Dead Ashes

In legend, the world had once fallen apart. When the primordial deities plummeted from the firmament, the sun vanished without a trace, and the earth was laid desolate. Amid the darkness, frost and dead flames surged like a tide, sweeping across the land and engulfing all. Then, the kings of the chaotic era marched across the earth, dragging the bones of the gods behind them. They bound the sun, battled the desolation, imprisoned the darkness, and drove out the frost and blaze, remaking everything that exists today. Now, the flames were kindled once more. As though returning anew. Boundless scarlet danced across the earth. Strands of ash and sparks drifted down from the heavens, falling upon Lyu Yingyue's shoulders like a rain of tears. Her heavy protective suit kept out the heat, yet it offered no resistance against the destruction and death rising within the blaze. Flames crept across her skin like maggots clinging to bone. When she looked back, the path she had come by was gone. And when she looked ahead, it seemed only destruction and death remained. She could no longer remember how long this torment had lasted... *Snap!* The crushing weight of Tianyuan materialized out of thin air, grinding the writhing corpse within the flames to dust. Then another, and another... The sound of bursting detonations rang endlessly. Consumed by the flames of calamity, the countless dead seemed to have come back to life once more. Full of bitter hatred and venomous malice, they wailed, wept, and prayed, yet sought to drag every living thing within reach down into hell with them. Unless someone pushed them back into hell once more... Just as she was doing. At this moment, behind Lyu Yingyue, countless corpses had burned to charcoal in the fire, piling into a mountain out of hell that seemed to stretch to the ends of her sight. That was all her doing. Every last one... She had thrown herself recklessly into the deepest reaches of this sea of fire, willing to sacrifice everything, yet she could not find a single survivor. There was none of the future and light promised back when she had been selected and transferred by that bullshit committee—only hell and death. Until at last, she was completely exhausted. She collapsed wearily onto the ground, forgetting even the agony of the burns... *Boom!* From the depths of the infinite flames came an explosive roar. A ray of blazing light descended from the heavens, piercing the burning earth and sky like a blade—and immediately, the boundless tide of flames ground to a sudden halt, beginning to recede and dissipate like an ebbing tide. At this moment, the calamity retreated! "Thank you for your hard work, Commissioner Lyu." From within the dissipating flames, a projection that did not physically exist here materialized before her. A craftsman robed in white leaned on a cane, his facial features indistinct and his age impossible to discern. "Thanks to the precious time you bought us, the Sealing Committee completed communications with the Federation and successfully awakened the Heavenly Overseer. "Haizhou was saved because of this. Your contribution in this venture is monumental indeed." "..." Amid the ashes, Lyu Yingyue turned her head wearily, looking at him. "What actually happened?" "A few hours ago, the mortal realm collided with the Vortex. Between the Vortex and reality, a fissure akin to the Void Abyss tore open, triggering this calamity." "And the Lock?" Lyu Yingyue tensed sharply. "The Lock was breached?" "Nothing so dramatic, merely a crack." The craftsman slowly shook his head. "The Sealing Committee's reason for existing is to maintain reality and ensure the stability of the Lock. "The Lock is structured between the Twelve Virtues and the Great Sins, wedged by the supreme Celestial Crafts once achieved by the T5—the Celestial Rail, Living Current, Corridor, Spirit River, and Instance—omnipresent and encompassing all. "If it could be broken open so easily, the mortal realm would have been destroyed long ago, wouldn't it?" Lyu Yingyue countered, "Then why go through so much trouble?" The craftsman fell silent for a moment, seeming surprised by her courage and defiance, yet he showed no rage. Upon that indistinct face, his expression was inscrutable. "Even if the sparks of flame are hard to extinguish, had we simply left it alone, it would have burned out naturally after consuming more than half of Haizhou, leaving the bigger picture undamaged. "The crux of the matter is that if the fissure failed to close... as time dragged on, should something beneath the Vortex be cast out into the mortal realm, that would be troublesome indeed." "More troublesome than Quancheng?" Lyu Yingyue sneered, no longer hiding her dissatisfaction. Yet what answered her was neither a rebuke nor a brush-off, but a brief silence. Then came a calm reply. "Yes, exactly." The craftsman said, "More troublesome than Quancheng." "..." Lyu Yingyue had nothing left to say. She wearily pushed herself