Whatever Could Be the Matter?

To the naked eye, what was fitted into the iron claw was merely a broken blade just over a foot and two inches long. Its light was clear as water, its chill piercing, the patterns along the steel intricate and layered in looping whorls. It was certainly fine enough to be called a good sword. Yet within a Celestial Chosen's spiritus perception, what lay before them was no longer a material silhouette, but a torrential torrent erupting outward from within! It was like a volcanic eruption, a manifestation of natural disaster. Pure crimson and void darkness intertwined with each other, churning into an endlessly expanding vortex. The instant it unsheathed, every witness felt their hair stand on end. Waves of dizziness washed over them, their trembling terror impossible to contain. It felt as though life and soul alike were about to be devoured by that vortex— Iniquitous beyond measure, ferocious beyond compare! This was the Elephant Sword Nine Forms, Form Three: Pan Ying! Among the nine forms inherited in Shuo Jian, it was at once the simplest and hardest to learn, with both the highest and lowest forging success rates—and it was the perilous lineage that had claimed the lives of the most craftsmen. Compared to other archetypes, forging Pan Ying's blade blank was absurdly simple. It was nothing more than piling on materials, demanding little in technical skill or difficulty. Although it possessed a linked sequence of seven blessings spanning the three paths of Ascension, White Stag, and Swarm, one only needed a single blessing to begin. The rest could be gradually added through later tempering as progress allowed. The entire forging process could take as little as three days to emerge from the furnace, after which its edge would be gradually nurtured and quenched. Well, the only catch was that most practitioners never lived long enough to master it, nor could they survive until the day it was fully completed. Before reaching that stage, roughly nine and a half out of ten would wind up dead, and the remaining half might never live to see the day they walked out of the ICU... Just like the broken sword held in Little Niuma's grasp right now. It was merely a half-finished product that had achieved the status of a blade blank. An untempered, unquenched Pan Ying form could hardly be called a weapon—this damn thing was practically a mobile radiation source of corruption. As long as it existed, it continuously unleashed a vortex, pillaging all life and spiritus, devouring everything with insatiable gluttony. What was worse, it made no distinction between friend and foe! The method of honing and nurturing it was equally blunt, just like the vast majority of ominous weapons: sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice the damn thing to the brim! Kill enough and it would grow strong; sacrifice more and it would grow deadlier! When it first left the furnace, it measured only a foot and one inch, far from the three-foot perfection. Every time its quota of sacrificed souls was filled, it had to be tempered and reforged to grow by an inch, like a monstrous beast molting its skin. With every inch forged, it grew three parts more wicked, three parts more sinister! To reach the realm of perfection, it required nineteen temperings. The further along it went, the easier it became to lose control and trigger a furnace explosion, dragging both swordsmith and wielder into the grave together. With each additional tempering, its ferocity surged violently, demanding ever-greater control from both creator and wielder. Even if it began as light and easy as a spring picnic, that low starting point would eventually swell into an astronomical, despair-inducing threshold. To give up halfway meant abandoning all prior efforts, leaving every investment to self-destruct—a drastic measure of cutting one's losses. To persist meant walking a tightrope with one's life on the line. And in the end, it rarely led to a good outcome. The detailed records of its hazards and countless failures in the chapter of Shuo Jian were stained with blood and tears, practically screaming between the lines to deter anyone from trying. It was called "the pinnacle of fury and ferocity, the utmost of evil and iniquity." If one could completely suppress the evil aura and murderous malice during subsequent temperings and creations, guiding it back to the righteous path, then once stripped of its ferocity, Pan Ying could be rechristened Sheng Xie. At that point, it would become an unadulterated divine marvel, an instrument of the sovereign way. Only— To Ji Jue's mind, was that really necessary? Swords were meant for hacking people down anyway. From the moment a weapon was born, bloodshed was its destiny, so why fuss over consequences? Even if the hazards were immense, the fallout catastrophic, and the backlash agonizing— As long as he didn't use it himself, wouldn't that solve everything? Isn't that right, Little Niuma? "ROAR—!" Behind Ji Jue, the colossal beast of steel roared at the top of its lungs. Its once sharp, high-pitched horn now seemed laced with the wails and shrieks of tens of