inspector Liu, who had been hacked into a powerless nobody at the very start.

“Creak… creak…”

The sound of crunching snow echoed, marking the arrival of Xing Tao, the most passionate lover of the Xiangjiang region, as he slowly approached.

He crouched in front of Guo Cai’er, bent down, and asked politely, “Can I kiss you?”

Guo Cai’er, lost in her thoughts, was startled by his question. She lifted her head in surprise but said nothing.

“If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.” The crude Martial Artist had a rare moment of intelligence, answering his own question before puckering his lips and planting a kiss on Guo Cai’er’s cheek.

Her anger flared instantly. She had never liked Xing Tao to begin with, and in her current emotional state, this act only made her feel worse.

“Smack!”

Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped Xing Tao across the face, her eyes burning with fury.

Such was the fate of a simping fool.

Xing Tao, however, simply chuckled. “Feeling better now? If not… go ahead and slap me again. My face is cold anyway.” He remained crouched, grinning at her.

Guo Cai’er, having slapped him, actually felt a hint of regret. She thought maybe that was too much. But the moment she heard his response, the anger in her eyes was replaced with helpless resignation.

She had known Xing Tao for quite some time, but in terms of ability, the difference between them was like night and day. Guo Cai’er had always excelled in academics, and her success rate in the Star Gate’s high-difficulty missions was remarkable. Yet the man who had chased her for two or three years, Xing Tao, was utterly average—neither skilled in combat nor intelligence, without any real standout qualities.

And yet… he genuinely cared for her. And it wasn’t the kind of boy-sees-girl-wants-to-sleep-with-her-so-he-puts-up-with-anything kind of affection. It was something deeper, more like that of an older brother—or even a guardian. A care that came from the heart.

Seeing that the anger had faded from Guo Cai’er’s eyes, Xing Tao moved behind her and slowly crouched down.

Guo Cai’er turned her head, resisting slightly.

Xing Tao simply smiled, then spread his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace, using his back to block the icy mountain wind, shielding her with his own warmth.

Guo Cai’er stiffened, clearly uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to say… even though your mom is gone, I can still take care of you,” Xing Tao murmured, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, but I was afraid it would only make you sadder.”

Guo Cai’er lowered her head even more.

“I may not be as smart as you, but I do know one thing… No matter how many arguments you have, no one in this world will ever be closer to you than your own mother. I know you cared about her.” Xing Tao’s arms had turned bluish from the cold, but his eyes remained fixed on Ren Ye, who was still wrapped in his fur coat. His voice trembled, “I… I don’t know how to comfort you, but whatever you want to do, I’ll be with you. Before this Star Gate ends, I swear—I’ll help you kill him. I swear.”

At those words, tears welled up in Guo Cai’er’s eyes.

Emotion surged through her, and instinctively, she leaned into Xing Tao, resting her head against his frozen, bruised arms.

Neither of them spoke again. They simply gazed in unison at Ren Ye.

Not far away, near the coffins, Tang Feng glanced at Guo Cai’er and Xing Tao, his eyes filled with envy.

She turned her head slightly and, almost unconsciously, looked at Li Yan. Her expression carried an unspoken invitation.

In the moonlight, their eyes met briefly. A shiver ran down Li Yan’s spine, sending goosebumps across his frozen skin. “What are you looking at? Getting addicted again?! Let me tell you… I won’t fall for the same trick twice! And I sure as hell won’t make the same mistake with the same hole!”

Five minutes later.

The crimson coffin, like the canopy of a newlywed couple’s bed, concealed the tightly embraced figures of Li Yan and Tang Feng.

“You know… this actually is a bit warmer,” Li Yan admitted.

…

Capital, Annual Ring Bar.
Outside a tiny room no bigger than a dressing room, Yan Duoduo looked at Ren Daguo and whispered, “Once you go inside, someone will meet you. Don’t be nervous—we’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“You’re not going?” Ren Daguo asked.

“…We still don’t even know who wants to see you,” Huang Wei shook his head. “Maybe it’s confidential. It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to go.”

“Mm.” Ren Daguo nodded.

As his words fell, Yan Duoduo reached out and lowered the dark gray curtain before stepping aside with Huang Wei.

About a minute later, a faint starlight flickered in the small room and gradually spread out.

Shua!

Ren Daguo vanished into thin air.

…

The boundless darkness and intense dizziness faded. Ren Daguo slowly regained consciousness.

When he opened his eyes, his blurry vision gradually sharpened. Before him stood a towering crimson vermillion wall, nearly blocking his entire line of sight.

At the center of the vermillion wall was a grand and imposing ancient city gate. Beyond the gate, jade pavilions and ornate towers stretched into the distance, resembling a celestial palace suspended before him.

Beneath his feet, a broad and straight avenue extended endlessly, with figures faintly visible moving within the city.

Taking a few steps back, he lifted his gaze. Above the city gate, three large words were inscribed—Vermillion Bird City.

This was Vermillion Bird City, the Star Gate above Shangjing and the headquarters of the Vigil Keepers.

