Chapter 22: The Small City in the Basin (Additional chapter for Alliance Leader Lan Ruoruo, 4/10)

After personally experiencing a power beyond the reach of mortals, few are willing to return to their former lives—especially after learning that Earth may not be truly safe in the future. So, unsurprisingly, when Wei Cheng made his choice and stepped out of the mine tunnel rather than returning to the comfort of his warm bed, the others followed suit, each emerging in turn.

Yet, crossing that threshold felt fundamentally different; perhaps they had lingered too long in the underground caverns, and now each person was struck by the sensation of awakening from a deep dream. Before they could even take stock of their surroundings, however, they were surrounded by a group of people whose barefaced, animal-like appraisal was unsettling.

Still, it was clear these people were locals.

“Only nine left, you managed to pass four successive trials—pretty impressive! Hey, friends, anyone interested in joining our team? We have fifty years’ worth of Mountain Mover cultivation, forty years of Spirit Swallow, and thirty years of Purple Mist, plus a legendary captain and a powerhouse team. If you’re a Mountain Mover with forty years, or Spirit Swallow with thirty, or Purple Mist with twenty, you qualify to join our Overlord Tiger squad!” bellowed a burly man, his Overlord Tiger team name sounding juvenile, but Wei Cheng and his companions had no time for such thoughts. More importantly, his words revealed crucial information.

First, there were already teams who had reached this fourth stage and arrived here. Second, the previous team restrictions no longer applied; everyone could now choose new teams, though there must still be a limit on numbers. Third, everyone understood the value of combining strengths and even paid extra attention to profession combinations. Among these three types, Mountain Mover had become common, only those with forty years’ cultivation were considered elite; Spirit Swallow could be admitted at thirty, and Purple Mist—good heavens—at just twenty.

Now, several voices shouted out, the scene resembling a bustling marketplace. Wei Cheng listened quietly for a while, then spoke with a warm smile.

“Thank you all, but we’re new here and completely in the dark. No rush, no rush!” While speaking, Wei Cheng casually nudged aside a massive man blocking his path, pushing him half a step with his shoulder.

The man wasn’t caught off guard, but under the sudden force, he instinctively activated a Golden Bell shield—a manifestation of forty years’ inner power, the fourth level of the Golden Bell. He froze, his face reddening—not from emotion, but from the surge of inner force provoked by their brief clash.

After a moment, he withdrew his shield and hurriedly clasped his hands in apology, his demeanor changing completely. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize you were a Mountain Mover with fifty years. My eyes failed me.”

A Mountain Mover with fifty years! The crowd fell silent, every gaze turned toward Wei Cheng, especially those in his party. They had suspected he might have forty years, but never imagined he possessed fifty. His legs were, indeed, a bit thick.

Wei Cheng nodded slightly, ignoring the stares as he walked through the crowd toward the small city in the center of the basin.

There was nothing more to discuss with these people; they were recruiters from various teams, akin to handing out flyers at a doorway. Wei Cheng’s team was underdeveloped and desperately needed new members or to merge with another group, but they wouldn’t be swayed so easily.

Of course, there was no point in pretending to be weak—after all, everyone had experienced the same four trials. A Mountain Mover with fifty years was impressive, but not rare.

In reality, those cultivating Mountain Mover benefited greatly in the first four trials, while Spirit Swallow and Purple Mist struggled. But the next stages would require all three disciplines.

That was why the recruiters targeted Spirit Swallow and Purple Mist cultivators—their numbers had dwindled in the earlier trials.

Wei Cheng couldn’t help but smile wryly; before he revealed his strength, several in his party had been tempted by the recruiters’ offers.

After walking a distance, Wei Cheng paused and looked back. The place they emerged from was another steep, thousand-foot cliff, but this one was studded with countless mine entrances.

Some entrances were open, dark and deep like inscrutable eyes. Others remained sealed.

Across dozens of miles of cliff face, all within several dozen meters of the ground, nearly every spot had a mine entrance—tens of thousands, perhaps even a hundred thousand. The recruiters roamed in groups, rushing to any newly opened entrance, a familiar sight.

