Chapter 16: The Solace of Love—Chu Ling’s Nurturing

Her words were like warm spring water, slowly soaking into He Feng’s parched and icy heart. The heavy fog of confusion and overwhelming resentment seemed to be somewhat diluted by this unconditional trust and support.

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Service · Slumber

The warm flow of water and the loving care relaxed He Feng’s taut nerves completely. The pain eased in the healing bath, and exhaustion surged like a rising tide.

He leaned against the smooth jade stone at the edge of the pool, nearly drifting into a deep sleep.

At that moment, Chu Ling’s movements paused slightly. Her clear emerald eyes gazed at He Feng’s scarred yet sharply defined profile, filled with an indescribable affection, sorrow, and a resolve that felt almost sacrificial.

She knew her master was utterly drained in body and soul, indifferent to everything else.

But she also understood the immense pressure he bore—how he needed release, solace, and the most primal connection of life to affirm his existence, to dispel the bone-deep cold and loneliness.

Gently, she bent forward, her tender lips carrying infinite warmth and compassion as they pressed upon He Feng’s face, marked by the traces of time.

Then, like a nimble and docile mermaid, she slowly slipped into the water, drawing close to him.

Her movements bore a sacred devotion, as if offering herself in sacrifice. The warm pool rippled softly, shrouded in mist.

No words were spoken—only the most direct, primal comfort and devotion.

She intended to use all she had to warm the heart of her master, which was nearly frozen amid blood and fire; to fill his vast emptiness and confusion; to tell him—he was still deeply loved, still needed, and not utterly alone.

He Feng’s body tensed briefly, then completely relaxed in the face of that unconditional acceptance and gentle solace.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, as if shedding a tremendous burden.

He no longer resisted, allowing the warm waves to engulf him.

In this private realm belonging only to him and Chu Ling, he was no longer the commander bearing the fate of civilization, no longer the war god stained with blood, but simply a man scarred and battered, yearning for warmth and peace.

He let go of all pretenses and defenses, revealing his truest and most vulnerable self before this angel who had accompanied him for six thousand years.

After an unknown time, utterly exhausted and released, He Feng was supported by Chu Ling as they moved to his familiar bedroom.

The room was simple yet cozy, with a faint scent of herbs and wood lingering in the air—an aroma belonging to Chu Ling herself.

Outside the window stretched the chaotic night sky of Tian City; in the distance toward the starport, the chaotic glow of energy and streaks of ships taking off and landing still flickered.

“Master, you need to rest,” Chu Ling said with a gentle firmness, helping He Feng sit beside the broad bed.

He Feng was indeed utterly exhausted. His grievous wounds and mental toll, combined with the complete relaxation beside Chu Ling, had stretched his nerves to the breaking point.

He barely had the strength to speak, only nodding obediently.

Chu Ling did not leave. She sat sideways on the edge of the bed, gently patting her softly clad silk-covered thighs, soothing him like comforting a deeply weary child: “Lie down, Master. Think of nothing.”

He Feng hesitated little, slowly resting his heavy head upon Chu Ling’s warm, supple thigh.

In an instant, a familiar and profoundly reassuring aura enveloped him.

His cheek pressed against the silken fabric, he could feel the gentle warmth radiating from her skin.

That sensation was a thousand times more comfortable than any expensive ice-silk bed he had ever known.

Chu Ling’s hand, cool and soothing, softly and rhythmically patted He Feng’s back, her touch as gentle as a feather brushing.

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Another hand tenderly combed through his slightly tousled black hair, fingertips occasionally brushing over his furrowed brow, attempting to soothe the deep worry etched there.

“Sleep, Master…” Chu Ling’s voice was soft and low, like a whisper in a dream, carrying a hypnotic power. “The matters of Tian City, Rehn and the others… the pursuers… are still far away… You’re too tired… you need rest…”

No extra words were spoken, only gentle strokes and that comforting presence. The nerves, tense for too long, finally began to loosen in this absolute trust and peace.

Heavy eyelids could no longer hold on. He Feng’s breathing grew long and steady, and his tightly knit brow softened.

In just a moment, this “War God,” who had slaughtered countless foes in furious battles, turned the tide in desperate situations, and carried the future of three hundred thousand Fire Seeds on his shoulders, lay with his head on the only woman who could make him drop every guard—like a child who had found his home—drifting into a deep sleep, letting out faint and even snores.

Chu Ling lowered her head, her emerald eyes tenderly fixed on He Feng’s sleeping face, still bearing traces of fatigue and determination.

Her fingertips carefully brushed a small, barely healed blood scar on his cheek. Her eyes brimmed almost to overflowing with heartache and a nearly sacred resolve to protect.

The chaos and clamor outside the window seemed sealed in another world. Inside the room, only soft breathing and gentle pats remained—each beat seeming to soothe every wound.

He Feng did not know how long he slept—free from nightmares, only deep peace as if returning to a mother’s womb.

When he opened his eyes again, the first sight was Chu Ling’s gentle emerald gaze watching him, and outside, the Tian City dawn light (artificially simulated) had grown relatively calm, though still tinged with the tense atmosphere of evacuation.

“Master, you’re awake,” Chu Ling’s voice carried a hint of joy, her touch still gentle. “Do you feel better?”

