Before the Storm

"An inquiry hearing?" In the Empire, the faint chiming of bells drifted from afar. Inside a magnificent workshop that resembled a sanctuary, an aging artisan gave a soft sigh. "That's the one good thing about the Association—no one likes to put on an act." "Ah." The slow-witted young man still examining the wristwatch looked up at his teacher, not understanding what he meant. "Once they hide behind that sanctimonious, rigid mask, they don't even bother pretending anymore. They can't bear to see anyone doing well, can't bear to see newcomers rising, can't bear to see anyone stronger than themselves. The little lotus has barely shown its tip, and already the probes are coming." The old artisan sneered. "Should one say 'craftsmen after all,' or 'worthy of being craftsmen'?" "I don't get it," Andrei said, shaking his head without bothering to hide his incomprehension. "If you don't get it, then you don't. Everyone has their own way of living. If you try to understand everything, you just exhaust yourself." The old artisan rested his chin on his hand with casual detachment and said calmly, "Scheming alliances, staying silent for three years only to amaze the world in a single stroke, petty intrigues, exhausting every machination—none of it matters. "There are so many solutions in this world. If you succeed, you're right; if you lose, you're wrong. If a person can live openly and uprightly like this, crushing all those clownish pests along the way, that's a solution in its own right." "Oh. Then I'll try," Andrei nodded, seeming to understand yet not quite, making no effort to disguise his indifference. Watching him, the old artisan chuckled softly instead. What "talent" represented was freedom—the freedom not to care about the eyes of others, not to force oneself to be like everyone else, and not to care about those squalid, petty scrambles. Slow-witted, or naive? It didn't matter. Neither was a flaw. That was a privilege reserved only for the strong. The lingering echoes of the bells faded into the distance. Afternoon sunlight poured down from the vault of heaven, filtering through stained-glass windows into the overly magnificent, cavernous hall. In the silence, only dust drifted like mist. The gaunt, withered artisan leaned back in his chair, seemingly decrepit, yet his presence felt completely integrated with the entire hall. A pair of amber vertical slits looked down at his pupil. Suddenly, he tested him: "You've been looking for so long. Did you see anything?" "Two," Andrei said, his gaze never leaving the wristwatch. "It looks like two, but it's actually one." He had effortlessly distinguished the two different arts employed upon it. The Fluid Alchemy inherited from the Sage, and the spiritus shaping of the Lou clan. Yet now, the two arts were gradually converging. Where they blended together, a faint resonance had already appeared, as though an invisible spindle pierced through both distinct arts, uniting them into one. "This isn't Ji Jue's work," he said. "It's Lou Feng's." At that, the Old Dragon smiled. He shook his head. "Wrong." "..." Andrei fell silent for a long time, still failing to understand. "Where am I wrong?" "You've backed yourself into a corner." The Old Dragon hooked a finger, drawing the wristwatch through the air to hover above his hand. "When we judge who created a piece of work—materials, craftsmanship, theory, technique, and design—which side carries more weight? "Starting strictly from technique and production, there's no doubt that Little Kong's student carried the greater share, handling the entire operation. "The crux, however, lies in the design concept and purpose of the whole thing. It is entirely different from Little Kong's lineage. "From the design—no, even before the design began—he was already exploiting the Association's rules. Just looking at that cunning mind, that brazenness and sinister malice... heh, back in the day, if that little girl Ye Xian had known how to put on an act like this, her reputation might have been far better. "Forget it, no use talking about things you don't understand. Just looking at this item, what do you think?" "Very strange." Without hesitation, Andrei returned to his original line of thought. "It looks normal, but something isn't right. It seems deliberately left blank, as if hiding something. Did you see it, Teacher?" "It's just something meant to scare people. I'm not an Aether practitioner; what would I see? Nothing more than a few baseless guesses, not worth mentioning." Unconcerned, the Old Dragon yawned. "If you feel something's off, then it's off. Don't overthink it; that's not your forte. "Purely as a piece of work, what do you think of it?" "Exceptional," Andrei gave his highest evaluation. "Yet its strength and its weakness are the exact same thing." Its greatest flaw was that it lacked a Blessing. As a result, its