Chapter Six: Common Knowledge of the Celestial City

The apartment building where Gongsun Ce lived was located in the Thorn District, part of the “Lower Body” of the Sky City. The district’s official name came from the dozens of gigantic white towers that rose from the ground, sharp-tipped wonders said to be the spines from the corpse of the great dragon that once lay here.

When the Empire decided to transform the dragon’s remains into a habitable city-state, the gray-blue hide and the hard scales of the beast were soon obscured by the colors of human construction. Now, within the city built upon the dragon’s body, almost no trace of the original creature remained. To seek out the former majesty of the great dragon, one could only turn to the preserved dragon’s head, the untouched, inexplicably left tail, and the few spines still visible in this district—remnants of a legend nearly erased.

Scholars who studied dragons might mourn this loss, but those with supernatural powers understood the authorities’ reasoning: who would want dragon relics—scales or claws—in their everyday surroundings? Especially in the northern Empire, where the memory of Ruoshui City, and the loss of nearly half its population ten years ago, lingered.

In the year 2000 of the Eternal Light Calendar, as the new century dawned and the festive air of New Year filled the streets, the dragon disaster—almost vanished from human memory—made its return. The Sky Dragon descended upon Ruoshui City; from its arrival to its death, two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty seconds passed, remembered as the Calamity of the Sky.

Before its appearance, the Empire possessed a historic city by the water, famed for tourism; after, all that remained was a dragon’s corpse, half a city in ruins, and a wasteland where, aside from water, nothing had survived. When the calamity first struck, many simple folk believed the world was ending: a monstrous fissure tore open the sky, and from it burst forth a colossal beast whose sheer size could destroy a city. Most witnesses could not comprehend the event, but the gray-blue darkness and thunderous roars of the dragon were enough to drive people to panic and shock from invisible pressure.

In hindsight, the dragon’s appearance in the air was a misfortune tinged with luck. Had it emerged in the city’s center, as it did three centuries ago in the destruction of Cosmo City, or from a volcano as in the devastation of the distant archipelago five hundred years ago, not even water would have remained.

Such were the terrors of dragons.

Among the people, they were called dragon disasters; in official papers, the phenomenon of dragons; some city-states in the Kingdom and the Union named them demon or evil dragons; the sects of Zero Island called them gods of calamity. But whatever the name, whatever the culture, the image of the dragon in humanity’s mind remained unchanged.

Dragons were disaster, nightmare, destruction—misfortune incarnate, the embodiment of natural catastrophe. In certain isolated villages of the Empire, even the word “dragon” was forbidden; to curse with “dragon” was to slap oneself in the face.

The attitude of the common folk toward dragons and their relics was clear enough. Gongsun Ce had never sought out news on the subject, but he suspected that the youth living atop the dragon’s corpse were hardly seen in a positive light by ordinary citizens.

Then again, those with supernatural powers were no strangers to discrimination. If given a choice, who would willingly leave home to serve time in the sky?

As a result, the students of Sky City felt a peculiar sense of kinship with the dead dragon. Judging by the district’s nickname, “Big Kidney Area,” perhaps the locals’ fear and taboo toward dragons was not as strong as elsewhere.

“Cold water or hot?” Gongsun Ce asked, holding two cups in the reception room of Apartment 7 on the seventh floor.

Miss Hunter sat on the sofa, curiously taking in the spacious single-occupant apartment. She half-opened her mouth in surprise: “I thought you’d at least ask if I wanted tea or coffee.”

“I really don’t know how to make those. If you want, I can order delivery.”

“No, thank you, just a glass of cold water… I was furious just now for no reason, and now you act like this. You’re really strange…”

Gongsun Ce placed the glass on the table. “I consider myself a good-natured student most of the time. But must the good be subjected to provocation? There’s no such rationale. Offense in words should be met with words; violence should be answered with violence. Moreover, your actions reminded me of extremely unpleasant memories, so I have plenty of reasons to be angry.”

“Alright, alright… It’s my fault, my fault…”

Alice leaned back on the sofa, her movement tinged with inexplicable exhaustion.

How odd.

Had someone drained her spirit—perhaps the earlier visitor from Kupupukastar?

The supernatural glanced down toward the apartment entrance.

A gray minivan was parked outside; two inconspicuous workers were stuffing the unconscious rooster-headed man into the trunk. Their actions were swift and efficient. In the blink of an eye, the oddball vanished from the building’s entrance, and even the bloody stains were vacuumed away by strange devices, leaving only a few cracked tiles as evidence that the earlier battle was not imagination but reality.

The minivan drove off. The young man knew it would not be long before all traces of the battle were erased, and nothing would remain to prove the encounter ever happened.

“Hey, hey, Gongsun—supernatural—how should I address you?”

“Just call me Gongsun Ce.”

“OK, Gongsun Ce. To be honest, I’m really curious—didn’t you find that little van surprising?”

“I was surprised, just not on the surface.”

Alice pursed her lips.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

The mature woman with blue hair held her cup in one hand, propped her cheek with the other, and pointed at the supernatural sitting on the small sofa. “You. Are. Lying.”

“I’m not panicking. I fought an alien at my doorstep, then met a strange female hunter—my comforting routine is already shattered. What’s left to panic about?”

“There’s a difference between anomalies. The number I gave you was the city’s official hotline!”

Before entering the apartment, Alice Adal had provided a random string of eight digits, claiming it was one of Sky City’s official emergency numbers, which proved true. After Gongsun Ce called and briefly explained the situation, the minivan arrived and dealt with the abnormality.

No officials visited; they simply cleaned up like janitors and left.

Alice continued: “Something so bizarre happens in your city, and the authorities handle it in such a strange way. Isn’t this more unsettling than the sudden appearance of weirdos?”

The most trustworthy authorities had acted in the most peculiar manner. As the hunter said, when common sense thins out, the unease only grows.

However…

Gongsun Ce pushed his glasses.

“Have you forgotten—this is Sky City, home to millions of supernaturals? Rampages, accidents from missed inhibitors, incidents caused by inhumane experiments—after a few years here, even children and elders encounter strange happenings. The secret to escaping these anomalies, the key to staying safe—do you know what it is?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.” Alice raised her eyebrows. “I admit it’s my first time here. What’s your so-called key?”

“Don’t pry. Trust the authorities.”

“Eh…”

In the doubtful “eh”, Gongsun Ce took a sip.

“If a neighbor goes berserk, you meet a monster, your house collapses, or you see a ghost on your way home—whether you encounter, defeat, or escape an anomaly, your first action should always be to report it. If the phone doesn’t work, go to the nearest police station, school, or any official facility. Only when all else fails should you turn to family or friends—that’s common knowledge here.”

He put down the cup and continued: “Sky City’s institutions are unjust, inhumane, opaque, and closed—but in this city, they are more trustworthy than anyone. If they clean up the mess without seeking you out, that’s a good thing—it means you’re no longer involved, and you can return to your everyday life.”

Alice rubbed her forehead, seemingly troubled.

“Wait, wait, are you sure this is common sense for locals? I’ve been here a few days, and most residents seem pretty normal.”

The young man stood, placing the glass back in the cabinet.

“I can only tell you that most people I know think this way. And your words sound odd—almost as if you’re implying I’m not normal.”

“Haha, even if you bribed the nine-grid template’s creator, you’d barely have a strand of hair in the lower-right corner for normalcy!”

Setting aside the normal nine-grid—

If there were a supernatural nine-grid, he believed he’d fit perfectly in the top-left, in both content and style.

Not boasting—he was an experienced supernatural, thorough in every aspect, and had reported the female hunter’s presence during the call as well.

The strangest person he’d met today was certainly this self-proclaimed hunter from the Kingdom.

A woman who journeyed from an island in the Union’s southwest, crossed the strait and the continent to battle at the border’s floating city—such a weirdo should have been invited for official tea, not left unchecked.

Yet the authorities had not come, instead allowing Alice to interact with him. What did that mean?

Naturally, the answer was clear in his mind, so he did not ask questions he already knew the answer to—he waited for Alice Adal to explain, and instead focused on the most peculiar word he’d heard.

Dragon worshipper.

“Please, explain things to one who’s utterly confused. First, why was the dragon worshipper so interested in my heart?”

“Because you’re a supernatural. The heart is your core, same as us changeless users. The rooster-head was desperate, hoping to devour your heart to replenish energy, heal his wounds, and escape.”

As expected, it was for healing.

His suspicion confirmed.

To the rooster-head, Sky City must seem a feast made of millions of loaves of bread.

To be beaten by one’s own prey—how ironic for a self-styled hunter.

“Next question. Are dragon worshippers literally people who pursue the dragon phenomenon?”

“Exactly—and you’re about to say, that’s impossible.”

“That’s impossible,” the supernatural said firmly. “Ten or twenty years ago, when dragons hadn’t appeared for ages, and the countries were so peaceful they considered civil war, such thrill-seeking lunatic cults could have formed. But now, with the corpse of the dragon that destroyed Ruoshui City beneath our feet, and Supebia’s ruin three years ago still being rebuilt, after witnessing the devastation firsthand, how could such brainless groups still exist?”

Alice was not annoyed by his rebuttal.

She merely curled her lips and shook her head.

“You’re mistaken, Gongsun Ce. The anomaly you encountered today was born from the Kingdom’s tragedy three years ago. How many survivors, after witnessing such horror, do you think are trapped in endless nightmares and despair?”

Her expression was not mocking, but rather the helpless smile of one who has seen the end of the pitiable.

“After experiencing pain, they began to revere the demon dragon as something noble, imagining it as a god from the far side of the world. Witnessing the dragon firsthand is enough to warp the soul.”

Clack.

She set down her glass with a soft sound.

“Humans have never been strong creatures.”

The supernatural fell silent.

He remembered the nightmares he had at noon, remembered the dragon he once encountered.

This time, he had no words to refute her.