Plan and Vie for the Starport

Year fourteen, age thirty-eight.

Drawing a trait...

Trait drawn successfully!

"Bro, you're pretty aloof." (White, common): You're the type who only has surface-level friendships with everyone, showing no concern or care for your friends.

Adjust trait?

Yes / No?

You chose No.

In order to gather materials to repair and expand the star vessel, the rebel army launched attacks on the Wings of the God Cult's resource depots scattered across the region.

Thankfully, the rules of the Material Realm are stricter—storage-type artifacts are at minimum spirit treasures, and on this third-rate star, only those in positions of power could possibly own them.

That's why these depots exist.

To conceal your true purpose, the rebel army didn't just raid material depots—they also looted grain stores, wine cellars, source stone caches, and everything else, making the Wings of the God Cult think you were nothing but a bunch of desperate bandits.

The various rebel factions drew away the enemy's fire, allowing most of your operations to succeed.

But one side was a group of cultivators, the other ordinary mortal rebels—the disparity in strength was immense, and the rebels suffered massive casualties.

Had it not been for you leading the charge, the unlimited white porridge that got everyone through the harshest early days, and the Divine Weapon Revelation's enhancements to arms and armor, this wave of rebellion would have been crushed long ago.

Year fifteen, age thirty-nine.

This year, you completed the repair and expansion of the star vessel.

The current Freedom is now one thousand meters long, three hundred meters wide, and one hundred meters high!

Because this isn't a true ship, there's no need for components like engine rooms that take up internal space.

The enchanted devices and formation arrays built into the core take up very little room as well.

So the entire vast interior has been converted by you into layer upon layer of bunk rooms!

Private quarters are rare—only a few exist on the very top deck.

If everyone got their own room, the vessel would be absurdly huge, and the existing propulsion components couldn't handle it.

"Heavens, Marshal, you've done it! How many people can this ship carry now?"

"One hundred thousand!"

Liu Ying covered her mouth in awe, and you continued.

One hundred thousand people crammed together—such a voyage would certainly be uncomfortable.

But this is an escape.

And one hundred thousand is an ideal number. The actual number who manage to board will likely fall far short.

The rebel army continued to fight the Wings of the God Cult on Fortune Star, and total annihilation was only a matter of time.

Only a temporary flight, a chance to gather strength, could pave the way for a future return to take revenge and reclaim their homeland!

In your vision—

If you managed to escape Fortune Star and find a new home,

You would spend some time continuing to teach them knowledge and cultivation techniques.

After all, their contributions can't be ignored for allowing you to leave this third-rate star.

Once they could carry on the tradition themselves, you would resume your own adventures.

Returning for revenge and reclaiming the homeland wasn't something their generation could accomplish.

"Next, we need to carefully plan how to get one hundred thousand people onto the star vessel."

"Marshal, the rebel forces across the whole world now number more than just one hundred thousand."

"Yingzi, even if I built a ship that could hold a hundred million, the ones who actually escape in the end probably won't even reach one hundred thousand."

The rebel army now numbers in the millions by rough estimate. If everyone tried to leave, just boarding would take half a day—and the Wings of the God Cult wouldn't just watch you line up to get on board.

The battle at boarding will be brutal, and in the end, far fewer will make it.

You began discussing the boarding battle strategy with several of the sharper-minded staff officers in your ranks.

Year sixteen, age forty.

Though the rebel army was scattered across the land and often suffered wholesale slaughter at the hands of the Wings of the God Cult, erasing entire formations,

over years of development, several relatively stable organizations gradually emerged.

They were: the ten-thousand-strong direct cavalry under your personal command, plus the four rebel armies named after their main operating regions—East, South, West, and North.

Between the five main rebel forces, dedicated couriers maintained regular contact, exchanging intelligence and orders.

The question of who would stay and who would go did not cause any internal splits or disputes.

Everyone understood clearly: the hundred thousand chosen to board the ship were the ones facing the greatest peril.

These hundred thousand would have to assault the star port—the most heavily guarded location on Fortune Star, with the highest concentration of stationed experts.

The Eagle Corps, one of the eight great legions, had all ten thousand of its members stationed there.

The Eagle Corps was entirely composed of winged folk—meaning ten thousand enemies who could fly!

In the Material Realm, even the Core Condensation stage couldn't fly without external aid, yet these ten thousand, even at the lowest Mortal Realm level, could all take to the skies!

How difficult it would be to capture the port and get the star vessel successfully airborne was all too clear.

Your direct rebel force, being the earliest to fight and the longest in battle, was unanimously granted full boarding rights and assigned to this hardest of battles—the fight for the star port.

The remaining ninety thousand were chosen by lottery from the other four armies.

After selection, they disguised themselves, infiltrated in secret, took roundabout routes, and gathered with your direct forces at Wolf Smoke Mountain.

When they assembled, only sixty thousand of the ninety thousand remained.

The other thirty thousand had been discovered by the Wings of the God Cult on their way, dying or vanishing.

In other words, at most seventy thousand could now board the ship.

Which also meant the difficulty of taking the star port had increased further.

"I'm sorry, Marshal! I couldn't bring all my brothers!"

Cheng Guang, the general of the East Route Army, wiped tears with his one remaining arm.

He had been responsible for bringing the more than twenty thousand East Route Army soldiers chosen by lot to Wolf Smoke Mountain.

But their trail was exposed midway. He fought a bloody path all the way, and only brought a handful of his own troops.

You patted his shoulder and looked at the leaders of the other route armies.

"It's fine. Just getting here is a success—even one person is a win!

We all know why we rebelled: because we couldn't stomach being pushed around anymore. But rebelling doesn't mean we suddenly match those bastards!

They hold the key to cultivation, and we'll never be able to beat them that way!

So we are seeds. We have to leave this place, find a land where we can cultivate in peace, and place our hopes of defeating them in the generations to come!

Let us live out our own lives to the fullest, turning them into flames that light the road of return for our descendants!"

By now, most of humanity had come to realize:

Better to fight the enemy and die—death itself is a release—than to live out a lifetime as a weary, starving, freezing slave.

Even the most cowardly, after joining the rebel army and experiencing a period of being treated like human beings, gaining at least basic respect even if hunger remained, came to understand this truth.

They would evolve from dodging battle, fearing combat, playing dead, and hiding at the start—into charging at the very front, even taking blades meant for their comrades.