Good Night, Quancheng

Following a crisp, wet crunch, a deafening roar immediately erupted. Blood and gore splattered through the gaps between giant fingers, rocketing tens of meters into the air. "Th-there's been a mistake..." a choked voice pleaded from among the minced meat, brimming with despair. "A mis... mistake... It wasn't me... It was... was..." Boom! The colossal hand slammed down again toward the Priest, devoid of pity. Then once more, and again! A mistake? What mistake?! How could I make a mistake?! You're the exact bastard I'm here to beat! The roars were unending and the carnage relentless until the Priest's final vestige of a remnant spirit dissolved into nothingness, never to be seen again. Only then did the blood-stained giant hand dissipate with a trace of regret. With a flick of the bone wheel, a glob of corrupted spiritus resembling thick phlegm spat right onto the Priest's remains. So you're the damned Evil Transmutation Cult, huh? Sweeping its wicked gaze across the scene, it glanced at the people who had backed away step by step at some unknown point. What sounded like a cold snort echoed as a rift in the void opened once more. Without lingering in the slightest, the Wheel-Turning Holy King turned and departed. It completely ignored the calls and communications of the other high-tier abominations. Still not satisfied before leaving, its bone wheel swung down through the air like an axe. As if a massive kick had landed squarely on Quancheng, the world-shaking tremor caused cracks to surface across the pillars formed by the other high-tier abominations. What a damned piece of bad luck! Evil Transmutation Cult, you'd better not let me catch you beneath the Vortex again! With that, it slammed the door and vanished. All that remained amid the violent tremors was the utterly wrecked ritual grounds. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances. Dead silence. "What just happened?" Ji Jue was baffled. The moment that big guy had glanced at him earlier, his hairs had stood on end and he was ready to bolt. "Damned if I know." Old Tom scratched his head, feeling as if he were dreaming. "Did they summon him just so he could beat the guy half to death, kick Quancheng twice for good measure, and leave?" This was utterly absurd. Granted, infighting was a signature routine among villains, but did you really have to be in such a rush that you performed it right in front of everyone? Or had that wheel thing gotten beaten so hard by Quicksilver last time that it developed PTSD toward Non-Offensive, and now wanted to follow Old Tom's example and abandon darkness to embrace the light? "..." Tong Shan was the first to react. "Everyone, clean up the scene and prepare to pull out." A high-tier abomination appearing and departing with such fanfare was something the Evil Transmutation Cult couldn't possibly overlook. While the uproar was still spreading, they would have to prioritize maintaining stability in Quancheng, but once the chaos settled, they would inevitably investigate to the root. Staying here any longer would just be waiting for someone to harvest them. Immediately, Xu Guan moved with rapid efficiency, hauling out several sacks and distributing them. The others reached in to grab handful after handful of ash from burned record tomes and scattered it everywhere. By obscuring everything that occurred here with massive amounts of phenomenon records, it was equivalent to injecting heaps of garbled code into a document. Even if the cult brought in experts to analyze it thoroughly, by the time they uncovered any trace of evidence, it would be far too late. Meanwhile, the siblings Ji Liu and Ji Xue doused gasoline and fuel in all directions, letting flames spread. Everyone marveled as they worked: they had only been in Quancheng for a few days, yet their skills in destroying corpses and wiping away evidence were already catching up to the Evil Transmutation Cult... Ji Jue had already plucked away the central spiritus intellect and sealed it in quicksilver via Solid Alchemy. A central control intellect of such high completeness was ideal for managing large equipment and complex systems, and could also serve as a reference when building his own workshop in the future. Explosives had also been planted everywhere; a single push of a button would deliver a nasty surprise to any search party that arrived. Before leaving, he didn't forget to run his hands across the vast, intricate altar inside the underground vault. An altar and ritual capable of sustaining the descent of a high-tier abomination couldn't be slapped together by simply drawing a circle anywhere. Location, resources, time, and craftsmen were all indispensable. Now that he was wiping it clean, if the Evil Transmutation Cult could still pull out another high-tier abomination to take its place on short notice, Ji Jue would give them a thumbs-up in sheer admiration. Such a massive piece of work ought to yield plenty of good materials, right? Rubbing his hands together, Ji Jue pressed both palms firmly down. Dissociation Art! In an instant, dazzling rays of light surfaced across the altar, which was already riddled with holes from combat and teetering on the verge of collapse. Shattering sounds echoed relentlessly. Yet the smile on Ji Jue's face vanished. What had appeared to be an ordinary, integrated altar revealed itself under the Dissociation Art to be just like an onion: peel back one layer, and there was another layer underneath, and another, and another! Countless layers of spiritus circuits interlocked and overlapped, forming a colossal structure that went far beyond Ji Jue's expectations. It was as if he had casually flipped