Chapter 283

Chapter 283: The True Graveyard

The sun rose as the moon faded.

The sun set as the moon emerged.

Days passed swiftly.

Within the spacious cabin of the Narwhal, Midi channeled his Dragon Sealing Sword, steadily refining and absorbing fragments of Radiance of Light.

As his level increased, the White Crystal magic within him grew denser, like an expanding tide washing over sand. The stronger his magic became, the faster he absorbed and refined the Radiance—a gradual acceleration he barely noticed.

Initially, refining a single grain took days. Now, he completed one every forty-eight hours. Faster absorption meant quicker accumulation, naturally speeding his advancement.

In just one week, Midi absorbed nearly four grains of Radiance.

His previous battles—slaying cloud beasts and confronting the male Saint of Blue Truth Sect through the curtain aboard the Monsoon Fleet—hadn’t raised his level but had honed his magic to greater purity during combat.

When fresh Radiance merged into him, the thirsting Dragon Sealing Sword devoured it hungrily. New luminous patterns bloomed across the blade’s surface, their complexity mirroring Midi’s growth.

Without resistance, he ascended.

Now an Awakened One of Extraordinary Awakening, he reached level 53.

Sensing the light elements within him and the sword’s amplified power, Midi didn’t stop. He lifted another Radiance fragment, testing the difference between levels 52 and 53.

Absorption speed had indeed doubled—one grain per day now. Yet leveling wouldn’t accelerate proportionally. The Radiance required for 53 to 54 far exceeded prior needs, potentially slowing his progress.

Regardless of rates, Midi’s method stayed constant: battle, refine, absorb.

The fundamental path to strength.

Provided one had sufficient resources and allies to ward off distractions and enemies.

A week had passed. Time to arrive.

Midi set down the Radiance, steadying his aura.

Three sharp knocks answered his thoughts. Avril’s husky voice carried through the door:

“Midi—final graveyard ahead. Largest yet. Outer wreckage looks promising!” Fatigue tinged the dark elf’s words, yet satisfaction undercut it.

“Good.” Light flickered in Midi’s star-dark eyes. He rose, joining Avril on deck.

Silent ruins engulfed his vision.

Rust dominated the vista.

Black basalt floating islands and reefs bore warship carcasses—shattered wings spanning hundreds of meters, crumbled iron mountains, hulls decayed into metallic shoals.

This debris drifted through invisible magic currents like sediment in a bottomless lake, ancient and imposing.

The true warship graveyard.

Under Avril’s command, the Narwhal had found smaller wreck clusters all week—accumulations shaped over millennia by space rifts and magic flows within the sealed ancient battlefield’s stagnant ecosystem.

None matched the scale before them now. None approached this wreckage’s preservation.

Seeing the graveyard before him and the tangled wreckage, even though Midi had never witnessed the heavenly war firsthand, he could imagine the ferocity of the expedition launched by King Bacal of the Tyrant Dragon.

From the wreckage’s arrangement, Midi concluded this must have been the collision zone of two fleets’ flagships!

In the Sea of Clouds’ aerial combat, Skyships typically stayed back while Vanguard ships probed and covered the front. But Midi, after studying ancient texts, knew the heavenly war was different. Those ancient warships far surpassed modern Skyships. Battles involved direct warship fire exchanges. Ships targeted early in combat were vaporized by enemy main cannons, leaving no debris.

Yet here, most wrecks remained intact. Many heavenly and Demon Realm ships had collided, while others exploded internally. What did this mean?

Both sides had exhausted their ammunition, resorting to primitive tactics—ramming advanced aerial warships, boarding enemies, and detonating bombs. Such desperation meant these wrecks had likely been part of the central or flagship formations.

Such crude methods couldn’t destroy all ships. Midi’s coveted "intact ancient warship" might lie here. At the very least, they could salvage core components like engines, protective magic arrays, and firepower systems.

No wonder Avril had interrupted his training to request his presence. This was a true treasure trove, requiring skilled adventurers to unlock its value.

“Anchor. Prepare to explore. I’ll lead this time.” Midi nodded at Avril and issued the order.

The Narwhal slowed, docking beside a large floating island. Heavy crossbows fired harpoons with steel cables into the rocks, securing the sixty-five-meter Skyship in place.

The Narwhal’s side hatch opened. With engine hums, a dozen Vanguard ships soared out.

“Shadow Snake” Avril led the vanguard. Over the past week, she’d cemented her authority as an exploration expert. “White Snake” Emil and Fourth Prince Reinhardt followed closely.

As for Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare, he’d commandeered a rare two-headed wyvern using weapons from the whaling ship after leaving Windstream.

Now, the Level 62 awakened wyvern had become an undead mount. Wiseman lounged in its saddle, steering it effortlessly via necromancy—convenient and efficient.

Midi needed no vehicle. Once the others took off, he channeled White Crystal magic, transforming into a golden-red glow that streaked ahead to claim the lead.

“Spread out. Scout for intact ancient warships.” Midi signaled.

After a week of Avril’s training, Reinhardt and the others moved with purpose. No longer chaotic, they piloted Vanguard ships skillfully, skimming wrecks to survey salvage targets.

The first day focused on the graveyard’s outskirts, yielding results similar to past expeditions—intact but unimportant fragments.

The second day pushed deeper, but progress slowed as tangled wreckage narrowed search paths.

By the third day, advanced components surfaced, but no intact warships. As Midi debated using the Narwhal’s brute force to carve a path inward, explosions erupted from the graveyard’s heart!

Wiseman and his two-headed wyvern burst from a wreckage cluster, the undead mount spewing smoke, its flight wobbling like a damaged Vanguard ship.

Chasing them were four crimson-glowing discs—one-and-a-half-meter-wide, seamless despite millennia, and devoid of seats.

Unmanned aircraft from the heavens!

Everyone’s eyes lit up—except Wiseman, now coated in ash.