The Price

"O great Lord of Limbo…" "Enemy of God! Enemy of God!" "All praise and adoration to the merciful and holy lord, King of Hell!" The clamor grew steadily clearer. All one had to do was push open the window to hear the swelling tide of voices, and even see the sea of silhouettes undulating in ceaseless prostration. A vast, dark expanse. Like refugees fleeing a famine, the pilgrims had endured untold hardships to cross immense distances, evading the Order's manhunts and braving the bizarre, ever-sprouting domains born of nightmares. In the end, they had leaped down into the Scar, plunging straight into the gates of Hell. They cared nothing for their tattered rags; missing limbs were the norm… Having renounced their God, they did not hesitate to bow to the devil. Calculated as their fall might seem, they desired no wealth and demanded no terms. They wanted to die. They wanted nothing else. They only wanted death… to end it all once and for all, down to the very last trace. The moment they realized that true death existed here, they were overcome with an uncontrollable frenzy. From their parched, shattered self-nature, their final tears fell, mingling with blood as they dripped onto the stone. Granted eternal life, yet yearning so desperately for an end. Not just the pilgrims, but most of the sinners who had endured decades of torment and burning lay prostrate on the ground, begging for the Lord of Limbo's mercy and cruelty alike. They asked only for death. Ji Jue stood in silence, looking down at it all. For a long time, he did not say a word. If they had walked this entire road with such unyielding resolve, why squander it on a craving for death? Could that very determination not be turned toward something else? Why couldn't they stand up and fight back? Yet to spout such nonsense now was nothing more than the idle cruelty of an ignorant fool asking why the starving didn't simply eat meat. Whatever failed to kill a person did not necessarily make them stronger, but it inevitably left wounds. Scars crisscrossed their faces like webs, just as their limbs had been slowly sheared away. When everything about a person was battered beyond recognition, how could they crawl out of the mire? What wrong was there in seeking release from a nightmare from which one could never wake? When those who had died opened their eyes once more to welcome rebirth, their hearts had been filled with peerless gratitude and joy. Only when they discovered the true nature of their faith and prayers did an inescapable despair take hold. The proliferation of corrupted sacred seals and the rising of Limbo had merely hastened that process. They watched the devout souls beside them—those who prayed day and night—gradually lose themselves, turning into faceless husks, or being dragged off to vanish forever after uttering some heresy. One either lowered their head to pray, enduring the steady drain of their very self until they became empty shells devoid of even joy or anger; or, like madmen, succumbed to the temptations of the Realm of Ultimate Bliss, sinking into total frenzy and turning into venomous, fanatical zealots. Or else, they could abandon prayer, have their limbs severed, and be hung up for public humiliation—or even cast into Limbo as sinners. Under decades of burning and torture, even if their limbs could regenerate and their souls remained technically intact, their consciousness and self-nature had long since fractured and collapsed. In the end, this so-called immortality and rebirth was nothing more than an even more terrifying abyss of despair. For so many years, beneath the absolute authority of the Holy God, the helpless believers had been like sheep and cattle, meekly lowering their heads to be harvested again and again in a cycle with no end in sight. They were not even granted the opportunity to resist. Falling to the depths time and again, enduring wave after wave of despair, the only thing a human could possibly yearn for was release. Thus, they turned their backs on the Heavenly Kingdom and willingly cast themselves into Hell. *I want to die. I want to die.* *Please, let me die.* *I don't care what you make me do, as long as I can just die…* And so they grew devout once more, lifting their prayers anew. To a different 'god.' Ji Jue watched in silence, unmoved, offering no response. He merely withdrew his gaze with cool detachment. God had never been generous, and neither was the devil. Where in this world could salvation and release ever come for free? *** Such a familiar sight. It felt like déjà vu. Through a haze of drunkenness, Wen Wen stared down at the figures prostrated on the ground, begging for release. In a momentary trance, she finally remembered. Where she had seen this before. It had been on those younger brothers and sisters of hers who had been discarded… Simply because their progress lagged, because they lacked talent, or because they had slacked off and failed to become obedient, good children. They had failed expectations, and so they had lost love. They had become bad examples for everyone else. "Kill me… Kill me…" Writhing in the mud, a weeping boy choked out his plea: "Please… I beg you…" "Break him with just a couple of taps? How pathetic." Wen Sheng had looked down, kicking the walking corpse of a husk beneath his boot, sneering mockingly. "Look at him. Just like a bug…" Wen Wen had said nothing, her face expressionless. She had watched as he raised his