An Junlie felt a momentary shortness of breath, somewhat akin to altitude sickness. He hastily shoved the thought aside to see what was happening. Ziye glanced at him with undisguised disdain, "Already can't take it?" Yet, she eased the airship's pace even further, granting him time to acclimatize.

The vessel skimmed the ground, revealing the deep violet growth below—An Junlie started in surprise; it wasn't grass, but woody, perennial plants, their roots thick as buckets, though barely reaching a meter in height, their leaves curiously growing downward—a form utterly unknown to him. The further they traveled, the shorter the 'trees' became, until after ten minutes, only shrubbery the height of a thin carpet of grass remained on the surface. Ziye brought the airship to a halt and smiled at An Junlie, "Let's play right here today.

Try not to collapse too quickly." With that, she deactivated the airship's shield. An Junlie drew a deep, steadying breath, pondering aloud, "Gravitational field?" Ziye nodded sweetly, hopped lightly off the airship, and set foot on the ground. "The central field of Silver Rune Star.

Rumor has it, even mosquitoes can't fly here." An Junlie adjusted his physical state, waiting for his breathing to normalize before disembarking. Though the shrubs were diminutive, they were clearly ancient and deeply rooted; stepping on them felt like needles pricking the soles of his feet. Coming here for recreation was practically signing up for double penance.

An Junlie reacted quickly. After a few steps, he found his footing, carefully selecting stable spots to tread. As he walked, he regulated his breathing, adapting to the field relatively soon.

Ziye raised an eyebrow, impressed. Seven times standard gravity, handled this easily. She flashed a cunning smile and strode forward.

In the absolute center zone lay the fifteen-times gravity field—a place where even the highest immortals supposedly dared not tread. Last year, she had reached the ten-times field before her body gave out. This year, she intended to test her limit and, incidentally, gauge An Junlie's ability.

She hadn't expected An Junlie to hold up so well. This wasn't meant to belittle him at all; due to the unique Violet Sun Star, the native bodies of Silver Rune Star possessed far greater resilience than extraterrestrials. Even the notoriously tough elderly members far surpassed the conditioning of a typical space pilot.

For An Junlie to withstand seven times gravity already placed him among the elite in the void. The two walked leisurely until they reached the nine-times field, where Ziye began to struggle; her breathing grew ragged. An Junlie stared at her, stunned—how could her delicate frame bear such immense pull?

This level of endurance would place her easily in the top five in the Angel Legion! Ziye's steps never faltered, continuing onward. An Junlie felt spots swimming before his eyes; his own body was nearing its breaking point.

If he didn't take action, he risked permanent injury. He inhaled deeply, flooding his entire body with mental energy in an instant. Immediately, strength surged through him, and the crushing force seemed to vanish.

Before reaching Silver Rune, his mental power hadn't reached this terrifying peak. After consuming the Tiger-Guts of the Old Dog and acclimating to the light of the Violet Sun Star, his mental reserves had steadily increased. Coupled with the specialized training system modified by Little Sprout, his mental power reached unprecedented heights.

Once acclimated, An Junlie turned to Ziye and saw, to his surprise, her eyes blazing with a brilliance brighter than any star overhead. That suffocating, heavy force seemed to pass through her as if it were nothing. In a field where even the air was weighted down to an agonizing degree, Ziye was truly admirable.

Reaching the terrifying twelve-times field, An Junlie found even his spiritual enhancement faltering. He glanced at Ziye; sweat beaded her forehead. He quickly took her hand and pulled her back.

Entering a field must always be done within one's limits. Forcing entry could result in burst blood vessels at best, or shattered bones at worst! Moving in required agonizing slowness, but exiting was equally perilous; when the multiplier suddenly drops, the resulting release can violently challenge muscle and meridian structures, leading to severe injury if one slip occurred.

Thus, they crept back like ants, moving slowly as the field lessened layer by layer. By the ninth layer, they dropped their spiritual reinforcement, allowing their bodies momentary relaxation. Upon reaching the six-times field, the pressure felt negligible, having little lasting impact.

They finally stopped. Normally, six times gravity wasn't devastating, but it was still a burden. After enduring twelve times, six felt insignificant.

On the contrary, they both felt wonderfully refreshed, as if they had just finished a deep session in a steam room. Ziye looked up at the clear violet sky, exhaled slowly, and turned to An Junlie, "Let's fly a kite." "A kite?" An Junlie frowned. How could a kite fly in this gravity?

He looked at Ziye, who met his gaze with a teasing smile, "Afraid to try?" An Junlie was not one to bow easily to perceived reality, but he knew that neither his automaton nor Ziye had brought any kite materials. This was surely a test she had conjured on the spot. He recalled that the area they had entered earlier had lighter gravity, with plants reaching nearly a meter high—perfect for kite spars.

He retrieved a small knife from the airship's storage, walked toward the three-times field, selected several resilient saplings, and attempted to cut one with his knife. A sharp snap echoed; the blade broke in half. Ziye followed, chuckling at the sight.

"You underestimate the trees here. Small as they are, each is centuries old. You thought a tiny knife could sever one?" An Junlie bent down, gathered the broken blade pieces, wrapped them in leaves, and tucked them into his pocket.

As he disassembled the handle section of the knife, he explained, "Don't belittle this blade. It breaks easily, but it's a specialized tool for cutting metal in space—it's sharp enough." Ziye took the short knife and examined it. He was right; it was indeed very sharp, but there were faint score lines along the blade—damage that suggested improper use could lead to fracture.

She didn't understand knives or the purpose of the marks, so she ceased studying it, handed the handle back to him. He inserted a new blade, reassembled the tool, and attempted to cut the tree again. With the lesson of failure learned, he operated with meticulous care this time, finally succeeding in severing a thumb-thick sapling.

The cut was smooth and fine, the edge even thinner than a surgical scalpel. He took the wood, stripped it of branches and bark, split it into four even pieces, then meticulously smoothed and rounded each spar. Seeing his deft movements, Ziye thought it looked simple enough.

She pulled out a metal cutter she had intended to loan him, severed a tree, and began constructing her own. Since she had posed the challenge, she felt she had to attempt it herself, lest he mock her later. Ziye thought to herself, her own cutting tool wasn't bad, yet somehow, these trees felt harder than iron.

Even removing a few branches required significant exertion.