Yukong

The Xianzhou Luofu's Head of the Sky-Faring Commission is gentle, yet seasoned and authoritative.
Having been a pilot since young, she had become the commission's head with her outstanding combat achievements, yet she no longer flies due to a particularly brutal battle.
Now, her shine had already dimmed as she shifted her focus to official duties, but she is always seen guiding the course of the Luofu.

"You know, only three kinds of people can work for the Sky-Faring Commission.
Those who have the gift of gab, those who seek excitement, and those who crave to return to the stars — no exceptions."

We are different from the Xianzhou natives with their unending lives. Even though Foxians are also considered a long-life species, our lives span only three centuries. Therefore, many of us are more passionate about enjoying the fun in life — chasing the best moments in life with all our heart and soul.

Me? I am currently 246 years old. I am one step into my grave and have long gone past my days of merriment. You might know of my decisive and dashing ways when I was younger. In the tales of older Xianzhou natives, you might even hear of my achievement — such as running six consecutive red lights.

I had just become an adult back then, and I was dragged in front of the general for the infringement... Guess what happened? The general wanted me to join the Sky-Faring Commission purely because of my piloting prowess, and he thought I was going to make it big in the Sky-Faring Commission.

Back then, he used to call me the "Delinquent Girl." Later on, they all called me "Ace."

"Old decrepits are useless, like torn strips of clothes hanging on a wooden stick."

Years ago, I heard an old poem not from here. Its structure, rhyme, and form were different from Xianzhou poems. I don't like it, but this particular sentence stayed with me, like a ghost I could not chase away.

I've witnessed how Outworlders age, how their skin sag, their muscles shrink, how their brains degenerate irreversibly, how their bones weaken, and their eyes cloud over...

I can understand their envy towards us. I used to think the same way, that we will never grow old, that we will maintain the same appearance of youth.

Every time we head out for a battle, I always promise my comrades, "You just worry about holding onto your weapon. I'll bring you back to Xianzhou."

But I broke my promise. After that fateful battle, only I returned to the Sky-Faring Commission, dragging my own damaged body.

I can never return. I understood that then.

From then on, I tunnel-visioned on official documents, abandoning any dream of returning to the sky.

I grew old.

"The plot in this story is just the opposite of Xianzhou natives like yourself."

This story came from beyond Xianzhou. The story tells of a young man who made a deal with a deity. He wished to be immortal, to be deathless. The deity granted his wish. He would never die, but his body would continuously weaken and wither eternally. He would carry the burden and sufferance of old age of perpetuity. This was all because he dared to dream about an unchanging flesh.

At the end of the story, the old man who told me the story expressed the sentiments above. Perhaps, to Outworlders, the Xianzhou ships are dreamboats of bliss that traverse the ocean of stars, where people will spend their everlasting lifespan in enjoyment of sublime happiness, never knowing the pains of separation, aging, and death. In my opinion, that was not the case.

Xianzhou natives are precisely experiencing an eternal deterioration. Sure, I am as energetic as I was when I was fifty years old. I can drive a starskiff through a valley no wider than two yards, I can dance continuously for hours, and I can sing... You may find this difficult to believe, but I can sing better than many of the performing artists in the Exalting Sanctum.

Unfortunately, I will not do any of those things again. I do not want to do any of them, as they bring me no enjoyment. Not many things do. Not anymore.

This is our deterioration. This is the deterioration of all Xianzhou natives.

"Kites are mementos of fallen pilots.
Take good care of them. Let them take off once more in place of those pilots who cannot return to the sky."

When I crawled out of the burning wreckage of the starskiff, I saw the sky of that bloodless and emotionless planet, untainted by an atmosphere.

It was the most beautiful sky I had ever seen, but all I could feel was unbearable sadness. I could only creep on the earth like a blasted ant, staring at it with bated breath.

In my dream, that was the day I died.

I think about it a lot. I think about the past. I have seen dead suns. I have seen sentient planets. I have seen the Reignbow Arbiter's Lux Arrow. I have seen too much. I have seen too many stars. I have seen the demise of too many lives. I have seen the births of too many beings. I have seen too much. I'm getting old. I think I'm getting old. I will die. My wings are broken. I can't go back. I think I'm old. I can't go back. I think I'll die. My wings are broken. I can't fly. I'm like an ant. I don't think I can fly. I think my wings are broken. I want to go back. I want to go back to the sky. I want to go back. I want to go back to the sky. I want to go back.

I awoke from the dream.

I want to go back. I want to go back. I want to go back.

I need to go back. The sky belongs to me. I crave to return to the skies.

I will complete the final flight of my life.