If each mine held fifty people, that amounted to millions—and that was only what Wei Cheng could see. What about other directions? Conservatively, there must be twenty million Earthlings participating in this dream trial; even with high elimination rates, tens of thousands would remain and choose to stay.

“A true expedition for all,” Wei Cheng mused, then quickened his pace toward the small city.

“Boss, shouldn’t we recruit some members now? With your fifty years of Mountain Mover, we’re much more impressive than those other teams,” Yu Liang piped up, feeling elated, as though he’d won the lottery—this was what it meant to follow a dragon.

“No need. Once we reach that city, everything will become clear,” Wei Cheng replied, striding energetically while quickly surveying his surroundings. The place seemed a land of plenty, a veritable paradise.

Except for the few hundred meters nearest the cliffs, which hadn’t been converted to farmland, every tract of arable land was cultivated. Stone-paved paths crisscrossed the area, and in the fields, diligent farmers were everywhere.

As they observed the farmers, the locals watched them, sometimes offering friendly smiles.

What truly broke the party’s composure was seeing some resting farmers drink from miner-style water flasks and eat the familiar vegetable cakes.

What they once prized as resources were now merely the daily bread of common farmers.

Perhaps that’s why the locals found them so amiable.

Too weak.

After winding through the area for less than half an hour, Wei Cheng led his group to the eastern gate of the small city. Despite running for a hundred miles, none felt tired—in fact, it seemed natural.

Outside the city, homes were scattered, chickens and dogs could be heard, tea houses, taverns, snack stalls abounded—a lively scene, with one complication: it was impossible to distinguish Earthlings from natives. They were like a drop of water in a river, vanishing without a trace.

The earlier flyer-waving rabble felt noisy, but now in front of the city, watching the bustling crowds, they felt out of place.

“Floating Cloud City?” Wei Cheng looked up at the gate, the three characters distinctly different, stirring an indescribable feeling.

“Something’s odd, Wei,” Han Dong remarked. “Those recruiters said many teams entered Floating Cloud City, so why don’t we see anyone?”

“They’re all busy cultivating. Haven’t you noticed how rich the basin’s resources are for us?” Wei Cheng revealed the truth—not from keen observation, but from powerful spiritual sense.

At this moment, one glance at the snack stall’s tea eggs, the tavern’s spirits and braised beef, the tea house’s fresh tea—every food item exuded a potent fragrance, the scent of supreme resources.

Who could resist?

No one, in fact. Zhang Yong bolted for the nearest snack stall.

A kindly old woman sat there, boiling tea eggs on a small clay stove. The aroma lingered within a dozen meters—anyone entering the range would be overwhelmed with desire.

And in terms of value, these were far superior to the vegetable cakes. Wei Cheng even suspected that eating them regularly could break physical growth limits.

“Damn!” A crowd surged over, including Wei Cheng himself.

“Young man, want a tea egg? One coin each,” the old woman offered.

“So cheap! Granny, could I buy on credit?” Zhang Yong blurted.

But she merely smiled and said nothing.

Even a former bully like Zhang Yong wouldn’t dare rob here.

Or rather, anyone who passed four trials to reach this place wasn’t a fool.

Reluctantly, the party turned to Wei Cheng.

“Why are you looking at me? Scatter and find work. Where do you think the other teams went?” Wei Cheng ordered. “And don’t act lazy. I believe this is a gift from the immortal overseeing our trial—possibly the last chance to strengthen our weaknesses. Cherish it well.”

With that, he walked off. He trusted the others would understand; they respected him as leader, reluctant to part so casually.

“Boss!” Cheng An and Yu Liang hurried after him, Wang Wei following close behind.

“Wei, we mean no harm. Though the trial deaths weren’t real, you saved us many times. If you want to reform a team, don’t forget us,” Wang Wei said earnestly.

Wei Cheng smiled, “Enough chatter. Get to work—every second you waste puts you behind. See all the people on the street? No one pays us any mind. They could all be fellow Earthlings.”

The three were stunned, looking back to see Zhang Yong, Han Dong, and the others already gone—after all, everyone had their own tricks.