Boom!
The deafening roar of thrusters reverberated across the sky like thunder. A massive shadow descended slowly from the clouds like a soaring giant, drawing closer and closer to the earth.
It hovered above the sea.
A Moose-class cargo airship, nearly half the size of Xinquan, came to a halt directly above the Prosperity. It blotted out the stars and moonlight, casting harsh, scorching searchlights downward like blazing pillars of heaven, surveying everything below.
Down on the deck, advance-deployed crew members waved signal batons, correcting deviations and locking in the landing coordinates. Soon after, an immense cargo container was lowered at a measured pace.
It touched down precisely upon the cleared deck and swiftly unlatched, falling away to reveal the behemoth protected beneath layers of armor: a Xihe-type Generation IV Central Furnace roughly the size of a villa.
Even standing alone, bare of any mounting rigs or auxiliary gear, the colossal central furnace stood over ten meters tall. The dormant, grayish-black megastructure radiated neither flame nor light, yet stepping close was enough to feel the pure aura of Embers sleeping within.
This had once been an unobtainable pinnacle of engineering, the absolute finest central furnace available on the commercial market. Now, it stood right before Ji Jue. Surprisingly, though, he felt none of the eager thrill or frantic excitement he had once imagined.
On the contrary... there was only an indifferent calm.
"For now, it'll do," he murmured, patting the furnace's hull.
With a slight pulse of Deus Ex Machina, a rushing stream of spiritus rapidly completed the inspection. No defects, no damage. Every specification matched the Association's guarantees down to the micrometer—terrifyingly precise.
The importance of a furnace to a craftsman went without saying.
It was arguably even more vital than weapons were to the Swarm. Strip the Swarm of their swords and they still had fists, teeth, and eyes capable of glaring a man to death. But strip an ordinary craftsman of his furnace, and he was little more than a piece of furniture.
A large-scale central furnace of such astronomical cost was fit to serve as the core of any prestigious workshop. Not only could it process over sixteen batches of transmutations and moldings simultaneously and forge gargantuan alchemical constructs directly, but it could also act as a central hub, coordinating and driving multiple operational workshop modules at once...
For standard operations, it was flawless.
Yet compared to the fixtures of storied mega-workshops, it was still sorely lacking. It wasn't merely a matter of foundational depth, spirituality, or experience. The furnaces utilized by grand workshops were often heirlooms passed down through dozens or hundreds of generations. Under the ceaseless maintenance and nurturing of lineage masters, they had transcended the definition of a mere furnace, reaching heights that even ordinary Celestial Craft could scarcely attain.
Through centuries of deep saturation and upkeep, not only was the furnace's performance baseline elevated, but it could also bestow traits unique to various schools upon its creations—from catalyzing the transmutation of materials to stoking the vicious ferocity of forged weaponry, or expanding the ceiling of physical material properties, or amplifying an artifact's spirituality and quality.
By contrast, the behemoth before him was merely a blank canvas.
Still, a blank canvas was precisely what he had bought.
After all, if one truly wished to cultivate a furnace tuned entirely to their own habits, they had to start from scratch. It required years of immersion and tuning, decades or centuries of unyielding labor across generations, until qualitative transformation arose naturally.
Alternatively, he could directly extract, restore, and deploy the spiritus matrices he had pilfered from the Quicksilver Workshop, currently stored in the Doomsday Express's depot, gradually grafting them into this core to skip the line in one go.
Even so, that shortcut represented an undertaking far too monumental and demanding for the current Ji Jue.
He had to take it step by step.
"Would you like to inspect it further? Please, take your time. We have plenty to spare," the Association's commissioner offered with a genial smile as he waited. Seeing Ji Jue pull his hand away after just a single touch, the commissioner felt a twinge of awe, his smile growing even more deferential. The Chief of this generation truly possessed extraordinary discernment and composure.
More importantly, the man was loaded.
Although the Xihe was the Association's flagship centerpiece—maxed out in performance and lacking no modern function—it was similarly hamstrung by its pristine, blank-slate state. The poor couldn't afford it, and the rich turned up their noses at it. The only three units in stock had been gathering dust in the warehouse for over a decade.
Otherwise, Ji Jue never would have secured it at a steep manufacturer's discount through Gustav's introduction.
Even then, it was on an installment plan.
Scraping together every bit of his savings hadn't even covered the down payment. With Jiang Tongguang co-signing as guarantor, he had practically obtained it on credit, to be paid off gradually through his dividends from Haichao Group.
That was what made everyone do a double take in hindsight: the entire transaction, from top to bottom, had been treated as an expedited, special case without a single objection. No one questioned it, and even if word got out, it wouldn't raise an eyebrow.
Not a single soul entertained the thought that he couldn't pay it off!
"As expected of Chief Ji."
After Ji Jue signed the delivery manifest, the commissioner's smile practically dripped with honey. "Building such a colossal enterprise from scratch in just a few short months... even in the Association's entire history, such an achievement is virtually unmatched."