a switch and instantly lit up the entire galaxy. Even more terrifying was that a creation of this scale had been forged in a single cast. Its internal structure was completely seamless; had the external damage not pushed it to its absolute limit, he wouldn't have been able to make a dent in it with his current abilities. And now, along with the collapse of the altar, an unprecedented flood of phantoms manifested before his eyes. From the smelting and convergence of massive materials, thousands of fragments emerged one by one from the Crucible, coming together and assembling. Finally, under the casual wave of a withered, gaunt finger, countless streams of corrupted spiritus surged like an incoming tide, gathering to form a consummate, intricate architecture in a single sweep. So magnificent, yet accomplished with such effortless ease. It was as if the creator couldn't even be bothered to invest any extra effort, treating the completion of all this as a perfunctory, matter-of-fact chore. Yet no matter how perfunctory it had been, its heights were still towering. So much so that aside from the meager few details and theories he had personally studied... he couldn't comprehend any of the rest! It was as if he had abruptly been reduced to an ant and a speck of dust, dwarfed by a boundless, peakless mountain rising straight from the earth. Involuntarily, he shuddered. Yet the images carried within those countless essences showed no sign of stopping. It was as though some conduit hidden beneath the bottom of the altar had been activated, and following that secret link, a distant scene came into view. The darkest depths of Quancheng. A boundary membrane resembling a Chrono Ruin was bound within Quancheng by invisible chains. Inside the membrane lay a colossal ruin that had endured for an unknown number of years, yet was still engulfed in billowing smoke and flames. A broken, gargantuan wreckage thousands of meters long rested against the ruins like a beached Giant Whale. From the decay and rot, its steel skeleton and cables were bared. Amidst countless shattered creations, a heart of steel beat with difficulty through the encroaching corruption. It was so frail, seemingly on the verge of collapse, yet it continued to operate. Huge quantities of spiritus surged through it; the slightest leakage threw up towering waves of tempestuous energy in the darkness. Every impact nearly tore the ruins free from Quancheng, yet the flickering chains held it fast, denying any escape. It was an engine. Ji Jue's eyes widened instinctively as he tried to examine it closely. Yet the imagery suddenly blurred and rapidly dissipated. A hunched figure standing directly in front of the engine abruptly turned around, as if sensing something. That face was entirely hairless, densely wrinkled, and ancient beyond measure. Yet what drew the eye most were those emerald-green pupils. Cold and bottomless, like a dark cave leading into the unknown, yet deep within the chasm churned an uncanny flame that reached to the heavens! A single glance. Instantly, all perception dissolved. Ji Jue staggered backward, drenched in cold sweat, while the final remnants of the altar crumbled beneath his feet. Even though it had merely been a split-second glimpse across an unknown distance, his instincts warned him that if that old man ever caught on, a gruesome fate would be guaranteed. Though he had never met the man, he was absolutely certain of his identity: the artisan who had cast aside the title of master like an old shoe, turned to embrace the domain of Stagnant Rot, and held dominion over the Profound... Kanemoto! Yet even so, he could hardly focus his thoughts on that face. The only vision lingering in his mind was the engine that had appeared in that fleeting glimpse. And above all, the emblem resting upon that engine—one so intimately familiar to him... Ji Jue froze in place and stiffly lowered his head toward his wrist. Celestial Rail! There was no other possibility. Within Quancheng, was there a train wreckage belonging to the Celestial Rail Group?! "Let's go." Seeing that the cleanup was finished, Tong Shan waved his hand. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back in confusion. Ji Jue was still standing where he was, motionless. "Hey, mechanic, don't just stand there dazed," Tong Shan said. "Time is of the essence." Ji Jue didn't speak. He lifted his head and looked toward the corner of the vault. Amid the dust and rubble, a lone dog had appeared at some point. It lacked its usual enthusiasm and eagerness, looking timid and guilty—just like a dog caught hoarding bones and cans or chewing up bedsheets. Its eyes were downcast, and its tail no longer wagged. Standing in the corner with its head lowered, it couldn't help stealing furtive glances at him. Its nose twitched, letting out a silent whimper. Almost as if pleading. Ji Jue closed his eyes and looked up, sighing soundlessly. I knew nothing good came from getting involved with your bankrupt company. I damned well knew that dog of a President wouldn't drop by to check on employees just to hand out bonuses... Just how huge of a mess did you people leave behind?! We haven't even signed a contract, so why make things hard for a temp like me? "..." Ji Jue said nothing, withdrawing his gaze impassively. The President lowered its head in dejection. Then, Ji Jue's voice rang out. Walking forward, the young man nudged a mutilated corpse on the ground with his foot, flipping over the unfamiliar face, and suddenly asked, "Brother Shan, how much do you think I look like him?" Tong Shan frowned instinctively. He had originally wanted to correct him to use official titles during operations, but