Tide and Calamity

The Tower of Audience. Even amid the countless splendid buildings lined row upon row in this city built around the sacrificial temple, it remained utterly conspicuous. Ancient and weathered, the colossal tower bore an unmistakable Imperial grandeur. Five great towers rose like five fingers encircling the sacrificial temple, pointing straight toward the sky. Heavily guarded, as one would expect. Yet just as naturally, it was dilapidated and ruined. Since the fall of the Eternal Empire, more than five hundred years had passed without an audience or pilgrimage. Now, enveloped beneath the shadow of the towers, nothing remained but the husk of its former glory. Covered in dust. By the time this final squad—the one that had suffered at Ji Jue's hands—stumbled and bumbled its way to the foot of the tower, their numbers had dwindled by another three, not to mention the loss of several cannon fodder scouts. Battered, bruised, and grievously wounded. The looping corridor from which escape seemed impossible had finally yielded an opening beneath the radiance of an ancient Imperial mirror; the ruins teeming with human-faced jellyfish were navigated without mishap thanks to the hypnotic lullaby of a cursed music box; the street crowded with countless lingering afterimages was cautiously traversed under the aegis of the tally; and the ornate, uncanny gallery was systematically overcome through the expendability of cannon fodder... The sprawling city appeared deserted, but beneath the surface lay perilous traps at every turn. God only knew what freaks and horrors a single misstep would unleash. Yet at this moment, a sliver of relief actually welled up in everyone's hearts—they hadn't encountered that bizarre thing from earlier a second time. Well, of course, because Ji Jue had long since blended into their ranks. And he had brought them a few little surprises along the way... After instructing the coining press to carry all the loot and wait for him outside the station, he had followed behind in utter silence. He had even taken a detour to get ahead of them: opening a shortcut through the corridor, locking the door behind them, redirecting their path into the ruins infested with human-faced jellyfish, and rounding up a whole mob of monsters at the end. While everyone was trembling with terror as they moved down the corridor—bowing every three paces to kowtow and revere the imperial portraits—Ji Jue, concealed behind a picture frame, had picked out the last lingering Aether practitioner. Or rather, a Defilement Sin-Bearer, but it hardly mattered. Whether of Aether or Defilement, once they stepped into the sacrificial temple, they were essentially no different from blind men. They couldn't look where they shouldn't, nor listen to what they shouldn't; before they had even done anything, half their faculties were crippled. What's more, this fellow had just had both ears sliced off by Ji Jue earlier... Ji Jue was kind-hearted to a fault and couldn't bear to see anyone suffer, so he had briskly and cleanly put an end to the poor bastard's miserable journey. After all, if he left him alive, the guy might casually glance at his teammates with nothing better to do. If he spotted Ji Jue, wouldn't the jig be up? "You'll do." Behind the frame, Ji Jue had done a quick game of eeny-meeny-miny-moe, landed on the Defilement straggler at the very rear, and unhesitatingly reached out. A sudden premonition warning blessing had triggered an instant prior, but alas... ever since stepping into this sacrificial temple, the alarms in the man's head hadn't stopped ringing for a single second! And so, just as the Defilement bearer thought he was falling behind and panicked, moving to bow and kowtow, he saw a hand suddenly shoot out from the laughing mouth of the Emperor painted on the canvas. It clamped down right on his forehead. What the hell?! He froze in shock. Could he really be so ugly that he made the Emperor puke?! "Congratulations, brother!" In that moment of paralysis, a jubilant voice rang straight through his soul, accompanied by a brutal, surging blast of spiritus: "The old Emperor saw how devout you are, so he came to take you to the Empire to live in bliss!" In an instant, spiritus forged into a blade. The intangible spiritus impact was endowed with the horrifying destructive edge of a blade, piercing through flesh, cranium, and brain from the outside in. The manifestation of Chunjun's spirit overlapped with