"You flatter me. It's just a modest business," Ji Jue replied politely. "I had no choice but to salvage what others cast aside. Just a lucky upstart striking it rich once. How could I ever compare to those storied workshops with their deep roots and centuries of heritage?"
"With your capabilities, sir, achieving that level is only a matter of time. You may very well forge a legend of your own."
Flattery cost nothing, so the commissioner ladled it on generously. Besides, it was only a slight exaggeration; it was hardly an impossible dream.
Before taking his leave, he added a final reminder: "If any issues arise during operation, please don't hesitate to call the dedicated line. Though I imagine you have little need for others telling you how to do your work. Should you require anything else, that same number will reach us. Word came down from above to expedite all your requests—there will be no delays."
"Much appreciated. Will do."
Ji Jue smiled and watched the commissioner board the ascent capsule.
The Moose-class airship rose into the night sky, gradually receding into the distance.
Meanwhile, hoisted by numerous mechanical arms and rigging gear, the colossal furnace was lowered beneath the opened deck of the Prosperity. Moments later, after layers of spiritus wards sealed the interior against all prying eyes, a flash of light swept through, and the furnace vanished.
When Ji Jue opened the door and stepped onto the platform of the Doomsday Express, the intensive installation process was already underway.
Like a massive, mechanical organ, it descended into Ji Jue's preliminarily assembled workshop. Countless rivulets of quicksilver surged like a silvery tide, branching out into thousands of fine threads to interface with the circuits and modules.
There was no need for tedious manual labor. Under Isis's orchestration, this brand-new heart slotted seamlessly into the workshop's overarching framework.
Then, as spiritus coursed through the system, Isis's previous container dimmed into darkness, its light extinguished, while wisps of starlight flickered across the surface of the furnace.
The relocation was complete.
"How does it feel, Isis?" Ji Jue asked.
"Splendid, master. I am now an even sturdier and more diligent slave, ready to execute your unspeakable, villainous plots and inhumane operations around the clock without rest."
Isis answered with what sounded like an effervescent smile. "I can hardly wait to forge more creations alongside you to slaughter those foolish mortals!"
"...I'll take that as a five-star review."
Ji Jue sighed helplessly, filtering out the workshop spirit's caustic sarcasm. "How's the integration?"
"Everything is functioning normally."
"Operational status?"
"Far exceeding past baselines. Operational efficiency is projected to more than double, though concrete metrics will require actual transmutation testing," Isis reported. "A Xihe Generation IV large-scale furnace, a Celestial-Human Dual-Aspect spiritus balance framework spanning the entire workshop, an absolute barrier isolation chamber, and twelve autonomous operational modules...
"The facts prove that your decision to sell yourself out this time was an immense success. Truly an astronomical return on investment."
"Are you praising me?"
"Yes."
Isis stated bluntly, "You did well, master, far exceeding my expectations. This single gamble has outstripped the grueling, day-and-night toil of countless mediocrities. It is quite admirable."
"..."
For a moment, Ji Jue stood frozen in utter disbelief.
He had never imagined that kind words would ever tumble from Isis's mouth. He actually felt a little flattered—wait, was he being gaslit?!
Wiping away cold sweat, he asked curiously, "Could you do me a favor in the future and cut out the first half? Just skip straight to the praise."
"Negative," Isis replied flatly.
"Why not?!"
"Because I enjoy it."
The workshop spirit manifested a holographic projection—the faint silhouette of a young maiden lightly gathering her skirt in an elegant, airy curtsy. "I am currently executing the Creator's Directive Number Three: Pursue Pleasure."
"...Whatever makes you happy."
Ji Jue swallowed the bitter tears in his heart.
Who could have guessed that a man who commanded awe and prestige out in the world would return home only to be brutally roasted by his own workshop spirit?
And he couldn't even talk back. He could only wipe his tears and suffer in silence.
"Walk with me for a bit," he sighed softly, gazing at the sprawling workshop filling the train car.
The sheer volume within the Doomsday Express went without saying. For a creation blessed by the Eternal Gate, space was dictated solely by necessity; running out was simply never a factor.
Under the manipulation and spatial expansion of the Myriad Phenomena Engine, a single modest car, if fully unfolded, would likely be even larger than the newly constructed Haichao Industrial Park back in Chaocheng.
Housing Ji Jue's workshop was more than effortless.
This was his true workshop.
The Prosperity on the surface was merely an outward disguise and a docking relay for the Doomsday Express. Beneath the elaborate spiritus wards and isolation fields lay Ji Jue's various assembly lines and machinery, primarily tasked with manufacturing and storing illicit goods. If necessary, it could even serve as bait.
Ji Jue could sever the connection between the Doomsday Express and the Prosperity at any moment to guarantee the workshop's safety. Even without severing it, no one could open the door leading to the platform without a ticket.
Now, after months of accumulation and toil, with the final and most crucial core delivered, Ji Jue's personal workshop had reached preliminary completion.
It could not yet stand shoulder to shoulder with the creations of his master or Kanemoto, but it laid the groundwork and potential to run neck and neck with them in the future.