immediately realized his implication and froze on the spot. His immediate response was a flat rejection: "No!" Ji Jue shrugged. "Isn't this better, though?" "I said no!" Tong Shan grew furious, raising his voice. "I'm the team leader. I make the call." "But I'm just an outsourced contractor—the kind who hasn't even signed a contract yet." Ji Jue chuckled, looking at him. "Besides, you know this is clearly the better option, don't you?" Tong Shan fell silent, speechless. Yet in this fleeting window of time, there was no room for hesitation. A decision had to be made decisively. Suppressing a weary sigh, he asked one final time, "Have you decided?" "Yeah." Ji Jue nodded, unclipping his miscellaneous belongings one by one and dropping them into the toolbox. "There are some things I need to see for myself. I have to go. "As for an artisan, Lou Feng should be enough, right? Besides, maybe I can find news about his aunt." "..." Tong Shan asked abruptly, "What about identity verification?" Ji Jue shook his head indifferently. "The central system is right there. Can't I alter it however I want?" "What about corruption aura?" Tong Shan frowned. Ji Jue grinned, drawing his bone blade with a flick of his wrist. Corrupted aura manifested from within his soul, completely natural. "Do you think I don't look like a corrupted one?" "What about the face?" Tong Shan pressed. "No need to worry about the facial structure. A little plastic surgery is easy." Ji Jue drove the bone blade into his own face, adjusting the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. Regardless of the pain or anything else, his fingers remained utterly steady throughout. "As for whether the features match... it's already been burned once. We'll just burn it again." At that, Tong Shan said nothing more. He let out a silent sigh, swallowing his disappointment, regret, anger, and unwillingness. Just as Ji Jue had said, perhaps this truly was the best way. Furthermore, he had no more time to waste. "...Bear with it." After putting away the flagpole, Tong Shan retrieved a case. His stiff fingers twisted open the lock and took out a fountain pen that looked completely ordinary. It seemed feather-light and inconsequential, yet holding it made Tong Shan's palm tremble, barely able to support its weight. His Regeneration form manifested, skin turning paper-pale. A large volume of ink-black blood seeped from a slit across his wrist, entirely swallowed by the pen. Only when Tong Shan staggered, barely able to stand, did the pen finally cease its ravenous feeding. It spared its user a shred of dignity, though it did not conceal a faintly mocking spiritus fluctuation. Then, the nib grazed across Ji Jue's face, delivering a searing pain that pierced deep into his soul. Ji Jue convulsed, struggling, but was pinned firmly in place by telekinesis, unable to resist. Until brand-new phenomena were penned from the nib, complete, overwriting everything of the past... From this moment on, central records, soul verification, the history recorded by flesh, and even surface memories were all replaced. The Celestial Chosen named Ji Jue ceased to exist, replaced by an apprentice to the Profound artisan. "Praise Stagnant Rot!" Ji Jue grinned with a fanatical smile, resembling a genuine follower of corruption without a single flaw. "If necessary..." Tong Shan paused, but ultimately left the sentence unfinished. Saying anything was pointless. He merely let out a self-deprecating sigh. "Consider me in your debt." "We each take what we need. Why worry about it?" Ji Jue unstrapped the watch from his wrist, tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and swallowed it whole with a gulp. Then, he plunged the bone blade into his own body, allowing it to integrate and vanish without a trace. Finally, he donned the tattered black robe. "Let's begin." Passing the toolbox over, Ji Jue looked at Tong Shan with a smiling farewell. "Make it snappy. Don't delay me 'forsaking darkness to join the light'!" Tong Shan closed his eyes. He raised his hand. —Boom! Ten seconds later, Tong Shan departed, the squad vanishing into the darkness of Quancheng. Immediately afterward, an explosion soared into the sky. The central system was wrecked, the bank collapsed, and flames spread. Half a minute later, blazing light descended from the heavens. The Invisible Hand struck down, instantly annihilating all flames. One figure after another dropped from the sky, assessing the situation before pursuing into the darkness in raging fury. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Soon, a second and third wave of people arrived. After surveying the ruins, they dispersed into Quancheng. When the final wave arrived, a giant hand rose slightly. Instantly, countless pieces of rubble and broken walls were lifted and tossed aside. The remaining items of value were salvaged, loaded onto trucks, and carted away. Right in front of a crevice in the ruins, someone suddenly paused, turned back, and waved to his companions: "Hey, come here, look at this!" Wedged in the corner beneath a collapsed floor slab was a charred figure, seemingly an artisan's apprentice. Both of his legs were completely broken, his face covered in blisters. Teetering on the brink of death, he weakly reached out a trembling hand, fumbled with difficulty, and ran out of strength. "Huh? He's still breathing?" The leader stroked his chin, clicking his tongue in wonder. "Lucky bastard. Call the artisans' people over and haul him away!" And so, amid the ruins, the dying survivor seemed to smile faintly. He reached out to pat the empty air within his hollow embrace. Reassured, he closed his eyes. Good night, Quancheng.