up, stepping onto the journey back with faltering strides. In comparison, however, the phantom not present in flesh drifted along effortlessly, even finding the leisure to glance around and look down upon the charred remains beneath his feet. As if accustomed to the sight, treating it like nothing more than a spring stroll. Only after a long while did the phantom's footsteps suddenly halt. Standing amid the ashes and scorched earth, he raised his head as if puzzled. He looked into the distance. Amid the quenched ashes, echoes of wailing or sorrowful cries seemed to linger, yet they could not drown out the sound drifting from afar—a delicate wisp of singing. Hoarse and low, it echoed through the shattered hell, yet was filled with hope and blessings. A survivor! For a fleeting instant, Lyu Yingyue's eyes seemed to light up uncontrollably, but immediately after, she froze in place, as though struck by a delayed realization. "It seems an unexpected situation has arisen," the craftsman's phantom sighed softly. "The regulations make no provision for such a case. Commissioner Lyu, you may decide for yourself." "..." Lyu Yingyue remained silent, saying nothing. Standing amid the incinerated ruins, outside a mangled train carriage, she silently gripped the hilt of her sword through the broken doorway. Yet for some reason, she lacked the courage to push that door open. The craftsman, as if none of this concerned him, stood far off where he was, still gazing out across the hellscape. "Do you know? There was once a story in ancient times," the phantom suddenly said. "The story goes that the gods gave a young girl a box, telling her to keep it safe and never open it." "..." Lyu Yingyue turned back to look at him, her expression unreadable. "Yes, exactly. According to standard dramatic storytelling, that's how it goes," the craftsman sighed. "If a gun appears in the first act, it must inevitably go off in the later acts... "Since the gods entrusted a box to ignorant mortal hands, mortals were bound to open it. "And so the contents of the box escaped. "Calamity, despair, pestilence, horror, misfortune... turning the entire world into this." Reflected in the remnants of the flames, that indistinct face showed no expression, making it impossible to discern whether it held pity or mockery. He suddenly asked, "Do you think mortals were in the wrong?" Lyu Yingyue stayed silent for a long time, then asked, "If they knew mortals might open it, why give the box to mortals in the first place?" "Indeed. Gods are arrogant and tyrannical, ever sending down trials and tribulations impossible to resist. "Yet mortals made a mistake too. "Her mistake was not opening the box, but in the end... shutting it. "And so, when all calamity and suffering swept over everything, hope alone remained trapped inside that box, buried deep in darkness, never to appear in this world..." Sighing softly, the craftsman looked toward her. "Don't you think that is a wonderful story?" "And so?" Lyu Yingyue demanded in return. "What's wonderful about it? What is the point?" "Do not place your hopes in the mercy of gods; do not expect foresight from human wisdom; and do not count on... an end to so-called suffering and despair." The craftsman paused, then sighed softly. "Most importantly: beware the 'box.'" *Boom!* A tremor like the rending of the earth rose from afar. From the shattered dark clouds in the sky fell the last few stray sparks of flame, yet mid-air, the splintered embers dispersed into nothingness. The fiery tide surged majestically, flowing eastward into the sea. Leaving only a lingering echo of destruction reverberating in everyone's ears. "Now, perhaps that box has appeared before you, Lyu Yingyue," the craftsman told her. "Time is running out." He said, "You must make your choice." When calamity rolls in like a tide and ebbs like a tide, what is left behind? Was that singing now hope, or an unextinguished seed of evil? Even if one managed by fluke to survive, amid devastation on such a scale, they would already be deeply tainted by Sin. Perhaps one day, the dead ashes would rekindle, and when that time came, an even greater catastrophe would be unleashed. And everything here and now would ultimately sink into the Vortex, beyond salvation... Now, would you open it? Or destroy it, ending it once and for all to eliminate the threat forever! The craftsman waited quietly. Lyu Yingyue spoke no further. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. In that instant, the singing stopped. Inside the wrecked, derailed carriage, amid countless remnants, there remained only one last broken figure. Like a bubble or illusion far too fragile, ethereal and fleeting. In the dead silence, Lyu Yingyue drew her sword. Step by step, she advanced. Until that figure finally turned around, looking toward the visitor approaching blade in hand. Freezing Lyu Yingyue in her tracks. Upon that pale face covered in ash, there was only compassion and tenderness. In those eyes there was neither resentment nor pain, only a calm gaze—yet in their reflection, Lyu Yingyue, covered in blood and burns, looked like the true demon. A fracturing sound rang out. Cracks spread silently across that face, creeping forward until they gradually covered the entire body. The destruction and death deferred for far too long had finally arrived. No, it seemed even more like she was stepping willingly to meet her end. Without the slightest hesitation. "Thank you for your hard work." With one final smile filled with gratitude, she lifted up the treasure she had sacrificed everything to protect in her embrace, offering it to Lyu Yingyue. Lyu Yingyue instinctively wanted to draw back. Yet before she could, she reached out her hands... involuntarily. And just like that, she witnessed the last remnant of the calamity dissolve in silence. Reduced to ash and dispersed into nothingness. No, there was still one more. She looked down into her arms at the dying child wrapped in a fire blanket, the blade in her hand trembling faintly without a sound. Wasn't this enough? Enough people had died today. What harm was there in letting one fewer die? And yet... The mortal world was desolate and full of nothing but suffering. What harm was there in adding one more? In that instant, Lyu Yingyue closed her eyes. Her blade slashed down! In the silence, no song remained. After a long time, Lyu Yingyue finally staggered out of the incinerated carriage. "The threat has been eradicated, Your Excellency." Her eyes downcast, she reported in a hoarse voice, "The mission is complete." The craftsman nodded, then looked at the child on her back with clear confusion. "Who is this?" "An innocent child, nothing more..." Lyu Yingyue gave a disdainful sigh. "Cursed by the calamity, even if he survives, he won't have long to live." "I understand." The craftsman seemed to smile. It was impossible to tell whether it was mockery or approval, but he raised no objection and gave no command. "Let it be so, then," he said. "That is how I will write it in the subsequent report." And so, in silence and stillness, Lyu Yingyue stumbled forward, crossing the scorched earth and ashes. Step by step, she walked out of hell, crossing the quarantine cordon. Amid the chaos, anxious shouts rang out. "Survivor! A survivor!" "Hurry, there's another one here!" Surrounded by numerous medical personnel, emergency treatment began—clamorous and frantic—yet soon after, it fell into silence. When Lyu Yingyue pushed her way through, she saw only the lead doctor shaking his head. "It's too late, Captain Lyu..." the doctor said. "There is no heartbeat." "..." Lyu Yingyue's lips trembled. Stunned, she waved her hand reflexively, not knowing what gesture she was trying to make, and turned wearily to walk away. Looking toward that scorched land where embers still lingered. She wanted to howl and rage, but could make no sound. Yet at that instant, what sounded like a cry arose. Hoarse and intermittent. Like the birth of a newborn. On the operating table, the child who should have been dead opened his eyes. Dazed and disoriented, as though walking out of one long and agonizing dream into yet another nightmare. And so, his heartbeat resumed. Amid the illusory singing that faded into the distance, he lost consciousness once more, tears welling up uncontrollably. "Does this count as a mistake?" At the edge of the cordon, Lyu Yingyue asked wearily. "Who knows?" the craftsman's phantom replied. "Perhaps you've already opened the box." "And what came out? Suffering or despair?" And so, the craftsman turned back to look at her, his gaze carrying deep meaning: "Think on the bright side. Perhaps it's hope?" "..." Lyu Yingyue closed her eyes. "'Please, gods, take the box back.' Lord Tianlu, that is surely what the little girl was thinking back then. Mortals should not have to face such choices and trials. "Or perhaps, let the box witness all this and choose for itself—" —Whether to grant this world hope, or ruin. Tianlu fell silent. In the final silence before dissipating, he gazed out at the stars reappearing across the night sky. "A wind has begun to blow," he sighed softly, reaching out his hand as if trying to grasp something. Yet between the fingertips of that phantom hand lay nothing, unable to touch the erratic breeze, or what was called destiny. A great gale rises from the tip of duckweed. Perhaps the Mandate of Heaven had turned and already descended. The forging of Embers began from this very moment... *** Ji Jue had a dream. He dreamt of things past, yet could not recall them clearly. Flames, dense smoke, scorched earth, a crimson-lit sky—the world was like a cracked glass marble, groaning and shattering within the crucible. At the end of the dream, he saw an infinite, deep sea. He did not know how long had passed; it felt like thousands, ten thousands of years. In the deepest depths of the ocean, a wisp of flame surfaced silently. Amid the dead ashes, the old flame rekindled.