The flying ship cut through the sky with impressive stability. The wind howled around the protective barrier, but on the deck the air remained calm, almost serene. The Verdant Sword Sect had long since disappeared beyond the horizon. Below them, mountains covered in dense forests, winding rivers, and deep valleys passed by like a blur of green and brown.
Kyrian sat in one of the side seats, his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead. He did not speak. He did not need to. The constant motion of the ship and the soft hum of the flight runes created an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Feng Yuan, seated at the control position at the front, kept one hand on the ship's control core. Mei Ran was beside him, her posture as elegant as ever. The others occupied the remaining seats, each absorbing the experience of flying in such a rare treasure.
After nearly an hour of silence, Feng Yuan finally spoke, his voice firm and clear enough for everyone to hear despite the wind.
