The Celestial Kingdom

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The path was continuously joined by more people, growing increasingly crowded as the exit lay not far ahead. Yet, just a hundred meters away, tantalizingly close to escape, three or four ancient creatures had gathered. The evacuation route was blocked—clear proof that someone had resisted them. The crowd could no longer suppress their emotions; screams and roars erupted as weapons were raised and they charged forward. We were jostled repeatedly, struggling to keep our footing.

My father knew we couldn’t stay here any longer. He pushed through to the stairwell and headed up to the second floor. To our surprise, the second floor was eerily quiet—no monsters, no people. This was deeply unsettling.

“Dad,” I whispered fearfully, shrinking into his embrace, sensing something ominous. There was definitely something here.

The second floor was a square corridor looping around a central exhibition hall simulating ancient ecosystems. Behind massive glass panes lay hills, jungles, rivers, and lakes. My mother had spoken of this place before.

In areas where the Lord awakens, there are often vacant zones—not devoid of monsters, but home to even more ancient creatures. These vacancies were usually left by the vanguard, who would go out hunting, leaving the guards behind—stronger defenders.

Suddenly, the power flickered violently, plunging most of the corridor into darkness. In the gloom, the thunderous sounds of massive beasts colliding surged like a tide towards us.

Father spun around and fled. I turned my head, numbly watching as an orange, skeletal lizard-like ancient beast appeared—a troublesome mutant with no scientific name. It had a blue mane and a cracked horn, charging recklessly. Despite its bulky frame, it was incredibly fast.

On the other side, a glowing amphibious beast with a large mouth emerged—a mutant as well, identified by the luminescent slime on its body.

Surrounded, father halted and pressed against the wall behind him.

Fate seemed intent on not letting us go. Mother, here we come.

Tears fell, swept by unwillingness and fury.

“Clang!” A hole tore open in the ceiling above the corridor. A person slid down a rope, head bowed, their battle suit outlining tight muscles and an alluring silhouette.

I opened my eyes and saw that breathtaking face—just a teenager, perhaps.

There was a faint sadness in their eyes, stunningly beautiful.

The moment they raised their hand, a surge of lightning crackled forth, sweeping over the monsters. The brilliant light was blinding; even with my eyes closed, I couldn’t block it out. Father quickly covered my eyes.

The monsters poured in relentlessly, roaring defiantly as they vanished within the lightning.

When I opened my eyes again, my vision was blurry. The figure approached, soothing us, guiding us away. I nestled in father’s arms, staring into those melancholy eyes—amber in hue and strikingly clear.

Captain Zhu, have you come?

Yuan Jinxing’s consciousness began to flicker like fleeting scenes. She knew death was near. She thought there was little left to cherish in this world, yet in the end, she still couldn’t let go of you...

“I like programmers. They live in basements, moody, stuck in their routines...” The moody part reminded her of him, but he would silently encourage her on the training ground and take her feelings seriously.

“Meeting someone beautiful can truly steal your heart in an instant, making you feel like you’re no longer yourself.” Father, so this is what it feels like to have your heart taken...

The memories continued.

“La la la, didn’t expect this, huh? Everyone dies eventually, even someone as stunningly beautiful and friendless as me leaves secret last words. Today the research institute is arranging marriages by assignment—married couples are very close, huh... If they’re ugly, I’ll definitely refuse.” She sighed helplessly.

“I might as well bribe everyone with a signed photo and let me pick freely—give me a handsome husband.” Mother’s voice played in the empty hall.

No one was there. Ancient creatures’ corpses lay scattered in twos and threes.

Blood and severed limbs stained the ground. Broken exhibits lay across the floor. The dinosaur skeleton was mostly toppled, a few bones hanging precariously at the edges.

Suddenly, gunfire echoed down the corridor. Bullets sparked off metal as a two-headed dragon dashed around the corner. Unable to dodge, several shots pierced both heads. It collapsed, sliding down the wall to the floor. The battle was over.

Bullets were more effective against low-level ancient beasts.

After confirming the kill, the guard squad continued their hunt.