Ji Jue's motion. With the dual manipulation came double the output and double the burst; the essences of Supreme Virtue and Great Sin intertwined and collided, erupting from deep within the soul! And so, in a split second, it punctured a thousand times, pierced a hundred ways! Shielded and masked by the shell of flesh, the soul burst like a foam bubble, its matrix collapsing and merging into Deus Ex Machina. Before the spiritus could even dissipate, it was condensed into crystals under the joint operation of Ji Jue and his soul's shadow. The body, reduced to an empty husk, didn't even have time to fall before Ji Jue hauled it behind the frame. Immediately after, Ji Jue vaulted out, landing lightly on the floor. Under the peripheral glances of the others, he bowed with devout reverence toward the frame before him. Everything proceeded as normal. It was as though nothing had happened at all. In less than the snap of a finger, Ji Jue's hands worked in tandem with the spiritus hands of his soul shadow. Midair, they had completed the excision of the man's facial flesh, crafted and donned a human skin mask, adjusted his stature by a centimeter taller, stripped the corpse of its clothing, and slipped into it himself. Finally, as he slipped clear of the frame, a backhand brush seamlessly restitched the soundlessly torn canvas. The deed was done. Under the doubled acceleration of soul and reflection, the operational efficiency of Masterwork Nature was just that absurd. Just like that, limping along in the squad, he joined in the collective sighs of relief and cheers as they left the gallery, and when the Tower of Audience stood close at hand, his eyes brimmed with moved tears right alongside the rest. "Don't worry, everyone! The Master will never let us down!" The leader, Duke Wuyou's confidant, twitched as he fought the agony of losing both hands, promising once more, "As long as the grand plan succeeds, whatever you have lost will be repaid a hundredfold, a thousandfold!" "Of course we believe Duke Wuyou's promise." "Right, absolutely!" "Yeah, yeah, totally!" Ji Jue blended in among them, nodding furiously while maintaining his limp, looking around with open curiosity. Though he had no idea what was going through the heads of these idiots who were still obsessed with imperial restoration after hundreds of years, at least a starved camel was still bigger than a horse. Even if the Empire's collections and resources had dwindled to one ten-thousandth of a ten-thousandth by now, it remained an astronomical figure that would take an eternity just to count the zeros. Not to mention the intelligence and secrets passed down by word of mouth. Clearly, their intelligence-gathering over all these years had been thorough. Even deep within the sacrificial temple, there was not a trace of hesitation; every step and procedure had already been accounted for. Including the Tower of Audience before them now. Heavily sealed, the tall tower slowly unsealed amidst the faint shimmer of a tally, revealing the grandiose space within. Faint traces of its past majesty and tight security could still be discerned, yet after so many years, it was in utter ruin, leaving only piles of rust-eaten armor and tools strewn about. In the darkness untouched even by lamplight, unseen eyes seemed to glare unblinkingly at the intruders, sending shivers down their spines. The leader cast a look, and a subordinate caught on immediately. Grabbing a terrified cannon fodder scout, he dragged the wretch into the darkness. At once, bone-chilling sounds of chewing and agonized wails rang out. After a long time, several desiccated, corpse-like remnants dropped down from the dark. Ji Jue saw it with absolute clarity: the moment a living creature fell in, every afterimage bound and ensnared here by black threads swarmed forward, devouring in ravenous hunger... Except when he turned his gaze upon them, they scattered in what seemed like sheer dread and panic, which was the only reason those few fragments were left to tumble to the floor. Ji Jue sighed inaudibly. After the Empire's destruction, how many souls remained trapped like these afterimages, entangled in the black threads spun by the Shadow of the Tower, unable to find release? Back when the Empire still stood, had the severity of the Law of Tianyuan been any better? No wonder Non-Offensive had turned so furious upon sensing the sacrificial temple's aura... "Stay behind me, and don't fall behind under