Surprises and Scares

Tomorrow follows tomorrow, and how many tomorrows are there? It was still the same brain-boiling cramming and relentless forging, time after time, paired with exacting demands and cruel punishments. Before, Ji Jue had worried whether he could survive until tomorrow, or if he could even endure. But now, he was gradually growing accustomed to this seemingly endless torment. No, rather, he took to it like a fish to water. Perhaps Kanemoto was right. The moment Ji Jue stopped hiding his hatred and malice—the moment he took the initiative to unleash them—he had already crossed the threshold, grasping the essence of the craft firmly in his hands. He did not even care whether that loathing was aimed at others or at himself. If one wished to forge a true edge of Celestial Craft, how could they fear being cut by a double-edged sword? On the contrary, the sharper and more terrifying the cold gleam, the more exhilarated one should feel! Kanemoto paid no mind to whether Ji Jue slacked off, dragged his feet, or offered futile resistance. Ever since that secret ritual before the crucible, Ji Jue's progress in alchemy had surged once more. It was as if his skill advanced even while eating and sleeping. Sometimes, simply spacing out would trigger a flash of insight, untangling several bottlenecks at once. This wasn't limited to corrupted transmutation either; it extended to modern alchemy, Fluid Alchemy, and even the Solid Alchemy whose direction he had only just begun to fathom. Yet the price was that the techniques he had learned during these days smoothly integrated into the system and habits he was gradually formalizing, becoming an inseparable part of him. Unavoidable, inescapable, and undeniable. Everything Kanemoto taught was genuine knowledge, conveying secrets and foundational essences that eluded many Profound craftsmen. It was like doing carpentry: when you needed to drive a nail and reached into your toolbox, you naturally pulled out the hammer. Even if you chose to abandon the hammer and not use it, you would only be making trouble for yourself. Over the past several decades, there was no telling how many works had been forged by the craftsmen under Kanemoto's command; the creations made in Quancheng over the recent days alone likely numbered in the thousands or tens of thousands. With so many remnant ashes gathered, the quintessence they held had manifested and condensed under the stimulation of the old hearth fire. The change it brought to Ji Jue was far more than just a small boost. More importantly... it triggered a qualitative transformation in his blessing! Under the erosion and crushing weight of the secret ritual, the blessing of Primacy of Mind underwent an unexpected Metamorphosis. After thoroughly reinforcing Ji Jue's mental resistance against corruption and erosion, he was now actually able to use his own spiritus to interfere with the aberration and corruption of the creations within the crucible. Even if it was only by a microscopic degree. Yet at critical moments, a hair's breadth of difference was enough to decide the success or failure of a work. It was like giving wings to a tiger, making his corrupted alchemy all the more effortless and precise... Originally, corrupted alchemy advanced at lightning speed once one passed the threshold. Now, it was as if an airplane engine had been strapped to him; even the slightest bit of research made his progress surge at a terrifying pace. But what was the cost? Once Kanemoto granted Ji Jue access to his library, Ji Jue began reading other theories and treatises on corrupted transmutation recorded within—and the more he read, the more he realized just how sinister and bizarre the system he was learning really was. This was entirely an experimental theory! There wasn't a single successful precedent to speak of... It stripped away numerous extraneous, trivial details, seizing the essentials and striking directly at the core. It excised the vast majority of content involving communion with high-tier abominations, completely doing away with the need to worship a Sovereign Lord or pray for boons like other craftsmen did. Instead... one took it with their own hands. Not only did it snatch meat straight from the mouths of abominations, it practically stuffed the abominations directly down one's own throat! The cost was that without divine protection, the chances of catastrophe were countless times higher than for anyone else, and the likelihood of self-corruption increased exponentially. Including right now. Ji Jue lowered his gaze, looking at his hands. On his fingernails, faint grayish-black marks lingered, like human faces silently howling, screaming, grimacing, or weeping in agony. Shifting, flowing, never holding a fixed shape. In the reflection of the mercury mirror, his appearance was almost completely different from before—not only marked by crisscrossing, hideous scars, but also the muscle necrosis and wrinkles caused by the brutal peeling of skin. His originally jet-black hair was now streaked with a pallid gray, mottled and faded. Between the falling strands of his short hair, his pupils had taken on an eerie hue under the erosion of the secret ritual and corruption. Unlike Kanemoto's emerald green, his eyes bore a looming, smoldering scarlet. Like charcoal embers that refused to die. With a soft sigh, he waved his hand to disperse the mercury mirror. Feeling the bouts of stinging pain from his hands, the Non-Offensive matrix drifted and swam. Its lively glow gradually dimmed, looking dusty and thoroughly exhausted. Yet it still stubbornly purged the corruption invading his hands, time and time again, refusing to let him fall onto the path of corruption. "Don't worry," Ji Jue flexed his fingers, murmuring silently. The glory of Non-Offensive, the guilt of Non-Offensive—all was forged by himself. Whether it was the legacy of Fluid Alchemy or the many gifts that followed, Sage Quicksilver had invested vast expectations in him. How could he be so foolish as to deny the life he had stood for all this time just because of a single visionary dream? *Boom!