The journey of twenty-odd days—nearly a month—finally reached its destination. Tears of relief should have flowed.
Instead, the group turned back immediately, abandoning their plan to spread faith and establish a new god at the tri-border zone. No one *wanted* to quit. But seeing three Sky Cities hovering in tense standoff from miles away? No sane person would test the range of their Forbidden Spell bombardments by stepping between them.
Frustration weighed heavy. How had they missed this? No internet, no rumors—just endless grasslands and wilderness for a month. They’d planned to gather intel upon reaching the city. Yet who’d dare live beneath those floating fortresses? Only fools with death wishes.
Except Zhang Yemiao noticed something else.
“This crystal… formed from land scorched by a Forbidden Spell?” She lifted a shard from the ground. It glittered like gemstone under the sun—unnaturally bright. Just as nuclear blasts birthed strange minerals under heat and pressure, this world’s magic twisted reality after such cataclysms.
Then Li Pingtian spoke. She refused to retreat.
“I stay.” Her voice cut the wind. “This isn’t mere posturing. Sky Cities are like aircraft carriers—each nation deployed one. This isn’t a threat. It’s war prep. And when war erupts? That’s when faith takes root.”
She was right. Above the clouds, the three colossal cities blotted out the sky. Pure war machines. Only trained battalions lived there—mage corps, wyvern riders. A single foot soldier could crush them all. Sky Cities rarely moved; the cost in magic and resources was staggering. Yet here they hovered, locked in deadlock. War hung by a thread.
“You staying is suicide,” Zhang Yemiao snapped. Unexpected. They hadn’t spoken properly in days.
“War breeds faith fastest,” Li Pingtian countered. “When battles erupt here, refugees will suffer. Suffering births believers.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I never asked you to stay.”
Silence fell. The breeze turned icy. Zhang Yemiao studied Li Pingtian’s face—searching for cracks—but she wasn’t Wang Qi. She couldn’t read her.
*Does it matter?*
She glanced at Wang Qi. His throat worked, words trapped behind his teeth. *Troublesome.*
As for Zou Moan? She hunched like a student praying not to be called on during class. Useless.
Wang Qi and Li Pingtian had definitely clashed. Zhang Yemiao hadn’t pried. She trusted he’d tell her—*when he was ready*. But Li Pingtian wouldn’t wait.
So…
New powers in a new world. How to settle disputes?
*Fight.*
Even on Earth, some emotions defied words. Only raw combat could purge them.
Zhang Yemiao smiled at Wang Qi and Zou Moan. “Give us a moment, alright?”
Zou Moan dragged the hesitant Wang Qi far back, relief washing over her. Wang Qi looked lost—nothing like his usual confident self.
Zhang Yemiao’s smile faded as she faced Li Pingtian. “Let’s fight, Ping Tian.”
She drew her Great Longsword. Though Mastery of Objects let her wield anything perfectly, she’d trained specifically for this blade—strengthening neglected muscles, avoiding past injuries. The tip leveled at Li Pingtian. “I don’t know what you said to Wang Qi. Or what happened between you. But I know you made him miserable.”
“Maybe he’s just choosing between us?” Li Pingtian planted her staff in the earth. For the first time, emotion flickered in her eyes.
Zhang Yemiao’s smile turned sharp, almost mocking. “Between *us*?” She spun the massive blade in a warm-up arc. “Or between abandoning you and staying out of guilt? He’s too kind to just… discard you.”
“Never knew our Dorm Leader had such a tongue.”
“Never planned to fight you for a man.”
Words had reached their limit. Neither could sway the other. Zhang Yemiao wouldn’t let Li Pingtian cling to Wang Qi. Li Pingtian wouldn’t ignore Zhang Yemiao’s relentless pursuit.
Silent hostility? Unacceptable.
After all—they’d once been men.
Disputes were settled one way:
*Fight.*
“Mastery of Objects versus Divine Art Mastery… You’ve got the advantage, Dorm Leader.”
“Don’t dodge. You’re Level 3 in Divine Art Mastery; I’m Level 2 in Mastery of Objects. We’re both support classes—you *can* fight. Or quit now.”
Pure white light engulfed Li Pingtian’s staff. It reshaped into a radiant Divine Lance.
“That toy won’t beat me, Ping Tian!” Zhang Yemiao dropped into stance—knees bent, Great Longsword braced higher than her head.
“I may not match you in combat… but the gods do.”
“Divine Art: Divine Descent!”
Light surged. Wings of pure white bloomed behind Li Pingtian. A halo crowned her head. The lance danced in her grip, fluid and lethal.
“This is the angel who commands the spear legions under the Goddess of Love and Mercy. I borrow only a fraction of her skill…” Li Pingtian’s voice resonated with power. “But it’s enough for you, Dorm Leader.”
A technique never shown before. Throughout their journey, Li Pingtian had used Divine Arts only as healing or buffs—never combat.
“Scheming bitch!” Zhang Yemiao had expected spells like “Divine Judgment,” not *borrowed angelic techniques*.
Li Pingtian charged, lance a silver blur.
Zhang Yemiao swung. Steel met steel—*clang!*—and Li Pingtian skidded back three steps.
Both froze.
Heavy weapon versus light. Physics dictated it: Zhang Yemiao’s rooted stance absorbed the impact; Li Pingtian’s lighter frame recoiled.
Reality struck them simultaneously.
Support classes. Borrowed skills. Their actual combat power was pathetic. Wang Qi could knock them both flat with one punch. Zhang Yemiao’s heavy blade compensated for her lower strength stat—but the gap between Level 2 and Level 3 was negligible. And Li Pingtian’s “lance” was still just a staff.
No time to dwell. They reset. Blades clashed again—skill against borrowed divinity.
Far off, Zou Moan whispered to Wang Qi: “Who wins?”
“The Dorm Leader.”
“She’s only Level 2. Their skill’s equal. Her stamina’ll break first.”
“It’s not about stamina…” Wang Qi’s gaze was heavy. “It’s heart. Or… perspective.”
“Ping Tian will lose.”
