The End of the Cycle

All Things Self-Transform. Through countless cycles, unending destruction, and revisions, amidst myriad entanglements, the most fitting vessel had emerged at last. As a matter of course, it was welcomed by the favor and blessing of the Principle of the Griefsmith. Even Ji Jue himself was powerless to resist. His consciousness blurred into a daze; his very ego was seized and manipulated by his obsession. The hardest thing for a person to face is oneself—the true self, a self even one never foresaw, a self countless times more powerful than oneself! A self that had plunged into complete ruin under the Griefsmith's creation! Amidst this natural transformation, an utterly unhinged Ji Jue instinctively yielded to his own desires, beginning once again to reshape everything. Yet when he truly wielded this power and cut off every possibility of the Griefsmith wreaking havoc or causing mutation, what he forged instead was a silent world completely devoid of change or variance. A murdered world. A hollow vault of sky, a barren earth, and within the shifting streams of metallic gleam across the mortal realm, all things seemed frozen. Countless machines and colossal structures converged, turning into vast battlements that spanned across everything. Amidst the Three Phases Circulation, all material properties and spirituality were utterly drained and extracted, recast into an imperishable form. Every living soul fell under his dominion, reduced to puppet-like creations with neither freedom nor future to speak of. All that remained were iron bodies housing souls, laboring without end, repeating the cycle for eternity. The apocalypse was averted, cut off forever. In its stead came a brand-new apocalypse! Driven by that obsession, the transmutation of the Three Phases Circulation actually continued—relentlessly expanding, steadily spreading, plunging the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth once more into a brand-new transmutation. Something seemed off. In his daze, he struggled to think, yet he could not fathom what was wrong. All Things Self-Transform. It happened naturally; everything was as it should be, was it not? Since that was so, what was there to worry about? Continue, then. Press forward. Just a little more! Just one final step, and his most vital creation would be complete! "Stop, Ji Jue!" Jiang Tongguang roared. "You're about to lose control completely!" By the time the surviving artisans, suppressed under the Principle of the Griefsmith, hurled themselves with all their might into the hall he had created, it was already too late. Even the wine of dreams and drunken stupor could no longer sway him in the slightest. It did not even cause an interruption. BOOM! A mere instinctive backlash nearly sent Jiang Tongguang flying; crushed beneath the heavy suppression, he hardly had the strength left to stand. The illusory silhouette of the Clock Tower abruptly manifested, bracing against the violent waves crashing toward them. "Stop hesitating, Xiao Jiang! Things have come to this; a decision must be made!" Lilin, half his body reified, urged in a hoarse voice. "I will bear all the consequences!" "I know! It's just that—" Jiang Tongguang's face twitched as he hesitated for a fraction of a second. Even up until now, a glimmer of hope and wishful thinking had lingered in his heart. He had hoped Ji Jue might be an exception, that he might prove different from everyone else—hoped that this young man, who bore a few resemblances to who Jiang Tongguang once was, could avoid being bound by hatred and agony, and become someone stronger than he had ever been! Yet now, all of it was gone. He closed his eyes and raised his cup. Like a replay of their siege on the Griefsmith's workshop not long before, the final defense was torn apart under the desperate, all-out assault of all the artisans. Burning silver-gray fire parted down the middle as a blazing, burly figure pressed forward. His face was burned away until bare bone showed, and his hands tightly gripped the flamberge blessed by the King of Heroes. "Bear witness with the North Wind, my friend—" The artisan named Yellowbeard bellowed, gripping the blade as he slashed down with everything he had, wagering his soul and life, swearing a vow: from this day forth, these hands would avenge you! Even if all ten fingernails were worn away, even if all ten fingers were ground to the bone! BOOM! Amidst the black flames atop the throne, the figure merely raised his eyes and cast a contemptuous glance. The flamberge snapped straight down the middle. Empowered by the apocalypse, boundless might erupted, easily sweeping Yellowbeard off his feet and blasting him away. The instant Ji Jue raised a finger, every last artisan was pinned to the spot by limitless force. Between heaven and earth, the magnificent, vast transmutation reached its culmination. The true apocalypse was at hand. It was over! In that moment, as