Morning.
March 7th yawned as she stepped out of her room, instinctively turning left to knock on the doors of her companions.
The closest room belonged to Stelle. When Stelle opened her door, the ends of her gray hair stuck out messily, and a stubborn cowlick stood defiantly on her head.
“Good morning! How’d you sleep? Did you dream about anyone?”
March 7th grinned mischievously, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased the still-dazed Stelle.
“Nope. Didn’t dream of anything. Just closed my eyes, opened them, and then got woken up by you,” Stelle replied, shaking her head groggily. She ruffled her hair in an unladylike manner to smooth it down and then trailed after March 7th to wake the others.
Next on their list was Venti. After knocking on his door for quite a while, he finally answered, looking every bit the carefree bard he was—albeit a very sleep-deprived one.
“My, my! Judging by your appearance, did you sneak into someone’s dream again last night?”
March 7th poked Venti’s soft, springy cheek, clearly entertained by the texture. The sensation was so pleasant that she couldn’t help but linger, pinching lightly.
But before she could enjoy it further, Venti gently brushed her hand away, covering his slightly reddened cheek. He looked at her with a mix of exasperation and amusement.
“Honestly! Even if I had that ability, that doesn’t mean I go around peeping into people’s dreams like some creepy voyeur.”
“Hehe, that’s true… My bad! Forgive me, will you?”
March 7th laughed apologetically and sidled up to Venti, massaging his shoulders as a gesture of goodwill. Stelle, observing the scene, couldn’t help but marvel at March 7th’s boundless energy so early in the morning.
“Mm… Little March is so endearing. Should I forgive her or not~?”
Venti squinted his eyes in pleasure under March 7th’s ministrations, his smile turning as sly as a cat’s.
“I’ll give you my shrimp dumplings at breakfast! But in return, you have to share half of your juice with me!”
March 7th had glanced at the menu yesterday. The top-tier service meant the meals were excellent quality, making food trading feel like an intimate family tradition.
Venti cheerfully agreed to the deal, and Stelle silently resolved to help herself to whatever she fancied from both of their plates.
As for Uncle Yang—
No one bothered to wake him. He was undoubtedly already up and reading the morning paper.
Sure enough, when they descended the stairs, there he was, sitting on a sofa in the lounge. However, Uncle Yang’s usually composed expression was marred by a hint of gravity.
“Good morning, Uncle Yang!”
March 7th greeted him with her usual cheerfulness. But her bright voice seemed to draw unwanted attention; the other guests in the inn turned to look at them, some whispering among themselves.
As they passed by, Stelle caught snippets of their conversation: “murder,” “poor thing,” and “under investigation.”
Even Venti toned down his usual mirth, glancing pensively at the murmuring onlookers.
“Huh? What’s going on? Why do I feel like everyone’s looking at us weirdly?”
March 7th, ever sensitive to others’ emotions, began to feel a growing unease. Coupled with Uncle Yang’s somber demeanor, a sense of foreboding crept into her heart.
Uncle Yang looked up at them and gestured for them to come closer, speaking in a low voice.
“There’s been an incident. We might be in trouble—”
“Trouble? Uh… Could it have something to do with the fact that our messages failed to send yesterday? Maybe it’s because of the Stellaron’s explosion?”
March 7th scratched her head, confused.
“Probably not. Long-range communication technology is still unreliable at best. It’s far more likely that someone tampered with the system. If I had to guess, it’s probably that little hacker’s doing,” Uncle Yang said with a grim expression.
Though clearly frustrated, he wasn’t overly concerned about the failed messages. He was confident in his ability to handle the hacker’s tricks. The real issue lay elsewhere.
Just as he opened his mouth to explain, a sharp, commanding voice rang out from outside.
“Cloud Knights, hear my orders—surround the area!”
The sound of synchronized footsteps followed, and soon, a dozen Cloud Knights armed with formation blades stormed into the inn, sealing off the premises.
Behind them stood a familiar figure—Jing Yuan’s subordinate, Yukong. She was as stoic as ever, but there was a dark edge to her gaze that hadn’t been there the day before.
Seeing the situation escalate, Uncle Yang remained composed and took the lead in addressing her.