foot and crushed that tear-streaked face into dust. "What's the matter? Angry?" Baffled, Wen Sheng tilted his head and glanced over, brimming with suspicion. "Aren't you acting stranger and stranger lately?" Wen Wen had remained silent, ignoring the mockery from her brother. She had turned and walked away. As if fleeing. Until the little girl trailing behind her gathered her courage and tugged at the hem of her clothes: "Big Sister, if that day comes, will you kill me too?" Wen Wen still had not spoken. When she looked down at that tender face, unable to conceal its terror, she realized she had no answer. She only recalled, inexplicably, that child who had been tossed into the incinerator. His expression. Tears and a smile that seemed like pure relief. That was the first time in her life she had ever felt envy… The instant the thought of wanting to trade places with him crossed her mind, she understood that she could never be Father's good child again. She could not understand why she felt such terror every time she saw Father's gentle smile. When she loved and revered him so deeply, why had hatred begun to fester in her heart? It was only later, when she saw that very same devotion and longing mirrored on the faces of the believers, that she realized the idol she had once worshiped and believed in was nothing more than a phantom of her own imagination. What difference was there between any of them? "…" Silent, she walked through the crowd, no longer looking at those humbly praying expressions. She could not grant their wish. No, even if she could… *Wen Wen, could you really bring yourself to do it?* When she asked herself that, a mocking laugh echoed within her heart. Mocking herself. By the time she snapped back to reality, she found herself standing before the doors of the workshop, hand raised in the posture of knocking. She had no idea how long she had stood there. Yet her palm had never come down. With a silent sigh, she took a step back and turned to leave, only to hear the sound of the door swinging open behind her. "Sister Wen? What are you standing out here for?" Ji Jue poked his head out in confusion, pointing at the surveillance camera by the entrance. "I called out to you several times telling you to come in, but you didn't react at all…" "I… No, it's nothing." Wen Wen shook her head, offering a self-deprecating smile. "Drank too much and spaced out. Took a wrong turn." "…" Ji Jue was rendered speechless. He looked at her with the exact expression one gave a fool caught in an obvious lie. Only when her fist began to clench did he pull the door open wider and invite her in. "Sorry, I don't have any alcohol here, nor did I prepare tea. Have some warm water; it's good for you." Ji Jue set down the cup he had already prepared, then asked abruptly, "Did you come because of that crowd?" "Ah. No…" Wen Wen instinctively moved to shake her head, but catching that 'are you stupid' look on Ji Jue's face again, she ground her teeth… Why did this bastard always know how to make someone's blood boil?! "Let me guess. You wanted to ask me how to resolve it, but found yourself unable to bring it up." Ignoring her familiar glare, Ji Jue took a sip from his cup and said placidly, "You reached the door, the question was on the tip of your tongue, and only then did you realize that no matter how it's handled, it's a dilemma. If you show mercy, you have to slaughter these innocent people. If you turn a deaf ear, you can't bear the sound of their weeping, right?" "…" Wen Wen said nothing, glaring daggers at him. "Why the silence?" Ji Jue asked, puzzled. "You've said it all. What's left for me to say?" Wen Wen picked up her cup, using it to evade his gaze. Suspicion nagged at her: Had this dog secretly learned mind reading? Or crafted some kind of gear? Absurd as it sounded, if it was an artificer… "For the record, I can't read minds, nor did I need to make any gear," Ji Jue sighed. "It's simply because you're so single-minded, Sister Wen. You're far too easy to read. Everything is written on your fa—wait, not the face!" A gust of wind rushed toward him, and an iron fist halted a fraction of an inch from the tip of his nose. Right before his eyes. Close one. He almost got rewarded again! "While I appreciate you deflecting with banter to cheer me up, if you keep deliberately trying to piss me off, I really won't be able to hold back from beating you," Wen Wen sighed helplessly. "So, since you're so omniscient, Mr. Ji, could you trouble yourself to answer my question now?" "What do you think, Sister Wen?" Ji Jue countered. Wen Wen fell silent. After a long pause, just as she opened her mouth to speak, Ji Jue's voice cut in. "Of course we agree to their request." He said evenly, "The proposal is already drafted, and the batches have been scheduled. Right about now, Yu Shu should be organizing personnel to make the arrangements. After all, they said it themselves… they'll do whatever it takes, right?" Following a brief pause, amid Wen Wen's bewilderment, he produced a freshly printed document and slid it across the table to her. A contract, an agreement, and one more sheet… The corner of Wen Wen's eye twitched as she began to doubt her own vision. "What on earth is this 'Job Application Form'?" "Literally what it says: an employment application," Ji Jue said, spreading his hands. "What era do you think this is? Are we supposed to run an amateur outfit like the Order? Limbo is a bona