Chapter Ten: The Dragon-Slaying Seminar

5:43 AM, on the edge of the Dingyi District in the City of the Firmament, at the Gray Feather Station.

“Coo, coo.”

Signs marked with a gray feather motif stood at the four corners of the rooftop, spinning lazily in the wind.

A giant pigeon grasped a long gray pipe with its claws, alighting on the top floor of the building.

Gongsun Ce and Alice jumped down from the bird’s back.

“Has the Devotee moved?”

“The signal indicates he’s still in the area we locked onto. Either he’s convinced he’s lost us and is resting, or he’s found the transmitter and is about to set a trap. I hope it’s the former.”

“Are you sure this transmitter you attached nearly half an hour ago isn’t faulty?”

“I’m certain he ducked into the sewers or underground—Dragon’s Belly, whatever you call it, anyway, he hid somewhere below us, otherwise the signal wouldn’t have vanished!”

“Did you buy this transmitter as a bargain from the midnight supermarket?”

The Kingdom’s hunter didn’t even deny it was cheap.

“Did you expect me to think I’d be tracking a mad dragon in the City of the Firmament when I bought it? I’m telling you, I’m already a very modern hunter. Some colleagues still rely on scent tracking or divination—methods that barely work in a city full of interference, no better than randomly asking people with your eyes closed.”

“Maybe you should talk less, Miss Alice. The reputation of Impermanence Magicians is sinking lower and lower in my mind, and it’s all your fault.”

While they spoke, the two had already exited the building, facing a bustling street.

Just as Gongsun Ce had said earlier, they’d perfectly caught the evening rush hour: the streets of the City of the Firmament were so packed, the phrase “not a drop of water could trickle through” barely sufficed. Whether it was a sports car prototype from a university, cargo mechs from construction sites, school buses ferrying students, or luxurious carriages drawn by bioengineered horses, all were stalled, forced to move forward less than half a meter during each cycle of the traffic lights.

Though she couldn’t see inside the cars, Alice could almost hear the impatient tapping of fingers on steering wheels. Not far off, a luxury car and a carriage had scraped against each other—a young driver’s angry curses, the horses’ shrill whinnies, and a cacophony of horns melded with Alice’s imagined sounds of fists pounding, composing a contemporary symphony called “Traffic Jam.”

What they saw was merely a relatively remote side road; the main arteries connecting the central district to other areas were likely even more congested.

Not everyone could afford the expensive rentals in the core district, nor did all have the confidence to ride those absurd birds or bird-cars without mishap. The most reliable and reasonable means of transport remained the car—or bicycle.

As for those superhumans sprinting down the street or simply taking flight, that was another matter. No doubt, within a day, their schools would summon them for a serious talk. The outcome, as always, depended on the individual.

Gongsun Ce enlarged the map on his phone, mentally charting their route.

“That should be the unloading docks. A clever place to hide. Let’s cross the overpass ahead, then walk for about seven minutes and we’ll be there.” He noticed his companion’s exasperated look. “What’s with that face? Doesn’t the Kingdom get gridlocked after work?”

Alice rolled her eyes. “It does, but at least we can squeeze into the subway with everyone else. This so-called high-tech city doesn’t even have a subway?”

“A good question. I discussed it with friends recently. Given the city-wide underground energy pipelines, even if a dragon’s corpse lies beneath our feet, the authorities clearly have the ability to build underground. So why, after all this time, is there not even a subway plan? After half an hour of debate, we concluded the great Emperor and the leaders of the other nations must have decided, after observing so long, that pouring more money into this mess is pointless, so they gave up.”

“Don’t talk as if this place belongs to your Empire. Both in name and in actual management, it’s governed jointly by three nations.”

“I am an Imperial citizen. From what I’ve seen, the Empire’s influence here is greater than the United States or the Kingdom.”

“That’s just your personal bias…”

They walked along the overpass, flanked by dynamic screens broadcasting the evening news: a batch of precious relics from the Lishan No. 1 site, discovered last month in Kongtong Province, was unearthed today; experts say these could provide a breakthrough for early Imperial history research. The wanted criminal Shiyu Zero from Zero Island remains at large—officials warn he is extremely dangerous and likely a superhuman, urging the public to provide information. The Central United University’s Cecil Laboratory in the City of the Firmament announced promising results in cyberspace experiments; universal digital immortality is no longer mere fantasy, though the Imperial Ministry of Rites called it nonsense… After the news brief came a local idol, Xingli, promoting her new CD.

Gongsun Ce walked briskly, his mouth running nonstop—now launching into a sweeping critique of officialdom in the City of the Firmament, frequently citing the biting remarks of his friend Cardesia.

Alice had no interest in these topics, and hurriedly found an excuse to cut off his tirade. “Setting all that aside, did you remember everything I told you?”