Reinforcements arrived.

“You actually look good without a beard; just don’t talk much, I thought you’d be hard to get along with,” we said, lying on the lawn opposite the museum, gazing at its ruined state.

“Actually, it’s not hard to get along with me... um... I love you,” she said hurriedly, embarrassed.

The recording paused, this time the voice was hoarse.

“My dear baby, you were born.” Background sounds of a baby babbling.

“I’ll love you forever, my baby...” A loud “pop” sound.

“This is your aunt...”

“Hurry and greet your niece.”

“Oh, little niece, has your mother told you bad things about me?”

“Our baby never tattles.”

“Don’t speak ill of me, wah.”

Lan sounded pitiful.

“Oh, go away.”

“Stop talking bad about me!”

“You’re so annoying.”

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They joked briefly before the recording stopped.

Then voices came again.

“Sister, I will never forgive our parents’ favoritism, but I will forgive you. Sister, I no longer hate you.”

“Thank you for your companionship. I will love you forever.”

“...” Many words left unsaid among friends in the recording.

Father and I were already crying uncontrollably.

This was the heavy burden of the Wu Yu Incident.

“Yuan Jinxing!!!” Lan’s anguished cry went unanswered. She had barely retrieved her, only to find a cold corpse.

The Azure Dragon was entangled by bamboo, unable to come over. Frustrated, it shouted, “Everyone, get up!”

Suddenly, the palace trembled. Zhu took the chance and, with a single strike from the obsidian sword, severed the Azure Dragon’s head.

Indeed, this was no tomb fit for an ordinary Azure Dragon. What kind of zodiac beasts slumbered in this semi-divine relic?

“Lan, retreat!” Their strength was insufficient to fight.

“My niece, sob,” Lan was already sobbing uncontrollably.

“I couldn’t protect my family,” she gently stroked the fragments of hair on Yuan Jinxing’s face.

“I couldn’t protect them.”

Zhu knew they couldn’t stay and rushed forward, grabbing Yuan Jinxing.

“Come with me!” Below the palace came the roar of dragons; time was running out.

“Take her away... I have no face to go back,” Lan knelt, head bowed.

“This is not the time for stubbornness,” Zhu shook his head.

“If we let them awaken, how many will die?” Lan clutched her hands tightly.

During the Wu Yu Incident, while waiting for rescue, they could only quietly wait for death... How could she retreat?

She forced herself to calm down. The once cheerful and mischievous Captain Lan, who always lifted spirits with pranks, was now shattered inside.

“I’m useless. I mocked that useless guy who couldn’t protect his wife and always blamed others. But I, too, am a coward, a useless man,” Lan slowly stood.

“I will buy us time,” she said resolutely.

“Captain Lan,” Zhu frowned. He still needed to inform the departments; he couldn’t delay further.

Yuan Jinxing was taken away as the palace rapidly collapsed. When Zhu looked back, he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but a black dragon fell from the top of the palace, turning to dust before hitting the ground. The palace was reduced to ruins.

The underground palace trembled then stopped. No one knew what had happened on Lan’s side.

Reinforcements assembled quickly. Facing what was likely the main zodiac beast, everyone’s faces were grave.

“The city has been evacuated, the relic sealed off in layers,” Qing reported.

Captain Mei looked at the distribution map on the screen, chewing her lollipop and mumbling, “No matter how much we set up, if a few of us die, you better run.”

Mei was pessimistic, demanding disbandment.

“Why do these little ants fight so hard?” She yawned, sucking her lollipop.

“Captain Mei, we’re also part of the guard squad’s strength!” Deputy Captain Qing protested.

“You? Forget it.” Her eyes held disdain and pity.

“Captain Mei,” Zhu couldn’t stand it.

Mei glanced at him.

“I will end all of this myself,” she finally dropped the sarcasm.

“Seeing such a beauty like you makes me feel what I do has meaning,” she sneered playfully.

Zhu was accustomed to the teasing from men and women alike.

Captain Ju just woke groggily from her office chair.

“Captain Mei, watch your behavior,” she said grimly, ponytail high, eyes sharp.

