The funeral was held on the third day.
The venue was right within the factory grounds of Haian Industries. Sheds had been erected over the newly resurfaced ground, and virtually everyone from Xinquan attended.
There were no convoluted rituals or pompous programs—it was conducted strictly as a memorial and remembrance service.
Aside from the seven Knights of Homecoming who had died during the siege of Pacquiao, more than thirty security guards had also fallen. After that single bout of turmoil, nearly every combatant bore injuries, and over forty had been left permanently disabled.
Although Ji Jue bore no contractual liability for the Knights of Homecoming's combat losses, he paid out double the standard pensions and bonuses—matching the terms for Haian’s own employees—and threw in an additional batch of supplies as a gesture of goodwill.
As for the workers of Haian, on top of the promised double pensions and bonuses, they received a slew of preferential benefits. Families with elderly dependents could stay free of charge at the nursing home affiliated with the Xinxiang Sanatorium, while children in school received a monthly living allowance and interest-free student loans.
Ji Jue had made out like a bandit from the recent spoils; he was hardly hurting for this modest sum.
Wounds were treated properly, and amputees were sent straight to Xie Lan for limb replantation. Even if they could no longer handle heavy physical labor afterward, the factory had plenty of light, stable positions waiting for them—positions that desperately needed employees of proven loyalty and reliability.
Beyond that, any other hardships or troubles would receive aid based on circumstance. Faced with such lavish compensation and remedy, it was hard to say whether the bereaved households felt joy laced with grief, or grief tempered with solace.
Throughout the service, subdued sobs and tears flowed unabated.
Toward the end, Ji Jue personally handed the urns to the families one by one, listening in silence to their tearful grievances and heartfelt gratitude.
The only thing he could do in the end was leave behind a business card of his own.
When he pushed the door open and stepped outside, he still could not hold back a quiet sigh.
"Isn't that already more than enough?"
Sitting on the outdoor steps puffing on a long pipe, the Accountant glanced back at him and remarked with genuine feeling, "When you take up a blade to carve out a living, dying horribly in the gutter is par for the course. Once you shoulder a gun to earn your keep, life and death are no longer yours to decide.
"Life is precious sometimes, and worthless at others.
"Back in the Mid-Continent, when the man of the house dies, all the family gets is a bag of gold dust and a gun—and most of the time, they don't even get the gold dust.
"Landing a good employer like you lets them rest easy in death. What is there to feel guilty about?"
"You might have misread me, sir. I'm not that soft."
Ji Jue looked back at him. "I do feel remorse, but I don't believe I did anything wrong. I'm merely doing what little lies within my power to make amends."
The Accountant shrugged. "Then why the sorrow?"
"Why shouldn't I feel sorrow?"
Ji Jue offered a self-deprecating smile. "No matter how much sorrow and guilt I feel, and no matter how much compensation and effort I provide, if I face the same situation again in the future, I will make the exact same choice.
"I'll do it again and again, unrepentant to the bitter end."
He looked at the Accountant and asked curiously, "Isn't a person like me truly pathetic?"
The Accountant fell silent, looking at him for a long time before exhaling a thin wisp of smoke. He sighed softly. "The world has far too many pitiful wretches who bring misery upon themselves, and no shortage of heinous villains who pile up wickedness without remorse. But someone like you falls into neither category.
"Whether you can achieve greatness in the end is beyond this old man to say. But one thing is certain: the harm left behind by people like you will likely far outstrip all of theirs combined."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Ji Jue chuckled, thoroughly unbothered.
"Before you take your leave, Mr. Accountant, is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"Just one thing: pay on time, and don't stall on the final balance. As for anything else..."
The Accountant gave a sly grin, produced an emblem from his pocket, and flicked it toward him. Ji Jue caught it out of the air, but could not quite tell what the insignia represented.
It looked like a jagged scrap of iron with the rough likeness of a Mycelium emblem carved into it with a knife.
"What's this?" Ji Jue lowered his gaze to inspect it.
"A priest's badge and credential. If you walk down the street in the Mid-Continent wearing this, anyone who sees you and doesn't drop to their knees has their feet chopped off. Well, either that or you get hacked to death by a mob.
"My advice is don't go flaunting it around carelessly. The Red States have plenty of mortal enemies."