“Navigator Yukong, what brings the Cloud Knights here in such force? Have you found a lead on the Stellaron Hunters?”
“…The Stellaron Hunters are cunning and elusive. We’ve found no traces of them. However—”
Yukong’s cold gaze swept over the group, her tone laced with anger.
“There’s no need for your involvement in this matter anymore!”
“Navigator Yukong, what do you mean by that?”
Uncle Yang remained calm, his voice steady as he questioned her.
“Don’t play dumb.”
Yukong’s piercing eyes scanned their faces—some calm, some bewildered, some contemplative. Her initial suspicion seemed to waver slightly as she observed their reactions.
Forcing herself to regain composure, she continued in a frosty tone.
“This morning, at dawn, an incident occurred on the Xuanye Bridge in the central area of Starskiff Haven. In full view of the public, a serious traffic accident took place.”
“A starskiff was destroyed on the spot; one person was injured, and another was killed. Several pieces of public property were also damaged.
“And the deceased… was our Navigator, Tingyun.”
“What!?”
March 7th’s face was a mask of shock, unable to process what she had just heard.
Though her relationship with Tingyun had been marked by constant bickering and debates over trivial matters, it wasn’t devoid of camaraderie.
After all, Tingyun was a living, breathing person. Just yesterday, they had argued over which dish at dinner was the best, discussed where to go for afternoon tea, and even made plans to track down the Stellaron Hunters together as “temporary allies.”
And now, the sharp-witted and cunning Tingyun had met such an inexplicable end?
“Ugh…”
Beside her, Stelle’s expression grew somber. Although she hadn’t been as close to Tingyun as March 7th—certainly not to the point of calling each other “milk tea sisters”—she had kept Uncle Yang’s warnings about Tingyun in mind, treating her as someone to be cautious of.
But even with that, Stelle hadn’t expected Tingyun’s story to end like this.
“This… is shocking news. We deeply regret and mourn Miss Tingyun’s unfortunate passing,” Welt said, pushing up his glasses. His tone was heavy with sincerity.
“Have the perpetrators been apprehended?”
“The individuals involved and their starskiff have been detained… but there’s something suspicious about Tingyun’s death.”
“Oh? Were there any clues left at the scene that could help trace what happened?”
“…None. According to the medical examination by the Alchemy Commission, Tingyun’s actual cause of death was a fractured cervical spine.”
When Yukong first received the report, her blood had run cold. Her body froze, her fingers unable to move.
At first, she assumed it was just a routine traffic accident. But then she saw the victim’s name in the report: Tingyun, one of the few people she considered a friend.
Without hesitation, she abandoned her unfinished tasks and rushed to the scene. There, the medics revealed that the horrifying abdominal wound was not the true cause of death. Instead, it was the result of the body’s weight snapping the cervical spine during a fall.
A local tracker further corroborated that he had seen a blurry human figure hanging beneath the bridge before the incident.
The lack of a rope at the scene ruled out suicide, plunging the case deeper into mystery.
To make matters worse, Tingyun’s expression in death was serene—completely at odds with the struggles typically associated with hanging. Her time of death was estimated to be around the hour of the Ox.
Yet, when the Judiciary Division reviewed surveillance footage, they found that key sections of the recording were misaligned, rendering them useless.
These discrepancies pushed the case far beyond the realm of a simple “traffic accident.”
As Yukong recounted this, her expression was a mixture of bitter self-mockery and barely restrained fury.
“As her superior and her friend, I refuse to believe Tingyun was the kind of person who would conceal deep sorrow from others.”
“A person with a harmonious family, a promising career, and no apparent burdens—what reason would she have to do something so foolish? Besides, she valued her life more than anyone.”
“And yet, here in the heart of the Starskiff Haven, right under the Sky-Faring Commission’s nose, our Navigator, my friend, died under such inexplicable circumstances. I cannot accept such an affront to the Xianzhou Alliance, nor will I let the one responsible go unpunished.”
Yukong’s eyes, usually dulled by years of experience, now burned with a fiery intensity.
“I know my suspicions toward you are an affront, an ugly act of misplaced anger. But… you were the ones who spent the most time with Tingyun before her death. I can think of no one else who might have influenced her.”