thousands of souls, blood-red radiance rising from its entire frame. Even the billowing thick smoke pouring from its exhaust pipes turned into a viscous crimson, like a beacon of bloody smoke surging into the sky! In the span of a breath, it charged forward. The multi-meter steel chassis rose upright onto two thick, reverse-jointed legs resembling a beast's, stomping across the earth and sending muddy spray flying everywhere. Its long tail whipped out, its chainsaw-like assembly spinning wildly. Across its four deployed arms, one held a giant axe, one an iron hammer, one was mounted with a close-combat armor-piercing anchor cannon meant for power armor, while in the final hand, nurtured and bathed in dragon blood, Pan Ying shuddered violently. The crimson light upon the broken blade exploded outward, brandished recklessly like a massive blood-red greatsword several meters long. Fearless against impacts and slashes, indifferent to the control and suppression of gravity, and utterly immune to the deception of illusions, the direction of its charge was guided purely by Pan Ying's ravenous thirst for life and spiritus. It rampaged into the fray! Heavenly thunder shook, lightning raced, descending from the sky into a torrential flood that swallowed Little Niuma in an instant. Yet amidst the dissipating glare, the blood-cloaked monster remained berserk, showing nothing more than traces of melting across its outer armor plating. Before the Entropy-lineage Celestial Chosen could even recover from his shock, that steel beast face was already inches away. The greatsword of flowing blood let out a mournful howl as it cleaved downward! From crown to shoulder, he was neatly split in two. Before the corpse even hit the ground, all its blood essence and spiritus had been stripped clean, withering into a desiccated husk. Upon the blade, the crimson radiance thickened another shade! Tempering the edge through repeated battle was indeed the perfect companion for a blood-sacrificed weapon of doom. Not to mention that Ji Jue had poured money into buying the Ascension blessing Singular Obsession from the Association, further stoking Pan Ying's murderous malice and boosting both the efficiency and stability of its blood sacrifices. The primary material used to construct the blade blank had been the stone marrow gifted by Sister Wen. Beyond that, Ji Jue had mixed in his own blood, Little Niuma's dragon blood, a heap of corrupted auxiliary ingredients scavenged from Quancheng, and even the corpse of that old Aether geezer from the cruise ship. On top of all that, Ji Jue had worried the violence wouldn't be brutal enough, so he threw in even more nasty ingredients, tossing in a few corrupted alchemy tricks picked up from old geezer Kanemoto... Thus was the ominous weapon Pan Ying brought into being! Every taboo mentioned in Shuo Jian—"act within your limits," "never overdo it"—Ji Jue had violated them all. As a result, from the moment Pan Ying left the furnace, it was continuously undergoing corruptive mutation, backlashing against the smith while in the hearth and turning on its wielder once pulled out— Too bad that between the two of them, there wasn't a single one it could actually harm. One was Ji Jue, wielding Non-Offensive with corruption resistance maxed out; the other was a mutated abomination born from the fusion of pure dragon blood and Deus Ex Machina, where two negatives made a positive. Using Little Niuma as its scabbard, Pan Ying was sealed under dragon blood and couldn't stir up the slightest wave. It had no choice but to grind against the dragon blood in Little Niuma's frame, nurturing its own malice while simultaneously purifying the dragon blood in return. Little Niuma, who possessed dragon blood but lacked the means to unleash its foundation, paired with Pan Ying, who was brimming with vicious intent but inherently brittle—the two canceling out each other's malice, negative making positive, were a match made in heaven! Under Ji Jue's adjustments and intervention, an extraordinarily bizarre symbiosis had formed between vehicle and sword. Even the life and spiritus siphoned through blood sacrifice were split evenly between the two. Well, after deducting the lion's share paid in tribute to Ji Jue, of course—Brother Ji Jue worked the hardest and put in the most effort, so naturally Brother Ji Jue took his cut first. *BOOM!* Ignoring the blockade of congealed air, Little Niuma whipped around, thrusting its anchor cannon against the Desolate Ruins adept's chest and pulling the trigger. Amidst the deafening blast, the stony metallic sheen shattered, and immediately after, Pan Ying swept through! Before the mangled remains could even hit the dirt, the giant axe and iron hammer crashed down together, pulverizing the dazed Mirror-lineage Celestial Chosen into a paste of gore... A massacre! The combination of dragon-blooded monster and Pan Ying made short work of these Celestial Chosen who hadn't even progressed past the Metamorphosis tier, cutting through them like melons and chopping through them like vegetables. Amidst the desperate slaughter, some naturally tried to target Ji Jue, who seemed