Journey to Qingzhou · Chat

The spiritual energy of the Nine Provinces gathers upon Qingzhou. The city gate stands towering and majestic, its bronze-colored walls etched with a thousand years of wind and frost and faint patterns of spiritual power. On the long street outside the gate, cultivators stream endlessly, forming a long queue. Sect disciples, clan cultivators, and rogue cultivators from all directions wait their turn to enter — orderly, yet with a hidden undercurrent of restlessness. You move forward slowly with the crowd. The cultivator ahead of you hurries through the gate, and the throng behind presses close at your heels. When your turn comes, the gate-guard raises a hand, signaling the entry fee. You raise your hand and offer a single low-grade spirit stone, your movement calm and clean. The guard takes the spirit stone, weighing it between his fingertips. His gaze sweeps over your solitary, sectless appearance, and his tone carries the kindly warning of one who has seen it all: "A newcomer, an out-of-town rogue cultivator, right? Qingzhou by day looks prosperous and peaceful, but at night it isn't safe in the least. The streets and alleys are full of undercurrents — vendetta chases, remnant demon beasts, and secret-realm turbulence cropping up without end. If you want a safe place to stay, don't wander outside. Get into the city early, find yourself a lodging, and settle down." As the words fall, the heavy city gate opens wide for you. Inside the city, countless spirit lanterns have just begun to glow. The long streets are wreathed in immortal mist, pavilions and towers stretch on without end, and the clamor of voices seethes. South Street is grim and menacing, the Central City lavish and resplendent, North Lane secluded and still, the Ancient City solemn and grave. The seven great powers lurk in every direction, and the thousand-year chess game presses down steadily over the entire land.