“…”
Welt said nothing, but March 7th and Stelle exchanged glances. In their eyes, they saw mutual frustration and helplessness.
“So, Navigator Yukong, what’s your plan? Detain us and await the General’s judgment?”
The one who broke the silence wasn’t Welt but Venti, the poet, who seemed remarkably unaffected by the tense atmosphere.
“No… I’ve already reported this to the General. While he doesn’t believe you to be the culprits, I insist on maintaining my doubts.”
Yukong’s voice was low, laden with a determined edge.
“That said, I won’t detain you. I simply ask that you accompany me to the Divination Commission, where we’ll have Fu Xuan use the Grand Divination Matrix to uncover the truth.”
“Should you be proven innocent, I will personally petition the General to absolve you of any blame. I’ll even resign my position as Navigator to atone for this offense. And if you still hold a grudge, I will accept any punishment you see fit.”
“…And if we are connected to this incident?”
Venti asked the question March 7th had been too afraid to voice.
“If you are the culprits, then surrender yourselves to justice. The Xianzhou Alliance will not tolerate any criminal walking free—not the Stellaron Hunters, nor the crew of the Astral Express. Even if it costs me my life, I will ensure justice is served.”
Her words carried a chilling resolve, the kind that could only come from a seasoned warrior ready to lay down her life for her duty.
March 7th and Stelle felt an overwhelming sense of pressure, as if they were standing in the middle of a battlefield, with streaks of light zipping past and the sound of starskiffs roaring overhead.
The tension was finally broken by the sharp tap of Welt’s cane against the floor.
“We’ll comply.”
March 7th and Stelle snapped out of their daze, silently acknowledging Yukong’s unwavering resolve.
Though her actions weren’t exactly endearing, they couldn’t fault her. From her perspective, she was merely doing what was right. Her willingness to sacrifice her career and even her life for her friend spoke volumes about her character.
“Let’s get going. I’m sure the Divination Commission will clear our names,” Venti said lightly. “And maybe we’ll find out who the real culprit is while we’re at it.”
His words drew everyone’s attention. Yukong hesitated for a moment, her lips barely moving as she muttered:
“Let’s hope so.”
The Cloud Knights lowered their weapons, forming a loose perimeter around the Trailblazers as Yukong led the way to the Divination Commission.
During the journey, Yukong introduced a tool called the “Listening Device.” She explained it was originally meant for tracking Kafka but would now be used to investigate the Trailblazers.
The Listening Device, an invention of the Artisanship Commission, was modeled after the foxian’s keen senses. Its ability to detect even the faintest scent in the air was unparalleled, ensuring it could track a target over great distances as long as a trace of their scent remained.
However, it detected nothing unusual besides the lingering traces of the Trailblazers’ interactions with Tingyun from the previous day. This inadvertently served as evidence that they hadn’t contacted her again before her death.
Still, Yukong remained firm in her suspicions.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Luofu, Dan Heng’s starskiff had drifted to a desolate location due to a spatial anomaly.
Traveling with him were Luocha and Sushang. The trio had discussed a wide range of topics, from Aeons to the enmity between the Arbiter and the Abundance, and even the mysterious relic Luocha carried: the coffin.
The conversation inevitably turned to the coffin’s occupant, and Dan Heng couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.
From Luocha’s vague responses, it was clear the occupant wasn’t a friend, nor a lover—merely someone he had encountered briefly.
For a merchant to escort the remains of a stranger across the stars… it was suspicious no matter how you looked at it.
But Dan Heng chose not to pry. His own past was no less enigmatic, even to Sushang, who found him more mysterious than Luocha.
Suddenly, a faint killing intent pricked his senses, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He scanned his surroundings, catching a glimpse of black hair vanishing into the shadows of an alley.
That hair color… he had seen it in dreams before and knew exactly who it belonged to.
But why were they here?
What had happened on the Xianzhou that even the Stellaron Hunters were now free?
And where were his companions? Were they in danger?
These questions churned in Dan Heng’s mind, his unease growing by the second.
—
This is a fan translation of 星铁，开局一把琴，靠卖唱养活自己 by 灯子. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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