By the time Shehri and his cohort overcame every hardship and dismantled all the obstacles, nearly a quarter of an hour had passed.
They finally stormed through the gates of the Tower of Audience, only to immediately confront the rioting darkness—countless frenzied shadows lunging and entangling them.
The bandages wrapped around Shehri unfurled in an instant, unleashing a foul stench of rot that caused everything to decay and sicken, even causing the darkness itself to rapidly fade.
Inside his body, the sound of rupturing rang ceaselessly.
The oppressive weight of the Shadow of the Tower surged rapidly, targeting him with intensifying focus.
Yet the moment he fought his way to the summit, he was greeted only by shambles. Amid countless scorch marks and fissures lay nothing but patches of viscous blood.
Curiously, not a single corpse was anywhere to be seen.
Such a scene had clearly not been caused by someone carelessly triggering some taboo of the sacrificial temple; rather, it looked like a massacre! A merciless, savage slaughter and brutalization!
Yet the site was far too clean. Aside from the bloodstains and cracks, not even a trace of spiritus or mangled flesh remained.
It was as though an invisible monster had devoured every last crumb.
The instant he recognized what this meant, Shehri pulled back without hesitation, retreating violently. Disregarding even the taboo against taking to the air, he vaulted over the tower's edge and plummeted downward.
The last thing he heard in that final second was a crisp click.
—Within the core of the high tower, the self-destruct sequence had engaged.
Accompanied by the shuddering of the entire Border Realm, the Bell of Incursion within the sacrificial temple rang out brazenly. Its echoing chimes rose shrill and piercing as the darkness burst forth like a breached dam, sweeping wildly in every direction.
Before Shehri's very eyes, the massive Tower of Audience detonated with a deafening blast. A terrifying shockwave erupted out of nowhere, sweeping across the expanse.
Countless subordinates who failed to dodge in time were torn apart by the erupting thunder and blazing flames, flung skyward to shatter alongside the flying masonry.
"Damn it!"
Midair, Shehri's heart seized. Unable to spare a thought for the countless black threads entangling him for violating the taboo, he whipped his head back in shock. "Duke Wuyou, look out!"
Too late.
With the audience rite completely aborted by the fall of the final tower, the alarm had already been triggered.
The fury buried deep within the sacrificial temple gushed out alongside the surging darkness!
Amid the roaring din, the Wall of the Forbidden Domain trembled violently. Magnificent doors manifested out of thin air, and within them, savage, frenzied faces surfaced and snapped their eyes open.
They began attacking any living creature that dared draw near without distinction.
Bearing the brunt was Duke Wuyou, locked onto by dozens of faces simultaneously. Crimson pupils blazed with furious wrath, calling down the Absolute Sentence without restraint!
[Death to the Transgressor]!
Amid the high, shrill peals of bells, dark clouds materialized across the vault of heaven like an iron curtain, blotting out the last illusory glimmer of sky.
A torrential sea of afterimages and black threads rioted in complete frenzy.
The night of slaughter had begun!
***
Deaf to the earth-shattering cataclysm outside, only a crisp dripping echoed within the dead-silent space.
Inside the workshop aboard the Doomsday Express, a fresh space unfolded from the dark. Suspended by hanging chains, dying bodies hung aloft.
Quicksilver circulated, piercing through their flesh. Beneath the reverse suppression of Solid Alchemy, their souls were shackled and all things sealed away.
Only blood, like life itself, dripped away, drop by drop.
When a gentle draft drifted from the ventilation pipes, the bodies suspended in midair began to sway like wind chimes, clinking crisply between bouts of muffled, indistinct wails.
"Through four hundred years of development, modern alchemy has expanded to cover virtually every domain: blood, flesh, spiritus, soul, consciousness, resentment, curses...
"With the development of alchemy, human life and human value have steadily risen as well. Today, even useless wretches once deemed cheap as weeds can be rendered priceless.
"To sublimate the mundane, to transcend the mediocre, to extract and purify gold from rusted iron—such is the essence of alchemy.
"And the applications and effects of corruption alchemy surpass even those of the Association, unbound by ethics and morality.
"Among the arts I know, there are distinctions among the Twelve Great Sins, three categories and sixteen methods of dyeing corruption, seventy-seven forms and variations of Great Sins...
"And the number I have mastered and comprehended goes even beyond that."
Ji Jue stood before the workbench, neatly arranging his tools by category. One by one, he explained their functions—even operating on the spot, demonstrating every nuance.
Hiding nothing, holding nothing back.
"Now, you have a choice. You can serve as materials to provide one last bit of utility. I promise you, after receiving the blessing of Stagnant Rot, your consciousness and souls will endure for eternity throughout the millennium of torment that follows.
"Or, you can choose a simpler, easier path that works out better for everyone... We can bring this to a clean end."
In that instant, a crisp click sounded once more.
The restraints sealing their mouths, noses, lips, and tongues loosened by a hairsbreadth amid wails, sobs, furious curses, and desperate pleas.
"Now, you can tell me."
Ji Jue raised his head, surveying the contorted faces before him, and posed his final question:
"His name."
***
An hour later, Ji Jue stepped out of the workshop.
Behind the shut doors, only dead silence remained in the dark.
Beneath the pale lamplight, the blood on his face, his hands, and his clothes was laid bare—layer upon layer, trickling down, painting startling patch after patch of glaring crimson.
As if lost in thought, he walked familiarly to the sink and followed standard operating procedures to wash his hands and clean up after the task.
