Scars

It had to be said: while certain old geezers sat around doing absolutely nothing all day and acted like sickly, obnoxious burdens wherever they went, they didn't slack off entirely. Every now and then, they actually proved useful. Once you grew accustomed to the terrifying mobility of the Rabbit Hole within this phantasm, you truly couldn't live without it. Anytime, anywhere, completely ignoring whatever was happening around you—just pull it open, jump in, and you were instantly back at base. As long as you yanked the entrance shut in time, even if the other end was crumbling into oblivion, it had nothing to do with you. Ji Jue suspected the old bastard still had a few good treasures tucked away in his pockets. Unfortunately, he hadn't found an opportunity to squeeze them out of him. Even more unfortunately, the greatest strength of Tale creations—their vibrant spiritual nature and ability to think for themselves—was also their greatest flaw. Even if you killed him and took his loot, if the items weren't willing to serve you, you still couldn't use them. Ji Jue even suspected the old man knew he was well aware of this, which was why he dared to wander in front of him every day with that irritating smirk plastered across his face. At that moment, the two of them had barely set foot back in the camp when a thunderous wave of cheers and shouts rolled toward them, continuous and deafening. Every face was flushed with excitement, as if they had witnessed everything that just transpired with their own eyes. The entire camp was submerged in an ocean of joy. They chanted their names in unison. In the crowd, Bao Dachai grinned as he watched the two of them get swallowed up and hoisted into the air by the exuberant tide of people. Catching Ji Jue's eye, he flashed a gesture that clearly said: *No need to thank me.* Right in the center of the camp, an image frozen in the air depicted the exact moment Wen Wen slew the Saint. Projected by the Spirit's Eye, the entire spectacle was vividly illuminated before them all. Never had they imagined that a day would come when they could witness such a sight. Even having long experienced the changes Ji Jue brought about, and having already felt the hope and possibility of success, actually witnessing the death of a Saint with their own eyes made it impossible to rein in their wild excitement. Before this, everyone had either been enduring each day in torment, preparing themselves to burn for eternity in Limbo while putting up a futile resistance, or had gradually grown numb, rotting away like ostriches burying their heads in the sand to avoid the inevitable end, dragging themselves through the days one by one. When dawn broke, they had still felt dazed and lost. But now that the sun had truly risen before their very eyes, tears and cheers could no longer be contained. Never before had the entire camp been so thoroughly invigorated. The feast began once more. Unlike their previous destitution, thanks to the generous sponsorship and assistance of multiple Hierophants, the rebel camp's supplies were more abundant than ever. Members with cooking experience were even whipping up dishes on the spot, and fine wine once reserved exclusively for the Order's upper echelon was flowing without limit. Aside from the essential sentries, practically everyone drank themselves into a stupor. Yet even when they were nearly blacked out, a huge crowd still mobbed Ji Jue, stubbornly pestering him about when they could join the next operation, when they could exact their vengeance—swearing that they didn't care if they were only hauling supplies or acting as cannon fodder. Beside them, Yan Fei puffed up with pride, holding his neck high and playing the silent master. *I'm Mr. Ji's bodyguard! Do you people even know what a bodyguard is?* *Rounded up, Mr. Ji and I basically combined for ninety points!* *Sure, the title of bodyguard is self-appointed, but Mr. Ji didn't object, did he?!* "Don't rush, everyone. You'll get your chance, and very soon." Ji Jue smiled, raising his cup to bolster morale. Once the atmosphere grew sufficiently lively, he slipped away while no one was paying attention. Perhaps because he was used to the quiet solitude of his workshop, noisy, bustling environments were always hard for him to get used to, and even harder to fit into. Rather than lingering and ruining the mood, it was better to slip off somewhere peaceful. And along the way, satisfy a bit of his curiosity. Why had the person who should have been the most at home in such a raucous celebration—the one who thrived like a fish in water—vanished shortly after the banquet began? How could she have left without drinking everyone under the table and taking the opportunity to guzzle down all the reserve alcohol? Had she quit drinking? Or had the sun risen in the west? Ji Jue knocked on Wen Wen's door, and then, completely disregarding polite etiquette, pushed it straight open. "Sister Wen, in here?" A series of clatters and bangs came from the bedroom, sounding as if someone had jumped out of their skin. Soon after, the sound of running shower water started up, only to be abruptly shut off a moment later—as if the person inside had realized how idiotic that excuse was and stopped the charade. A moment later, Wen Wen finally poked her head out, her hair wrapped up in a towel in an unconvincing pretense. Seeing Ji Jue sitting comfortably