Thunder and Dew

Time flew by, bringing yet another black downpour. When people got caught in a rat race, they hardly noticed the passage of time. Especially for Embers artisans who loved dealing with their peers, whenever they started scheming against one another, an astonishing surge of efficiency and creativity was bound to erupt. In a sense, it could be considered walking forward hand in hand. To borrow Jiang Tongguang's words: our Association is truly thriving by leaps and bounds! And when the crisp chime rang out, a fair number of lower-ranked participants actually breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was finally here! If it hadn't come any sooner, they didn't know whether they could hold out much longer. On one hand was the nervous dread of facing a duel, but on the other was the sheer terror of having to endure the environment. Ever since the previous black rain had fallen, the rate at which Luye Island's environment deteriorated was as if it had hitched a ride on Ji Jue's butcher-astronaut space program, rocketing straight through the roof. By now, the external environment had become contaminated to an appalling degree. A grayish-black mist frequently drifted through the air. Dense, dark clouds blanketed the firmament, lightning flickering from time to time without a trace of thunder. Fleeting flashes lit up an increasingly gruesome world; a momentary lapse in concentration, and one would seem to catch hazy black shadows lurking in the corners. Like thrilling hallucinations straight out of a nightmare. Yet these illusions weren't necessarily false. If one failed to guard their mind and maintain composure, delirium and hallucinations could well spawn non-existent evil spirits straight out of their own heart. Only now did everyone finally understand what the so-called Calamity of Lightlessness truly meant. The light of the Sovereign Virtues grew dim, while the taint of the Great Calamity ran rampant and tyrannical. Ascension sank into the Abyssal Void; Desolate Ruins slowly dissolved into the Vortex; Embers decayed day by day into Stagnant Rot; the illusory gleam of Mirror revealed dark silhouettes; Aether turned to foul pollution; the surging heat of Entropy grew cold as Youshuang frost... Tianyuan was nowhere to be found, leaving only the distant shadow of a ruined tower; the White Stag ran amok, manifesting the savagery of wolves. The rudiment of the so-called apocalypse revealed itself from within the pollution of corruption. The entirety of Luye Island now felt as though it had plummeted into the chaos beneath the Vortex. Freaks like Ji Jue who could take things so effortlessly in stride as if coming home were, in the end, a rare few. The vast majority of people couldn't stomach an existence akin to doing the butterfly stroke in a cesspool. One could only say that although that old codger Kanemoto's tutoring sessions had been forced on him, they were packed with solid knowledge without a single drop of fluff. Now, while most candidates were still suffering through the erosion of corruption, Ji Jue's workshop had transformed once again, extending from underground upward to occupy more than half the mountain. After layers of corruption settlement and purification, he still ensured absolute stability and control within the workshop. If necessary, he could even crack open the septic tank and let his opponent experience what it felt like to pilot a submarine through a cesspool. Still, such a wicked tactic was far too offensive to the natural order, and it wouldn't sound good if word got out. Ji Jue still placed great value on his reputation as a member of an orthodox, prestigious sect! He was a Haizhou philanthropist certified by the Chongguang Church, a pillar of the Association's new generation—how could he possibly resort to such dirty tricks?! The main thing was that whipping out his masterful, consummate corruption alchemy right under the judges' noses would be practically asking for death. Besides, winning in an unorthodox fashion was one thing, but if he won in a way that was too groveling and disgraceful... even if he took first place, Professor Ye probably wouldn't mind holding a few extra spiritus offense and defense classes to teach him how to behave as a decent human being. Sure enough, true victory had to rely on friendship, hot blood, and bonds to be called the righteous path! And so, rubbing his little hands together, he watched the figure shifting within the streaming light before him. Brimming with anticipation. Until his third-round opponent materialized before his eyes. A man with bare arms, his entire body covered in tattoos, his thick beard and long hair braided together. Rather than an artisan, he looked more like a warrior of the Swarm. Only, this aura... A Soul-Hunting Knight? Ji Jue realized. He hadn't counted