The Accountant shrugged and sighed wistfully. "The decision came from the Patron, and we followers have no right to question it. Not many people in this generation are qualified to bear the Crown of Shattered Iron; having one more is a fine thing.
"The knighthood might not understand, but they won't object either—not that you'd care anyway, I reckon.
"I don't need to waste words, but to be on the safe side, let me remind you of one thing: while lineages of the Mycelium aren't exactly rare, they aren't common cabbage either. I hope you won't go tossing it around to just anyone."
"No need for that. Besides, don't the Knights of Homecoming serve me quite well as it is?" Ji Jue flipped the badge into the air with casual ease, watching it spin before catching it in his palm. "Friendship is friendship, and bills are bills, right?"
"That's the gist of it."
Supporting his aging lower back, the Accountant rose from the steps and stretched his limbs. "Well, the good and the bad have all been said, so this old man won't linger any longer.
"May business prosper for Boss Ji."
"Much obliged."
Smiling, Ji Jue watched the Accountant lead the bulk of the Knights of Homecoming away.
However, Slan stayed behind with a squad. On one hand, they were already freelancing in the Federation anyway; on the other, it was a bundled service.
They would serve Ji Jue until the end of the rainy season.
In a sense, it was also a silent reminder:
*We've fought all the battles you paid us for. From here on out, that final balance better be waiting for me.*
*Don't drag your feet. Chop-chop.*
Ji Jue naturally had no reason to turn away a free bonus. Besides, this was only the beginning. Pacquiao was dead and buried, but weren't his business partners still alive and kicking?
And what about all those water ghosts who had slipped into Haizhou during the rainy season to burn, kill, and plunder? Had they managed to run off yet?
Even the tiniest mosquito had meat on its bones.
No matter how rotten those water ghosts were, couldn't their surplus value still be put to good use?
Ji Jue naturally chose to take everything.
As for the next headache he had to deal with, it was another persistent plaster...
Old Tom, who spent all day rolling around on a bed in the factory infirmary wailing that he was on the brink of death, yet never missed a single one of his five daily meals, seemingly determined to eat Ji Jue into bankruptcy!
"Aiyoyo, Boss, you're finally here!"
Old Tom looked deathly pale, his face like yellow wax paper. The moment he saw Ji Jue walk into the ward, tears nearly spilled from his eyes as he wheezed with threadlike breath, "If you'd come any later, I'm afraid you wouldn't have seen me alive!"
"Before you speak, would you mind wiping the grease off your mouth first?"
Expressionless, Ji Jue flicked his wrist and tossed a pouch over. "Three for the down payment, fifteen settled two days ago, and now the final balance—seventeen more.
"Thirty-five imperial gold coins. Most of my net worth is right there. After knowing each other this long, don't you think it's time we put our cards on the table, Old Tom?"
This was an outright lie.
A mere thirty-something imperial gold coins was peanuts. Although Ji Jue hadn't brought much out originally, now that he had gradually unsealed the vault of the Doomsday Express, he had so much of this junk that he had nowhere to store it all!
Back then, the Celestial Rail had packed up and hauled off the entire Border Realm.
Among the piles of miscellaneous clutter, there were several crates of this stuff.
Even with crates full of them, however, he couldn't very well haul them all out and dump them in front of Old Tom, could he? One had to beware of thieves, but even more of their lingering greed. What if this bastard threw caution to the wind and brought his whole assortment of ancestors to hold him for ransom?
"That's all?"
Old Tom frowned, his disappointment written plainly across his face. He could barely even bother to keep up the act, squeezing out a solitary tear of tragic indignation. "Once the hare is bagged, the hound is boiled! Boss Ji, you can't treat me like this! I risked life and limb for you—"
"Risking life and limb is fine and dandy, but do you really want to balance the ledger with me?"
Ji Jue broke into a grin, pulling out a pen and paper. "After your family ancestor came out and threw his little tantrum, how do we calculate the damages inflicted on my property? Whom should I seek compensation from? Putting aside the destruction of the grounds and buildings, more than half of the salvaged materials went missing.
"Besides, for the rental fee of Pan Ying, should I calculate it based on the Guild's leasing rates for S-rank alchemical creations? As for the resulting wear, tear, and consumption..."
"Alright, stop your damn bullshitting!"
