Night Journey

Chapter 125 Above the Sea of ​​Clouds
Cillian stared at himself in the mirror.

Her soft black hair was meticulously combed, with a few strands falling across her forehead, making her gray-blue eyes appear even deeper, like the sea before a storm.

Her charcoal gray morning dress was made of a fine wool blend, and its close-fitting cut accentuated her powerful shoulder line.

The deep burgundy velvet vest was ironed without a single wrinkle, and a crisp white linen shirt peeked out from the collar, its stiff stand-up collar tied with a black silk bow tie, impeccably fastened.

From any angle, Cillian looked perfect at that moment.

Bruce leaned closer and exclaimed.

"Tsk tsk, what a hypocrite."

"Bruce, you fucking..."

Bruce ducked to avoid Cillian's kick aimed at his head, and rolled over as he did so, asking...

"Going on another date? And it's that guy from the Love family again?"

It wagged its tail excitedly and said, "Keep it up, Cillian! It seems this girl is really interested in you. She even gave you the clothes for your date in advance."

That's right, Cillian's presentable outfit was a gift from Mefuni.

Ciri usually wears either the City Guard uniform or cheap clothes bought from discount stores.

He had considered dressing more presentably, but the financial pressure was simply too great.

Cillian's salary went in two main ways: one was to pay rent, and the other was to purchase various supplies, which Bruce then used to forge into all sorts of weapons.

The most common and most consumed of these is the Soul Essence Bullet made from Ciri's blood.

Cillian once jokingly calculated the production cost of each Soul Essence Bullet relative to his hourly wage, and complained about how many days he would have to work to prepare for this round of firing.

"Perform well, if she's in a good mood, we'll have a vehicle!"

The dog's eyes gleamed, and it excitedly stood up on its hind legs.

"In fact, if you could really secure a place in the Lof family, with the strength of the Centipede Merchant Guild, your clan's revival would be just around the corner. And all of this would only require a small sacrifice from you..."

"Okay, don't say any more."

Cillian grabbed Bruce, along with his incoherent ramblings, and threw him over the balcony.

It was finally quiet.

Cillian tugged at the cuffs of his dress, making sure the exposed white cuffs were the perfect length.

When Maefuni offered to give him the clothes, Cillian refused repeatedly, but Maefuni gave him an impeccable reason.

"You're supposed to be my playmate, yet you're dressed so shabbily. Anyone who didn't know better would think the Luo family had gone bankrupt!"

Meifuni's tone was extremely arrogant.

No sooner had he finished speaking than a group of professionals in suits surrounded Ciri with measuring tape, recording various data about her body.

Cillian reluctantly accepted the generous gift, and then sighed.

"Damn rich people."

Back to the present, Cillian looked himself over again, and after confirming that there were no problems, he put on the sunflower brooch.

This was not to symbolize her Yangkui clan, nor was it out of affection for Mephoni; it was simply because it was Ciri's only piece of jewelry.

Finally, Cillian picked up the Boiling Sword, wrapping the hilt tightly with rough strips of cloth.

In the fierce battle with the Reverse Falcon, Ciri poured all his strength into the fight, causing the Boiling Sword to burn to its limit, burning through the specially made fireproof cloth.

For now, he can only find some substitutes to cover up the United States Triangle logo.

A thumping sound came from outside the door, and Bruce slowly trotted back, his movements so practiced and his posture so relaxed, as if he had been tossed around like this by Cillian many times before.

"Cillian, are you coming back for dinner?"

When Bruce talks about these things, it's hard to imagine that a dog's facial expressions can be so vivid, so shrewish, so shifty.

"First of all, I'm not that kind of person... at least not yet."

Cillian explained earnestly, "And, I'm not going on a date, I'm going to see someone important."

"Who?"

"Chief Rolf."

And so, Ciri left the apartment fully armed, boarded the nearest light rail, transferred stations, took another train, and then transferred again.

After a long and arduous journey of an hour and a half, Cillian finally arrived at the high wall that divided the city into the inner and outer parts.

Having lived in Hel City for so long, Ciri has only been to the inner city three times.

The first time was on a tidal night when he met Rolf. He was taken to Rolf's home by a special light rail train and didn't have time to carefully examine the inner city.

The second time was to go to the safe house inside the Lighthouse of Light to interrogate Tania. At that time, Cirien was using the maintenance passage of the spirit craftsmen, a completely enclosed space where nothing could be seen.

The third time was the night he was chased by the Reverse Falcon. In that situation, Cillian didn't have the time to look around. If he had been even a step slower, Iron Feather would have been nailed to his head.

Only now is Cirien able to examine the heart of Hel City so closely.

