The cool night air of the farm hummed with a quiet tension, a stark contrast to the distant, muffled pulse of New Shanghai. Li Tian stood by the edge of his spiritual fields, a silhouette against the faint, ethereal glow of the Moonpetal Lotuses.
He wore the dark, flexible gear crafted by Xiaoli, and the new infiltration devices, still warm from Kael's forge, felt like extensions of his own spirit. His spiritual energy was robust, a full 22/22, ready for the trials ahead.
His companions gathered, their faces etched with a mix of concern and unwavering support. Grandma Mei Lin, serene as always, placed a gnarled hand on his arm. "The city," she murmured, her eyes distant, "is a wound on the ley lines, Li Tian. A place where the spirit struggles to breathe. Feel its pain, but do not let it consume you. There are ancient whispers beneath the steel, if you know how to listen." Her wisdom was a final, grounding anchor.
"Be careful, Li Tian Ge," Jax urged, his voice low, his powerful hands clenching. "Don't take any unnecessary risks. We'll be ready the moment you give the signal."
Lira stepped forward, her form almost dissolving into the pre-dawn mist. "My mists will be your shroud on the approach, Li Tian. And my senses will stretch as far as they can, listening for any shift in the air, any unnatural tremor."
Xiaoli, usually so fiery, now looked uncharacteristically somber. "Come back safe, Li Tian. We'll be here, supporting you. And I'll have more spiritual delicacies ready when you return." Her concern was palpable, a warmth he carried with him.
"I will," Li Tian promised, meeting each of their gazes. "Remember the plan. Stealth and precision. Our survival, and our future, depends on this."
He took one last look at the thriving farm, the gentle undulations of the crops, the sturdy, spiritually reinforced farmhouse. It was a beacon of life, a defiant spark against the Covenant's reign. This was what he was fighting for.
Then, he turned and moved, disappearing into the lingering mist Lira had summoned, heading towards the distant glow of the city.
The journey began quietly, on foot through the last vestiges of rural terrain. But soon, the air thickened, growing heavy with the faint scent of coal smoke and ozone. The gentle hum of nature gave way to a deeper, metallic thrum.
The occasional dim, solar-powered lamp post was replaced by soaring, steam-powered streetlights, their brass housings gleaming faintly, casting pools of orange light on the grimy roads.
He spotted the first signs of the city's industrial pulse: towering smokestacks belching thick, dark plumes into the predawn sky, their rhythmic chugging a testament to the ceaseless machinery within.
Then, the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a cargo train, pulled by a massive, polished steam locomotive, rumbled past on elevated tracks, its colossal gears churning visibly, sparks flying like golden embers against the darkness. The carriages, laden with raw spiritual metals and processed goods, stretched endlessly into the horizon, a vein of the Covenant's resource extraction.
Li Tian used his spiritual senses, not just for his own cloaking, but to perceive the subtle energy signatures of these machines. They were crude compared to the Purge Unit, driven by mundane combustion augmented by coarse spiritual conduits, but their sheer scale was oppressive.
He understood the Covenant's power was not just in their technology, but in their ability to harness and industrialize even minute spiritual energies for their own ends.
He reached the outskirts of New Shanghai as the sky began to lighten, painting the jagged skylines in shades of bruised purple and grey. The city unfolded before him, a sprawling, organic-mechanical beast.
Massive, blocky skyscrapers, built from dark, reinforced concrete and steel, pierced the heavens, often adorned with intricate brass fittings, giant exposed pipes, and vents that hissed steam like living entities.
Between them, webs of aerial tram lines crisscrossed, their steam-driven gondolas ferrying early commuters, glowing with internal lights.
He saw the first steam-automobiles, boxy and robust, chugging along the wide, paved avenues, their drivers encased in heavy, goggled helmets. The air vibrated with the roar of their engines, the hiss of steam, and the clang of metal against metal from distant industrial zones.
Li Tian, his Stealth Field Emitter humming softly, merged with the growing stream of commuters. He kept to the fringes, observing. New Shanghai was indeed bustling.
Citizens, dressed in utilitarian, drab clothing contrasted with the occasional flash of a Covenant officer's polished uniform, moved with a driven, purposeful stride.
Merchants shouted their wares from covered stalls in an open-air market section he passed, the scent of fried spiritual rations mixing with industrial grease.
Hover-peddlers, small personal platforms powered by steam-jets, weaved through the pedestrian traffic, hawking news scrolls and cheap tech components.
"Li Tian, the density of spiritual energy here is significantly lower than in your farm," Prometheus noted, its voice analytical. "The ambient spiritual energy is heavily suppressed, channeled, or polluted by the Covenant's infrastructure. This is why their technology appears so dominant here."
Li Tian felt it too. It was like breathing thin air after living in a pristine, oxygen-rich environment. The vibrant hum of his Dantian felt strangely muted, though still powerful. This was the spiritual desolation Grandma Mei Lin spoke of.
Yet, he also sensed faint, stubborn trickles of untainted energy beneath the city's surface, like hidden springs.
He passed a massive clock tower, its immense gears visibly turning behind a protective glass, steam jets hissing rhythmically from its ornate base. Its hands, glowing faintly with spiritual energy, kept perfect time across the district.
Below it, a large plaza teemed with activity. People hurried, heads down, avoiding eye contact. A large holographic display projected Covenant propaganda – stern-faced officers, gleaming mechs, and promises of order and prosperity under the Iron Fist.
Li Tian felt a familiar surge of cold anger at the sight, quickly suppressed. Emotion could compromise his mission.
He reached a more upscale district, the buildings sleeker, their brass fittings more polished, the occasional spiritual-tech display flickering with vibrant colors. These were the business hubs, the offices of the Weng faction's civilian administration, where the district's 'prosperity' was managed.
Here, the vehicles were faster, more refined, still steam-driven but with a quieter, more efficient hum.
He saw Covenant military vehicles, heavily armored transports with visible steam condensers and menacing turrets, moving with purpose. Their drivers, clad in black, rigid uniforms, sat impassively.
Li Tian felt a subtle shift in the air whenever they passed, a faint spiritual disturbance from the anti-cultivator suppression fields they carried. He veered clear, maintaining his obfuscated signature.
"Li Tian, the Weng faction's military intelligence headquarters is approximately two kilometers north-east," Prometheus guided, providing a real-time map overlay in his vision. "It is situated within a high-security zone, surrounded by a residential buffer of loyal Covenant personnel. The perimeter defenses are extensive and active."
The bustling streets began to thin as he approached the designated zone. The open-air markets gave way to meticulously manicured public spaces, then to sterile, identical apartment blocks for Covenant staff. Patrols became more frequent, their patterns tight and predictable.
The spiritual suppression here felt denser, almost physically pressing down.
Li Tian found his designated ingress point – a seemingly innocuous service tunnel, hidden by a row of industrial waste bins, near the outer ring of the high-security district. The air here was heavy with the smell of waste and old oil. It was exactly as Prometheus had described.
He checked his gear one last time. Stealth Field Emitter humming faintly. Data Siphon and Multi-Purpose Disassembler secured. Spiritual Energy Converter ready.
He looked back at the distant sprawl of the city, its mechanical heart beating endlessly, and then towards the looming, silent walls of the Weng faction's base.
The farm had nurtured him, cultivated his spirit, and forged his tools. Now, it was time to put them to the test.
[PRIMARY TARGET: WENG FACTION MILITARY INTELLIGENCE HEADQUARTERS.]
Li Tian took a deep breath, filled with the peculiar mix of apprehension and fierce determination. He was ready to enter the lion's den.