Chapter 95: SWERVE AND CLIMB

CHAPTER

95

SWERVE AND CLIMB

JIEYUAN

—∞—

They headed straight down the root-laden street of the main avenue, past the deformed bridges and growth-filled rivers. Meiyao at the front, Jieyuan by her side, Daojue just behind. Meiyao was the one setting the pace, and it was just shy of cautious, steady but slow.

Jieyuan couldn’t help but notice how her eyes kept flicking from building to building—each one as bent and overgrown as the last. She had this intense look on that Jieyuan couldn’t tell whether it was wonder or wariness. Both, probably. In Jieyuan’s case he knew he was leaning more toward the latter, though. Way more.

But soon they were closing in on the end of the pocket—if it could even be called that anymore, given how large this new clear zone was—and she’d yet to call a stop. That was a good thing.

What wasn’t a good thing was the way the vague sense of doom kept on rising inside Jieyuan the deeper they went into the city. Growing, much like the city itself. But Huaxin was being awfully tight-fisted with the details. Granted, it wasn’t on purpose. Jieyuan could tell through their connection that Huaxin itself wasn’t quite clear on what kind of danger the city posed. Just that it was there.

There was something else bothering him, too. The corpses—or, rather, the lack thereof. Apparently, a great many people had decided it was a bright idea to stick around while the city was slowly being swallowed by a literal death trap, and yet he hadn’t come across a single dead—and plant-infested—body. Even though there’d been plenty outside the city.

It could be that they had all died somewhere indoors—which would’ve been very neat and proper of them—but he’d have expected at least one bush-corpse, or tree-cadaver, or some other macabre Linzushen state of stalled decay.

They reached the end of the zone, a barrier of solid green cutting off the way, and still no more corpses in sight. Meiyao stopped in front of it, stared at it thoughtfully for a few seconds. Then she nodded to them and went over.

Jieyuan and Daojue followed.

As Jieyuan passed through, just for a moment everything was pure green—but then the view opened up far and wide, revealing another great stretch of the city.

It was the tunnel, though, that drew Jieyuan’s attention. It was just in front of them, over the main avenue.

Tall, towering trees—taller than most of the buildings around—lined both sides of the path. Trunks strong, thick, with bushy crowns at the top thick with green, glowing leaves. Oaks, Jieyuan reckoned, or rather a chromal version of them. Their canopies met at the top, crossing together, forming a roof. And it went on and on.

There was a man-made touch to the tunnel. The way the trees were lined up just so, the way they met neatly up top. It had probably been there since before the Dome took over Viridian Death City, and it had held up surprisingly well, given it was still just a tunnel. But he wasn’t sure the green, vein-like lines running through the trees—or the way the foremost trees formed less an entrance and more of a gaping maw—predated the Dome’s takeover, too.

And there was something else about it….

Jieyuan squinted, wondering whether he was seeing things. But the canopy seemed to be moving—rustling, almost vibrating. That in and of itself wasn’t an issue. Branches and leaves did move with the breeze.

What was an issue was that the air around him was completely still, without a hint of wind.

His heart suddenly picked up the pace and, for good measure, Huaxin sent a shock of DANGER his way.

Huaxin? Jieyuan sent back. Something you’d care to share?

He hadn’t expected much, but this time Huaxin did come up something. SOUND.

Sound? Jieyuan prodded, but all Huaxin had to offer were UNCERTAINTY and FRUSTRATION—probably as close as a sentient heart could come to a shrug.

Jieyuan glanced at Meiyao, who was also standing still, staring at the tunnel, as sure as a sign that something was wrong as Huaxin’s warning.

Focusing back on the tunnel, Jieyuan noted another oddity. Glowing viridian mist filled the tunnel, and the leaves above glowed, but the inside of it was somehow dark, and he couldn’t see much further ahead than the entrance. As for sound… there was a low, faint thrum coming from the trees—their vibrations—and not much else.

“Let’s go around,” Meiyao said.

If anyone had any objections to that, it sure wasn’t Jieyuan. But there was something he needed to know first. “The tunnel’s dangerous, then?”

“Yes,” Meiyao said, not looking away from it. She didn’t elaborate.

“But how is it dangerous? I thought you said that there were only plants around here?” Jieyuan pressed. “No beasts?”

Meiyao shot him a quick glance. “Plants can be dangerous, too.”

He’d known he’d say that, but he’d been hoping she was wrong. Because if plants could be dangerous, then their prospects didn’t look that good, when they were in a city made of it. But he got the feeling that Meiyao wouldn’t go into the detail, so he let it lie.

They stepped off the street. And when Meiyao kept on going further and further off to the side, almost reaching the nearby buildings, Jieyuan realized that the tunnel really wasn’t good news.

Once they were a healthy—hopefully, at least—distance away from the tunnel, Meiyao resumed leading them forward. Jieyuan made sure never to take his eyes completely off the tunnel, keeping it just within sight. He didn’t know what exactly the danger was, but he wasn’t taking chances here.

The tunnel went on for a good while. Meiyao kept them on the far end of the sidewalk for several more yards even after the tunnel had ended, before making her way back onto the avenue, with Jieyuan and Daojue in tow.

And on they went.

Even though Meiyao didn’t seem any tenser than usual, and Huaxin was only radiating that normal, growing sense of doom—as opposed to the full-blown blast of it that the tunnel had warranted—Jieyuan still kept a wary eye on everything around them. They should be nearing the city center, and by the looks of it they were already in a different district of the city.

The buildings around them were no longer cluttered near the avenue. Rather, they were spread much farther apart, set back from the main street with individual paths leading to them.

Size was another difference. These were bigger, more sprawling. Some had even been compounds—multiple structures linked together—though the rampant growth had all but erased any sense of division. Jieyuan could only just make out where one building ended and another began.