A steel jungle sprang up wildly around the Lighthouse of Light, buildings almost without gaps between them, squeezed, piled up, and twisted together as if forcibly kneaded together by an invisible hand. Every inch of space was utilized to the fullest extent, with some houses even hanging precariously beneath massive pipes or bridges. As Ciri passed through the checkpoint, the distorted form of the inner city came into even closer view.

Residents of the outer city always yearn for the inner city, but few mention that the hierarchical barriers within the inner city are even more formidable than the divide between the inner and outer cities.

People of high rank and power reside atop towering buildings, their mansions piercing the clouds, bathed in the purest sunlight, looking down upon the masses below, who are like ants.

The well-off middle class occupies the middle floors of the buildings. Their residences are relatively decent, but they are also surrounded by layers of buildings, and rarely have a complete view of the sky.

Only a very few lucky people, those living in specific locations on the outer edge of buildings, are entitled to open their windows and briefly gaze at the fragmented, bright sky.

That's a luxurious indulgence.

Those lower-class people who managed to squeeze into the inner city were like forgotten dust, filling the deepest and darkest corners of the buildings in the inner city.

The space was so cramped it was suffocating. The rooms were low and oppressive, making it difficult to even turn around. You could only wander through the crisscrossing, dimly lit corridors and passageways, occasionally catching a glimpse of a faint, polluted light filtering through the gaps in the building overhead.

"It smells awful..."

Cillian covered his nose; the air was thick with the sour smell of coal smoke, engine oil, and rotten food.

A light drizzle fell, washing away the rust stains on the building.

Cillian boarded yet another light rail train, heading towards the top of the inner city. The crowded carriages were always bustling with noise, yet filled with a desperate silence.

Glancing out the window, the scenery outside was gloomy and somber, the main colors of the inner city, until the light rail broke through the shrouding clouds and the bright sunlight rushed into view.

Under a clear sky, buildings rise up like rocks standing above a sea of ​​clouds.

The rooftop of the building is covered with greenery and flowers, which come together to form a stunning sky garden.

The whale-like airship rose and fell in the sea of ​​clouds, carrying dignitaries and nobles, and gently landed in a corner of a building. People laughed and said goodbye to each other, living a completely different life from those below the sea of ​​clouds.

"No wonder..."

Cillian couldn't help but sigh.

For a long time, he couldn't understand why the city council always seemed to take the threat of the Claws to Hel City so lightly.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons.

The city councils are high above the sea of ​​clouds. Even if the evil claws cause chaos, only the people below the sea of ​​clouds will be affected, and it will have nothing to do with them.

"Hello, sir, we need to check your travel permit."

A fully armed sheriff approached, speaking in a gentle tone, but his right hand remained resting on the baton at his waist.

"it is good."

Cillian cooperated by handing over the certificate issued by the city guard bureau. After checking it, the sheriff took his leave.

As the light rail emerged from the sea of ​​clouds, Cillian arrived in the wealthy district of Hull City, the heart of power and wealth.

These people who are afraid of death have gone to great lengths to ensure their own safety.

Ordinary citizens who want to come here must have a pass issued by the relevant department, as evidenced by the gradual decrease in the number of people in the carriage until only Cillian remained.

Ciri got off the car. The sky was wide open, the sea of ​​clouds rolled, and the airships rose and fell.

"It's like another world."

Ciri thought to herself with peace of mind.

He didn't waste any more time admiring the scenery; instead, he went to the road sign and began to figure out how to get to Rolf's mansion.

"Ding--"

The familiar, crisp ringtone sounded.

Cillian turned his head toward the direction of the sound, and there stood a clockwork servant not far away, holding a tray with a bell and a glass of milk on it.

"That's so thoughtful."

Cillian picked up the milk and drank it all in one gulp, then rang the bell.

After the bell rang, the clockwork servants seemed to receive some kind of command and walked towards a corridor that was about to be swallowed by a sea of ​​clouds, with Ciri following closely behind.

After a long and winding journey, Rolf's mansion came into view.

The corridor leading to the mansion was broken. Cillian stood at the break and waited for a moment. The gears meshed and turned, and the broken corridor was pieced back together.

"I'll be waiting for you in the garden."

As soon as Cillian arrived at the gate of the mansion, he heard Rolf's voice.

He looked around for the source of the sound, but found nothing.

Upon entering the mansion, Cillian arrived beneath the glass dome, guided by his clockwork servant.

Amidst the lush greenery, Rolf sat in a deckchair, wrapped in a blanket, holding a thick book in his lap.

He stared intently at the words in the book, speaking without looking up.

“I don’t really want to see you again, Cillian.”

(End of this chapter)