effects could not be maximized, and it could not perfectly exploit this shockingly superb foundation. Yet its merit was identical. Not only was it flawless in craft and theory, but also in practical use. Without a Blessing, it would not place a burden on the user like a Blessed relic. You could wear it effortlessly against your skin, use it twenty-four hours a day, and enjoy its convenience without worrying about it taking up an attunement slot for other Blessed relics. Theoretically, you could wear eighteen of them all over your body and enjoy several times more stored spiritus than anyone else. Provided that when storing it, you weren't afraid of being drained dry, and when drawing from it, you weren't afraid of being flooded to death— Yet the problem lay precisely there. No matter how large a swimming pool was, the dimensions of the drain and intake were limited; the throughput efficiency could not be changed. Unless you overloaded your own matrix to force an increase. Besides, hanging watches all over yourself—how was anyone supposed to live like that? For the same money, you might as well buy an extraction furnace and haul it on your back. It wasn't even that much trouble: burn spiritus crystals directly, hook up your equipment, and you were set. For heavy spiritus consumers like the Entropy branch, it brought no qualitative change whatsoever. For mana-conserving masters like Heart Pivot and Aether, it wasn't much use either. Such an awkward positioning doomed it to be nothing more than a decoration, a luxury item. Was it useful? Yes, but barely. Was it useless? You couldn't say that either. What if? "'What if I really need it one day?'" The Old Dragon smiled. "The moment a Celestial Chosen has that thought, they've stepped right onto the path he laid out—just like all those multi-tools people carry around and never use. "Compared to the watch itself, that sense of security hanging between having and not having is what he truly wants to sell. And the people who genuinely find it indispensable and vital aren't even Celestial Chosen!" Andrei's eyes went wide. Enlightenment finally dawned on him. "You mean... ordinary people connected to the Celestial Chosen?" "Look at that. A dial that displays tier fooled everyone. What a magnificent feint," the Old Dragon chuckled softly. "The registration category isn't an alchemical creation, but a modification of antique and rare curios. Mass-market sales of alchemical creations require Association approval, but the regulations on modifying antiques and curios are riddled with loopholes. "If I hadn't noticed that, even I might have been taken in. "Heh, young people these days are truly terrifying!" All the features of the Sundial wristwatch—monitoring one's physical condition at all times, displaying the ambient corruption index, drawing a trickle of one's own spiritus into reserves, and slowly restoring spiritus... These functions were all good, but regrettably, they were also ordinary, incapable of producing any qualitative leap. Not much practical use. Because almost every Celestial Chosen already possessed such capabilities. Consequently, very few realized that when wearing this watch, anyone—no matter who they were—could practically count as half a Celestial Chosen. And being able to store one's own spiritus, being able to mobilize that power without hindrance, meant they could use Blessed relics! Even more, they could achieve High-Rank Beckoning through it— For a Celestial Chosen, it was merely a minuscule boost. But for ordinary mortals, it was practically boundless possibility; what it unlocked was the gateway to power. Yet would it bring revolution, or chaos? The Old Dragon smiled silently. "Just watch. Someone is going to be in deep trouble this time..." *** "How could this happen?" Inside Yuanjian Workshop, the old artisan was slumped in his chair, in complete disbelief. "Master Hu, how could this happen?! We—we only—" "Hm?" The genial voice on the other end of the line turned cold. "You pulled strings to come to me before, asking me to stand up for you. Now that things have reached this point, you turn around and blame me? What kind of nonsense is that?" The old artisan stammered, unable to speak. What else could he say? What the hell else could he say! By now, how could he not realize that they had been played?! An inquiry hearing? What the fuck did an inquiry hearing mean?! When everyone came asking you to take the lead earlier, it was just to put some restrictions on Ji Jue's product and preserve a piece of the market for themselves. At worst, once the boundaries were drawn, everyone could sit down and share the profits! Now you turn around and start tearing into them directly? And the ones who had to stake a lifetime of achievements to charge the front lines just happened to be them... Anyone could figure out with half a brain that they had been