He Feng moved slightly. Though still heavy with soreness, the churning inside and the sharp pain had greatly lessened.

His mental fatigue remained, but the crushing weight near collapse had lifted, replaced by a tranquil strength. Chu Ling’s healing medicine and this rare deep sleep had worked wonders.

“Mm.” He Feng sat up, his voice hoarse but steady as before. “How long did I sleep?”

“Twelve standard hours,” Chu Ling answered promptly.

She rose and swiftly brought a cup filled with a warm, invigorating potion scented with herbs and wood.

“The timing is perfect. Deputy Rehn sent encrypted communication half an hour ago. The first phase of the mission is basically complete.

The garrison legion has been reorganized and received, now boarding ships. The scientific team and their families have been safely relocated, with the gene bank backed up.

Seventy percent of core strategic resources have been moved; transport ships are fully loaded. All sacred civilization artifacts have been transferred safely. The civilian screening and boarding are nearly finished, expected to complete within two hours. Port order is barely maintained.”

Such efficiency owed to He Feng’s meticulous preplanning, Chu Ling’s intelligence support, the iron-handed execution of the Second Legion, and the panic-induced “cooperation” caused by the “Kaisa Massacre” rumor.

“Good.” He Feng accepted the potion and drank it in one gulp. A gentle yet powerful warmth surged throughout his limbs, invigorating his spirit.

He stood and stretched. The Silver Dawn armor had long since been cleaned and repaired by Chu Ling, neatly placed nearby.

The damaged parts had been mended with a flexible dark metal—imperfect, but enough for battle.

“Master,” Chu Ling said as she picked up the armor, preparing to help him don it. Her movements were meticulous, like performing a sacred ritual. “The fleet is nearly ready. We cannot stay long in Tian City.”

Her voice held a subtle hint of reluctance but was mostly a calm reminder.

He Feng’s eyes followed Chu Ling fastening the last clasp of his armor, then swept over the familiar bedroom.

His adoptive father’s portrait rested quietly on the nightstand, the gentle gaze seeming to look across time at him.

The chaotic star map scroll and the final pointer were safely stowed in an inconspicuous metal box beside the portrait.

This place held too many memories, yet now it was filled with the scent of parting.

He reached out, gently brushing Chu Ling’s smooth cheek, feeling the faint coolness of her skin.

In her emerald eyes, his reflection was clear—fatigue slightly eased but battle spirit rekindled, determination hardened into resolute will for the future.

“Come with me,” He Feng said, his voice low and firm. It was not a question, but a declaration.

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Chu Ling blinked in surprise, then her emerald eyes bloomed with brilliant light like stars ignited. She nodded firmly without hesitation: “Yes, Master. Chu Ling… will always follow you.”

She did not bother packing trivial belongings, only carefully placing the portrait of his adoptive father and the metal box containing the chaotic star map and final pointer into a specially designed spatial folding bracelet.

Then, she donned a Silver Dawn armor identical to the female angels’, neatly tying her long green hair into a ponytail.

At her waist hung a Silver Dawn longsword—she was not only the housekeeper but also a female warrior who had fought alongside He Feng through the flames of war.

“Let’s go.”

Chu Ling stood beside He Feng, her voice calm and resolute.

Her aura shifted instantly from a gentle housekeeper to a capable and loyal warrior and aide.

He Feng cast a final, deep glance at this “home” heavy with memories, his gaze complex but ultimately crystallized into icy resolve.

He no longer lingered. Turning, he strode out of the room. Chu Ling, like his most faithful shadow, followed closely behind.

The shuttle rose swiftly, leaving the tranquil estate and chaotic Tian City behind as it sped toward the starport where the vast fleet assembled.

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Starport · The Last Chaos and Departure

When He Feng’s shuttle arrived above the main starport, a grand, chaotic yet somberly ordered scene unfolded.

The massive flagship “Lightbringer,” like a battle-worn giant beast, was moored at the port’s core, surrounded by other main warships.

Countless transport ships buzzed like worker bees, ferrying the last personnel and supplies aboard.

Below, the port was still crowded, but order was much improved since He Feng’s departure.

Soldiers of the Second Legion stood like iron gates, maintaining the final screening and boarding order.

Though cries and pleas persisted, they were outnumbered by numb silence and the primal will to survive driving the crowds forward.

At the edges of the port rested many old warships and transports deemed “beyond repair” or “too slow.”

They lay like abandoned giant carcasses, quietly awaiting destruction or self-destruction.

Some soldiers were installing final demolition charges on these vessels.

Further away, the newly reorganized 300,000-strong Tian City garrison boarded relatively new high-speed transports, their faces still marked by confusion and anxiety, but under Second Legion officers’ strict control and the slogan “Follow the commander to survive,” they barely maintained formation. They would form the defense force of the new civilization.

The transport fleet carrying 777 top scientists and their families, along with the screened young civilians—especially women—was nearly assembled, awaiting the final departure order.

He Feng’s shuttle landed directly on the docking platform outside the “Lightbringer” bridge.

The hatch opened. He Feng stepped out, clad in repaired Silver Dawn armor, his posture upright and commanding.

Chu Ling followed quietly half a step behind, donned in sleek Silver Dawn armor, carrying the metal box containing the heirlooms and star map.