Ling Xuan could almost see the scenes playing out in his mind: the accusing eyes, the fearful whispers, the loneliness that must have weighed heavily on the old man's shoulders. The ship creaked and groaned as it sailed through the darkening waters.

"The civil populace, from that day on, recognized me as an omen of death and horror," the old man continued, his eyes reflecting the dim light. "My reputation was in shambles. People whispered behind my back, pointing and staring. I became a pariah, shunned and feared by those who once sought my services."

Ling Xuan nodded, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the old man.The wind picked up, rustling their robes and carrying the scent of the sea. The ship sailed smoothly through the night.

"I had to live on the streets for months on end, only able to feed myself through the charity of a few kind souls," the old man said, his voice trembling slightly. "It was a harsh existence, one that stripped me of my dignity and hope. But in the end, I found a place among the beggars, joining their sect and working to collect information. It was a far cry from the life I once knew, but it gave me a purpose, a reason to keep going."

Ling Xuan nodded, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the old man. He knew what it was like

"And now," the old man said, a hint of hope in his voice, "using the funds I've saved over the years, I've arrived on this ship. I'm seeking a new beginning, a fresh start in the Shambala Archipelago."

Neither of them spoke for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

“A war is brewing, a war that’ll ensnare all of The World,” Ling Xuan said, his voice heavy with the weight of foreboding.

“I know,” the old man replied, his tone equally somber. “The strings of almost everyone I’ve met all share the same fate of death in the approaching months. Not even escaping to Shambala would be a complete solution.”

Ling Xuan sighed deeply. “I know, but I am not escaping.”

The old man turned to face Ling Xuan, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Hmm? Then what?”

Ling Xuan’s gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the endless expanse of the Sea lay, an ominous void from which no life had ever originated. The waves crashed against the shore with a relentless rhythm, as if echoing the inevitable march of fate. “Time,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The old man furrowed his brow in confusion. “Time?”

“I am going to Shambala for time,” Ling Xuan clarified, his eyes reflecting a steely determination.

Realisation dawned on the old man, his eyes widening slightly. A slow, knowing smile spread across his weathered face, and he let out a hearty laugh that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. “Hahaha, good,” he said, his laughter echoing in the stillness. With a final chuckle, he began to walk away, the weight of his years evident in his gait.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Ling Xuan watched him go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. “You know,” the old man called over his shoulder, “your fate is quite strange.”

Ling Xuan raised an eyebrow. “Strange? Like that man?”

The old man shook his head slowly. “No, your fate it’s… incredibly constant.” The words hung in the air, laden with mystery and unspoken implications. With that, the old man continued on his path, leaving Ling Xuan alone with his thoughts.

Ling Xuan watched as the old man walked away, his figure slowly fading into the distance. The weight of their conversation lingered in the air, heavy and ominous. Ling Xuan turned back to the Sea, its vast expanse reflecting the turmoil within his mind. The waves crashed against the ship’s hull with a relentless rhythm, mirroring the pounding of his heart.

He took a deep breath, the salty air filling his lungs, and let the sounds of the ocean wash over him.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Ling Xuan tore his gaze away from the Sea and turned to continue his journey through the rest of the ship. The vessel was a sprawling labyrinth of wooden decks and creaking timbers, bustling with activity as sailors went about their duties. The scent of saltwater mixed with the faint aroma of cooking food from the galley, creating a sense of normalcy amidst the underlying tension.

As he walked, Ling Xuan’s eyes scanned his surroundings. The crew, hardened by countless voyages, moved with practised efficiency. Their faces were etched with determination, but also with the unspoken fear of the unknown. Who knew if enemy ships attacked?

There was not much for Ling Xuan to do.The ship only allowed him two places, his own cabin and the deck.

With nothing more to occupy his time, Ling Xuan finally decided to reenter his cabin. The ambient light from the deck spilled into the room, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with the movement of the ship. He approached the central console, a sophisticated piece of technology with a holographic interface. He activated it with a practiced motion, his fingers moving with purpose.

“Urizen, I’m ready. Do it,” Ling Xuan commanded, his voice steady and commanding.

“Initiating Perception Warp,Deploying Informational Program.”

The vibrant colours of the cabin seemed to bleed into one another, and the once crisp sounds of the ship’s operations took on a muffled, otherworldly quality. His perception began to warp, plunging him into a state where time and space seemed to converge and diverge in a surreal dance.

Moments later, the warp sequence concluded. Ling Xuan’s senses slowly returned to their usual clarity, and he felt the familiar solidity of the ship beneath his feet. As he opened his eyes again, the view before him had changed dramatically.

“It seems like the destination has arrived,” Ling Xuan mused to himself. The ship had come to a complete stop to the point it wasn’t even swaying.

He swiftly exited his cabin, stepping onto the deck with a sense of eager anticipation. The sun hung high in the sky, its rays cascading down in brilliant beams that danced across the surface of the water. The deck was alive with the sounds of seagulls, their calls echoing in the crisp sea air.

He had arrived at Shambala.

"So you're finally out, eh?" A hoarse voice greeted him from the shadows.

It was the old man again, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Yeah, which island have we arrived at anyways?" he asked, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The old man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo through the air. "Haha, we are in the territory of the nearest island to the Continent! Jialin Pinjia Zhi Yin!"