Seeing Ji Jue discard every shred of human decency, Tang Qian flew into an instant rage, glaring with wide eyes. "Why don't you just factor in my medical expenses while you're at it?!"
"Good point. Every time your dressing is changed, you use two rolls of Vortex-line purifying gauze and stuff two more into your pockets. For medicine, you swallow half and pocket the other half. The earlier suturing surgery was handled on an emergency basis by Mr. Xie, the renowned Vortex-line physician of Yacheng, and he charged me double for the rush job—oh, right, the meals in our factory are prepared with premium, pollution-free organic vegetables from Yacheng, which also—"
Seeing Ji Jue grow increasingly outrageous, Old Tom shot bolt upright like a dying patient shocked back to life. A fawning smile blossomed across his face as if welcoming an esteemed guest from afar, and he practically leaned into Ji Jue's lap.
He swallowed his pride and humbled himself.
Circumstances were stronger than men. It was utterly pointless to butt heads with a scoundrel like this. Besides, there was still business to be done in the future, so offering a bit of emotional value was only proper!
Wasn't this all to make a buck?
Nothing to be ashamed of.
"Enough, drop the sweet talk," Ji Jue said with a wave of his hand. "That fellow you channeled into your body—which great hero or mighty legend was he? You ought to at least let me in on that, shouldn't you?"
"Ah, about that..."
Tang Qian froze, and then his complexion turned pale again. He flopped straight back down, looking like a flickering candle in the wind, wearing an expression that said: *Ask one more question and I'll drop dead right in front of you.*
Giving back the money was entirely out of the question—the clinking of gold coins sounded so sweet, he loved it to death. But answering was equally out of the question. After all, Ji Jue couldn't truly do anything to him, but if the Old Ancestor took offense, he could deliver a few savage backhands across his soul that would leave him aching for years.
Besides, too much was tied up in this; he couldn't just answer whatever was asked. The more questions were asked, the messier things would become.
How could one find a path to satisfy both the ancestors and the benefactor?
He was helpless in this matter.
He could only play dead.
That was, until Ji Jue reached into his pocket and produced five more gold coins, lining them up in a neat row on the table before him.
The dazzling golden luster lit up Tang Qian's eyes.
Immediately after, however, a bone blade cleaved down, nearly severing the restless little hand creeping toward them.
"It's fine if you don't want to speak."
Ji Jue looked at him with a beaming smile. "Why don't you summon him out, and he and I can share a few words?"
At those words, Tang Qian shook his head like a rattle.
*What do you think an Old Ancestor is? Someone you summon at beck and call?!*
Among the countless ancestors, the further up they were, the harder they were to contact. Someone like Lord Tianlu showed up once every few centuries, and each appearance wrought havoc for hundreds of years. It had only been a few days—how could anyone possibly reach him?
Not only could he not contact him, but even if he could, summoning that old monster Lord Tianlu out for something like this would surely result in a river of blood!
It would be better to put on a show of trying and failing to reach him, giving Ji Jue an explanation so the boy would finally give up.
Yet the moment the thought flickered through his mind, before he had even initiated the rite of inheritance, his expression abruptly froze.
*Oh shit!*
The inheritance rite suddenly began revolving on its own. In the deepest depths of his consciousness, amid the sea of blood, a pair of eyes cracked open, casting down their gaze.
A silent sneer echoed.
*Holy crap?!*
Tang Qian stood frozen in place—
*He actually showed up!*
Soon, his face twitched uncontrollably, his expression growing exceedingly convoluted.
"Uh, he..."
Tang Qian opened his mouth, stopped, and hesitated for a long time before tactfully relaying the message: "He says, well, now is not the time. You still need to work harder."
Ji Jue stared blankly. "?"
In truth, Lord Tianlu's original words were nowhere near as polite as Tang Qian had made them sound:
*"Heh! The brat doesn't even hold the seat of an elector, and he thinks he's worthy of ordering me around? Come talk to me when you've become a swordsmith! Tell that whelp that if he wants to get on my good side, he'd better gather enough Marks of the Former Phantoms of the Six Heavens for Sheng Xie first!"*
Having delivered that verdict, the arrogant, frigid eyes vanished.
Leaving behind Tang Qian, who had exhausted his wits translating the sentiment, and Ji Jue, the two of them staring at each other in the dead silence.
