Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 398 Zhou Da Enters the Clouds

Another hour passed.

As the sun began to set, the crowd in front suddenly stopped.

Zhou Da reined in his horse.

"What's wrong?"

The young man ran back with a strange expression on his face—a mixture of surprise, fear, and disbelief.

"Sir..." he pointed ahead, his voice trembling, "Look..."

Zhou Da looked in the direction he was pointing.

A cluster of buildings appeared in the valley ahead.

The buildings were strange; they were unlike any temples, palaces, or pavilions he had ever seen. They were square and smooth, reflecting a blinding light in the sunlight. Some of the buildings had strange things on their roofs, like giant leaves, slowly turning.

There were figures moving around the buildings.

And smoke is rising from the chimneys.

Zhou Da pulled on the reins, gazing at the strange cluster of buildings, and for a moment forgot to urge his horse forward.

He spent twenty years in the Western Army, following Commander Wei across most of the Great Qian Dynasty. He saw the military towns and fortresses of the northern frontier, the magnificent palaces of Tianjing, and the flying eaves and brackets of the southern prefectures. He thought he had seen all the houses in the world.

But what's in front of me...

"This...this is Cloud Hidden Mountain?" The young man standing beside him asked, his voice trembling. "Those houses...why are they square? And why are they glowing?"

Zhou Da did not respond.

He just stared at the buildings.

Its square outline and incredibly smooth surface gleamed in the afternoon sunlight with a luster he had never seen before. It wasn't glass; glass wasn't this translucent. Nor was it jade; jade wasn't this large. It was like…like a whole block of ice that had been ground smooth and set into a wall.

And those strange things on top.

Several huge "leaves" are slowly rotating, emitting a very faint "humming" sound.

Zhou Da subconsciously touched the short knife at his waist.

"Let's go," he said.

The carriage moved slowly forward.

As they got closer, the buildings seemed increasingly...strange. Not strange, but "wrong." Zhou Da searched his mind for the right word, and finally only found this one.

The window is wrong.

Such large translucent objects were something he had only ever seen in wealthy homes—tinted windows the size of a palm, which had to be divided into small sections with wooden lattices to hold them up. But these windows in front of him were transparent, with no lattices, no support, just shining brightly against the wall.

The ground is wrong.

When the wheels rolled over it, there was no bump or mud, only a very slight "shh" sound, like grinding through fine sand. But when you looked down, the ground was grayish-white, hard and smooth as a mirror.

And those people who are moving around.

Several young people dressed in strange short clothes walked by, chatting and laughing, carrying bags of some unknown material that were so transparent that you could see the lush green vegetables inside. They glanced at the carriage but continued walking without stopping.

Zhou Da's grip on the knife loosened and tightened repeatedly.

The young man was speechless; he just stood there with his mouth open, his neck stretched out like a goose being choked.

The carriage stopped in an open space.

Zhou Da jumped off the cart shaft and looked at the completely unfamiliar world before him, suddenly feeling like a wild man who had just come out of the mountains.

"Sir..." the young man leaned closer, lowering his voice, "Is...is this a celestial abode?"

Zhou Da did not respond.

He saw someone walking towards them from a distance.

The man was dressed strangely; it wasn't a Taoist robe or a short tunic, but a long garment of some unknown material, the hem only reaching his knees. His gait was casual, lacking the ethereal air of a Taoist master, more like…

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"Newcomers again?" The man approached, his gaze sweeping over the carriage and the group of ragged refugees before finally settling on Zhou Da. "Brother, where are you from?"

Zhou Da tightened his grip on the knife even more.

He didn't answer, but just stared at the man's face, trying to glean something from that young face.

The man wasn't annoyed; instead, he smiled and said, "Don't be nervous. My name is Wang Rui. I'm... well, I guess you could say I'm a handyman here." He scratched his head. "You've come to seek refuge with the Cloud Hidden Sect, right? Come with me, let's register first, and then we'll arrange your accommodations."

Zhou Da finally spoke: "Register?"

"It's just to record their names, where they're from, and what kind of work they can do," Wang Rui explained patiently. "Don't worry, it's free; it's just for easier scheduling."

Zhou Da was silent for a moment.

He glanced back at the group of refugees.

The man carrying the child was staring at him expectantly.

"...Let's register," Zhou Da said.

Wang Rui nodded and turned to lead the way.

Zhou Da followed behind, his eyes never leaving his surroundings.

They walked across an impossibly smooth open space, where several poles stood, each topped with a round object that gleamed white in the sunlight. Next to them was a row of low houses, and several elderly people were squatting in front of them, chatting and basking in the sun. They waved to them as they passed.

"That's Old Shi from our village," Wang Rui pointed. "He used to be the village chief of Xiaoshi Village. He's been here for two months now and is helping out at Xian Shan Fang."

Xiaoshi Village.

Zhou Da recalled what the refugees had said about "those villages to the south".

"You came two months ago?"

"Yes." Wang Rui smiled. "If you'd like to hear about it, you can talk to him later."

They walked up to a house.

This house was larger than the ones around it, and a wooden sign hung at the entrance with a few words written on it—

"Yunyin Sect Affairs Registration Office"

The characters are written a little crookedly, but they are still legible.

Wang Rui pushed open the door: "Please come in."

Zhou strode in, then froze.

The room was brightly lit.

It wasn't the dim, yellowish light of an oil lamp; it was a bright, even, and flicker-free white light. He instinctively looked up to find the source of the light, only to see several long, luminous tubes embedded in the roof, quietly emitting light.

"...This is...a luminous pearl?" Zhou Da blurted out.

He himself didn't believe it. How could a luminous pearl be so long? How could it be so bright?

Wang Rui chuckled. "It's not a luminous pearl, it's... uh, a lamp. A fluorescent lamp." He scratched his head. "This is a bit complicated to explain, brother, just think of it as... some kind of magical trick."

Magical methods.

Zhou Da fell silent.

He had lived most of his life and had never seen such "divine methods".

Wang Rui walked behind a long table, picked up a stack of papers and a... what was that?

Zhou Da stared at the "pen".

It wasn't a calligraphy brush, but a thin tube with a pointed end, and it was completely black.

"What's your surname, brother?" Wang Rui asked, holding the tube and looking up at him.

"Zhou," Zhou Da said, "Zhou Da."

"Zhou Da..." Wang Rui lowered his head and wrote on the stack of paper. The thin tube could actually write words quickly and smoothly, unlike a brush that requires dipping in ink, suspending the wrist, and writing slowly stroke by stroke.

Zhou Da stared at the tube and suddenly asked, "What kind of pen is that?"

Wang Rui paused for a moment, looked down at the pen in his hand, and then laughed: "This? It's called a pen. It's also... a magical technique."

Zhou Da stopped asking.

He knew that if he kept asking questions, he would sound like a clueless country bumpkin.