Guidance

[The archaeological indexes within me say this is a preserved projection from past history, a pivotal turning point in the turning of eras.] [The former Eternal Empire poured everything it had into raising the Tower of Tianyuan at the very center of the mortal realm, plotting to use Tianyuan to govern all Sovereign Virtues, rule over the world for eternity, and control everything. Yet before the Pillar of Tianyuan could even be completed, it collapsed, plunging the old order into total ruin—Tianyuan split in two, indirectly leading to the birth of the Federation and the Empire more than ninety years later. Stars rained from the heavens, and raging fire surged from the earth. Blood rained from the sky for three years. Plagues raged and catastrophes ran rampant for twenty-one years until the Eternal Dynasty came to a complete end. Even then, the aftershocks never fully faded; to this day, natural disasters continue to ravage the land.] This was the final wail before the Empire's destruction, claiming two-thirds of all life upon the earth. Following the Primordial Era and the Chaos Era, the Radiant Era—once thought to be boundless and unending—drew to a close. And at that time, the curtain had yet to rise on the Cataclysm Era. An anarchic age of chaos persisted for ninety-three years, until the Twelve Virtues returned to their seats, the position of Tianyuan was once more established, and two Sages—the first-generation Heavenly Overseer and Earthly Warden—raised the foundations of order anew. Yet sky and earth found no peace. Instead, amidst the rivalry and struggle between the Federation and the Empire, they entered a protracted, seemingly endless state of friction and stalemate. The world seemed frozen—not shattered to pieces, yet in the chill of hatred and hostility, rife with endless strife and flickering warfires. More than four hundred years later. A sudden, unheralded catastrophe struck once more. When the disaster swept across the land, it left behind a sole survivor. Ten years later, by a strange twist of fate, that lucky soul became a Celestial Chosen and finally set foot here. Thus, time and history were woven together by boundless struggle, anguish, turmoil, and death, and one thread among tens of thousands, like fate itself, extended onto Ji Jue. Just like that, across the vast expanse of time, he finally witnessed the retreating figure left behind on that far shore by the Sage. This was the intricate tapestry woven by the Sovereign Virtues, dyed with worldly phenomena as its threads and carried upon time itself. They resided in different eras, separated by great distances, yet vaguely connected. Only, to the world, the Sage was already a magnificent pattern, while Ji Jue was merely a single pixel among countless hues. Lost in a sudden daze, Ji Jue gazed at the scenery outside the window and the residual phantom of the Sage seemingly within arm's reach, once again feeling his own insignificance. Like a drop in the boundless ocean. "When the Tower of Tianyuan collapsed, did anything else happen?" Ji Jue asked. [You'd be better off asking what *didn't* happen. Everything that could happen happened, and everything that bloody well shouldn't have happened happened too. The Eternal Empire collapsed far too abruptly. Most records surviving today contradict each other or point in completely opposite directions. But one thing is beyond doubt... Quicksilver wasn't here at all back then.] The puzzle ball reminded him: [As a member of Mo—the Empire's greatest bane—Quicksilver had already become a Sage at the time, holding a status within the faction on par with their leader, the 'Juzi.' And back then, the Mo had mobilized in full force, heading for the Tower of Tianyuan. Afterward, countless pieces of evidence pointed toward them; they might very well have been the culprits behind the collapse of the Heavenly Pillar. Quicksilver definitely played a crucial role in it—it might even have been her doing that brought down the Tower of Tianyuan.] "..." Stunned, Ji Jue turned back to look at the phantom. The phantom remained unchanged. Merely staring, as though the culprit were gazing upon the sin and bitter fruit forged with her own hands. For a fleeting moment, the phantom seemed to finally look back across the vast expanse of time, gazing into the present—looking at the young man who, countless years later, had barged into her abandoned workshop. Yet after that instant of shock, when Ji Jue focused his gaze, he found that the phantom had vanished without a sound. Gone without a trace. The hairs on his arms stood on end, a chill running through his entire body. Was this place really haunted? Xiao An, however, showed no reaction whatsoever. She remained crouched on the floor, curiously prodding the broken, discarded instruments. Sensing Ji Jue's gaze, she looked up in bewilderment, full of confusion. [Time to go, kid.] The blue light welling from the puzzle ball contracted in what seemed like resignation. [I've scanned this place eight or nine times. There's no Non-Offensive here, not even a single hair of a matrix. Well, looks like I blew it this time. A wasted trip.] "Leave?" Ji Jue hesitated by instinct. After all, what was the difference between running a dungeon with zero drops and not running it at all? Besides, he'd just been scared half to death for nothing; he had to scavenge *something* to break even. Yet as he glanced around, he realized it wasn't that Brother Ball was useless—there really wasn't a drop of profit left here. After all, when a workshop relocated, the crucial equipment certainly wouldn't be left behind. The non-essential junk, neglected for so many years, had completely deteriorated. All that remained was a furnace fixed firmly in place—too heavy to move, easier to rebuild from scratch—and even that was totally scrapped. Setting aside the fact that after sitting cold for so long it was no different from scrap metal, without the relevant spiritus circuits