Walking in the Opposite Direction

It defied understanding. What were these lunatics actually doing? Looking at it from the perspective of zealots, brainwashed fools were capable of anything. It wasn't impossible that they felt the Eastern Parish, having been wrecked by Ji Jue, was now soiled beyond salvage and required a ruthless purge to eliminate any lurking threats. Doing this—in a certain sense, it was indeed the right call. Ji Jue had planted quite a few landmines there, after all. Taking such drastic action genuinely flushed part of his schemes down the drain. But was it really necessary? Zealots only needed their faith, but as the privileged ruling class, the Order had vastly more to consider. How could they act without weighing the costs and benefits? After taking a punch to the face, instead of figuring out how to strike back, you stab yourself in the chest? What was the logic there? Were they hoping to scare their enemy to death? "At least a third of the believers in the central city of the Eastern Parish, the entire upper echelon of the diocesan Order, the short-term stability of the whole parish, and the composure of all faithful across the world once news gets out... Taking a blade to all that is easy, but it's impossible they didn't weigh the consequences." After a moment of contemplation, Ji Jue said with absolute certainty, "Unless, in their eyes, paying such a staggering price was completely worth it." "Hmm, let me think—" Bao Dachai remained perched in his lofty composure, absentmindedly rubbing the hat cradled in his arms. "To sever the spread of the Holy Marks?" "Would that even work? The proliferation of Holy Marks is an inherent flaw at the core of this system. Is that something a momentary shock can solve?" Ji Jue chuckled, shooting him a sidelong glance. The old bastard looked back with an innocent expression, playing dumb as though he knew nothing, yet his smile was rich with hidden meaning. Or rather, brimming with anticipation. *At it again.* Ji Jue coldly retracted his gaze and resumed his train of thought. *Severing a limb to survive.* That was as good a term as any to describe the Order's actions. Sometimes such desperate measures were unavoidable, even if it meant inflicting a thousand casualties while losing eight hundred of your own. But the vital premise for doing so had to be that the enemy lost more than you did! Yet the Order had simply slaughtered their own people. What had Ji Jue actually lost? A few insignificant puppets? A patch of fertile ground for sowing Holy Marks? A covert scheme to infiltrate the Order? Or perhaps... his utterly meaningless renown? Wait! Ji Jue's footsteps abruptly hitched. A bolt of lightning seemed to flash through his mind, slicing through countless stray thoughts. Amidst the chaos and clutter, the crux of the matter finally surfaced. Here, within this phantasm... was "renown" truly so meaningless?! "You told me once—the rules inside Huangliang are defined by the shared 'common sense' of all participants, right?" Ji Jue turned back to look at the old geezer. Bao Dachai said nothing, maintaining an enigmatic smile. *Common sense.* *So that's how it is!* No, rather, it was *Consensus*! No matter how real this world appeared, it could never alter its nature as the remains of Huangliang. In the absence of the Desolate Ruins, this was an idealistic realm governed by the Primacy of Mind. The subjective truly trumped the objective; prejudice genuinely reigned over reality. Which meant that here, the old adage held literal truth: if three people said there was a tiger in the street, a tiger truly existed! "So, their real purpose was to silence them." Ji Jue let out a long breath, his mind instantly clearing. "What they fear is the Saint's death becoming common knowledge. No—they fear the god's aura of omnipotence being shattered, their undefeated golden body pulled down from its pedestal." He stated with absolute conviction: "They are terrified that I might gain power from it!" "Aren't these just conjectures? Building castles in the air amounts to nothing more than a reflection in water, a moon in the mirror." The old alchemist stroked his hat and grinned as if in mockery. "As a craftsman, you wouldn't go chasing after castles in the air amidst mere phantasms and bubbles, would you? How do you propose to test such an ethereal theory?" "Simple enough. We run an experiment." Ji Jue quickened his pace until he reached the perimeter of the camp. With a casual wave of his hand, he transmuted a heap of scrap metal into a steel target plate. Then, scooping up another pile of junk, he paced backward until he stood fifty meters away. Immediately after, scrap metal hovered into the air before Ji Jue's hands, re-forging—recoil spring, slide, firing pin, bolt, safety, feed ramp... Amidst shimmering iron light, a heavy sniper rifle dropped cleanly into his grip. Next came a cartridge as thick as a thumb. With a crisp mechanical snap, the weapon was loaded. "This is a Monitor Lizard Type-II anti-materiel rifle, designed five years ago by the Cruiser Design Bureau under Huanyu Heavy Industries. Because it was exorbitant to produce and difficult to maintain, the military never adopted it for standard issue. "Caliber: twelve millimeters. Muzzle velocity: eleven hundred meters per second. Effective range: seventeen hundred meters..." Ji Jue adjusted the scope, reciting the specifications in a measured tone before pulling the trigger. *Bang!