"Rumble, rumble, rumble—!!!"
The deafening roar of the engines was like the bellow of ancient behemoths.
Layer upon layer of lush, ink-green mountains swept rapidly beneath them. The clouds were ripped into wisps of white floss by the violent airflow, winding around the Flying Ship's enormous, cold metal hull.
Li Xuanxiao stood alone with his hands behind his back atop the highest, foremost observation deck of the flagship Flying Ship.
The fierce astral wind whipped his black robes with snapping flaps, nearly sweeping him into the boundless green abyss below.
His deep gaze pierced the rolling sea of clouds, looking down upon the endless mountains below—tiny as ants, yet concealing limitless peril and vitality.
An aloof bearing of looking down upon heaven and earth, with all things held in his grasp, silently spread around him.
Behind him was a Flying Ship fleet vast enough to make one's heart tremble.
Three gigantic flagships, like moving mountains, cast shadows large enough to cover a small valley.
Twelve relatively nimble smaller Flying Ships patrolled the surrounding airspace vigilantly.
The people aboard the ships were no ordinary cultivators.
They were desperadoes, exiles, and "scum" hunted by the entire world, from the Nine Great Regions.
Their hands were stained with blood, their backs burdened by blood debts; or they had utterly lost any foothold in their homelands and had no choice but to risk everything by entering the Nine Great Forbidden Regions, where survival was a brush with death.
Of those who could crawl out alive from such places, which one was not ruthless and untamed?
To forcibly twist such a pack of vicious criminals, brimming with Killing Intent and distrustful of one another, into a single rope, stuff them into these steel cages, and drive them across an entire world toward the unknown Cangzhou—