"That's it?" Ji Jue asked.
"That's it. Just that much."
Tang Qian spread his hands helplessly, seamlessly sweeping the gold coins into his pocket with a practiced flourish, acting as though nothing had happened.
Either way, refunds were out of the question!
Ji Jue frowned, pondering for a long while before asking, "Former Phantoms of the Six Heavens? What on earth is that?"
"Ah, that I actually know a little about."
Fearing that Ji Jue might snatch the coins back, Tang Qian hurried to explain: "Back in the days of the Eternal Empire, there were only three orthodox patrons bound to the imperial house, known as the 'Three Orthodox Patrons.'
"Aside from them, the six greatest among all other patrons were dubbed the 'Six Evils.' The Marks of the Former Phantoms of the Six Heavens should refer to their inheritance rites and holy relics.
"As for which six they are... ummm, that I couldn't tell you. After all, Boss, you know how it is—if any of us were good at studying, who'd be messing around with the Swarm, right?"
Ji Jue fell silent.
Four or five centuries had passed. Aside from people like Old Tom whose families had murky ties to the Eternal Empire, who else would remember such convoluted trivia?
Judging by Tianlu's words, the complete form of Pan Ying—no, Sheng Xie—required not just blessings, but at the very least the relic imprints of those six patrons.
*Cleanse blood with blood, conquer evil with evil!*
As the imperial swordsmiths of the Eternal Empire, the Ye family had brazenly associated with six unofficial patrons, managed to pass down nine models of inheritance, and somehow avoided extermination. As for the hidden history behind all that, Ji Jue could not begin to guess.
Yet the problem remained: aside from the Mycelium and the Scar which had practically delivered themselves to his doorstep, where the hell was he supposed to dig up the other four?
"That part is easy!"
Tang Qian beamed with sudden enthusiasm. "According to Tian—ahem, the Old Ancestor, there is a natural resonance between the Six Evils and Sheng Xie.
"Basically, whenever you run into the Swarm in the future, just beat the crap out of them. Whichever one leaves a mark on your blade after you beat them is the one!"
*Beat the crap out of the Swarm whenever I run into them?!*
*There's one standing right in front of me, and he looks pretty damn punchable—should I give it a spin?!*
Ji Jue felt an overwhelming headache—as a craftsman, why on earth would he go around hunting down the Swarm for fun? And scour every mountain and plain across the world just to kill them? Had he grown tired of living?
This wasn't the era of the Eternal Empire, where he could throw his weight around using imperial authority and the title of swordsmith to beat down anyone in his path.
Besides, even in the era of the Eternal Empire, he couldn't possibly have been a swordsmith!
The seat of the swordsmith had always belonged to a single individual, held exclusively by the head of the Ye family. He didn't even share the surname Ye. On top of that...
*Did you see the Non-Offensive on my arm?*
Who in their right mind could have anticipated that, four centuries later, the lineage of the Eternal Empire's trusted swordsmiths and the matrix of the Mohists—the empire's mortal nemesis—would end up converging within the very same person?
If he were to travel back in time, wouldn't both factions take turns stringing him up for a thrashing?
Ji Jue remained silent, staring at Old Tom before him.
His only thought now was how to get his gold coins back.
He had originally come seeking knowledge and enlightenment, but not a single question had been answered. Instead, he had ended up saddled with a pile of new queries and troubles. As the contractor, how dare this guy issue quests to the client?
Unfortunately, Old Tom had already stashed the gold coins securely inside his coat, clenching his buttocks in unyielding defiance.
*If you're unhappy, feel free to take liberties with my backside, but once money enters my pocket, don't even dream of getting it back!*
Ji Jue spent half an hour grinding away, trying repeatedly to coax more information out of him. Old Tom babbled an endless stream of half-truths, trivialities, and nonsense, but utterly failed to provide a single shred of useful substance.
Seeing that nothing more could be squeezed from the man, Ji Jue finally rose and took his leave.
The moment he stepped out the door, he instructed the nurse: throw this freeloader out as soon as possible. If they let him stay any longer, he'd probably haul the entire infirmary building away when discharged!
Now that his surplus value was exhausted, it was high time he rejoined society!
Glancing at the time, Ji Jue hurried toward the entrance of Xinquan.
Lyu Yingyue's people were about to arrive.
Chapter 428