* Amidst the deafening blast, the distant steel target shuddered violently, a deep crater punching into its surface. "Just as I thought—" Ji Jue gave a low laugh, raising the weapon. Re-forging began anew. Soon, amid the grating screech of metal, the metallic gleam shifted, reshaping into an assault rifle. "This is an A17 assault rifle, produced by the Empire over ninety years ago. Caliber: 5.6 millimeters. Muzzle velocity: eight hundred and eighty meters per second. Effective range: six hundred meters..." *Bang!* Another thunderous report cracked through the air, and the distant steel target jolted once more. Another bullet hole appeared right beside the crater left by the Monitor Lizard. While slightly smaller, the difference was shockingly negligible. Why on earth was the difference so small? "An anti-materiel rifle couldn't even punch through standard armor plating?" Ji Jue chuckled in disbelief. "Yet an assault rifle managed to produce almost the exact same effect as an anti-materiel weapon? On what grounds?" Why had the anti-materiel rifle grown weaker, while the A17's destructive power spiked? Just because it was ninety years older? Or was it because the A17's design was so exceedingly simple, its structure so remarkably stable, and its cost-effectiveness so overwhelming that it had become the single most widespread firearm in the entire world? In the Mid-Continent, the Thousand Islands, and even across the Federation and the Empire, its spare parts could be found in countless workshops, big and small. Thanks to its cheap price, reliable performance, interchangeable components, and effortless procurement, it was the weapon of choice for bandits, scavengers, warlords, rebels, and terrorists alike. Even now, it was a common sight in the hands of regular armies and mercenary outfits throughout the Thousand Islands and the Mid-Continent, leaving behind an endless trail of bloodshed and casualties. While citizens in the capital cities of the Federation and the Empire talked about such rifles as casual novelties, to people living in chaotic war zones, it was an unmitigated nightmare. God only knew how many had watched their loved ones die under its muzzle. Etched into their very bones! By comparison, what the hell was a Monitor Lizard? Who had ever heard of it? It was nothing more than a showpiece tucked away in the collections of shooting enthusiasts and wealthy gun collectors. Who had ever actually seen one in action? Ji Jue stepped forward and traced the bullet holes on the steel target, letting out a silent laugh. Could there be any more tangible proof than this? This was the direct consequence of so-called *Consensus*! *Pop—* A faint sound like a bursting soap bubble seemed to echo by his ear once more. The instant realization aligned with empirical proof, Ji Jue felt the ethereal sigil rooted in his soul shudder. Immediately after, the world pulled back another layer of its veil before him. Another gauzy sheet was lifted away. Everything grew sharper, even as its illusory nature became all the more apparent. And amidst that dreamlike sensation, he finally detected the faint wisps of color swirling around him. Pure vermilion, dazzling yellow, shifting indigo, and even a profound black formed from layers of overlapping shadows... When he raised his hand again and reached out to touch them, a vortex seemed to manifest between his palms, projecting an invisible gravitational pull. In an instant, it swallowed every wisp of iridescent color nearby. Right after, the power Bao Dachai referred to as Awakening surged, expanding and multiplying several times over in a heartbeat! Beyond that, faint strands of rainbow light continued to drift in from the camp, converging toward him. They came from—every single member of the camp! The reason he could be so certain was that not far away, Yan Fei was poking his head around a corner, looking like a sneaky thief, with tiny rays of faint light trickling off his body and reaching toward Ji Jue before sinking into his palm. "Is this the attraction Ascension exerts over the Heart Pivot?" Ji Jue stared at the faint glow dancing on his fingertips, letting out a breath of sudden comprehension before closing his fist to absorb it. "Or rather... is it the trust and hope everyone has placed in me because of what I've done?" Recognition, approval, yearning, and even— Faith! In fact, the vast majority of this should have originally belonged to Wen Wen. But Wen Wen was utterly immune to any buffs inside the remains of Huangliang, which meant all of it fell into the lap of Ji Jue, who had steadily stepped into the role of leader. As for the mastermind behind the curtain... Ji Jue recalled the broadcast projected across the camp by the Sprite's Eye not long ago. He turned his head toward the old geezer, who was currently gazing off into the distance as if admiring the