any circumstances." The leader held the tally in both hands, climbing the stairs step by step. The narrow swath of light served as a shelter covering the group, and everyone scrambled forward in a rush. Ji Jue naturally lagged a bit behind due to his 'bad leg', supporting and being supported by another White Stag bearer. The man was taken aback for a second, then flashed him a grateful smile. "Don't mention it, it's the least I can do." Ji Jue smiled with earnest simplicity, tightening his grip as if afraid the man might fall behind. Meanwhile, his other hand brushed against the wall, feeling the spiritus circuits ubiquitous beneath stone. Even after so many years, they remained intact, magnificent. Magnificent to the point of feeling utterly unnecessary. It was merely a beacon-like verification system, a glorified switch, yet an absurd amount of effort had been poured into crafting such pointless design. Wasteful enough to induce nausea. And after an arduous ordeal, the final door finally opened before them. Without incident. They arrived at the altar atop the tower! After the leader ecstatically presented the tally, a glimmer of faint light swirled, abruptly swelling into a blazing brilliance that could illuminate ten thousand li. Having endured so many trials and tribulations, victory and success were within arm's reach. At this moment, no one could hold back their smiles any longer. They practically danced for joy and wept in each other's arms. Well, had it not been for the fact that some had no hands, some had no feet, and some didn't even have eyes anymore... Only Ji Jue sighed inaudibly, shaking his head in disappointment. This wouldn't do! Just like that? Not even a twist at the end? It was like reading a manga where the final climax was completely flat—failing to highlight the meaning of hot-blooded passion and struggle. How could readers possibly stomach that? The sales would flop completely, wouldn't they?! Thank goodness he was here; otherwise, wouldn't Duke Wuyou's future autobiography miss out on a brilliant highlight?! And so, behind his back, his fingers flicked soundlessly. Just like flipping a switch. He severed the spiritus circuit that had just connected and opened! It didn't pose the slightest difficulty—hardly different from rewiring a circuit in his workshop, perhaps even simpler. The tower's nearly redundant defenses and verifications didn't react in the slightest when faced with the authority of the Mirror of Contained Forms and his wristwatch. And Non-Offensive, which was already on the verge of going mad from pent-up rage, decisively thrust out from afar! Snap! In a flash, the blazing light that had just flared up died without warning. Darkness fell abruptly. The smiling faces, now stripped of light, froze stiff in place. They looked around blankly, staring at their surroundings in stupor. "What happened?!" The leader was more terrified than anyone, unable to comprehend it, and instinctively looked toward the artisan in the squad. The artisan was just as bewildered and moved instinctively to inspect the altar. But the moment he reached out, he screamed in agony, trembling in horror—the defensive sequence that had shown zero reaction to Ji Jue abruptly activated. A bolt of lightning shot out, instantly charring half the artisan's body to a crisp. Before he could even react, he collapsed to the ground, howling in agony, struggling violently. Immediately after, before everyone's shocked eyes, the flame... rekindled? Everything returned to normal. At once, the crowd whose hearts were in their throats let out a collective breath of relief, only now realizing they were drenched in cold sweat. Turning back to give emergency aid to the wailing artisan, they poured a potion down his throat. Truly bringing flesh back to dry bones, it restored sixty percent of his health in a flash as he panted, shivering. "What the hell was that just now?" the leader demanded. "M-Maybe it's been too long, and the spiritus circuits have aged," the artisan forced a strained smile. "A little flickering is normal. As long as we clear the anomaly, it will definitely—" Snap! Before he could finish, Ji Jue's finger flicked once more. The rekindled flame died without a trace. In the distance, an ear-splitting shriek of terror rang out—so shrill and agonizing that it made everyone's hair stand on end. Recognizing the source of the cry, the leader turned paler still. "Duke Wuyou!!!" Raised by Duke Wuyou from childhood, the leader was long bonded with the Duke's Law of Shadows. Sensing the sheer agony and fury coursing from the other end, he panicked instinctively, breaking into a cold sweat. Lifting his newly regrown hands, he seized the artisan by the collar and roared, "What happened?! What the hell are you doing?!" "I-I don't know what's going on either..." The artisan wanted to weep but had no tears. Under those murderous glares, he trembled and reached toward the altar. The moment his hand lifted, the altar shuddered violently. Another arc of lightning leapt out, engulfing him as screams tore through thick smoke. Then, the brilliant light flared once more! Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, their eyes filling with admiration for the artisan. As expected of a Profound elite—what efficiency! With great difficulty, the terrified artisan scrambled up from the ground. Before he could utter a word, he heard... Snap! Extinguished. This time, dead silence fell over the crowd. They stared darkly at the artisan, their eyes brimming with expectation and encouragement. —Hah, you can definitely do it, right?! "I... I..." A winding streak of bloody tears leaked down the artisan's charred face. "I really don't know what... what's happening!" "It's okay!" Ji Jue pumped his fist, encouraging him. "I believe in you!" "Yeah, yeah, we all believe in you!" "Hang in there!" "Go for it, you got this!" The artisan stared dumbly. A final whimper escaped his throat, and he instinctively went to wave his hands... but the altar jolted again, hurling another arc of lightning through the air that struck him square on. His barely healed body was blasted into a heap of mangled flesh once more. And then, the flame flared up again! "Look, the power is back! It's back!" Ji Jue clapped in wonder, eyes sparkling, declaring with utter conviction, "Truly, this is the mighty power of Stagnant Rot!" Instantly, the clueless bystanders nodded one after another. Following his lead, they gathered around the artisan and began clapping. Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations to you! Under the blazing light of the fire, in an atmosphere so uncanny it defied description, those smiling, jubilant faces looked like a cult ritual in full swing. And then, as a matter of course, the power cut out again, again, again, again, and again. In the darkness, the clapping never stopped. Everyone looked down at the artisan, cheering and shouting praises for him. "I... I... no, this isn't right..." the artisan wailed, completely unable to fathom what the fuck was happening. There was definitely something wrong—someone had to be sabotaging this! Unfortunately, the moment he opened his mouth, another bolt of lightning cleaved into him. Mangled flesh smoked. The light blazed once more. The cheers and applause grew even louder. So this was a sacrificial offering to Stagnant Rot? Truly miraculous! Truly incredible! Just like that: switch on, switch off, switch on, switch off. In the end, everyone simply pitched in, holding the artisan flat against the altar. Under the barrage of lightning strikes, a lump of charcoal twitched under involuntary nerve spasms, barely maintaining intermittent flashes of light. Still, the verification could not be completed! A futile torment. Just as Ji Jue grew completely bored of the game and slid the poisoned dagger he had 'received as tribute' from behind his back, preparing to quietly drive it into the spine of the White Stag Sin-Bearer he was supporting... A roar of pushed-beyond-endurance fury finally erupted from the distant source of the shrill screams. Duke Wuyou bellowed! After being crushed into paste who knew how many times, the Seed of the Tiger Tally suddenly rose, withstanding the crushing gravitational gaze of the colossal visage and forcing itself upright. Then, mud-like pitch-black darkness welled from the tiger tally, forming a hand that clamped around a broken, fragmented seed and forcibly stimulated it! In an instant, a raging inferno connecting heaven and earth tore from the ground, vast and boundless, sweeping violently across the land. It clashed head-on against the deathly shadow of the forbidden domain, stirring wave upon wave of turbulence. Such blazing light, such an aura... "The Flame Tide...!" Ji Jue froze, blurting out in disbelief. Innumerable clues in his mind seemed faintly linked by a single thread, yet he couldn't put the pieces together. It defied understanding. "Indeed, the