dragged into an internal factional struggle within the Association for reasons beyond their control! "Don't worry, I've already spoken with everyone," the voice on the other end turned genial once more. "Everyone will support you. Director Zhu is keeping an eye on this matter as well. "Perk up, Old Sun. This is our Transmutation branch's affair. When the time comes, don't you dare lose face." In a fleeting daze, a spark flashed through Sun Shicheng's mind, and his pupils contracted involuntarily. Even as his body remained stooped, his expression gradually hardened. "I..." His voice hitched for a moment, a glimmer surfacing in his eyes. "I understand. It's just that my words carry little weight, after all—" "..." The voice on the other end seemed to chuckle. "Rest assured, Old Sun. You've labored for our branch for so many years, and your contributions are plain for all to see. It's time you stepped into the spotlight." Sun Shicheng said nothing. Anyone could paint an empty promise. After a pause so brief it was nearly imperceptible, the voice on the other end continued, "Mm, let me see... that project proposal you submitted, I took a look at it. Very good, extremely promising. "Opportunities like this don't come often, Old Sun. You must seize it." "You're too kind, too kind. It's all thanks to your patronage." In this unremarkable exchange, a tacit transaction had already concluded. The call disconnected. Sun Shicheng sat in silence, staring at the wristwatch on the desk, his expression shifting. The opportunity he had dreamed of for a lifetime was right before his eyes. He just had to gamble once— After a long, long time, he suddenly let out a self-deprecating laugh. "All things are ruled by fate, and none of it rests with man." *** As if nothing had happened. Pretending not to notice the undercurrents surging within the Association, and acting as though they hadn't seen the messages sent by their peers, Haian Tech continued operating as usual. Sales of the Sundial proceeded in an orderly, steady fashion—neither hot nor cold. "Did you plan this all along?" Lou Feng suddenly asked. "Ah? Planned what?" Ji Jue turned his head in bewilderment, looking over. Then realization struck, and he sighed helplessly. "You're really overthinking it, Old Lou. If a person can live peacefully, who would go out looking for fights with their peers just for kicks?" "You, obviously!" Lou Feng sneered. *Drop the innocent act, you bastard. As if I don't know you!* *You stir up three-foot waves out of calm water, feeling miserable if you go a single day without causing trouble. You haven't made a fuss for months because you've been brewing something massive! The product isn't even out yet, and you've probably already figured out how to kill them and where to bury the bodies!* "Sigh, it was just throwing a stone to check the path," Ji Jue waved his hand with an innocent look. "The Association's waters run too deep, and I wasn't sure whether a newcomer like me would be welcomed. Wasn't I counting on you? "Turns out... Master Kong's reputation within the Association doesn't seem all that great either." "Heh!" Lou Feng rolled his eyes so hard they nearly vanished into his skull. "Before you say that, why don't you take another look at your own master!" "What are you talking about?" Ji Jue was amused. "My master is merciful and magnanimous, broad-minded and forgiving. She always teaches me to take three steps back when trouble arises and to endure injustice for the common good. How could she possibly have enemies?" Besides, even if she had enemies, how could they still be alive? An inquiry hearing? What kind of idiotic nonsense was that? Disrupting the market? That was practically standard procedure. Over the past few years, anyone who took a hit got struck with that same club. Every swing hit its mark, because nobody's rear end was clean. Yet the real reason was obvious to anyone with half a brain. The joint workshop between Ji Jue and Lou Feng was the true catalyst. In a sense, Ye Xian and Kong Qingyan behind them were the two boulders dropped into murky waters. And what truly triggered all this was Ji Jue's meteoric, almost unreasonable rise. Along with his completely unmasked sprint toward the title of Master! The five-year Master evaluation involved every director and even the Grandmasters. Countless people queued behind it, waiting their entire lives. How could they easily sit by and watch a wet-behind-the-ears kid overtake them? Every faction had its own needs, every director had their own subordinates and followers, and occasionally, even Grandmasters needed dogs to feed. Even if the position was decided by merit, Embers had churned through internal competition for so many years that there were simply too many capable people. If one truly wanted to rise, they had to cross swords eventually! What did this count for now? It