on any luck from his previous victories; he was merely somewhat disappointed. He had originally thought he could immediately clash with the one ranked second. It seemed that in the judges' eyes, the time wasn't ripe just yet. Rank six, affiliated with North Wind Workshop: Frederick Cosgum! The instant he laid eyes on Ji Jue, his pupils contracted. Not a trace of fear showed on his tattoo-covered face; instead, an uncontrollable excitement surfaced. He raised a hand to press against his chest and nodded slightly. Then, he rested his hand upon the dagger at his waist. Waiting for a response. He seemed less like an artisan and more like a warrior of the Swarm. This was an invitation to battle from the polar reaches of the North. In that frigid, snow-blanketed realm, there was no arbitration of right and wrong or morality among the tribes—only the decrees and treaties of the Great Lord. Beyond that, all disputes could be settled by duel. Even artisans had long grown accustomed to cruel, straightforward battles of life and death. Here, he issued a formal challenge. In that brief span of time, Ji Jue nodded without hesitation. The phantoms on both sides dispersed into nothingness. Only thunder cracked across the heavens, and amidst the violent black downpour, a bone-chilling cold wave abruptly swept outward. The shrill roar of wild beasts rang out. At the call of a whistle, the phantom of a giant wolf strode out from the spreading frost, flanked by the artisan's fur-clad mirror images. At this moment, however, the dormant tattoos on the mirror image's face flared with dazzling, scorching light. Tattoos emerged and roamed across skin like iron helms, like colossal beasts, like skeletal remains, shifting in myriad patterns. Iron hooves thundered like roaring thunder. From the churning frost and icy mist, the figures of Soul-Hunting Knights reappeared, screaming forth. And behind them, freshly forged berserkers surged forward with deafening roars. Not only that, but earth-shattering booms spread like footsteps as towering figures several meters high strode out from behind Frederick. Those giants sculpted from ironwood and stone marched like living creatures, their entire bodies beneath their armor blanketed in intricate runes formed of spiritus circuits. At this moment, as eleven War Giants dragged gargantuan weapons far exceeding mortal scale and marched toward the workshop step by step, it was like an advancing wall of iron, an engulfing tsunami. Unlike the independence and detachment of most other workshops, North Wind Workshop, as a vital pillar of the North, remained loyal to the successive Great Lords and obedient to iron rules and edicts. Throughout history, it had aided tyrants in launching wars more than once. Across all four Battles of the White River, the traces and silhouettes of North Wind Workshop were present every single time, serving as the very core. Because of this, they excelled all the more at large-scale invasions, plundering, and war. Now, as the giants manifested, Frederick didn't pause for an instant. Unfastening a spiritus-sealed pouch from his waist, he grabbed handfuls of seeds and scattered them across the ground. The instant they hit the soil, the seeds sprouted and took root. Drawing upon the stored spiritus and nourishment within, they grew with astonishing speed. Burly figures resembling skeletons broke through the earth, rising from the mud as if resurrected from death. Their maimed bodies rapidly grew and restored themselves. Within hollow eyes, vitality sparked, possessing a vivid life that surpassed other constructs. Not only that, but they even came equipped with their own weapons and armor—every single blade a heart-stopping, cold-glinting edge, every suit of armor stained with grime and gouged with scratches from years of warfare. Even their faces and features were completely distinct from one another. The only thing they shared was the identical fanatical zeal and malice upon their faces, itching to charge into the battlefield. "Hero's Seeds?" Beyond the floating radiance, Jiang Tongguang raised an eyebrow and gave a low whistle. "Looks like 'Big Beard' thinks quite highly of him." Gustav issued a cold warning: "Yellowbeard hates it most when people call him Big Beard. You'd best watch yourself." Jiang Tongguang grinned. "If nobody tells him, how's he going to find out?" Gustav stared at him indifferently, causing Jiang Tongguang's grin to stiffen slightly. "You wouldn't tell him, would you?" Gustav said nothing. Though that hardly meant he wouldn't let something slip later on. Hero's Seeds were likewise a signature creation of North Wind Workshop—a terrifying masterpiece that had carved out illustrious renown as it followed the Great Lords across the White River four times to slaughter its way through the Thousand Islands. Grounded in Embers and fusing the two lineages of Vortex and Aether, a single rune seed was all it took to recreate a hero of old. The Valhalla sequence derived its name precisely from this. They were immortal heroes; even in death, they would be resurrected in Valhalla, feasting and drinking in the golden hall, waiting for the drums and horns to sound before following the gods once more into a new war. Frederick's mastery and comprehension had already achieved great accomplishment. Though the heroes he grew lasted only a short time, they still possessed the physique of a Celestial Chosen and a fabricated soul. Hero's Seeds that had fought alongside an artisan through years of war could even be embedded with matrices and infused with blessings, sundering fortifications and slaying foes just like genuine heroes. Were Yellowbeard here in person, rummaging through his pockets to casually toss out a seed would likely suffice to sprout a Swarm construct of the Regeneration rank. Thanks to the mechanics of the simulated combat, he didn't need to worry about losses at all and could squander them to his heart's content. Had it been any other artisan, losing even one would have felt like a dagger to the heart. Now, dozens of heroes drew their blades with roars, while the War Giant leading the vanguard had already raised the bronze cannon several meters long in its grip. Amidst a deafening roar, fiery light erupted. Having undergone sequential processing through alchemy, the colossal shell—transmuted from common iron—was cloaked in blazing fire, harboring within it extreme heat and destruction comparable to a volcano. At this moment, the shell tore through the air, incinerating the black rain, and slammed dead-center into the workshop's gate without the slightest courtesy. A terrifying force capable of blowing an entire city wall to the heavens detonated. Broad swaths of rock face collapsed across the mountain, exposing the underlying metal structures as torrents of mud and stone tumbled down, shaking the earth and rattling the mountains. And the workshop's gate was completely blown open by this single shot, blasted to smithereens and hurled into the sky. The assault went so smoothly that even the mirror image hesitated for a few seconds, wondering if there was some sort of trap... But immediately afterward, piercing wails and mournful shrieks rose from the darkness behind the gate. As though the gates of hell itself had been thrown wide... Had Frederick been here in person to witness such a spectacle, he probably wouldn't have been able to hold back a curse. A massive, emaciated hand was the first to reach out from the dark, its fingers drenched in thick, viscous blood. It writhed, clawing forward, followed by a gruesome silhouette and a body mutated beyond all recognition! A monster comparable in size to a War Giant opened its maw, howling shrilly in pain and madness. Across its body, blood-red eyes opened and shut, snapping their gaze toward the invading enemies before them. It had long since been starving. Accompanied by the snapping of iron chains, it lunged forward without hesitation, charging in a frenzied sprint! Yet what was even more bloodcurdling were the bizarre, grotesque silhouettes looming within the deep darkness behind the gates, and the ceaseless sounds of shattering chains... Countless crimson points of light expanded rapidly from the shadows. Dozens of evil creatures, driven entirely berserk by agony and torment, burst through the threshold in an instant! Upon their heads, spinal columns, and limbs lingered puncture wounds; their torn bodies bore stitched scars, and some even had armor cast directly from poured molten iron! Forty-one evil creatures formed the workshop's first line of defense. Delivering a surprise to the invaders! One doesn't know the price of firewood and rice until running a household; meticulous budgeting, making ends meet, and keeping a steady trickle were the true secrets of living life. As an expert pauper, Ji Jue naturally couldn't allow a shred of waste under his watch. If even a single grain of rice fell to the floor, he would practically want everyone to line up outside the door. With the development of the workshop, it no longer required so many evil creatures to sacrifice their youth and posterity, so their treatment had naturally improved a tiny bit. Although under the corruption's pollution they had continuously tried to assault the workshop and cause a little mischief for Ji Jue, he had nonetheless forgiven them with great magnanimity, generously welcoming them into the big family of the workshop. All they had to do was sell their flesh. After harvesting the necessary materials, if they could still breathe and live, Ji Jue would stitch these evil creatures back together as they were. He would even implant metal to replace and reinforce their skeletons, substitute corrupted quicksilver for blood, and replace their hearts with crudely fashioned engines. Then he would leash them outside the door to guard his entrance and keep watch for him. Now, on the head of every evil creature, metal structures or glittering silver rivets protruded to varying degrees. Those implants, crafted by Ji Jue with his conscience thrown to the wind, ensured that when there was nothing to do, their consciousness and bodies remained disconnected. At the same time, electrical current continuously stimulated their sensory tissues, ensuring they were perpetually ravenous and in agony—ready to tuck into a feast with all their might. As for whether they were obedient... as long as they could guard the door while tied up outside, what use was obedience? All that mattered was wagging their tails when they saw him and baring their teeth when they saw a thief. When Ji Jue raised his hand, a monotonous, grating screech of metal on metal rang out. Every frenzied beast seemed to hear a supreme imperial decree. Not daring to hesitate for an instant, catalyzed by stimulants pumped into their spinal cords, they swelled once more, roaring ravenously as they lunged toward every living thing in sight. A hellish tide surged and howled from the dark behind the gate, slamming head-on into the War Giants! In an instant, an assortment of grotesque, bizarre monstrosities clashed violently with the Northern army... Meanwhile, in the other simulation, the sinister crimson armor raised its head amidst the torrential rain, looking forward at the towering ramparts illuminated by flares of fire. The clatter of armor plates and the clang of weapons echoed without pause. Where was there any workshop before it? Below the fortress walls lay sprawling military camps, with countless armored, burly figures... This was unmistakably a heavily fortified military encampment! At this moment, as the horns signaling an enemy assault sounded atop the battlements, the towering gates swung open with a crash, and armored puppets advanced amidst bellows and roars. The invading mirror image, replicated one-to-one from Ji Jue himself, flashed an ostensibly sinister smile and waved a hand forward. Immediately, countless berserk monstrosities surged out behind him... As if. There was no reaction whatsoever. The mirror image looked back blankly, only to find the space behind him completely empty—Wait, where are my dogs? I didn't bring my dogs over?! Regrettably, not a single one had made the trip. Ji Jue's attempt to skirt the rules had failed. To begin with, whether such ambiguous things even counted as alchemical constructs was open to debate. Besides, just look at that heap of junk—at most, Ji Jue had merely recycled waste, modified a few parts, and strapped on some iron chains... Letting them stay in the workshop to guard his gate was already Jiang Tongguang's bloodlust acting up, eager to see rivers of blood. How could they possibly let him drag them into the opponent's simulation? And now, amidst the blare of horns, the fortress shuddered as massive embrasures appeared one after another, revealing... pitch-black cannon muzzles! Spiritus lock-on complete. In an instant, an earth-shattering boom soared to the heavens, roiling the downpour and black clouds. And the dark world was flooded by tempestuous flares of fire, rising like giant stars and whistling straight toward him! In that fleeting instant, they illuminated everything bright as day. Destruction descended from above! The armor looked up at the countless falling shells across the sky, as if sighing in utter helplessness. Only, he slowly raised his hand. And drew his blade. A crisp cry rose like a bird taking flight, slicing through the echoes of the storm and the clamor of the rain, surpassing the thunderous detonations of the bombardment, resounding through every corner between the sea and the sky. No movement could be seen, as if the sound from a moment ago had been nothing more than an illusion. Yet in the deepest recesses of the fortress, Frederick was already... drenched in cold sweat! In that instant, within time that seemed almost frozen and still. A crimson flash flickered and vanished! And then, the moment time resumed its rush, the torrential downpour, howling winds, sweeping shockwaves, and even the blazing lights raining down like stars—were all cleaved clean in two! And within the armored iron hand raised aloft, a bizarre blade several meters long had appeared without making a sound. Clear as crystal, yet crimson as blood. As the severed curtain of rain fell once more, pattering black droplets slid down the spine of the blade, tracing the edge to coalesce anew and drip toward the earth. The faint sound of a water droplet rose. Like weeping and murmuring, like tears and dew.