Chapter 27
The city was a sprawling testament to its middle age, a place caught between the horse-drawn past and the mechanical future.
The air, thick with the smog of progress, carried a symphony of sounds: the chugging of early combustion engines, the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer blending with the rhythmic clatter of machinery, and the constant, low murmur of a thousand conversations.
The streets were a vibrant, chaotic tapestry of life.
Newly invented automobiles boxy and brass-accented navigated the cobblestones at a leisurely, sputtering pace, their horns tooting politely to clear a path through the crowds.
In their absence, the city belonged to the people.
A throng of humanity from every corner of the globe jostled gently on the wide sidewalks merchants in fine wool, factory workers in sturdy denim, and immigrants in traditional dress all moving with a shared sense of purpose, their paths intersecting in a complex dance of daily errands and ambitions.
This was not the sterile, glass-and-steel beauty of a metropolis, nor could it rival the ethereal, cloud-piercing spires of the fabled Sky City.
Its charm was far more grounded and tangible.
It was a beauty born of industry and grit, of sheer effort.
Grand edifices of soot-darkened brick and robust, ornamented iron stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their foundations deep and sure.
Every bridge was a lattice of formidable strength, every factory a cathedral of production with its forest of chimneys reaching for the sky in the robust curves of a cast-iron column and the precise engineering of a new waterworks.
Lucas looked at this city from a room above.
The truth was that not everyone had mana.
Those who did held all the power, while those who didn't still tried their best not to lose a hopeless struggle, because a 7-Star or 8-Star could destroy this entire city in an hour or less.
Even with their magic guns, powered by minerals that held mana, the end result would be the same.
Maybe if they lived in the modern era Lucas came from before being reborn in this world, they would have a chance of victory—a mere 30%.
Because the number of cultivators wasn't small. It was just that they were constantly at war, reducing their numbers to a few million.
But even so, they could still destroy the modern era, even with nukes.
There were spells capable of sending a nuke back to where it was launched, effectively deflecting it.
Unless they combined the magic weapons of this world with the modern Earth's technology but even then, the cultivators would still likely win, though their chances of losing would be higher.
It would be a true 50:50.
Lucas stopped thinking about such stupid things as a bird reached the window he stood at, carrying a letter.
He glanced behind him at the small room, which was in poor condition, with two beds and a table in front of them.
"We can meet her now. Remember not to be seen," Lucas said as he vanished, moving at incredible speed. At that moment, Lucas was moving 45 meters per second, leaving behind no sound or trace.
"Damn, he's fast," Blake muttered, stretching his head. "Was he slowing down because he wanted us to keep up?" he questioned before dashing through the window as well, moving at 20 meters per second.
They moved through the city like ghosts in the shadows, and it didn't take long for them to reach their destination.
Lucas saw it: the manor.
It was colossal, a monument of power that commanded over twenty meters of prime land, with wings and turrets suggesting even more space sprawling out of sight.
The mansion itself was a breathtaking silhouette of gables and leaded glass windows, but its severe beauty was softened by the lush, moonlit garden that embraced its base a fragrant, chaotic tapestry of life woven around a stone hearted giant.
Circling around it, they entered without a sound through a window marked with a symbol Lucas recognized.
Even while moving at such speed, he controlled himself so that not a whisper escaped.
Blake followed, entering the room as well.
The room was a testament to opulence, a gilded cage of silk draperies and polished mahogany.
The air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and old money.
And there, positioned like the room's most valuable treasure, sat a woman who seemed to command the very light around her.
She was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with a beauty both elegant and severe.
Seated on the edge of the lavish bed with a spine straight as a rapier, she possessed the innate grace of a queen holding court.
A dress of deep emerald silk whispered around her, its cut masterfully accentuating a striking hourglass figure the very ideal of noble allure.
A cascade of long black hair, like a river of polished obsidian, flowed over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her fair skin.
But it was her eyes that arrested Lucas completely.
They were a piercing, striking gold not the soft yellow of a daisy, but the hard, valuable gleam of ancient coinage.
They held no surprise, only a calm, unnerving certainty as they fixed upon the newcomers, making it clear she had been waiting for them, and that their entrance was merely a scene in a play she was already directing.
"You two are late. For elites from the Hidden City, I thought you would arrive on time," she said with a teasing smile.
Lucas smiled back and said, "A few seconds late isn't bad for us, but we are here now, Lady Natalie. It is nice to meet you."
Natalie chuckled and said, "I'm just playing with you." Blake stayed quiet, leaving everything to Lucas.
Why did people who should have been the strongest bow down to nobles when, in truth, they held far more power?
It was the power game.
Cultivators didn't see themselves as people who would farm, rule non-cultivators, or handle mundane administration.
Without non-cultivators, the things needed to keep their city floating would be far too much work.
Labor, money, resources all of it came from the Empire.
Even though the Hidden Sky City was stronger, they still needed the Empire, so bowing their heads was a necessity.
But if nobles stepped out of line, Lucas and Blake had the right and power to kill them.
Everyone except the royal family anyone else was fair game.
Even if the cultivators were in the wrong, the Hidden Sky City still conducted its investigation.
If a low-ranked cultivator committed the offense, they would be executed and their head sent to the nobles.
If it were a high-ranked cultivator, they would simply be warned or lightly punished which rarely happened, because the elites understood that they needed the Empire for everything on their side to function perfectly.