scenery. "Did you set all this up?" "Huh? What?" Bao Dachai turned around, looking utterly baffled. "I have no idea what you're talking about! You can't go framing an honest man! Pity an old fellow like me, slaving away for you day and night, enduring humiliation to hand over my workshop at my age... Why do I always have to take the blame?" Ji Jue sneered. "Has anyone ever told you that your acting is absolute garbage?" "What acting?" Bao Dachai retorted indignantly. "Who doesn't know that Old Bao walks the world relying solely on a sincere heart and unwavering integrity? You can look down on my skills, but you cannot question my character!" Nirvāna, craftsman, moral character. Funny. Out of those three words, why did one always feel completely out of place? Seeing Bao Dachai standing there like a non-stick pan coated in an extra-thick layer of Teflon, Ji Jue glared at him for a long time before ultimately deciding not to press the issue. You couldn't get a straight answer out of him anyway. Push him, and he'd just whine about being old and muddled, having poor memory, and suffering through his twilight years... If they weren't in the same boat, Ji Jue would have gladly given this old bastard a taste of what it felt like to struggle desperately just to stay alive. Now, feeling his newly amplified capabilities, Ji Jue was certain of one thing: the so-called 'divine power'—that seemingly omnipotent miracle—was simply the product of amassing boundless faith and maintaining absolute control over every participant. Through prayer and the Order, they held sway over the minds and perceptions of all believers, freely manipulating this grand dream of Huangliang. And throughout this process, the existence of *Consensus* continuously bolstered the Order and its angels! Yet the question remained: why hadn't anyone else done this besides him? Had no one ever discovered this before? Including an old bastard like Bao Dachai, an heir to Tale Alchemy—had he truly never grasped the underlying nature of this realm? Ji Jue wasn't the only one capable of commanding reverence, was he? Why was there no trace of faith empowerment on the Order's Hierophants or Saints? Had they failed to notice it? Or rather—they simply couldn't do it! Ji Jue lowered his eyes, focusing on the ethereal, shifting sigil anchored within his soul. Without a doubt, that was the most crucial prerequisite of all. It was the 'spoils of war' he had casually ripped from Wen Sheng's spirit body earlier, and also the 'culprit' that had dragged him into this phantasm in the first place. An... 'administrator account'?! The instant he realized it, he could hardly hold back a laugh. So that was why Wen Sheng had guarded against him so fanatically, hating him to the bone yet remaining completely powerless. Non-Offensive had suddenly pulled through, performing beyond all expectations to carve out a slice of the other's administrative authority within the remains of Huangliang! Thus, a single-player game that was supposed to be completely rigged with cheats had suddenly transformed into an online PvP match. Inside this phantasm that ought to have been dominated exclusively by a god, an unauthorized player had joined the lobby! *Player 2.* No wonder Tiancheng had guarded so fiercely, choosing to purge so many souls rather than allow Ji Jue's power to grow. His mere existence posed an undeniable threat to the Holy God perched high above! "Since the Holy God's authority is built entirely on Consensus, doesn't that mean—" Bao Dachai smacked his forehead as if struck by sudden enlightenment, his eyes gleaming. "Hey! I've got a great idea!" Ji Jue fell silent. He turned his head and stared at him. In the quiet, their gazes crossed. One was lighthearted and amused; the other steadily turned cold, fierce, and laced with unmistakable killing intent. Ji Jue smiled, his voice flat with warning. "Old Bao, some ideas are best kept to yourself." "Ah, well, old people forget things so easily. Look at that, what was I thinking just now?" Bao Dachai shrugged, sighing ruefully. "It was on the tip of my tongue, and now it's gone! Hey, what were we talking about again?" "We were talking about your brilliant idea." Ji Jue didn't give him an inch, issuing a cold warning: "I know you Nirvāna folks play dirty, but some words are better left unsaid—no, you don't even need to speak them out loud." The moment their eyes met, the consensus, morality, and nonexistent scruples shared between craftsmen had already communicated the old man's intent with absolute clarity. A good idea, a brilliant plan—in essence, they were simply the most optimal ways to solve a problem, the methods best suited to their kind, a scheme to resolve a crisis with maximum efficiency. The dream of Huangliang, the throne of the Holy God, the majesty of the Order, the lofty heights of the Saints, the sheer might of the angels—all of it was forged from the prayers of the masses. Which meant that if you simply slaughtered every single living soul, this entire phantasm would collapse on its own! Yet it was unacceptable. Even if most people here were in the terminal stages of Dreamloss Syndrome, beyond saving, their