fide corporate enterprise! Naturally, we require signed contracts and thumbprints!" He calmly lifted his cup, took a sip, and continued unhurriedly, "They want to die? Absolutely no problem. Hell never turns anyone away. It's just that everything must follow standard operating procedure, right? It's not that I won't kill them, but that we must kill methodically, kill programmatically, kill with proper priority and order. Otherwise, it'll just be a chaotic mess where no one knows who goes first. How could we possibly kill with professionalism and flair?" Pure barking! Such familiar bullshit! Wen Wen frowned, flipping through the employee contract beneath the application form. The more she read, the more she found herself scowling, gritting her teeth, and sucking in cold breaths. How could such a deranged contract even exist in this world? Compared to this, a slave contract looked downright tender and warm! Anyone with a shred of conscience couldn't possibly write terms and conditions this black-hearted. Was the artificer trade really this twisted and devoid of humanity?! "Equivalent exchange: you reap what you sow. There's no such thing as a free lunch in this world. What prayers couldn't buy from the Holy God won't be handed out for free by me either," Ji Jue said coolly. "If they really want to die, they can sign the contract, get on the assembly line, and start driving screws. Meet a fixed monthly KPI plus an additional quota. The sooner they finish, the sooner they achieve their eternal release… Well, the terms are actually quite generous. After all, nothing here can kill them anyway. If they put in some effort and work twenty-four hours a day, a single year will do it." Clear prices, fair to young and old alike. You work for me, and I'll let you die. It was that simple. To think death itself could be treated as compensation… Only then did Wen Wen realize she had completely overthought things: there was no moral dilemma here, because Ji Jue had no morals to begin with! "But…" She hesitated, unable to keep from asking, "What if they actually finish it…" *See? Desolate Ruins folks are always so one-track-minded, single-threaded, unable to turn a corner.* Ji Jue sighed. He set down his cup and held up a single finger. "Sister Wen, first of all, you have to understand that fulfilling the contract requires two prerequisites. The first is that it takes at least a year. But a year? If we can't settle the Holy God within six months, I'd say we might as well delete our accounts and start over." He treated overturning the divine kingdom of the Pure Land within half a year as an effortless, matter-of-fact task, without the slightest shred of doubt. Yet hearing it with her own ears, Wen Wen unexpectedly felt that his words actually made a strange sort of sense, leaving her heart a tangle of mixed emotions. "Second, the other prerequisite is that when the time comes, they still want to die." Ji Jue raised a second finger, speaking solemnly: "If a person works that hard, toiling from dawn till dusk, driving screws on an assembly line twenty-four hours a day until sparks fly, forgetting food and sleep, asking for nothing in return except death… then if they manage to die, it will truly be thanks to their own hard work! Honestly, with that kind of determination and perseverance to seek death, my involvement wouldn't make much difference anyway. Faced with a hero of that caliber, the only thing I could do is see him off on his journey and remember him for the rest of my life." To this, Wen Wen was utterly speechless. From the very beginning, Ji Jue had never treated this as a problem. A problem was only a problem when it sat on your own shoulders. Once it became someone else's problem, why lose sleep over it? So there was no problem—only raw materials delivered right to his doorstep. You want to die, don't you? How could you rely on kneeling and praying for death? Did you think seeking death required no determination and grit? You have to rely on your own efforts to step onto that dead end; you have to use your own two hands to forge a brighter future! Into the factory! Every single one of you, into the factory! If you were willing to kowtow and pray, driving a few screws would hardly be an issue, right? If, along that long and winding road in the factory, someone came to regret it, then naturally everything could be discussed. If they remained unrepentant to the bitter end, Ji Jue could only give them a thumbs-up and help them find a good death. Until then, all of them would work like beasts of burden. "Still…" Wen Wen pondered for a moment, sensing that something was off. After a while, it finally clicked: "Aren't you afraid they'll slack off? Besides, even if they can't die, humans aren't made of iron. Nobody can endure that much high-intensity labor for so long, can they?" "That's why I gave them another option." Ji Jue smiled. "Including those who regret it after reading the contract. There's another method that allows them to achieve their goal more easily and happily. I was just fretting over not being able to find experi—ahem, test subjects." Saying so, he spread his hands, showcasing the creation behind him—at most, it was merely a frame, an unfinished prototype. A cabinet roughly the size of a coffin, its interior densely patterned with spiritus circuits, featuring a transparent glass canopy and clusters of uncoupled cables. It looked remarkably like… …a life-support pod?