Flame Tide Calamity," the White Stag Sin-Bearer he supported sighed wistfully. "Even after feeding it so many living sacrifices to barely rekindle the dying embers, it can hardly match its former glory. Hard to imagine what it looked like whole—burning mountains and boiling seas must have been child's play for it, eh?" His back felt slightly itchy. Unfortunately, being supported made it awkward to scratch. He twisted his neck, rubbing against his clothes to soothe the faint itch, completely unaware of the poisoned dagger hovering directly behind his heart. Suspended a mere hair's breadth away. Amid the chaos, he was remarkably calm. He wasn't Duke Wuyou's subordinate, so naturally he wasn't frantic like the squad leader. He was just a hired hand; whether the venture succeeded or failed, he got paid either way, so what the fuck did he care about what happened before his eyes? "You all right, brother?" He looked over at Ji Jue, noticing his increasingly heavy breathing, and sighed sympathetically. "Thanks for the help. It takes time for kneecaps to regrow." "N-No problem." Ji Jue shook his head and smiled. After a momentary stiffening, his demeanor smoothed out again, looking more peaceful by the second. "I'm just curious about it. Didn't they say it had been snuffed out for a long time? How did it suddenly..." "Duke Wuyou spent a fortune to reach out and persuade that Saint," the Sin-Bearer said, his face lighting up with excitement. "You probably don't know this, but Lord Shehri told me before: not just Flame Tide, but Dark Fall, Frostbite, Blood Rain, Sky Fracture... every single one of them was sent into the mortal world by that Saint!" Facing the thirsty curiosity in the Defilement bearer's eyes, he chuckled and decided to spill a bit of inside lore: "Especially the Flame Tide Calamity! That was a crystallization of disaster rising from the Abyssal Depths. Word is that when it was discovered, it had already merged with the Vortex. A shame it failed to sprout in the end. Otherwise, it might have hatched an unprecedented, dual Sin-Bearing Seed of both Abyssal Depths and Vortex!" Like the Stag-Hunting Wolf, the Usurper of the Tower, or the Fiend of Defilement—no, even above them! Sin fiends capable of receiving the true essence of the Great Sin possessed an innate status and power set apart from ordinary Sin-Bearers by a gulf as vast as heaven and earth. The antithesis of Ascension and Desolate Ruins, the essence of Abyssal Depths and Vortex, the convergence of nihilistic spirit and collapsing matter—if it had succeeded, just what kind of terrifying power would it have forged?! "Is that... so?" The Defilement bearer seemed stunned. Just as he expected, an expression of sheer disbelief appeared on the man's face as he nodded with a half-weeping, half-laughing smile, praising, "Truly incredible!" With that, he looked at him filled with yearning, gazing earnestly and humbly, as if willing to pay any price as he asked: "Might I ask the name of that Saint?" "That goes without saying, it is obviously—" The White Stag Sin-Bearer opened his mouth without thinking, ready to reply, but froze mid-sentence and looked back blankly. Finally, he realized something was wrong. In this expedition, how could anyone not know of the existence of the Sower? And so, in that instant, he finally saw that flawless, shockingly precise smile. Above the smile, black eyes. Utterly hollow. Only pure blood and darkness intertwined within them, like a chasm plunging into the abyss. Watching him. "Just who are..." He stiffened, paralyzed, unable to fathom it. But when he tried to move, it was already too late. Too late. Thwack! The poisoned blade drove forward, easily piercing through the heart under restraint. Then, a spiritus hand reached from Ji Jue's shoulder and clamped down over the man's face. Chunjun piercing! The White Stag Sin-Bearer collapsed, convulsing. His final struggle only managed to tear away half of the mask covering Ji Jue's face. Yet beneath that fractured face, another smile surfaced—a sinuous grin bridging the rupture, linking the two. Alas, far too many joys and sorrows had long since burned to ash. In the darkness, there was only empty void. "How quiet." Amid the dull thud of the battered corpse hitting the floor, Ji Jue lowered his gaze and sighed softly, looking down upon the stunned faces turning his way. It was too quiet. There shouldn't be silence. He said, "There ought to be... more screaming."