physical bodies already rotting away, leaving only their lingering souls to fuel this fleeting phantasm... It was still unacceptable. From the moment Ji Jue deduced the core mechanics, he had cast that option aside. Otherwise, why would he have needed Bao Dachai's reminder? He possessed even simpler methods. God only knew how many trials he had faced—the Abyssal Depths, Stagnant Rot, Frenzied Slaughter, the Tower and the Wolf. Everything he had experienced and learned along the way had essentially prepared him for this. He was fully capable of crafting something far deadlier than the spiritus plague, and he could do it ten thousand times better than Wen Sheng! He wouldn't even need to kill everyone. According to his instinctual calculations, slaughtering a third of the population would cause irreversible fractures in the foundational framework of the dream. Killing half would plunge everything into total chaos. Kill three-fifths, and the bubble would pop on its own. Yet it remained unacceptable! Cut the damn chatter—no meant no! Otherwise, before he ever took the life of the first innocent person, the very first thing to die would be who he used to be. If taking the easy and simple route was an option, why would Ji Jue have endured so much suffering to reach this point? There were far too many easy choices available. Any one of them would have granted him a comfortable, unobstructed life, free from self-inflicted torment and hardship. He had refused to bow his head to Kanemoto, refused to condone Lu Changsheng's ambitions, refused to become the Sower's puppet and lapdog, and refused, above all else, to turn into the kind of person he despised. Some mistakes, once committed, could never be undone. "Wait, is your craftsman's grind addiction flaring up again?" Bao Dachai asked, amused. "Do you seriously want to compete on the exact same track as the Holy God?" "Why would I need to compete on his track?" Ji Jue countered coldly, "Why does it have to be faith?" He raised his hand again, clenching his fist around a wisp of dark gray drifting in from outside the camp, a mocking sneer tugging at his lips. "If prayers work, shouldn't curses and hatred do the same?" If he couldn't have their faith, he would settle for their terror! Confidence and hope were far too faint and fragile. No matter how much care was poured into nurturing them, they required vast amounts of time to take root, often yielding nothing but disappointment. Despair and fear, however, were an entirely different matter. They were effortless to cultivate. Ji Jue knew that terrain like the back of his hand. With administrative authority over the remains of Huangliang in his grasp, the dread and malice of others could equally fuel his Awakened abilities. And his Awakened ability was precisely the power to transform and reconstruct everything—including the works the Holy God had built with faith! "We don't need to steal the Holy God's worshippers. All we need to do is make the hell they built into something far more terrifying, far more powerful than their heaven!" Silence fell. In the protracted quiet, Bao Dachai's expression shifted. It was hard to say whether it was disappointment or shock. Amidst a tangle of conflicting emotions, he could no longer conceal his bewilderment and confusion. He simply couldn't fathom which step had gone wrong. Had he approached this the wrong way? Tale Alchemy loved stories, and it loved even more the drama that unfolded across illusory stages. Throughout his countless prods and tests, he had expected to see either a craftsman who shed all restraint after unlocking his true nature, or a grand hero who turned the tide to reconstruct the world anew. Yet Ji Jue was neither. He fit neither mold. He was better than both, and worse than both. He was utterly unscrupulous, yet bound himself within rigid moral lines. He was determined to overturn their so-called heaven and deliver salvation, yet chose to achieve it by forging a hell... The old alchemist scratched the few remaining hairs on his head and let out a troubled sigh. "Sometimes, it's really hard to tell the difference between you and that Holy God." "The difference? Of course there's a difference," Ji Jue replied without hesitation. "At the very least, I have no interest in their dream." *...You've even cast aside your own dream like an old shoe, haven't you?* Those words remained unspoken, lingering on the old man's lips until they finally parted ways. How could someone possess such immaculate compatibility with Tale Alchemy, piercing through the essence of the 'hat' at a single glance, yet completely lack the corresponding affinity? It was absurd. Had the Heart Pivot, the Aether, and the Mirror withheld their favor because... he had never once cast a glance down that path? No, it would be more accurate to say that from the very beginning, he had deliberately walked in the opposite direction! "To think there's actually someone in this world who forbids himself from dreaming..." Watching the retreating silhouette, the old craftsman let out a pitying sigh. *When your dream is still chasing after you from behind... why refuse to turn back and look?*