* A shrill wail suddenly erupted. The crucible shuddered violently, as if an invisible figure was frantically slamming against it from inside, pounding on the furnace door, screaming, howling, and begging for mercy. "Is anyone there? Anyone?! Help me, help..." the shrill voice shrieked in despair. "Let me out, please, I beg you, is anyone there? Aaaargh...!" The cries for help and screams cut off abruptly, replaced by manic laughter, followed by hysterical curses and shrieking sobs. Thick, viscous blood welled endlessly from behind the furnace door, surging outward before vanishing into nothingness. Amid the blazing firelight, the hissing roars gradually faded. At last, accompanied by the creak of the furnace door swinging open, the final sobs dissolved into thin air. As Ji Jue beckoned, a piercing screech tore through the air. A dagger flew straight out of the hearth, landing firmly in his grip. It buzzed and hummed, and wherever the shrill whistle traveled, every piece of surrounding metal vibrated with it. It made the eardrums ache. A thick scarlet liquid slowly dripped from the dagger's edge, endlessly trickling, yet dissipating into nothingness upon falling. "It's finished?" Kanemoto appeared behind him at some point, looking down with narrowed eyes. "You've made a bit of progress again." "Just a piece of junk." Ji Jue held it in hand, gave it two casual swings, then glanced back at Kanemoto before looking at the dagger, shaking his head in regret. "I pursued sharpness and destructive power too excessively. Before it can even harm an enemy, its form will shatter and its essence will scatter. Unusable." "Doesn't that depend on the target?" Kanemoto reached out, grabbed the blade in Ji Jue's hand, and nonchalantly drew it across his own palm, cutting open a gash. He admired the sight of his own blood mutating, hardening, and even coming to life, writhing like a monster drilling into his flesh. Pity was, after cutting that single wound, the dagger shattered under the backlash of Kanemoto's matrix and aura. The mutated blood seemed to encounter an even more terrifying monster, rapidly dissolving away. In the end, the wound closed and healed, as if it had never existed at all. "Indeed, still a bit lacking." Kanemoto tossed the fragments aside, looking back toward the empty crucible. "What else is in the furnace?" "Well..." Ji Jue pondered for a moment and shrugged slightly. "A little insignificant trinket. Are you interested, Grandmaster?" "After wasting so many materials, I ought to see where they went, shouldn't I?" Kanemoto gave a mocking smile. "Of course, if you're preparing a surprise for me, I can pretend I don't know." Ji Jue waved his hand casually. From among the ashes and debris inside the furnace, a wisp of scarlet light emerged, rose into the air, and landed in Kanemoto's hand. "This is... a blessing creation?" Kanemoto raised an eyebrow, instinctively appraising and examining it, only to find that at Ji Jue's current level, there wasn't a single flaw to be picked. In fact, the complexity of its internal structure exceeded that of ordinary craftsmen, and it even carried encryption. Kanemoto had no desire to suppress him using his sheer realm as a Grandmaster, so in that brief moment of discernment, he could only rely on the materials Ji Jue had used to deduce that the blessing came from the Heart Pivot branch. Sitting in his palm was a scarlet skull. Only the size of a fist, it looked as if it were carved from blood jade, completely devoid of chisel marks, perfectly smooth and natural. All catalyzed aberrations and corruptions were sealed securely within, without the slightest sign or trace of losing control. Flawless. "What trick have you pulled this time?" Having matched wits and methods with Ji Jue for so long, Kanemoto had grown accustomed to Ji Jue's occasional rebellions and unprovoked ambushes. He didn't mind in the slightest, seeming almost to relish the game. He actively poured his own spiritus into it, awakening the creation. "What are you talking about, Grandmaster? This is my proudest work." Ji Jue smiled faintly, then asked, "Only, if it doesn't turn out well, you won't be angry, will you?" "Everyone deserves room to make mistakes." Kanemoto shot him a deep look and was about to continue, but the moment his words fell, the skull in his hand opened its jaws and spoke: "Hah, then you're in for a world of pain, you little bastard!" "..." In the brief silence, Kanemoto's brow furrowed, as if realizing something. Yet Ji Jue maintained his smile, suddenly asking, "Speaking of which, how does Grandmaster view your side's Quancheng Alliance?" Kanemoto arched a brow and said bluntly, "It's just a partnership. What views could I have?" And the instant his words fell, the skull in his palm burst into wild laughter: "Don't get me wrong—I mean everyone here is absolute trash!" With that, Kanemoto's expression grew profoundly meaningful. "...Interesting." In just two sentences, he had completely unraveled the finished spiritus seal and read its internal mechanism: the Heart Pivot blessing, Two Minds As One. Having undergone aberration and mutation, the blessing's power had spiraled entirely out of control. It read the user's spiritus at all times, and the moment their spoken words diverged from their inner thoughts, it would blurt out what was truly in their heart. No, by the looks of it, it even added a bit of embellishment. "Just for this?" Kanemoto held up the skull, asking out of curiosity. "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare." Ji Jue waved his hand with a smile. But no sooner had he spoken than he realized his own spiritus had been stealthily drawn out by Kanemoto at some unknown point, channeled straight into the skull. Then, the skull grinned: "Heh, your ■ is dead."