The Rail-Car's whistle sliced through Wu'an City's tranquil night, long and clear, rippling through the buildings in layer upon layer of echoes.
Dozens of black steel carriages stretched into a winding iron dragon as they slowly pulled into the South City Rail-Car Station. The clattering grind of wheels against tracks gradually softened, finally settling into silence.
Milky-white vapor billowed from the locomotive's chimney, turning beneath the streetlamps into a hazy veil of gauze. It curled around the platform pillars before the cool night breeze gently swept it away, leaving only a faint scent of steam mingled with Wu'an City's distinctive fragrance of vegetation and everyday cooking smoke, suffusing the air.
Zhao Cheng wore a lightweight set of black casual clothes, without armor or weapon. The icy killing aura of the battlefield had faded from him as he was the first to step down from the Rail-Car.
His boot came down solidly upon the sturdy bluestone platform, its cool yet smooth touch spreading from the sole of his foot through all four limbs and every bone in his body.
It was unlike the harsh frozen earth of the northern battlefield or the dry grit of the grassland winds. It was Wu'an's own sense of solidity and peace—the familiar warmth of finally returning home after so long spent roaming and fighting.
He closed his eyes slightly and drew in a deep breath, taking that scent, laden with life and tranquility, deep into his lungs.
Compared with the biting cold and unceasing windblown sand of the north, he still preferred the air of Wu'an in the end.
It held both the vibrant pulse of the common streets and the quiet peace of a homeland, concealing everything he had built with his own hands.
When he raised his eyes, Wu'an City's nightscape stretched before