Their shapes, too, were different. Earlier in the city, the buildings had been blockier, but here, he saw an abundance of curved, rounded lines, with dome-shaped roofs everywhere. The architecture must’ve been as organic as the materials used—and centuries of unchecked growth had only reinforced that impression. It couldn’t be any more different from Radiant Gold City, which was all straight lines and harsh angles.

They were maybe over halfway through the pocket when Jieyuan noticed that something was different about the area farther ahead. He squinted, and once they got a little closer, he got a better look at it.

A river ran through the city. Not like those small, overrun and probably artificial streams and ponds they’d passed by earlier, but a proper body of water. It stretched beyond visibility on both sides, probably spanning the entire length of the city. It hadn’t been overtaken by vegetation like those smaller ones, either—it was still a river, and clearly so.

Very clearly so, Jieyuan realized as he got a good look at the river. On the surface, massive white flowers—wide, many-layered—drifted lazily. They were rather spaced apart, though, and between them he could see the water. Which was clear—so much so that if it weren’t for the slow, steady current, you wouldn’t even notice it. You could see straight through it to the bottom.

Though the river itself remained, its bottom had been taken over by plants. The riverbed was thickly carpeted with green, softly glowing, grass-like stalks. And mixed in with them were long, feathered, leaf-like plants that waved in the current like eels.

None of it—not the riverbed grass, or the eel-like plants, or the white flowers—looked particularly concerning. If anything, the sum of it all had this picturesque look to it. Which, he reckoned, was a great cause for concern. Because when you had something innocuous-looking surrounded by a bunch of other things that were very clearly bad news, that first thing was probably what you had to be the most worried about.

Really, it was just common sense. The spike of alarm he got from Huaxin was just the cherry on top.

There was a bridge over the river. The avenue led up to it and picked up on the other side. There was a good length of bridge between both banks, though.

“Wait,” Meiyao called as they arrived at the foot of the bridge.

Jieyuan was already inspecting the bridge.

It was well over a hundred yards across. That wasn’t the kind of distance you could jump across. Maybe a tenth-sign redsoul could’ve managed it, but Jieyuan couldn’t see himself doing even half that. Meaning they had to take the bridge.

Jieyuan suspected it wouldn’t be much better than jumping, though. The bridge was a warped thing—you could call it a bridge only in the loosest, most generous definition of the word. It was more like a big, gnarled root that had come off on one side, searching for ground to burrow into, found nothing but air, and kept going straight ahead until it finally found more land across the river.

Worse still, it somehow managed to be gnarled—twisted, bumpy, uneven—but also smooth. Because though the shape of it made for some really messed-up topography, the surface itself looked buttery smooth. Reflective, almost, like lacquered wood. It was a good thing they had aura-lashing, because Jieyuan reckoned they’d have had a very bad time crossing it otherwise.

The only thing the bridge had going for it was that it was broad. The three of them could’ve easily walked on it side-by-side, with plenty of room left over.

“All right,” Meiyao said, turning to him and Daojue. “First off, no matter what—don’t fall into the water.”

Jieyuan shot a glare at the harmless-looking river. Knew it.

He wasn’t sure whether it was those floating white flowers, the riverbed carpet, or the water itself that was dangerous—probably all of it. What he was sure of, though, was that he didn’t like how often he was turning out to be right about things he’d have rather been wrong about.

“Secondly…” Meiyao walked closer to the bridge, put a foot on it. Jieyuan watched as she lifted it and pressed it back down a couple of times. He got a bad premonition that was only made worse when Meiyao shook her head. And confirmed when she said, “Aura-lashing doesn’t work, so be careful.”

Jieyuan closed his eyes. Sighed. Groaned.

He had to stop tempting the Heavens. He really, really did. They seemed all too keen on taking him up on the dare.

Even though he trusted Meiyao, he still went over to the bridge and put his foot on its glossy, twisted surface, trying it out for himself. And sure enough, when he tried to connect his aura to its surface, latch onto it, nothing happened. His aura just slipped away, found no purchase at all—even though he could have used aura-lashing to walk upside-down on the ceiling if he’d wanted.

Nothing to be done about it, though. Meiyao got on, slowly, carefully, and began her advance. Jieyuan was up next. As soon as he put his weight onto the foot on the tree he felt it begin to slip, and he shifted his body to compensate for it. Then in went the other foot. Another shift, as he stabilized himself. Then another—this time he found a crook to slot his foot into. And so it went, step by step.

The weeks of practice he’d gotten at walking silently were finally coming in handy, at least. A lot of the same principles applied. Judging where to step, distributing your weight, the very act of stepping itself. If it hadn’t been for that, he didn’t reckon he could’ve managed it

Slowly—very slowly—they climbed the bridge. Climbed, not walked—because the bridge had more waves to it than stormy waters. If the three of them weren’t going up, they were going down, following the bridge’s twisted curves. Jieyuan soon found himself getting a feel for it, though, and picking up the pace. Meiyao and Daojue, he noticed, were matching theirs to his, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he was balancing for dear life.

Jieyuan reckoned he’d never appreciated solid ground—nice, straight, textured ground—as much as he did as when he stepped off the bridge. It was riddled with roots, sure, but he’d take it. If anything, these roots—bark-like, rough, grippy—were a credit to it.

And he got to keep appreciating it, because Meiyao didn’t stop for even a moment. She continued forward the instant they were back on the avenue.

Just up ahead was the end of this pocket, and as Jieyuan properly took in the sights of this other side—before, he’d been too busy just giving it his best effort to stay dry—he found that it wasn’t much different from the other one. Large buildings on either side of the street, with plenty of space between them.

Near the curtain of thicker mist, though, Jieyuan caught sight of something different. A very clear break in the pattern.

A garden.