"Take this," Meihua said handing him a golden mask. "Your apperance has already changed and might some more. It has become more demonic, if you ever make it out of this realm, you can't let other cultivators ever see your face."
Ji Yong took it.
Could one even make it out? The way she said it made him believe there was.
The mask gleamed, angular details around the eyes and a small garnet stone falling down like a tear. He put it on feeling the oozing with energy, shifting, to fit better around his skin.
"Why?" he managed to ask, his voice a little steadier. "Why can't other cultivators see my face?"
Meihua looked guilty.
"Lian took after his father's clan's traits, while they're not strong in you, anyone will assume whose blood runs in your veins. Beside, the mask is special. I have tweaked it a bit with alchemy so that whoever wears it can conceal their apperance, changing it to their whim. Just imagine how you wish to look like and the mask will make it possible, though it's just an illusion, it doesn't work on other senses beside sight."
Ji Yong put it on.
Long black hair, dirt-brown eyes, a lighter skin tone, a little bit taller, and perfect. He did not stand out anymore.
"I'm truly sorry."
Meihua bowed slightly again and left.
Ji Yong spent the next few days working tirelessly alongside the survivors.
The air was thick with dust of crumbling stones and the creature's residue, but beneath it all another scent began to emerge, one unfamiliar to him... The scent of fresh-cut wood, the sweet aroma of cooking fires, the warmth of people caring and helping one-another.
He found himself gravitating towards any task people gave him. He hoisted beams, cleared rubble, helped rebuild. Every word of graditude only served as an encouragement.
In the Forbidden City that was a rarity. Even eunuchs betrayed their masters for a few coins. You were expected things within your role, and Heaven forbid you went beyond and above it. It'd always come to bite you in the behinds.
The people around him were different, they held sorrowful gazes, the attack had shaken them, but beneath that there was also determination.
They shared what little they had- scraps of salvaged cloths, any left over foods, words of encouragement.
One afternoon, as he struggled to pry a particularly stubborn slab of rock, a calloused hand offered him a thick slice of freshly baked bread.
It was still warm, he bit onto it, and though there was nothing else to accompay it, it felt as if it were the most delicious thing in the world.
He nodded in gratitude, too overwhelmed to speak. Later, that day, a woman came to him, she was beautiful, black straight hair and violet eyes, which wouldn't meet his.
She pressed a cup of water in his hands before running off to a few more girls that giggled as they all ran off.
"Thank you, sir," a tiny voice piped up one evening, as he knelt to secure a loose plank on a partially rebuilt wall. A little girl, no older than five, stood beside him, her eyes wide. "You saved me."
Her words, so simple and sincere, hit him with the force of a physical blow.
He had been so consumed by his own turmoil, his own identity crisis, that he hadn't fully grasped the impact of his actions. He was not merely a prince, a discarded soul, or a lost being sailing wherever life took him.
He had a place. Here, amongst these people that had embraced him.
He reached out, almost unconsciously, and gently ruffled her hair. The touch felt natural, unforced.
He vowed to protect her, to protect them. But, that was not enough.
This hellish hole didn't just hold criminals, in fact the majority of people were survivors before the realm had gotten corrupted and overwhelmed by the negative qi in it. Rest were unfortunate souls thrown down, punished even if they had not comitted vile things but angered someone powerful. They did not deserve to be stuck here.
'If you ever make it out of this realm.'
Ji Yong stood at the edge of the settlement as dusk settled over the broken land, the sky bruised purple and orange.
The mask rested cool against his skin, but inside, his mind churned like a storm.
There could be a way out.
He searched for Meihua and found her in the dome's alchemy chamber. She sat cross-legged on a stone slab, her fingers deftly weaving threads of qi into a palm-sized disc of polished obsidian.
Tiny runes flared to life beneath her touch, spiraling inward like a galaxy collapsing. Around her, shelves lined with vials, dried roots, and half-finished contraptions shimmered with latent power.
She didn't look up as he entered.
Ji Yong kept silent.
After a while she paused, looked at him with a knowing look and said, "You have come to ask about a way out, right?
Ji Yong hesitated, then nodded. "You knew I would."
"I hoped you would."
He stepped closer. "Tell me about the way out."
Meihua exhaled slowly. "There are portals. Not natural ones—those collapsed centuries ago when the realm fractured. These are man-made. Crafted by the old alliance of the Nine Sects and the Imperial Astral Guard before the Cataclysm sealed this place shut. They're hidden in the outer ruins, guarded by constructs and corrupted beasts. To open one, you need a token, but that is keyed to the bloodline or oath of a chosen sect."
"And you know where they are?"
"I know where they were," she corrected gently. "The dome—the central settlement—sends scouts beyond the inner ruins. They map the shifting terrain, track the movements of the Obsecurities, and search for relics of the old world. Sometimes… they find fragments of the old network and the new one that was build afterwards. On few ocassions, they stumble upon cultivators from other realms possessing such token."
Ji Yong's pulse quickened. "And the scouts—can I join them?"
Meihua studied him for a long moment. "You're strong. Stronger than most here. But the outer wastes… they don't just test your body. They test your mind. The negative qi out there doesn't just corrupt flesh—it whispers. It shows you your regrets, your fears, your deepest shames. Many who go out don't come back the same. Some don't come back at all."
"I've already lost everything," Ji Yong said quietly. "I don't want to lose this too, if I can find a way out, I can help others as well."
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she picked up the obsidian disc and pressed it into his palm. It warmed instantly, the runes glowing faintly blue. "Keep this always with yourself, that way I can somewhat help even from distance."
He closed his fingers around it. "Thank you."
Meihua stood, brushing dust from her robes. "Don't thank me yet. The scouts leave at dawn. Meet them at the eastern gate. And Ji Yong…" She paused, her voice dropping. "Wear the mask."
He nodded, throat tight.
That night, he didn't sleep. He walked the half-rebuilt lanes of the settlement, listening to the soft murmur of voices, the crackle of communal fires. He saw the little girl again- curled beside her mother beneath a patched awning, her small hand clutching a carved wooden bird. She looked up and smiled at him, sleepy-eyed.
He touched the mask, feeling its subtle hum against his skin.
At dawn, he stood at the eastern gate—a breach in the shattered stone wall reinforced with salvaged iron and woven spirit-vines. Three figures waited there: a broad-shouldered man with a scarred face and a bow slung across his back, a wiry woman with eyes like flint and daggers strapped to her thighs, and a youth barely older than Ji Yong, his hands stained with ink and ash, clutching a scroll-case.
The scarred man nodded at him. "You're the one Meihua sent?"
Ji Yong inclined his head. "Ji Yong."
"No names," the woman said sharply. "Out here, code names are all we keep."
"Then just Phoenix, if it isn't taken" he said.
The youth unrolled a section of his scroll—a map etched in glowing ink that shifted as he spoke. "We're heading northeast. There's a signal—faint, but consistent—coming from the Glass Wastes. Either way, we're going."
Ji Yong took a breath, the cool morning air sharp in his lungs. Behind him, the settlement slept, fragile and hopeful. Ahead, the wastes stretched endlessly, veiled in mist and memory.
And, they headed off.