The superhuman closed his mouth; the hunter knew the student’s grandstanding was finally over.

“You didn’t say much, so I remember it clearly.” They descended the escalator, the dock area marked by the signal almost in sight. “From your description, this enemy seems rather tricky…”

Alice noticed he used the term “performance” rather than “ability”—showing caution and a refusal to judge based on scant information.

Given his earlier conduct in battle, this was not the quality of a student who only dabbled in superpowers with classmates. Was the city darker than she’d imagined, or was his experience richer than she’d guessed?

Perhaps both.

Considering the man was likely one of the Kingdom’s collapse survivors, she arrived at this conclusion.

Meanwhile, Gongsun Ce recalled the explanation he’d heard minutes ago atop the pigeon.

Pressed for time, the hunter hadn’t given details. She had carefully explained only two things: the enemy they would soon face, and the Impermanence Magic she used.

The young man replayed the Kingdom woman’s accented Imperial language in his mind.

“Impermanence Magic is a spell that uses the power of the mind to affect reality. As for its origins and purpose, you know its other name—Impermanence Magic is also known as Dragon-Slaying Art.”

As the blue-haired woman told it, this incredible magic was created by humanity’s first dragon-slaying hero, none other than the Emperor Lingyang of the Eternal Light Empire.

“You must have read those legendary tales as a child, right? As an Imperial, you know the legend of Emperor Lingyang better than I do—the saints who slew dragons, the warriors bathed in dragon’s blood, the martial lords who cut down dragons… All true, save for some artistic exaggerations. The heroes of mythic history were the strongest Impermanence Magicians of their era.”

If her words were taken at face value, the long-standing puzzle of “how did humanity establish civilization without being wiped out by the dragons?” was answered: it was the miracles wrought by the dragon-slaying heroes who protected their lands.

As a modern, sensible young man, Gongsun Ce had asked, “Why would anyone hide this?”

“How many people do you think are suited—I said suited, not able—to practice Impermanence Magic? Out of billions worldwide, only a few million superhumans have emerged in the past decade; those suited to learn Impermanence Magic are far fewer. You saw what an evil magician looks like—the chicken-crested idiot who could barely speak. Believe me, putting this in the open is a terrible idea. I’ll tell you more about the history of Impermanence Magic later. For now, just remember the key intel…”

The art of slaying evil dragons was divided into five realms and seven aspects.

The five realms were the stages an Impermanence Magician passed through, from novice to pinnacle: Spirit Illumination, Clarity, Divine Communion, Manifestation, and Creation.

“Why use terms from shallow to deep? Because practicing Impermanence Magic is also mastery of one’s own mind,” Miss Alice had said.

The seven aspects were the mindsets most suited to channeling psychic power, defined over ages of study: Silence, Void, Spirit, Brahman, Wilderness, Calamity, and Wonder.

According to Alice, most Impermanence Magicians specialized in the aspect best suited to themselves, while their knowledge of others was limited to some simple, handy tricks. The aspect they delved into most deeply became their calling card.

By the five realms and seven aspects, Alice Hunter was a Divine Communion Magician of the Brahman aspect—a reliable mainstay in the profession. If she could advance to Manifestation, she’d be a major figure. As for the final Creation realm—

“Do I look like someone who could access that kind of information? If we ever face a Creation realm enemy, we’re doomed. Knowing that is enough, for both of us.”

Gongsun Ce summarized the intel in seconds.

With just a few dozen meters to the dock, he could already discern the outlines of massive cranes.

He seized the moment to ask, “As you said, Brahman aspect magicians usually excel at manipulating space, though some can control time. Wilderness aspect magicians tend toward straightforward bodily enhancements. That flying serpent—could it have been part of a Kupu Starling’s tongue?”

Alice was dumbfounded. “You spent all this time, and that’s what you’re worried about?!”

“I’m rather fond of cleanliness… Get ready, we’ve arrived.”

They paused before the dock’s security gate.

Looking up, several cranes weighing thousands of tons bathed quietly in the light, their red paint blending seamlessly with the setting sun. Beneath them, containers of varying colors looked like children’s building blocks—the contrast so vivid one almost forgot their true scale.

They were about to begin as planned—when Alice’s startled cry halted the young man in his tracks.

“Gongsun Ce, wait! The signal’s coming our way!”

A trap, it seemed.

The superhuman readied himself for battle, but then frowned.

Not only was the man walking from the dock fiddling with a tiny black device, but his appearance was entirely unlike Alice’s description.

“Well, well! You two came all this way—what a hassle. Too bad you’re a bit late…”

The man tossed the object; the miniature transmitter caught the sunset as it sailed through the air.

He gave them a cheerful smile.

“This is no longer your concern, Miss Hunter.”