in her messy living room, her composure instantly cracked. "*Cough, cough*... Ji Jue? What is it? I just fell asleep." She coughed twice, forcing a stern expression onto her face. "We might be close, but barging into my room like this... if you don't give me a good explanation, I'm not letting you off easy—" "How bad is the injury?" Ji Jue cut her off with a blunt question. Her expression froze for an instant. Stunned, her eyes went wide, and she asked blankly, "What injury?" Ji Jue let out a helpless sigh. "Sister Wen..." "Ah? Huh? What?" "...Has anyone ever told you that you're an atrocious liar?" Shaking his head, Ji Jue asked bluntly, "Playing along with your acting is exhausting. We know each other well enough, so why not just cut to the chase? Let me see how bad it is." Wen Wen glared at him. "I don't even know what you're talking about." "Could you please not hide your right hand behind your back while you speak? And who wears a full set of clothes underneath their pajamas?" Ji Jue raised a hand, ticking off the discrepancies one by one. "I won't even mention what you were trying to pull by turning the shower on and off just now. Even if you knocked over a bottle of booze, you can't cover up the smell of blood in such a rush. If I were you, I would've at least used perfume, though I doubt you own any of th—*oof!*" Before he could finish, he got punched. No surprise there! All that could be said was that a Desolate Ruins practitioner's fists were just as hard as their stubborn mouth. If you refused to swallow one, you were bound to taste the other! And with that, the wound on her palm could no longer be concealed. Ji Jue caught Wen Wen by the wrist. He pried her fingers open by force. The laceration cleaved by the sword of thunder still hadn't healed. The pale, blanched wound was slowly oozing blood, soaking through the bandage. It was deep enough to expose bone. After all this time, there wasn't the slightest sign of recovery. It didn't look like the body of a Celestial Chosen at all; strictly in terms of healing factor, she was worse off than an ordinary mortal. The moment he sensed the wound, realization dawned upon Ji Jue. Or rather, it was a sudden, remorseful confirmation of a prior suspicion—just as Wen Wen instinctively rejected this phantasm, and while nothing inside the dream could easily affect her, neither could she benefit from any of its conveniences. She would never lose any part of herself, but by the same token, she could receive no replenishment whatsoever. That included the miraculous effect of being chopped to pieces and stitched back together completely intact. To her, every injury was an unrecoverable drain. It was just that she had always been overwhelmingly strong—strong enough to completely ignore this weakness, so a situation like this had never come up before. To the point where even Ji Jue hadn't anticipated it in the slightest. Now, after a brief moment of dazed silence, Ji Jue's eyelid twitched, and he let out a silent sigh. "At least get it stitched up." Wen Wen hesitated, opening her mouth only to close it again. Things had come to this. There was no way she could admit that she had hidden in the bedroom with a needle for ages, finally psyching herself up, only to realize that she had no idea how to suture a wound—and that the needle couldn't pierce her skin in the first place! "Don't tell me you hid in the bedroom fiddling with a needle for half an hour, only to—*oof!*" Ji Jue's vision went dark. Dazed and indignant, he cried, "Why did you hit me for that too?!" "...Sorry, force of habit." Wen Wen awkwardly shifted her gaze, trying to pull her hand back, only to find him gripping it tightly. Then came a sharp, searing pain. "*Hiss—*" "Sorry, no anesthetic works on you. Bear with it." Ji Jue had already begun the stitching without giving her the slightest warning. The moment both of his hands gripped Wen Wen's palm, he commenced physical sutures! More precisely: spiritus welding! Drawing blood directly from the wound to serve as his material, he used alchemy to reshape and reconstruct the torn palm! First, he repaired the fractures in the bone. Next, he forcibly brought the two edges of the laceration together, piecing the severed muscle fibers and flesh back into alignment, reattaching them, and filling in what was missing. Starting with the palmaris longus tendon, then the opponens pollicis, the first, second, and third lumbricals... meticulous and cautious, ensuring that nothing would hinder the muscles' function. Strands of silver light flickered and darted through the wound like sewing needles, integrating everything that had been torn without leaving a single stitch mark or trace behind. Once the mending was complete, he employed Fluid Alchemy, using the internal spirit to drive the reinforcement of the external form, thoroughly eradicating the final lingering hazards. *Ah, seems I forgot to sever the neural transmission... but never mind. Someone as formidable as a Desolate Ruins practitioner surely won't mind such minor pain.* *No, in reality, she minded immensely!