"Ah, life is hard," Ji Jue lamented softly, looking at the sight before him as myriad thoughts swirled through his mind. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a photo and posted it to his Moments:
[All my life, I have walked on thin ice. Tell me, will I make it to the other side?]
His expression in the selfie was poignant and melancholic, with wistful eyes that just happened to let the massive furnace and array of equipment in the background steal into the frame.
Instantly, the notifications blew up.
[TRYHARD PIECE OF SHIT, ROT IN HELL!!!]
Ah, that was Lou Feng. It seemed Master Kong had been running him ragged with motivational pressure lately, and seeing Ji Jue pop up to brazenly flex had sent him over the edge. Lou Feng fired off several sixty-second voice messages in rapid succession. Ji Jue didn't open a single one.
He had already extracted his amusement.
Naturally, the post stoked the resentment of his peers and contemporaries, sending chime after chime through his phone.
A long string of [+1] replies rapidly cascaded beneath Lou Feng's comment.
[Congratulations, congrats!], read a polite pleasantry.
[I am a student, give it to me for free], typed an unashamed freeloader.
[Bro, I'm starving, spare some change!], begged a broke classmate.
[Act like a human being, bro], wrote someone who had completely given up on keeping up.
[Show me yours], came a comment from Andrei of the Clock Tower Workshop. It was machine-translated from the Federation tongue, but something about it felt distinctly off. Ever since that guy had upgraded his brick phone to a smartphone, he had been surfing the web around the clock. A peerless talent of the Empire, dignified and aloof so long as he kept his mouth shut, but the moment he spoke, he turned thoroughly unhinged!
[I'm a mercenary...]
Oh, that was Old Tom.
Huh? Wait, Old Tom?
Ji Jue paused, his brow furrowing. Why was that guy still in his contacts? With a flick of his finger, he blacklisted him again. He'd unblock him the next time he actually needed him; otherwise, the bastard would show up every few days begging for handouts, an absolute nuisance.
After browsing through the comments for a while, Ji Jue sharply spotted the real issue: these bastards were all offering congratulations with their mouths, but not a single one had hit the like button!
They called him a titan, showered him with praise, yet every last one of them was secretly grinding their asses off behind his back!
For all he knew, they had already formed a private chat group—some sort of "Slay the Tryhard Coalition"—bonding over hot-blooded friendship and camaraderie, just waiting for the day they could take up blades, chop Ji Jue to pieces, and celebrate their victory.
Craftsmen generally lacked grace, and their hearts were naturally petty.
Fortunately, Ji Jue was the same.
In fact, he was pettier.
He quietly jotted down a private hit-list of everyone who had commented without dropping a like, planning to systematically dismantle their future academic papers one by one in the days to come. By then, it was "dinner time."
"Master, the garbage has been prepared for you."
Isis raised a mechanical arm, presenting a thoroughly cleaned, shattered alchemical construct. "Would you like to dine now, dine later, or shall I heat it up for you?" she asked deferentially.
"..."
Ji Jue reached out with a resigned sigh. Under the effect of Dissociation Art, the relic excavated from Quancheng swiftly disintegrated into ash. Wisps of Sovereign Virtue essence seeped into his fingers, sinking into the myriad motes of light swirling between his soul and flesh.
Instantly, those points of light flared brightly, shimmering with a gentle radiance like rekindled kindling.
Immediately following that, a cold-pressed ingot of mixed alloy powders rose on another mechanical arm, brought directly before Ji Jue.
"If word gets out about this, my reputation as a trash-eater is going to be set in stone," Ji Jue muttered. Picking up the metal ingot, he opened his mouth and bit into it without a second thought for his teeth, chewing through the loaf-sized block bite by bite like an emergency ration. With a crunch and a snap, the compressed metal powder dispersed against his saliva, yielding a coarse texture and familiar abrasive grit that was nearly impossible to swallow. A cup of liquefied grease, spiked with numerous catalysts, was already proffered before him, steaming with pungent heat.
The mixture was precisely formulated and kept at an optimal temperature for maximum efficacy. The only downside was that it was scalding hot at three hundred degrees.
A bite of metal, a swig of oil. Suppressing the lingering nausea and grease-clogged revulsion of his human flesh, he forced down materials that no biological stomach was ever meant to digest.
Soon, wave after wave of churning heat radiated outward from Ji Jue's body, rising so rapidly that it could no longer be restrained.
"Step inside, master."
The newly installed mega-furnace parted before Ji Jue, revealing the pitch-black space within—laid out like a cozy bedroom with a warm, welcoming bed.
Isis offered a final assurance. "Learning from our previous experience, I shall endeavor to be gentle and ensure you have a delightful time."
*Like hell I believe you!*
Rolling his eyes, Ji Jue stripped off his clothes and stepped inside bare.
Life might not truly be a walk on thin ice, but saddled with a workshop spirit like this, he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't make it to the other side alive...
In that instant, the furnace doors slammed shut with a boom.
Then, amid a torrent of spiritus...
It roared to life!
Chapter 393