the frailest as a mere craftsman. Yet amidst the torrential downpour, Ji Jue simply held his umbrella at leisure, produced a small bell from his pocket, and gave it a few shakes. In an instant, monsters reshaped from remnant spirits were reborn out of writhing quicksilver. Not to mention the surge of animated machine guns and legged bomb spiders swarming outward. Within ten paces, even a momentary hesitation was all it took for an invisible spiritus hand and Dissociation Art to grind these ragtag Celestial Chosen, reduced to pillaging in the wilderness, into absolute dust. To say nothing of the extra mana pool provided by the Doomsday Express's fuel reservoir. It was effortless. When Uncle Lin finally arrived with his men, all they found was Ji Jue standing amidst the devastation, holding an umbrella. It was as if nothing had happened at all. There weren't even any corpses in sight. Instead of the expected hellscape, there remained only a thick, suffocating stench of blood and a web of gouged ruts. "Where is everyone?" Uncle Lin froze for a moment. "Oh, they went on a group spring picnic." Ji Jue shrugged and told him, "They went somewhere very, very far away. They won't be back anytime soon. They even asked me to pass word to their family and friends not to worry about them." *Buzz...* In his hand, the broken crimson blade shuddered violently. Blood-red mist writhed, creeping upward thread by thread, hungering to siphon and lash back. Yet no matter how the red light twisted and gnawed, it could not breach the barrier of spiritus to touch the flesh mere inches away. Ji Jue lowered his gaze, expressionless. "A dog should act like a dog." He offered a soft reminder, "Understand?" He made no move, not even deploying his Dissociation Art, yet the ravenous metallic humming cut off abruptly. As if recalling some terrifying nightmare, the broken blade quivered faintly in what looked like a shiver, letting out feeble, whimpering laments. Utterly tamed. "Good." Ji Jue gave a satisfied nod and tossed the horrifying broken blade outward. It landed squarely in the steel hand extending from the armored vehicle, where layers of shifting quicksilver flowed over it to seal it away, returning it to its sheath. The tyrannical, frenzied aura vanished without a trace, as if it had only ever been an illusion. "All packed up?" Ji Jue turned and asked, telling them, "Everyone needs to pick up the pace. We still have a long road ahead of us." His smile was as gentle as ever, yet this time, the Swarm mercenaries lost all their previous laxity. Straightening their backs in an instant, they answered with solemn discipline. Wasting no further time, they left the spoils they had no chance to process for the salvage teams following behind, and regrouped at once. Amidst the howling wind and pounding rain, the eerie, silent convoy sped off once more toward its next target. Then the next, and the next, and the next after that— Washed clean by the rain, mangled remains sank into the mire, and blood dissolved into the waterways. After a long night, the clouds parted and the rain ceased. When sunlight illuminated the earth once more, the wilderness of Haizhou had never known such tranquility. A dead silence. No messages, no reports, and no replies. In just a few short hours, all the personnel covertly deployed to Haizhou by the four military-industrial conglomerates seemed to have evaporated into thin air, vanished without a trace. Only when new teams were dispatched on the long journey to Haizhou did they manage to discern, amidst the unrecognizable ruins and debris, faint traces of what had transpired. And along with them, the final remnant— When the report reached Shang Tongwen's hands, he had just concluded a meeting with the Dongcheng City Hall. A subordinate stood solemnly at the doorway and knocked. Shang Tongwen paused, broke off his conversation on the phone, and took the folder. Opening it, he found only a single photograph taken on-site. Amidst the ruined settlement, scorched black and turned into a swamp by the torrential rain, not a single one of the men or subordinates he had sent could be seen. Amidst the utter devastation, only a carefully arranged gift sat upon the open square. Mangled, broken bones were heaped together in a chaotic crisscross, using their gruesome arrangement to convey greetings and an invitation to the peekers on the other side of the photograph: They spelled out: "HELLO"! This was merely the opening greeting. Immediately following that, in the afternoon of the very same day, urgent dispatches from Haizhou flooded the offices of Echo, Xinyuan, Tiancheng, and Beijing like a dense, swirling blizzard falling from the sky. Two mines and a non-ferrous metal refinery recently funded by Beijing Group were issued notices for indefinite suspension and rectification due to pollution violations; two fully loaded cargo ships belonging to Tiancheng Industry that had just docked at Yacheng were impounded by customs and hit with punitive fines for carrying undeclared goods; an automotive subsidiary under Xinyuan Power became embroiled in a massive scandal involving cut corners and