The following days settled into a simple rhythm. Each day, they advanced a set distance, with Wang Qi standing guard outside the tent every night. Along the way, they encountered all manner of strange creatures—avoiding those clearly beyond their strength, and fiercely battling others they could handle.

Wang Qi’s body accumulated fresh scars.

The atmosphere within the group grew increasingly silent.

Their experience points rose steadily. The special abilities granted upon arriving in this world could be strengthened by defeating monsters, and so, they grew gradually stronger.

Until three days later.

A city finally appeared on the horizon, visible to the naked eye.

"Wang Qi, are you certain? I still can’t see anything," Zhang Yemiao frowned, jumping a few times but spotting nothing.

Wang Qi nodded firmly. "Yes. In half an hour, you’ll see its outline too. We’ll reach it by midday."

His absolute certainty…

Zhang Yemiao suddenly produced a small wooden bottle filled with an unknown liquid. "Both of you, come here."

Zou Moan and Li Pingtian obediently gathered beside their Dorm Leader. Under Wang Qi’s curious gaze, Zhang Yemiao began smearing the mixture onto their faces.

As she worked, the two girls visibly became less attractive. Their delicate features turned rough under the uneven powder, deliberately applied thicker in some spots, thinner in others. Zhang Yemiao then coated her own face.

But that wasn’t all.

Their transmigrated outfits—ultra-short skirts and stockings, suspiciously skimpy even by earth standards—posed another problem. Zhang Yemiao had spent days crafting gear from monster hides and shells.

"Wang Qi, turn around! Don’t look!"

Wang Qi, who’d planned to observe, had no choice but to face away. The rustle of clothing behind him stirred distracting thoughts. He forced himself to focus: *Just roommates changing. Nothing to get excited about.*

Sturdy beast-hide trousers, knee guards, and arm bracers replaced their revealing attire. The crude makeup obscured their lovely features, leaving only decently proportioned faces with well-defined features—unremarkable enough to pass unnoticed.

Only after finishing these preparations did Zhang Yemiao finally relax. *Now* they could safely enter the city. She’d spent days worrying about this moment, making preparations whose exact purpose she didn’t fully grasp—but doing *something* kept the feeling of uselessness at bay.

The group advanced slowly in Wang Qi’s direction, falling silent as the city’s silhouette sharpened in their vision. Each wore an expression of words left unspoken.

Then, for the first time, they encountered humans.

They avoided casual greetings, only stealing glances at passersby—a plan agreed upon long ago. Language posed no barrier; they understood and were understood. Whether their speech automatically transformed or this world simply shared earth’s tongue, it didn’t matter.

Clothing revealed status: armor and fine fabrics denoted rank, weapons were openly carried. *So this world allows arms within city limits…*

They also spotted non-humans—beings they might call demi-humans, or perhaps not human at all. Suppressing their shock, they followed the crowd onto the main road, approaching the city gates. One oddity nagged at them: they’d passed no villages, only this sprawling metropolis.

And there were no gate guards.

Unlike stories or films, no coins were demanded, no papers checked. Yet the moment they crossed the threshold, a shiver ran through them—a sense of being watched. This city clearly had its own defenses.

Entering human territory proved effortless.

Now what?

Gathering information, of course. They needed to understand this world’s governance, laws, structure, currency—everything. Frankly, they had no money at all.

Just then, Li Pingtian stiffened as if sensing something. She led the trio toward a distant spire.

A church.

Its sturdy grey stone and pure white accents mirrored Li Pingtian’s silver hair. The towering steeple seemed to pierce the heavens.

"This place… calls to me," Li Pingtian murmured, her gaze complex as it swept over her roommates.

They only smiled back. This might be their first parting. Li Pingtian felt the church’s summons—a message from her Divine Art Mastery. She had her own reasons to grow stronger.

The three accompanied her inside. Stained glass windows cast kaleidoscope light over orderly pews. At the altar stood a figure in priestly robes. The moment they entered, the robed figure turned toward them.

"I sense the will of the Highest Deity," came a woman’s voice, muffled by the wide-brimmed hat and heavy robes. Her eyes locked onto Li Pingtian like a treasure hunter spotting gold. "Answering the Highest Deity’s call, child?"

She approached, right hand outstretched. Mid-gesture, it transformed—pure white light bloomed from her palm. *Silver Hand*, Zhang Yemiao realized with a jolt. *She can forge something like that.*

Li Pingtian closed her eyes as the glowing hand touched her forehead. The crude makeup vanished instantly. Radiant white light erupted from within her, bathing her in unearthly holiness—like an angel made flesh.

Everything unfolded with eerie naturalness. Zhang Yemiao’s blood ran cold. *Were they truly placed here by some design? Some will?* This was a world where Deities walked.

Li Pingtian stayed at the church. No words were exchanged. The remaining three understood: staying with them would cripple her Divine Art. Unlike their skills, hers required faith—something they couldn’t provide. Only the Church could fuel her power.

Eavesdropping on pedestrians, they pieced together intel and arrived at the Mage Academy. Wang Qi and Zhang Yemiao lacked magical talent—perhaps a spark, but nothing like Zou Moan’s obvious gift. They’d both silently agreed: Zou Moan belonged here. She seemed lost in grief over Li Pingtian’s departure, unaware they planned to leave her too.

Separation wasn’t desire—it was necessity. Only apart could they grow strong enough. Wang Qi had no urgent reason to power up, but both he and Zhang Yemiao knew Zou Moan and Li Pingtian *had* to return home. Time might flow differently here. Every second counted. Neither could afford to be dead weight. *But what about me?* Zhang Yemiao still didn’t know her own heart—whether to fight for strength, or follow Wang Qi’s quiet dream of settling down.

They sold monster materials from Zhang Yemiao’s spatial storage, acquiring currency. Gold and silver remained universal standards here. The coin system—copper, silver, gold, mythril, saint-gold—used a blessedly simple 1:10 ratio. Their modest haul earned five gold coins. Holding real gold felt surreal, though Zhang Yemiao reasoned: *Back home, selling one pig nets thousands. If one copper coin equals one yuan…* But copper here bought far more than a yuan’s worth. Their bulk materials weren’t rare, so five gold coins made sense—especially with alchemy presumably stabilizing gold supplies.

They spent three gold coins.

For a test. To see if any of the remaining three possessed magical aptitude.