For the next two days, the whole fleet, Black Dragon Battleship included, lay moored on the glassy sea like a pod of silent whales, waiting without a ripple.
By day, Cerqin sketched the sparks in her mind into clean blueprints, ink flowing like river reeds; by night, she tangled and trained with Silver Luan and Aileaf under moon-silver waves.
Ideas for deep-sea work piled up like shells on a tide line, each one waiting to be lifted and tried.
Cerqin’s mana swelled toward its threshold like a brimming spring, and her body pushed against the Fifth Rank’s limit like a bow drawn to its last notch.
Which meant the leap to Sixth Rank sat within arm’s reach, like a step across a narrow stream.
She’d reached a conclusion that felt like dawn breaking: thanks to her Love God gift, her body could drink power beyond its current rank, like a desert taking rain, hence her dizzying pace.
So each night, she asked Silver Luan and Aileaf to let power seep outward like mist, while she absorbed it like warm sand pulling in the tide.
The three trained as one, a braided current; then Cerqin used the Love God’s healing to feed power back like spring sap, nudging their growth forward.
Even so, it was still feed-back, and Silver Luan and Aileaf stood like tall pines; the Seventh Rank dragon was a mountain, so her gain ran slower.
Yet Aileaf felt it almost like standing inside a magic-gathering array, a storm-funnel of mana; for Silver Luan, it beat silent, natural absorption like wind outrunning drift.
In the weave of those currents, the breakthrough felt ready to pour, like water finding its own fall.
Deep-night play arrived on schedule like the moon cresting clouds; Cerqin panted, hauling her scattered thoughts back into their shell like frightened birds returning to roost, while Silver Luan and Aileaf pressed in like waves.
After losing again and again like sand castles to the surf, Cerqin’s core shuddered; her mana spilled outward like poured light and wrapped her body like silk.
Silver Luan and Aileaf stilled, trading a glance like two stars, and let the moment breathe.
The euphoria of advancing streamed through limbs and bones like sweet wine, head to heel.
Cerqin shook; the pink glow ebbed like dawn paling, and her mind snapped back into place like a kite reeling to a hand.
“Breaking through now of all times…” she muttered, the words falling like rain, then she scooted back a few inches, hugged a small quilt like a talisman, and watched them like a wary cat.
“This works too,” Silver Luan said, mouth tilted like a bent reed, jealousy glinting like frost.
Cerqin advanced like lightning, a sight to envy; Aileaf’s face stayed placid as a pond, but her hands betrayed her like fish ripples.
“Hold on—can I rest first, let my body settle?” Cerqin’s heart beat like a drum, and she inched forward like a crab looking for an escape.
She crawled a few steps like a lizard on warm stone, but Silver Luan’s dragon tail looped her ankle like a vine; a Sixth Rank frame couldn’t resist that pull.
The distance she’d gained snapped back like a tide, leaving her close and caught.
Cerqin tried to beg, but her mouth wouldn’t open, and Aileaf’s voice brushed her ear like a moth’s wing.
“The restraint works strong on a Sixth Rank—so, let’s start with one,” Aileaf whispered, words like a devil’s flute, sweet and cold.
A numbing surge draped over Cerqin like rain-soaked silk, and under the Curse Deity’s hold her voice failed like a candle pinched.
Her mouth twitched, then she melted down like wax in warm light.
Three days blurred past like gulls skimming the foam; the blueprints were sorted like stacked timbers, and in between, Cerqin sent Silver Luan down often to fetch higher-tier ores and sea crystals like pearls.
She was ready to run experiments, matching each sketch to steel like lock to key.
One original goal of this venture, and the largest, was the sea crystal vein, a glittering river under stone.
With sea crystals, city-to-city comms could be refined like polished bronze, and the stuck core of magi-tech transport could crack like ice in spring.
After studying the Black Dragon Battleship’s designs, she built mana-storage arrays and a door system like ribs and hinges, and fresh ideas flickered like fireflies.
In a lab carved on the battleship like a cave of light, Cerqin assembled components one by one, hands quick as swallows, when the door slid open with a whisper like wind.
“Aileaf? Daylight—what brings you?” Cerqin turned slightly, curiosity rising like steam.
These two days, Aileaf was improving deep-water breathing draughts, nesting in an empty cabin like a sparrow returning to study.
Back in research rhythm, she was a night star; daytime, she rarely showed like a hidden moon.
“Silver Luan—she’s not here helping?” Aileaf stood at the threshold like a reed, eyes scanning like lantern beams.
“Silver Luan’s out collecting,” Cerqin said, voice smooth as oil.
“Collecting? What new trick now?” Aileaf’s tone lifted like a breeze.
“Nothing wild,” Cerqin raised the materials like fruit.
“It’s comms. Right now the fleet talks by tower knights waving flags like gulls—an ancient way.”
“So I wondered, with ships this close, why lean on something so old; Qianli said it’s hardest for mana to jam, like stone against flood.”
Which means the city-core linked comms won’t fly here, not in sea battles where mana churns like a storm.
So Cerqin chose to test higher-rank forms, swapping fixed-point constructs for a positive–negative energy frame braided with mind-force, like twined cords for a clearer line.
Aileaf listened, then sighed like wind through pine. “Weren’t you building deep-water ships and mining suits?”
“That’s why we need ship-to-ship comms,” Cerqin shrugged like a wave roll. “Keep platforms tied like nets, and let miners in gear link to the deep-water battleship like buoys.”
“By the way, why are you looking for Silver Luan?” Her question drifted like smoke.
“Nothing big—just pulling a bit more blood,” Aileaf said lightly, words landing like seeds.
“Still drawing blood…” Cerqin laughed and winced like a chime, knowing Silver Luan carried the Dragon Deity; her blood was a catalyst like liquid fire.
For an alchemist, it was honey too sweet to refuse, a lure like moonlight on wine.
At Seventh Rank, the bloodline awakening and Dragon Deity’s life-breath made recovery surge like sap; if she wished, she could produce plenty like rain.
“But we can’t lean on that forever, right?” Cerqin’s warning floated like a paper lantern.
“I know,” Aileaf spread her hands like open petals. “High-grade brews like these won’t reach shelves; they’re for our own use or a careful stash, like bottles in a cellar.”
Even if blood renews fast like a spring, such harsh conditions and rare recipes won’t scale, not for the crowd, like orchids that bloom for few.