didn't even qualify as a greeting! Just wait and see. Ji Jue tapped his fingers on the armrest, full of anticipation. Now that he had deliberately handed them a handle and exposed a weakness, how many fish would this single bomb blast out of the water? A knock sounded at the door. The second batch of market feedback was delivered into his hands. "Nice secretary," Ji Jue's eyes lit up as he looked at Lou Feng. "Did you hire her?" Lou Feng tossed the report over expressionlessly. "Just read yours!" Ji Jue casually flipped open the report, his brows arching slightly. Unexpected. A slight further increase in sales volume was only natural. After all, the market was still fermenting; two or three days weren't even enough for the spirit seed in the Sundial to finish sprouting. If one truly wanted it to prove useful, it would take at least a month. Right now, this was only preliminary feedback. Except— To his surprise, in the survey questionnaires, the most popular feature of the Sundial among the Celestial Chosen wasn't the mana-bar function. It was the tier display. *Smack!* Ji Jue slapped his forehead, sudden enlightenment hitting him. "Damn it, I missed this selling point! "Old Lou, write this down quick: for the next Sundial upgrade, add a flashy light effect, and then add an alert for high-tier Celestial Chosen—" Ascension was humanity's greatest desire. Likewise, showing off was indispensable. In the past, if you wanted to show off, you had to let out a cold snort and release the aura of an expert, letting everyone around you feel your domineering presence. Now with the Sundial, it was so convenient. Just casually raise your wrist, expose the numbers on the watch face, and everyone would feel an effortless gust of swagger and masterly poise. For some people, how could they not flex to death?! In certain matters, whether you knew it yourself didn't matter. What mattered was whether others knew! People in ranked gaming ladders would beat each other's brains out over a single point, let alone in reality. In fact, this had practically become word-of-mouth credibility in its own right. After all, the Sundial's underlying design locked that function completely: the Spirit of Creation was bound tightly to the user, and no one else could use it. The tier and rank could be hidden, but they could never be faked! Ever since Ji Jue dropped two more batches of Sundials into the Wild Gathering, the trend of showing off had steadily caught on. But once people finished flexing their tier, they still needed to flex their status. To the White Stag, if you had money, you spent it; if you earned it, you flaunted it on your body. Who cared about anything else?! And so, sales for the 18.88-million Exclusive Edition opened up as well! This price— How to put it? Expensive, but not ridiculously so. After all, a mediocre Blessed relic cost about that much. For a Celestial Chosen of the Metamorphosis tier, while its utility wasn't overwhelming, it sat right at the threshold where they could grit their teeth, stomp their feet, and place an order. Still, when it came to large purchases of this scale, people were bound to be more cautious. A Celestial Chosen's money was still money, not swept up by the wind. As of now, only a dozen or so pieces had been sold. As for the 48.88-million Artisan Signed Supreme Edition— "How are sales on that?" Ji Jue asked. "Out of a thousand, over eight hundred have sold," Lou Feng said impassively. "Unfortunately, aside from our own shills, not a single real sale..." "Excellent!" Ji Jue grinned and suddenly chuckled. "Is the paper ready, Old Lou?" "It's practically growing mold and worms! What do you think?!" "Get ready to submit it." Ji Jue waved his hand, then said slowly, "Now, we can let people 'accidentally' discover that the Exclusive Edition of the Sundial can ward off telekinesis and curses." As for how to make it accidental... "Hello, Dragon Head? I want to place an order." Ji Jue picked up the phone and dialed Chen Xingzhou's number. On the other end, Chen Xingzhou froze, bewildered. "You're coming to me for an assassination?" "Doesn't that just show how professional you are?" "..." Chen Xingzhou sighed helplessly. "Fine, who do you want dead?" "Xu Zhao—ahem, sorry, a slip of the tongue." Ji Jue said, "Hire a Heart Pivot, and an Ascension too. Not too strong, but not too weak either. Oh, just kill that person under you... that, what's his name... the manager of the Hefang settlement, what was he called again?" "..." Chen Xingzhou was even more speechless. "That's my brother, Ji Jue. What are you talking about?" "Not paying extra," Ji Jue cut him off mid-sentence. "In fact, you owe me a little!" Chen Xingzhou was nearly at a loss for words. "Are you out of your mind?" "Hoard your stock," Ji Jue laughed softly in conclusion. "Wait until the kill is done, and then you can thank me." The phone hung up.