A few days later.

The Cloud-Piercing Shuttle’s colossal hull descended with a grating screech of metal, slowly settling into a docking berth behind Iron Wall Pass.

When the hatch opened and the first gust of cold wind rushed in, it wasn’t the biting chill one might expect. Instead, it was a dry, oppressive heat, thick with the mingled smells of char, rust, and intense spiritual energy fluctuations.

Su Ming followed the line out of the hatch. The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt a faint tremor through the soles.

This wasn’t an earthquake. It was a resonance caused by some unimaginably vast energy surging deep beneath the earth.

He looked up, his pupils involuntarily contracting slightly.

Before him stretched a black mountain range.

No, that wasn’t a mountain range.

It was a section of mountain peak that had been forcibly sheared off by human effort, then built upon with countless massive blocks of Mystic Iron rock to form a city wall.

The wall soared a thousand *zhang* high, extending left and right to the limits of vision, like a black iron gate cleaving heaven and earth in two.

But that wasn’t the most awe-inspiring sight.

The most awe-inspiring was the curtain of light enveloping the wall outside.

Seven pillars of starlight, thick as celestial columns, descended from the firmament, plunging deep into the earth. Using these as anchor points, they supported a translucent, pale golden curtain of light. What flowed across this curtain weren’t ordinary runes, but torrents of spiritual energy surging like mighty rivers.

Each surge of the spiritual energy tide produced a deep, thunderous rumble.

“This is… the Big Dipper Seven Stars Demon Locking Grand Formation.”

Su Ming murmured to himself. Even hovering at the edge of the “observation micro state,” he felt dizzy and disoriented. The complexity of this formation was billions of times greater than any formation diagram he had ever seen.

“Don’t stare at it for too long. Your divine sense will get sucked in and shredded.”

Lin Yu’s voice sounded in his Consciousness Sea, carrying a rare note of seriousness. “This isn’t so much a formation as it is a furnace burning spirit stones. Just maintaining the normal operation of that light curtain consumes an amount of spiritual energy every second that would be enough to make you explode a hundred times over.”

Su Ming quickly averted his gaze, rubbing his throbbing temples. “Master, the spiritual energy flow of this formation… it seems a bit sluggish?”

“Naturally,” Lin Yu replied. “It’s like an old machine that’s been running at full capacity for thousands of years. Parts are worn, pipes are aged. The fact that it’s still turning is a miracle. Your job is to tighten the screws on this machine, to keep it from falling apart at a critical moment.”

A shout came from the front of the line.

“New recruits for the Formation Maintenance Battalion, assemble over here!”

Su Ming collected his thoughts and hurried to catch up.

The person responsible for receiving them was a middle-aged cultivator wearing a dark red formation robe. His left sleeve was empty, fluttering in the wind. He held a jade slip in his hand, his gaze sweeping coldly over this group of “fledglings” from the sect.

“Those whose names are called, go collect your identity tags and tools.”

“Zhang San, First Squad.”

“Li Si, Second Squad.”

…

“Su Ming, Third Squad.”

Su Ming stepped forward and took the heavy black iron tag. It felt cool to the touch. On the front was carved the character for “Assistant,” while the back bore a string of complex numbers.

“Third Squad is over there.” The one-armed cultivator pointed toward a stone hut in a corner of the camp. “Go find Captain Zhao Tiji. Don’t wander off. Take one wrong step here, trigger a killing formation, and no one will be around to collect your corpse.”

Su Ming offered his thanks and turned toward the stone hut.

The atmosphere in this camp was completely different from the ethereal, immortal air of the sect. The ground was paved with rough stone slabs, the cracks between them packed with black sealant to prevent spiritual energy leakage. The cultivators coming and going mostly wore hurried expressions, their robes stained with grease and scorch marks. The air was thick with a tense, orderly sense of grim purpose.

A tall, burly man stood in front of the Third Squad’s stone hut.

He had his back to Su Ming, holding a massive formation plate in his hands. He was using a tool resembling a chisel to carve something onto it with forceful strokes. Each strike sent sparks flying.

“Reporting. Newly appointed Technical Assistant Repair Specialist, Su Ming, reporting for duty as ordered.”

Su Ming stood three paces away and performed a standard sect salute.

The man didn’t stop his work. Only after carving the final stroke did he slowly turn around.

He had a face as hard and cold as rock.

A dark red scar ran from the corner of his right eye all the way down to his jaw, lending his face a somewhat ferocious aspect. His cultivation was at the early Foundation Establishment stage, but the aura he exuded was far more condensed and sharp than any other early Foundation Establishment cultivator Su Ming had ever met.

Zhao Tiji.

He looked Su Ming up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on Su Ming’s long, pale, clean hands. The corner of his mouth twisted into an unfriendly smirk.

“Qi Refining seventh layer? The sect is being generous this time, sending someone with decent cultivation.”

Zhao Tiji’s voice sounded like two pieces of raw iron grinding together. “But judging by your delicate, tender looks, you’re used to sitting comfortably in a back-office, aren’t you?”

Su Ming’s expression remained unchanged, his tone calm. “Reporting to Captain, this disciple was indeed responsible for the Repair Hall in the sect and has little experience fighting on the front lines. If I am lacking, I ask for the Captain’s guidance.”

He was neither subservient nor arrogant, showing neither anger at the other’s disdain nor deliberate fear.

Zhao Tiji casually tossed the formation plate, which weighed over a hundred *jin*, toward Su Ming.

Su Ming instinctively channeled spiritual energy to catch it. It was slightly heavy in his hands, but he held it steady.

“That’s the backup node formation plate for the ‘Celestial Mysterious’ position on the city wall.”

Zhao Tiji pointed to a tiny crack on the formation plate. “A crack like this, back in the sect, you’d probably dismantle it for re-forging, or spend three days slowly repairing it. But here, you have half the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.”

He walked up to Su Ming, the oppressive aura mixed with the scent of blood washing over him.

“Kid, remember the first rule here.”

Zhao Tiji extended a rough finger and tapped the tag on Su Ming’s chest. “In the sect, if you draw a rune wrong, all you waste is a piece of material, and you get a scolding. But at Iron Wall Pass, if the node you’re responsible for fails, and a single demon beast slips through, the ones who die could be the brothers behind you, or even an entire battalion.”

“The formation lines here, every single one is dyed with blood.”

Su Ming looked at Zhao Tiji’s hand, calloused and scarred, his gaze sharpening slightly.

“This disciple understands,” Su Ming said solemnly. “The formation stands while I stand. I will not disgrace my duty.”

“Save the pretty words for the dead.”

Zhao Tiji snorted coldly, turned, and took a dusty cloth pouch from a shelf behind him, tossing it to Su Ming. “This is your gear. Inside are a standard formation brush, spiritual ink, inspection diagrams, and a distress flare. Your quarters are in Stone Hut Number Seven, Bing Zone. Today, familiarize yourself with the environment and the diagrams. Tomorrow at mao hour, be on time to follow the squad up the wall.”

“Yes, sir.”

Su Ming took the pouch, saluted again, and turned to leave.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep