Two o'clock in the afternoon.
Still in Beishan District, along the desolate coastal strip, the car Professor Ye drove to lead the way pulled into an abandoned factory compound. Several workshop buildings were scattered behind the high walls, and a low office building was covered in creeping greenery. Amid the sound of crashing waves, it was secluded and utterly quiet.
There was no sign of disrepair. Passing through the mottled high walls, the grounds inside were so quiet that not a single soul was in sight. There were no security guards, no cleaners, and no workers, yet it was spotless. Even the greenery was meticulously trimmed.
Simple and direct. Everything was in its proper place, without a single superfluous item encroaching upon or disrupting the meticulous order.
"Did you set this place up?" Ji Jue asked, looking around as he followed behind.
"More than ten years ago, when I planned to settle in Yacheng, the Balance Chamber of Commerce gave it to me," Ye Xian said calmly, walking ahead. "This is my workshop. Most of my alchemy work is done here. Usually, you're free to move around in Buildings A and B. When the equipment is idle, you can use it if needed, but clean up after yourself. As for Area C—the one with the warning sign on the door—and anything above the third floor of the office building, don't wander in."
"Understood." Ji Jue nodded obediently, readily accepting the instructions and committing them to memory. He didn't ask what would happen if he strayed inside; after all, the outcome would probably be nothing other than death or a fate worse than death.
Back in his freshman year, while doing odd jobs in a project team, an idiot teammate had made an operational error that crashed a cutting tool, nearly decapitating him. Ever since, Ji Jue had memorized work-safety protocols backwards and forwards, even earning a project safety officer certificate on the side.
"I'll go prepare what we'll need next."
Pushing open the lobby door, she pointed toward the spacious hall, which was decorated as cozily as a living room, and at Ye Chun, who was sprawled on the sofa watching TV and munching potato chips in utter bliss. "You can get briefed by her."
"Auntie? Didn't you have plans this afternoon?"
Startled, Ye Chun bounced off the sofa and scrambled to stash away her soda and chips. Spotting Ji Jue, she froze, blinked, and froze again, her horror mounting:
"All I did was list you as second author! Why did you hunt me down all the way here?!"
"..."
Professor Ye sighed, thoroughly exhausted by the absurdity of their interactions. "The schedule moved up a bit. Starting today, Ji Jue is officially working at the workshop as an apprentice under your supervision. Fill him in on the situation and go over the basics. I don't need to teach you how to train him, do I?"
"Huh? So soon?" Ye Chun said, incredulous.
"By the way, he got caught up in a vicious incident a few days ago. After suffering spiritus erosion, he has achieved Autonomous Awakening."
"Huh?! Already?!" Ye Chun was even more shocked.
"Also, your paper and his both failed. Sent back for a rewrite," Professor Ye said, walking up the stairs. "Submit them before next month."
"Ehhh?!! But that's—" Before Ye Chun could finish, she caught the look Professor Ye shot her from the stairs. Pausing instantly, she forced a meek, fawning smile. "That's great! I love it!"
Professor Ye looked away and headed upstairs.
In the quiet lobby, only Ji Jue and Ye Chun were left, staring at each other.
Her messy hair and smeared makeup looked rather sloppy, completely devoid of the radiant aura she had at school, though it certainly made her seem more grounded.
Ye Chun's gaze was visibly far more bewildered—as if she were watching a sow sprout wings and take flight. Holding the soda she hadn't tossed aside, she circled Ji Jue three or four times in disbelief.
"You actually had an Autonomous Awakening? That's amazing!"
Ji Jue was baffled. "Is that impressive?"
"Well, on a scale of a hundred for bragging rights, you'd get about a ninety."
Ye Chun grinned, giving his shoulder a sympathetic pat. "It would've been super impressive, but last month some freak from who-knows-where went and triggered a Mandate Conscription. Now that was a bona fide monster... Compared to that, yours is just so-so!"
"...Yeah, true."
Ji Jue nodded, finding it hard to disagree. Then, making himself right at home, he picked up her chips and another can of soda, sat down, and started snacking. Ye Chun leaned in, overflowing with curiosity, her large eyes blinking. "They say people who awaken autonomously all get unique soul abilities. What's yours?"
Ji Jue lowered his voice, affecting an air of mystery. "I'll let you in on a secret: I can make phones talk to me."
Ye Chun marveled, "What a coincidence, so can I!"
"Then you must be an autonomously awakened Celestial Chosen too. Truly incredible."
The two exchanged a look and burst out laughing together.
Soon, Ye Chun theatrically pulled a small blackboard from a corner. Putting on Professor Ye's stern demeanor, she picked up a piece of chalk. "Auntie told me to bring you up to speed on the basics. So, how much do you actually know about Celestial Chosen?"
"Reporting, Teacher."
Ji Jue raised his hand. "Basically next to nothing."
"Eh? Student Ji Jue, your foundation really is terrible." Ye Chun sighed with the air of an exemplary mentor, tapping the small blackboard. "Then let's start with the types of Celestial Chosen awakenings."
With that, she wrote down three lines on the blackboard:
[Superior Legacy], [Autonomous Awakening], [Mandate Conscription].
"Autonomous Awakening—just like you. Maybe from suffering erosion, or perhaps due to a disaster or something else.
"Through a bizarre twist of fate, the soul touches the essence of a Virtue and undergoes an ascension, becoming a Celestial Chosen. Because circumstances differ, innate abilities vary wildly. Some are strong, some weak. The weak can talk to phones; the strong can make telephone poles talk back. In short, the ceiling is very high, but the floor is rock-bottom."
"A Superior Legacy involves a fixed ritual using various special items derived from the Twelve Virtues—or simply methods like alchemy, contracts, organ transplants, and so forth—to forcibly taint the user's soul, ultimately triggering awakening and qualitative change. Those who use this method are generally bound to whichever Virtue the ritual points to, and their abilities are almost identical. The floor is relatively guaranteed, but the ceiling usually comes down to sheer luck.
"The only advantage is that as long as you're willing to spend the money, you can mass-produce Celestial Chosen."
"How much money?" Ji Jue couldn't help raising his hand to ask, thoroughly curious.
"Hmm, let me think." Ye Chun pondered for a moment and replied, "A safe, risk-free superior invocation secret rite usually runs anywhere from six to ten million in Federation currency.
"I've heard some are conducted using superior matrices and celestial craftsmanship, but the price for those is absurdly sky-high. At that point, it's mostly favors rather than money—you might end up slaving away your entire life to pay it back.
"Some are cheaper and less refined, but the success rate... leaves much to be desired."
"Right, pardon my presumption."
The dirt-poor Ji Jue hung his head in shame. "By the way, Senior, what about you..."
"Nope."
Ye Chun shook her head. "Auntie has her own connections. When I graduated, she asked for my opinion. A complete procedure and ritual were all set up, and supposedly there was even a chance to borrow the Security Bureau's 'Mountain Light' directly.
"Still, I felt that doing research every day wasn't for me, and I didn't seem to have much talent for fighting and killing either. Being an ordinary person felt safer.
"I don't have any passion for research, so I don't meet the requirements for Embers. It's better for me to just be Auntie's assistant with peace of mind.
"That whole setup is still kept around, though. I originally thought Auntie would use it on you. Who knew... you'd be such a money-saver, sorting it out all by yourself—and even picking a perfectly tailored direction like Embers."
Ji Jue couldn't help wiping away a bead of cold sweat. "I already owe Professor Ye so many favors. Let's not add even more debt to that..."
He wouldn't even be able to pay off his student loans anytime soon, let alone anything else.
"...Let's get back to the world-building."
Ji Jue finally found the opportunity to ask the question he had pondered for so long: "What exactly is a Celestial Chosen? Is there really a 'heaven' that chose me?"
"Maybe, maybe not. But it's not just one—there are at least twelve."
Ye Chun replied, "Heaven's Choice—on one hand, it refers to how difficult it is for Celestial Chosen to come into being, how hard it is to mass-produce them. On the other hand, some say that from the moment of awakening, a Celestial Chosen is entrusted with a heavenly mandate.
"A Celestial Chosen is someone chosen by a 'Virtue.'"
With that, her chalk moved steadily across the blackboard, writing out in one breath the title Ji Jue had heard several times before—[Twelve Virtues].
Ascension, Tianyuan, Swarm, White Stag, Vortex, Heart Pivot, Aether, Eternal Gate, Embers, Mirror, Entropy, Desolate Ruins.
"These are the sources of power for Celestial Chosen: twelve distinct paths, which is what we call the Twelve Virtues."
Ye Chun explained solemnly, "They are not living beings, nor are they gods. They are grand tapestries woven from countless events throughout past and future, stretching to the dawn of the past and ending at the twilight of destruction.
"To some extent, what they comprise is the very world as we know it.
"[Ascension], representing transcendence and truth;
"[Tianyuan], representing order and governance;
"[White Stag], representing wildness and chaos;
"[Vortex], representing the birth, aging, illness, and death of all life;
"[Swarm], representing struggle and ruin;
"[Heart Pivot], representing thought and desire;
"[Aether], representing observation and record;
"[Eternal Gate], representing space and time;
"[Mirror], representing illusion and nothingness;
"[Embers], representing creation and renewal;
"[Entropy], representing energy and eruption;
"[Desolate Ruins], representing matter and eternity."
"As a newcomer, you must remember the symbols and emblems they represent, and stay far away from any tapestry or symbol outside these twelve.
"'Beyond the Virtues, all is profane and foolish!'"
Ji Jue asked curiously, "If you accidentally come into contact with them..."
"You will suffer corruption."
Ye Chun smiled. "If you're lucky, you'll die clean and quick. If you're unlucky, living will be pure agony. You might even turn into some inhuman aberration that endures forever in eternal torment.
"So you must keep this in mind... Of course, it's fine if you can't memorize it all right away. In time, it'll become second nature. Just don't touch any weird, suspicious junk."
Ji Jue was practically glued to the blackboard, staring intently as he tried to commit it to memory. He asked, puzzled again, "You just said Swarm represents struggle and ruin, but... Swarm is also a Virtue?
"What's so virtuous about that?"
"Well, why wouldn't it be?"
Ye Chun said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "War and slaughter are also part of the world. Ugly or cruel as they may be, that's just how it is. If Swarm didn't count as a Virtue, wouldn't White Stag—which presides over wildness, instinct, freedom, and defiance—have to be cast out as well? Wouldn't Tianyuan, which represents governance and order, likewise symbolize tyranny and control?
"The Virtues are eternal, standing high above the mortal realm, never wavering or changing according to human favor or dislike."
Chapter 29