Under the rushing water, wisps of crimson diffused across the white porcelain before vanishing down the drain.
Reflected in the mirror, the ten fingers, the hands, the neck, the hair, the face—every trace slowly disappeared. Only that burn scar across his face remained flushed red.
No matter how hard he scrubbed and wiped, it refused to come off. Instead, more and more crimson bloomed from his fingertips—just as vivid, just as scarlet, yet piercingly glaring as it wound outward, bringing wave after wave of dull, raw ache.
In that moment, Ji Jue looked down in confusion, staring at his hands.
After a long time, understanding finally dawned on him.
"I see..."
He offered a self-deprecating laugh. "It's my own blood."
"Sir, are you alright?"
Flecked points of starlight emerged and gathered behind Ji Jue.
Ji Jue looked up into the projection within the mirror.
Crack!
At that moment, the sound of fracturing surfaced from the glass. Fissures spiderwebbed across the mirror, severing the face in the reflection.
Unrecognizable.
It was like snapping awake from a long, groggy dream; amid the spreading fractures, clarity slowly set in.
In an unprecedented calm, his thoughts turned.
The Sower, Under the Vortex, the Flame Tide Calamity, Duke Wuyou, the Sin of the White Nation, the Wolf Den...
He should have been beside himself with rage. He should have roared with fury, gone mad with remorse. Yet at this very moment, what surged from deep inside his heart was only an indescribable joy.
So light.
He closed his eyes, laughing soundlessly.
"I'm fine."
"No, you aren't fine, sir."
The projection of spiritus shifted. Hesitant, she stared at him without blinking. "You... are hurting deeply."
"Perhaps? But that doesn't conflict with joy, does it?"
Ji Jue shook his head nonchalantly. "The greatest question and confusion of my life was answered today. I only feel... congratulations are in order. Nothing could be better than this."
Fate was so stingy, leaving him to struggle in hesitation and agony until now.
Yet Fate was also so generous, bestowing upon him the ultimate answer.
How fortunate!
All the suffering he had endured in this lifetime actually had a cause...
It was no longer an impersonal calamity or misfortune beyond retribution, but enemies who tangibly existed out there—enemies who would never fail this long, drawn-out wait!
He rejoiced at this, overjoyed beyond measure.
Happy enough to burn the entire world to ash!
In the silence, Ji Jue grinned, no longer able to rein in this turbulent, tempestuous joy.
Only a thin trickle of crimson ran down from the scar, like an unburned tear, sliding silently downward as if toward the abyss.
Yet there was no abyss.
For a cold hand lifted, spreading crude fingers to catch it gingerly.
And clenched tight.
Isis remained silent.
Clearly close enough to reach, seemingly within arm's length. Yet the illusory phantom of spiritus was so fragile, like a foam bubble, shackled within the shattered mirror, incapable of touching anything in reality.
Until, amid a shrill screech of friction, a pair of cold, crude steel hands slowly rose, closing bit by bit.
A gentle embrace.
As if terrified of popping that fragile phantom.
With the utmost care.
"Then burn it all to ash, sir."
Isis's eyes were gentle and serene. "Kindle a raging fire and throw everything that pains you into the flames to burn down to nothing, even if it turns this world into hell.
"If, when the time comes, you still have the interest and leisure upon that scorched earth... then let us go scavenging for junk together again."
Ji Jue froze.
He heard her voice, so soft.
The eyes in the reflection were like stars, brimming with flickering light, gazing intently at him as she pledged to the creator before her:
"Wherever you go, I will be by your side."
This was her inborn duty and function—the mission that the soul named Isis had chosen for herself.
"..."
Ji Jue stared blankly into her eyes.
For a long time.
It was as though, for a single moment, the agony heavy enough to crush his senses ceased to exist.
Another kind of strength poured into his soul—gentle yet stubborn—striving to shoulder a fraction of the weight for him, even if it was so minuscule, so vastly beyond her depth.
Yet the moment he felt it, he became unimaginably light. Even if he were about to plummet into hell, he would feel delighted and expectant.
"Then let us create a hell, Isis."
He reached out, touching that dreamlike shimmer, and told her, "Together."
"I am your tool. You need only give the order."
And so, starlight gathered once more, forming the figure of a maiden as she bowed. "How may I assist you?"
"Help me comb through the inventory on the express and dig up some old things," Ji Jue said. "There is a place in this world that needs a little fire, a little despair, and a little surprise."
"As you wish, sir."
Isis nodded without hesitation.
"And..."
"Yes?"
The starlight looked back in curiosity.
"Thank you."
Ji Jue smiled, looking at her.
"..."
Isis froze for a moment. Without a word, she averted her gaze.
The starlight trembled faintly, scattering and disappearing like fireflies.
In the silence that followed, Ji Jue leaned back in the chair by the window, fingering the armrest as he quietly watched the station outside and the pitch-black sky beyond.
The same train, the same wait, just like back when he was swallowed by the Flame Tide Calamity.
There seemed to be no difference at all.
Yet unlike the fear and confusion of that day, this time, Ji Jue was filled with patience and anticipation.
The feeling was wondrous.
It was as though someone truly important to him had suddenly appeared in this world—someone far more important than mere life, future, or ideals—yet he had never realized it until now.
So, next, Ji Jue would find that person, resorting to any and every means at his disposal.
Until, within the fires of hell, he hacked him and everything he possessed to pieces...
And scattered his ashes to the winds!
Chapter 449