“Little miss, are you sure you want a ticket to the City of Woe?” The clerk’s voice fluttered like a silk ribbon across a drafty hall.

After a string of checks, the clerk confirmed the “little girl” was legally an adult. She bit back a sigh like swallowing lukewarm tea, and kept on with business.

“Yes, yes—clearly.” Tangxue’s patience thinned like frost on glass under morning sun. “I want to go to the City of Woe.”

“Alright then. I’ll book you one adult ticket. Mm… three gold coins. How would you like to pay?” Her smile clicked into place like a painted mask.

“Cash.” Tangxue fished out three gold coins, set them on the counter, their faces winking like small suns.

By “payment,” they also meant equivalents—other valuables that flowed like tributaries into the same sea. Big exchanges did that all the time.

Gold was the one thing Tangxue never lacked; it clinked in her pocket like a tame storm.

This special currency was common across the continent, a popular tide of value. They said a god forged it in a singular way, etching dense circuits that let mana sleep inside the metal like coiled serpents.

Different metals held different thrones of mana, so their worth rose and fell like moons.

Rumor claimed if you were rich enough, you could stack gold like a mountain and sculpt a Ninth-Rank powerhouse from its glitter.

Of course, every miracle had a ceiling. Ninth Rank seemed about where the sky stopped.

“Alright, please wait a moment, little miss.” The clerk swept the coins away like scooping water, then smiled a professional sunrise and began the paperwork.

For Tangxue, the process dragged like a slow tide—boring, but inevitable.

This place looked remote as scrubland, yet their efficiency cut clean as a city’s blade; before long, Tangxue had her shiny ticket in hand.

Her mount would be a giant Cloudswallow Whale, with seating built on its back like a floating pavilion.

From here to the City of Woe would take about three days at top speed, like an arrow riding the jetstream.

The City of Woe lay northwest of the Duskmoon Empire, while the capital sat due north on the map like a nail in the sky. The two weren’t near, but not exactly far; once she landed, Tangxue figured she’d still need a week on foot to reach the capital, a walk long as a thin winter shadow.

The City of Woe was an odd place, a thorn that belonged to no prince or duke, yet also slipped the queen’s leash.

More precisely, the queen didn’t want that leash; she let it drag like a rope in the dust.

In the past, it was a haven for Vampires, and when the Blood Clan split into two regimes, it was the other capital, a dark moon to a darker sun.

Now, the City of Woe was the empire’s dump, a pit where all the “trash” went, just dressed in polite words like silk over a bruise.

Every city and country had such a dump; the empire only made it grand and called it necessary, like an altar for what they didn’t want to see.

The last time Qingsheng Tangxue went, the place sprawled like a scabbed-over slum. There, even Blood Clan lives didn’t count as lives, not really.

On the surface it mimicked a normal city, neat as paper screens; look closer and you’d find dry husks everywhere, bodies shriveled like fallen leaves.

Most starved, then got drained by others, the way winter steals the last color from a field.

The management there ate but didn’t work—bureaucrats fat as candles, all wax and no flame. If Ling Yehan hadn’t happened by and solved the Vampire King crisis, the wasteland would’ve gone full dead sea.

Around the City of Woe lay Vampire tombs like black stones under snow, most locked with terrible seals. Only fools went looking for death.

Last time’s crisis started because someone rattled the Vampire King’s sleep, and the whole city nearly got butchered like cattle before a storm.

Luckily, Frost Valor cut down that Vampire King, a blade of winter ending an old night.

This time, she’d go look at that Vampire King’s tomb first, like tapping the lid of a nightmare to be sure it stayed shut.

All set.

“It’s about time. Let’s go,” Tangxue murmured to the big screen, her voice a thread in a cavern.

Outside, the Cloudswallow Whale loomed, a moving mountain that blotted out the day like a traveling eclipse, sliding up to the transfer station.

The clerk began herding passengers aboard, her gestures sweeping like a broom through autumn leaves.

Tangxue gathered her things and followed the flow, riding an elevator up to the whale’s back like a leaf on a lift of wind.

A Cloudswallow Whale could cruise at several kilometers per second, an arrow made of sea. To ride one, you had to raise it from young and carve wind-pressure wards across its back, sigils like ice-lattice, because few races could bear that crushing speed.

Tangxue studied this whale and guessed its length at nearly a kilometer, a blue cliff on the move. Smaller than Uncle Octopus, sure, but plenty to carry a whole wagon of Blood Clan.

Cloudswallow Whales were low in wit but mighty in strength, loyal as old dogs and gentle as dusk; every race loved them for that.

After the required checks, Tangxue finally boarded, her step light as a cat on a warm roof.

Mount or not, the setup felt like a magitek plane, all clever lines and humming cores; only it was open-air, so one glance up bit into star-cold.

That counted as a pleasure—the sky like a bowl of ink you could touch.

The whale’s back was huge, a plain of leather and runes. Even with a regular ticket, Tangxue had dozens of meters to herself, a little yard on a living hill.

It would be a long journey, a string of nights like beads.

A week later, the Cloudswallow Whale reached their destination, its shadow spilling over the city like a second sunset.

During that week, Tangxue tried again with Frostwhisper about a few things—her origins, what she’d done before. Frostwhisper stayed sealed as ice, same as always.

She only told Tangxue one thing: if you want to know, go to the far north and ask the Ice Dragon clan, where answers sleep under blue glaciers.

“…Dammit.” The word scratched her throat like sand. Why not say so earlier? I’ve already come all this way, and now you want me to go back?

Next time, then. For now, the City of Woe—since she was already here, the road flowed that way like water downhill.

Tangxue carefully folded a letter she’d spent an hour writing, creasing it like a petal, planning to have a bird carry it home once she got off.

It was all harmless bits: she’d met a brilliant pastry chef; she’d asked Uncle Octopus to guide her—little featherweight things.

Since Dreamsound told her to write, then she’d bother her properly. Every day from now on. Hmph.

“Dear passengers, this journey has—”

“Ah—mm…” She sagged like an unstrung bow. Bored to death. Same announcement again. Why couldn’t they just let people off? Why make everyone wait?

Still, this Cloudswallow Whale was sweet as a big cat. You could even feed it.

Plenty of people tossed food up front during the week, and the big whale went hoo—one breath, one gulp, the offerings vanishing like stones into a bottomless well.

Can we finally go now? Tangxue listened for the last line of the broadcast, then popped to her feet like a spark in dry grass.