“I know your secret.”

Mei tilted her head, eyes vacant.

“What, you want to die too?”

Ju smiled coldly, meeting her gaze.

Zhu was exhausted watching them.

“I’m leaving first.”

They both turned.

“No way.”

Without Lan, the command center was in chaos.

“Yuan Jinxing.” I stepped lightly on clouds, thinking maybe I had come to heaven—no death, no pain...

“Yuan Jinxing!” A familiar voice called.

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“I’m useless. I mocked that useless guy who couldn’t protect his wife and always blamed others. But I, too, am a coward, a useless man.” Was Aunt speaking? They say hearing is the last sense to fade at death.

Aunt, don’t be sad...

I drifted aimlessly among clouds. Where was heaven?

Among the clouds appeared many people, all heading the same way.

So I wasn’t alone...

“You’re awake.” The night watch child held a lamp, its light casting on her face.

She lay crawling on the ground in a twisted posture.

“?” Yuan Jinxing was puzzled.

“Looks like a feigned death,” he preliminarily judged.

Soon, an older girl arrived.

“Let’s go, I’ll help you to the medical room.”

Yuan Jinxing struggled with her body, limping as she followed the two.

Tests showed no problems.

“You’re limping but tests are normal? Nerve injury?” The doctor was puzzled.

“It’ll get better with rest.” Yuan Jinxing was unconcerned.

“How’s the relic exploration going? I can’t quite remember.”

“Sealed off. See those kids? They’re children of guard squad members, refusing to evacuate and staying to help. If you’re fine, leave quickly; you look useless here.” She injected glucose to help her recover faster.

“You’ve got tough skin; the injection was a bit hard. You’ve been training hard.”

She left; the two children went back to watch the night.

“We’re leaving.”

Only Yuan Jinxing remained in the room.

She had survived the ordeal.

After resting, she left the room.

This was the underground shelter, sparsely populated. Even this place was abandoned; the surface must have been evacuated mostly.

Yuan Jinxing suddenly noticed the recording card on her neck was missing. Who took it? She frowned but couldn’t recall her last words—her mind was blank.

She sighed resignedly, accepting life and death.

Leave the battlefield? Impossible. As a guard squad member, she would fight to the death.

She took the elevator to the surface, passing through the air shower. She expected blue skies and clouds outside, but when the door opened... the sky was dark, war raging, great dragons circling overhead, flames crackling across the wilderness.

Had the guards failed?

She stepped out, hiding cautiously behind a tree, face grave.

What had happened?

Suddenly, battles erupted in the sky. Yuan Jinxing anxiously watched.

It was Deputy Captain Qing’s team.

“Those guys broke through the blockade and are coming this way. If we let them escape, when they regroup, can we still guarantee civilian safety?” A doctor arrived with a child. They were preparing to evacuate; the shelter was designated the second battle zone, and they would head to Lan City.

“You should leave with us. The relic awakenings are increasing; one day we won’t be able to hold them off. Just think of it as a nightmare finally ending.”

They left, seemingly to warn her specifically to head this way.

A wave of sorrow surged through Yuan Jinxing as she worried about the future.

The battlefield was relocating, this shelter serving as a temporary command center. Convoys arrived one after another, from unfamiliar or forgotten units.

“Yuan Jinxing?” Chun Buhuan looked at her in surprise.

Yuan Jinxing stared at the unfamiliar face, silent.

“You’re still alive...”

“I haven’t been awake long; I can’t remember much,” Yuan Jinxing scratched her head, embarrassed.

“The battlefield is shifting here soon. Come in quickly; we can’t hold them off,” she tugged Yuan Jinxing’s sleeve, heading toward the shelter.

A distant dragon roar froze Yuan Jinxing.

“Hurry, everyone!” Chun Buhuan began helping transport equipment.

In the distance, lightning flashed within the clouds, gathering this way, cannon fire booming.

She was just a small squad leader, without the astonishing talent of her aunt—seemingly only a death sentence awaited her.

That roar—had she misheard? It seemed to be calling her...