Shua!

Before Ren Daguo could fully react, a young woman in azure robes, her hair styled in an ancient manner, approached from within the city.

She was tall and fair-skinned. Standing before him, she spoke softly, “Greetings, Mr. Ren? I am a Yellow-rank Vigil Keeper of Vermillion Bird City. I will escort you to Moon-Gazing Pavilion. The person you are meeting is already there.”

Ren Daguo snapped out of his daze and nodded slightly. “Alright.”

The two stepped forward and entered Vermillion Bird City.

The ten-mile avenue stretched endlessly before them. The bustling night market above was adorned with countless floating sky lanterns, drifting in the wind like a swarm of fireflies—a breathtaking sight.

On either side of the street, ancient pavilions, inns, and shops lined the way, creating a lively and vibrant scene. Many Vigil Keepers, clad in yellow or blue robes, could be seen trading, conversing, exchanging missions, and sharing intelligence.

The marketplace of Vermillion Bird City was exclusively open to Vigil Keepers. Here, they could trade and exchange items freely, without any taxation. However, entry into the city required Vigil Keepers to wear their official attire—the blue and yellow robes.

Deeper within the city, certain restricted areas were strictly off-limits, as they served as operational hubs for various Vigil Keeper divisions, maintaining a high level of confidentiality.

The grand scene before him stirred something in Ren Daguo. It reminded him of the glorious Tang Dynasty, an era revered by all—a time of unparalleled splendor that commanded the respect of the world.

Thirty-three thousand miles of Chang’an, five thousand years of China.

For any Chinese person, merely speaking of that era, that Chang’an, that dreamlike capital of the Tang Dynasty, would inevitably evoke an overwhelming sense of pride.

For it symbolized the profound heritage and enduring legacy of a great civilization.

And now, Vermillion Bird City¹ stood as a modern echo of the grandeur and prosperity of Chang’an at its height.

Ren Daguo walked along Vermillion Bird Street without much visible astonishment, his gaze simply brimming with curiosity as he observed everything around him.

After a long while, they arrived at the very heart of Vermillion Bird City.

Lifting his head, Ren Daguo beheld an imposing ancient tower standing tall above the city, like a lone crane among a flock of chickens—its sheer presence commanding attention.

Majestic and towering, it was almost impossible to see the top with the naked eye.

The Vigil Keeper young lady performed a traditional bow and gestured with a smile. “You may ascend the stairs—your visitor awaits at the top.”

“Is there an elevator?” Ren Daguo glanced at the towering Moon-Gazing Pavilion and asked honestly.

“…There isn’t.” The Vigil Keeper hesitated momentarily before shaking her head. “Everything here—the trees, the architecture, every detail—belongs to the Tang Dynasty, to Chang’an and Vermillion Bird.”

“Thank you.”

Ren Daguo politely expressed his gratitude before stepping alone into Moon-Gazing Pavilion.

“Wait a moment,” the Vigil Keeper called out.

Ren Daguo turned back to look at her.

“You are the first person in five years to be granted permission to reach the top.” She smiled faintly, then gracefully took her leave.

Climbing stairs—climbing a mountain, essentially—was absolute torment for an aging and frail web novelist.

Ren Daguo climbed at intervals, stopping often. It took him a full one and a half hours before he finally reached the top floor of Moon-Gazing Pavilion.

The moment he stepped onto the rooftop, the night breeze swept against his face. Gazing downward… the splendor of ancient Chang’an, the magnificence of modern Vermillion Bird lay fully before his eyes.

Above the ancient city, countless sky lanterns soared like a dragon weaving through time, traversing five thousand years to illuminate the present-day mountains and rivers.

A surge of cultural belonging and pride flooded Ren Daguo’s heart.

With the cold wind against his face, he stepped into the pavilion. Raising his head, he saw a calligraphy scroll hanging in the chamber. The brushstrokes were wild and chaotic, yet exuded an unparalleled dominance.

The words on the scroll read:

“A life devoted to the nation ushers in a flourishing age;
Across ten thousand miles, the Vermilion Bird illuminates the moon’s radiance.”

Beneath the calligraphy, a middle-aged man in a scarlet robe lay half-reclined on a cushion, his back thin and lean. His robe bore the embroidery of a soaring Vermillion Bird.

He gazed at the moon beyond the pavilion, the stars flowing in the night sky. Without any sense of formality, he casually invited, “Sit.”

As Ren Daguo approached, he noticed a Go board on the small table beside the man.

As a web novelist, he had a little knowledge of everything, but mastery of nothing.

Curious, he glanced at the board and instinctively picked up a white stone, placing it onto the board with a crisp pa! sound.

After a brief pause, Ren Daguo lowered himself to sit on the opposite side of the tea table, lifting his gaze once more to the mountains, moon, and drifting stars beyond the pavilion.

The two of them sat in silence, sharing the view, embracing the night wind.

After a long while, the man in the scarlet robe softly asked:

“How much time do you have left?”

“…Not long.”