* Her face was scrunched up into a tight ball, twitching continuously as she gritted her teeth in endurance. Yet at this stage, asking for pain relief was entirely out of the question. Soon, Ji Jue's hands gently released hers. Wen Wen was still gritting her teeth, her face twitching, completely unaware that it was already over. When she finally realized it, she found that the pain was gone. The wound had vanished, leaving only a faint red mark. After flexing her fingers a few times, even the subcutaneous bruising dispersed, leaving no trace behind. "Whoa, didn't realize you had that trick up your sleeve!" She broke into a grin, examining her palm before clapping Ji Jue on the shoulder. "Thanks! I'll buy you a drink sometime. Yeah, once we're out of here." "I'm sorry. It's my fault." Ji Jue lowered his head, unable to face her gratitude. If he wasn't mistaken, Wen Wen not only couldn't enjoy the healing and recovery offered by this phantasm, but if she died here, there would be no possibility of resurrection at all. From beginning to end, she had never truly integrated into this phantasm. Instead, she had been withstanding the erosion of Huangliang every second of every day. Enduring it in silence. "Don't get all tongue-tied on me. It was my own bad temper that made me clash head-on with that bastard, not your fault." Wen Wen grinned carelessly, shaking her fist at Ji Jue. "Relax, I'm tough as nails. Just a scratch." "Is it really just a scratch?" Ji Jue asked dubiously. "What? Do I look like I'm on my deathbed?" Amused, Wen Wen leaned in and asked teasingly, "Or are you suspecting there are other wounds?" Her eyes were inches away, shimmering with that familiar crystalline luster. Reflecting Ji Jue's face. Her breath brushed against him. Unfortunately, wearing her current, slightly youthful form, it gave off the jarring impression of a child playing dress-up in adult clothes. And Ji Jue didn't dodge away as she expected. Instead, he looked straight into her eyes. He nodded resolutely. "As everyone knows, we artisans cherish life above all else and have extensive experience. "Besides my research into the Vortex branch, I am a certified resident physician from Quancheng Hospital, highly experienced in resuscitation and widely praised. On top of that, I even earned an emergency medical responder certificate for trauma care!" He answered in a perfectly serious, matter-of-fact tone: "Sister Wen, don't hide your illness from the doctor. If you're willing to undergo an examin—" His words came to an abrupt halt. A delicate, small fist had been raised, waving right in front of his eyes. As if greeting him. "Is that so?" Wen Wen's smile remained unchanged. "Then do you want to have a chat with this?" "...Better not." Ji Jue raised both hands, pushing her fist down. Forcing a smile, he stood up to take his leave. "My intuition just told me you're very healthy—strong enough to kill a doctor and an artisan with a single punch. So let's save the checkup for another day." Wen Wen snorted a laugh, watching Ji Jue walk out. "Brat—" After a long while, she couldn't help letting out a soft sigh. In the quiet room, she looked up toward the full-length mirror in the corner. In the glass, that fragmented, shattered reflection was looking back at her, smiling mockingly. *How much longer can you lie to him?* As if gazing through the glass to admire her own hypocritical display, the shattered reflection asked derisively: *Wen Wen, how much longer can you lie to yourself?* *As long as you're alive, you'll eventually bring about calamity and turn into the very thing he hates most...* Wen Wen's expression remained calm. She simply picked up the wine bottle from the table, tilted her head back, and drained the last dregs of intoxication. She didn't shy away from the reflection's gaze. Instead, she offered a faint smile. "Then wait until I'm dead." *** Closing the door behind him, Ji Jue walked forward with a steady, natural gait. Yet amidst the silence of the corridor, his expression gradually darkened. There was definitely something wrong! Just now, while suturing Wen Wen's hand, he had felt the faint abnormality beneath her flickering spiritus, as well as the discord and tearing deep within her soul. Unfortunately, right under her nose, it was impossible to perform a spiritus erosion undetected; he had only been able to confine it to the wound. Even if he had insisted on a full diagnosis, it likely would have only triggered her guard and resistance. What a shame. If only they were outside, he could have secretly installed cameras, used Deus Ex Machina to interrogate her TV and remote control, or at worst, tricked her into entering his workshop... "Hey, kid, you've got a pretty dangerous look on your face." A teasing chuckle rang out. Bao Dachai grinned, sizing up his young counterpart. "Pondering something terrible, are we?" "Tch..." Ji Jue gave him a sideways glance, retorting sourly, "Yeah, I'm pondering how to off you and claim Tale Alchemy for myself." "You want to learn? I can teach you! I guarantee I'll pour out everything I know, holding nothing back." Bao Dachai's eyes lit up, as if he couldn't wait. "Come on, it's free knowledge! Satisfaction guaranteed! We can start right now..." "Forget it." Ji Jue shook his head, having no desire to waste effort on an art he was destined never to touch. Not even counting the Profound branch, just Fluid Alchemy and the Nine Forms alone were enough to keep him occupied for decades. Why owe an old geezer a favor for nothing? "So cold-hearted." The old geezer scratched his chin, sighing with regret. "And here I thought, after running around breaking my back for you lately, we might have built a little something... oh, right, friendship and bonds! That's what you youngsters call it, right?" "Friendship? Bonds? Between artisans?" Ji Jue's eyebrow arched, disbelief written all over his face. "Are you serious?" "Tale Alchemy isn't cruel like modern alchemy. It calls for an innocent, childlike heart and a gentle, kind soul! Long live love and peace!" Bao Dachai gave a thumbs-up in praise. "To be frank, I could tell with one look that you're prime material!" Ji Jue nearly laughed out loud. "What part of me looks innocent, childlike, gentle, or kind?" "No matter how cold someone seems, there's always a warm spot deep inside~" The old geezer's smile grew increasingly obnoxious. "If you don't give it a shot, how do you know what the other side of your heart looks like?" "Sorry, but the other side of my heart tells me that if your eyes aren't working, you can sell them second-hand. It has no love, and it definitely has no peace." He was already regretting bringing up Tale Alchemy with this guy. The moment the topic was broached, the old man stuck to him like cheap gum, pestering him relentlessly—short of pulling out a secret manual, shoving it into his chest, and demanding he start practicing immediately. Helpless, Ji Jue threw up his hands in surrender. "Can we talk business? If you came to me just to shoot the breeze, I'll take my leave." "Didn't you start it?" Cradling his strange hat in his arms, the old man stroked its fleece like petting an animal. As they strolled casually, he suddenly asked: "I just can't shake the feeling... aren't you rushing things a bit?" "Huh?" Ji Jue frowned, puzzled. "Hasn't the sacred seal barely begun to spread? Generally speaking, wouldn't it be better to let it diffuse subtly and take things one step at a time?" Bao Dachai sighed wistfully. "Using it as bait might have caught a big fish, but it also wasted such a prime opportunity. Triggering the Order's vigilance ahead of time seems like a real shame." "There's nothing to regret. The moment a sacred seal begins spreading, it's bound to provoke the Order's vigilance anyway. We might as well seize the chance to reap a harvest while we can. "Besides, its principle isn't even complicated, and replicating it is child's play. Once it's scattered out there, people will naturally use it, fight over it... There's no need for us to push it. As long as the Order continues measuring believers by their faith, the poison of the sacred seal can never be purged." Human indolence was innate, and pursuing convenience was a creature's instinct. Once people grew accustomed to the ease of a fully automatic prayer machine, how could they ever endure the long, tedious grind of meditation and prayer again? Anyone who tried it once would find it impossible to forget or abandon. What was more, its mechanism shared the exact same origin as the Order's prayers. Truly shutting it down was nothing more than a pipe dream. At most, what Ji Jue provided was simply a more comfortable method—a more convenient choice. Just as all corruption stemmed from slackness and wishful thinking, there would certainly be those who could resist temptation, flatly reject every shortcut, endure the boredom and suffering, and perseveringly maintain their faith... but out of countless believers, how many could actually accomplish that? Setting aside the brainwashed zealots whose minds were wholly consumed by the Holy God, if a person were disciplined and persevering enough to reach such heights, how would they view the 'merciful and generous' Holy God once they saw through the true nature of their faith? This was destined to be an insoluble dilemma. Given time, it would brew a massive upheaval capable of shaking the Order to its roots, even without Ji Jue pushing it. Unfortunately, Ji Jue couldn't afford to wait for 'given time.' How long would such a storm take to ferment and mature? Ten years? Twenty? Thirty? That was far too long. He hadn't joined this bizarre game just to provide Wen Sheng with a pleasant ranked-match experience. Quite the contrary: he excelled at ruining the game for everyone else. And this was merely the first step. In comparison, what caught his attention far more was the discovery gained from this operation. More specifically, the message revealed through the Order's reaction... "Although Saints are important, they're merely creations fueled by divine grace. As long as that Holy God is willing, he can catalyze dozens or hundreds of them whenever he pleases, right? "To the Order, a Saint is an unreachable, exalted existence, but to the Holy God, they're nothing more than one of seven tools. That's all. A bit troublesome to replace, perhaps, but replaceable at any moment. "By contrast, in a system centered on faith, the loss of believers should be the truly irreparable damage, shouldn't it?" "Hm?" Bao Dachai's brow furrowed, his expression unreadable. "What are you trying to say?" "It's disproportionate," Ji Jue stated flatly. "Just for the loss of a single Saint, the Order went out of its way to cast the core of the entire Eastern Parish—at least a third of the believers in that parish—straight into Limbo. "What for? "Even if it were to vent their fury or send a warning, they should have seized the chance to come after Sister Wen and me. Yet in their actual order of countermeasures, we were treated as secondary—" He looked up at the old geezer before him, asking abruptly: "—Then what was primary?"