falsified data; and the Chaocheng general manager of Echo Science & Technology was formally arrested on charges of bribery, intentional homicide, and stock manipulation... In just a few hours, every industrial chain in Haizhou suffered unexpected strikes. Even enterprise operations and production outside Haizhou felt the tremors and repercussions. Just as Haian Group was teetering under the assault, with Xu Chaoxian's fate unknown and Lyu Yingyue far away in Midtown unable to take the helm, the Tong family abandoned their usual low profile, stepped out from behind the scenes to center stage, and took control of the situation. Immediately afterward... the winds in Chaocheng, the second of Haizhou's two central metropolises, shifted abruptly. Just as the Chaocheng governor found himself mired in a corruption investigation with no bandwidth for anything else, the Lou clan—who had historically maintained a cool, distant relationship with the Tong family—openly stepped forward and chose their side! It wasn't merely close coordination and alliance in their moves. At four-thirty that afternoon, near the closing of the market, Tong Shengnian, CEO of Tianya Investment, and Lou Guan, Executive Director of Guangji Industrial, appeared together at an impromptu press conference hosted by their firms. Broadcast live across television networks, they announced to everyone present: in order to revitalize local industry, stimulate the economy, boost employment, and create greater social value—under the joint auspices of both parties, they would execute a merger and restructuring of Yacheng's Haian Group and Chaocheng's Panshi Group, overhauling operations, rooting out systemic flaws, and granting them a new lease on life! When the time came, the newly restructured conglomerate would receive joint capital injections and controlling stakes from both parties, inheriting Panshi Group's seat in the Huanyu Heavy Industries Consortium as well as Haian Group's military-industrial qualifications. At the conclusion of the press conference, both parties jointly unveiled the name of the newly restructured conglomerate: Haichao Industry! The moment the news broke, it was like dropping a massive boulder into murky waters, kicking up monstrous waves and sending the once-stagnant pool churning once again. Amidst the churned mud and silt, the fates of countless fish in the pond were turned upside down, and no one could guess how many life-and-death struggles this would spawn. At this moment, all eyes converged on Midtown, fixed upon the woman about to be officially appointed as the Haizhou Warden. Amidst the clamorous sessions of the House of Representatives, Lyu Yingyue sat serenely between the two political parties, her smile unchanged, as though completely unbothered. At this exact juncture, that lunatic had actually raised the stakes! Before the markets could even open the following day, the Federal Trade Commission introduced an antitrust investigation bill targeting the merger between Haian and Panshi. In an instant, fresh waves rippled through the House. At the same time, the turmoil in Haizhou escalated further. A new storm was already taking shape around Haian and Panshi. Meanwhile, amidst the open and covert clashes, minor troubles began cropping up inside the four southern military-industrial conglomerates led by Echo, including Xinyuan, Beijing, and Tiancheng... To be precise, it was as if they had seen a ghost. Not only the automotive enterprises owned by or affiliated with the four conglomerates, but all competing manufacturers that had previously launched attacks against Haian Automobile found themselves in absolute chaos, plagued by a relentless stream of scandals and lawsuits. Starting from the 30th, every single manufacturer began to notice that, for reasons unknown, the defect rate of products rolling off their assembly lines had begun shooting up like a rocket, worsening by the day. Yet no one could pinpoint the cause. Even after tearing down every machine for step-by-step inspections and maintenance, they couldn't uncover a single issue. Aside from that, if it wasn't a sudden voltage spike ruining die-casting machines, it was precision components failing their parameters, engine seals developing leaks, or electrical systems suffering from poor contacts... Even when vehicles miraculously made it past layers of screening and were delivered to clients, they would invariably break down after ten kilometers due to all manner of bizarre, idiotic mishaps. There didn't even need to be many—just one failure out of twenty vehicles was enough to inflict devastating losses and reputational damage on the enterprises and manufacturers. So much so that, alongside the reconstruction of the Haian Automobile Factory, an eerie slump and turmoil swept across the entire market. Regarding this, Factory Director Ji of the Haian Automobile Factory, having just returned from a long journey to sip tea and watch the drama unfold back at the plant, offered his own incisive commentary: "How truly strange! Whatever could be the matter? "Surely it couldn't be retribution for having too many guilty consciences, could it?"