and machinery, repurposing it was pure fantasy. Wait, a furnace? Ji Jue's feet froze in place, his eyes glued to the rust-covered furnace, unable to pull away. His eyes gleamed brightly! How could he have forgotten such an enormous treasure?! He swallowed dryly and dashed to the window, peering down. Barely a few minutes had passed, and below, the Guardians and Knights of Homecoming were locked in fierce, deadlocked combat... He abruptly turned around. "Brother Ball, can this furnace still start up?" [???] Light on the puzzle ball formed countless question marks. [Wait, brother, this thing went cold ages ago. It has zero value. If you start it up blindly, it'll blow sky-high for sure. Are you really that desperate to ride the coattails of a Sage?] "Yes!" Ji Jue nodded resolutely. "Anyway, don't ask, and don't worry about it. Just tell me: can you do it or not?!" [...] The puzzle ball went quiet for a moment. It dearly wanted to refuse such an insane command, but the underlying directives and permissions Professor Ye had left behind ultimately forced its compliance: [If you want to court death, I can't stop you. But I won't guarantee the consequences.] "As long as it doesn't blow me to pieces, I'm good." Ji Jue grinned and rubbed his palms together, his eyes shining as he looked at the dormant furnace before him: *I'm already here... I have to touch the furnace at least once, right?* Blow up? Ji Jue was only afraid it *wouldn't*! Even after four hundred years, even in such severe disrepair, as long as it could start up, that meant there was still a chance to awaken it with his ability! Such a massive experience pack—so long as he didn't die, he'd make a killing! "Open up!" At this critical juncture, Ji Jue held nothing back. Pouring all his spiritus into the puzzle ball, it rose from his hands and instantly split apart. The near-infinite recursive structures within suddenly unfurled and expanded, and in the blink of an eye, intricate circuits were laid across the walls, floor, and ceiling! Runes like a sea of stars spread out around the insignia of the Sovereign Virtue, fading into the void before linking everything together once more, interfacing layer by layer with the furnace's external ports and forcibly incorporating it into its own system. Underlying directives overwritten, specifications converted, trunk lines adjusted... A dazzling flurry of operations was completed in an instant. —Mobile workshop, fully deployed! And at that very moment, a violent grating noise suddenly rang out from outside the temporary workshop erected by the puzzle ball—the Border Realm workshop's own search rite activated, locked on, and instantly detected the anomaly here... The contest between workshop and Celestial Craft began anew! [Concealment protocol terminated. Siege mode loaded. Parasitic protocol engaged.] The puzzle ball's voice lost all emotion and inflection, lacking even the surplus capacity to run its simulated persona: [Consumption of reserve Chrono-Sand initiated. Estimated duration: 1 minute 14 seconds.] "Thanks, Brother Ball! I'll keep you swimming in spiritus later!" Discarding all pleasantries, Ji Jue slammed both hands onto the furnace before him and issued his command. —[Awaken]!!! The command was issued the first time—like calling into a void, with no response. The command was issued a second time—a dim glow faintly flickered within the dead silence. The command was issued a third time—and from that faint resonance, like a candle in the wind, a vast echo erupted, swallowing Ji Jue's soul and consciousness whole! It was like opening the cover of a dried-up well and restarting the pump, only for a torrential deluge fiercer than any waterfall to gush forth. Spiritus drained at terrifying speed, yet it could not be stopped. His hands seemed glued to a black hole, impossible to tear away. On his wristwatch, the numbers for his spiritus reserves plummeted wildly, completely emptying in the snap of a finger. The furnace still seemed unsatisfied, yet in the end, it did not widen its maw again. Having taken merely a shallow taste, it stopped on its own accord. Ji Jue collapsed onto the floor, pale as a sheet and soaked in cold sweat, waves of dizziness washing over him. Beside him, Xiao An reacted swiftly, pulling the emergency tonic injection gun from her backpack and pulling the trigger right at the base of his neck, keeping him from slipping into total shock from acute spiritus depletion. Never before had he used his ability to awaken such a colossal creation. Not because of its physical size, nor because of an intricate structure, but because of the sheer weight of past memories and traces within it—the imprint left by an ancient Sage was simply too immense. So much so that merely bestowing consciousness had left Ji Jue entirely drained. And now, the furnace gave a slight shudder. Rust flaked away, and within the open hearth, a wisp of faint light flickered like the phantom glow of a soul—pondering, reminiscing, understanding, comprehending. [Has it already been... over four hundred years?] In his mind, an aged voice sounded with a metallic echo, weary and full of regret: [Thank you for your aid, stranger. Is there anything I may do for you? Alas, I am of little use any longer.] Sitting on the floor, Ji Jue straightened his posture and said solemnly, "A humble junior begs for your guidance." The furnace fell silent, as if in thought. [I understand. If it is only that—] In that instant, Ji Jue didn't even have time to reply. The residual embers in the hearth violently erupted, and a surging, boundless torrent of light blasted toward them! And then... It wrapped around Little Niuma. "Beep? Beep?" Crouched nearby, sneakily watching the drama unfold, the motorcycle looked up blankly, before it could even struggle. And just like that... It was dragged straight inside! The furnace shut tight, flames raging within, leaving only a final terrified screech echoing through the air: "BEEEEEP—!!!"