Yellowbeard closed his eyes in despair, what he felt was the booming tremor of the apocalypse, an earth-shattering crash, and then... sparse footsteps. Resounding from outside the great hall, approaching step by step. As though after an endlessly long journey, covered in dust and panting for breath, treading across fire and ash, dragging exhausted feet. Walking toward the destination he had chosen. Lowering his head, he caught sight of a familiar face, smiled, nodded, and offered a greeting: "Quite a sorry state, Master Artisan. Are you all right?" That was— Amidst the ruins, Yellowbeard stiffly lifted his head, unable to believe his eyes. Ji Jue?! At this moment, walking step by step into the hall from that magnificent, vast transmutation saturated with apocalypse was none other than the face Yellowbeard knew so well—leaving everyone present struck dumb, utterly unable to comprehend. If this was Ji Jue— They turned their heads with difficulty toward the throne high above the hall, toward the figure swallowed in black flames. Then who was that? In a moment of deathly silence, not a single sound remained. Only steps advancing forward. The two looked at each other, clearly so alike, yet utterly different. One high above, one down below; one truly present here, the other faint and distant, like nothingness. It was as if reality and illusion mirrored one another. The gulf between their strength was like heaven and abyss. Yet now, a crisp sound rang out. Below the steps, Ji Jue drew his sword, leveling it at the fallen demon who was already past all redemption. Overestimating his own strength, he issued a challenge to himself. A sight that made the demon in the flames smile silently. Gazing at that fluttering phantom, as if awakening from a long, long dream, the corners of his mouth curled slowly upward—this was his final creation, coming before him just as he had desired. Just like Ji Jue. Just like what Ji Jue ought to do! And so, brimming with pleasure, he nodded. He drew his sword. He pointed it at the challenger before him, and then loosened his grip. He let the blade fall from between his fingers, shattering upon the steps. Amidst the reflection of countless shards of light, the challenger below the steps ascended step by step. Without hesitation, he raised the blade. And severed his head! BOOM! In that instant, everything Ji Jue had forged reached its end within Ji Jue's final creation. The cruel spectacle cloaking the entire apocalypse shook violently and vanished into ash and smoke. Everything returned to square one. Yet above the vault of sky, that pair of blurred eyes twitched violently. Amidst the infinite blackness, a fissure split open. The apocalypse convulsed! Between the sea and the sky, the Saintly Fool Instrument shuddered violently, as if roaring at the top of its lungs, shrieking shrilly. It left Elder Zhen frozen where he sat, clenching his fists and fighting with everything he had to suppress the urge to rise. Only then did he see the faint, mocking smile on Tianlu's face opposite him. The apocalypse that was on the verge of being fully verified suddenly suffered a massive drop in progress, plunging right back to where it had started—fissures even crept across Eschatology itself. The apocalypse meant to supplant the apocalypse never came to pass. Ji Jue's final creation had killed Ji Jue himself! No artisan could have ever imagined such a spectacle or possibility—an artisan abandoning pride, casting aside obsession, and even negating his very self! Willingly forsaking everything he had created. Because in this world, there was something more important than oneself! This was not the final outcome of a struggle between good and evil, but the very crux that had existed within his obsession from the beginning, the foundation that made Ji Jue who he was, the natural unfolding of All Things Self-Transform! If one day he fell into an ugly monstrosity that even he could not stomach, then he would thoroughly negate himself! Just like his resolute decision when he leveled his sword at Stagnant Rot. To do battle with monsters. If the current Ji Jue became a monster, then let the next Ji Jue draw his sword against that monster! There was no need for words, let alone a call. When such a figure appeared before him once more, no matter what kind of monster he had fallen into, no matter how unrecognizably deformed, the monster once known as Ji Jue would gladly embrace destruction! And now, Ji Jue raised his head and looked upon the apocalypse before him. Once more, he drew his sword! The cycle remained; the apocalypse restarted! All the futile struggles played out once again. Yet this time, not a trace of anticipation remained in Elder Zhen's eyes. Tianlu, on the other hand, no longer concealed his mockery and derision. He burst into hearty laughter. "I must ask the Grandmaster for guidance: where is the Griefsmith? Why can't I see him at all?" At this moment, everything unfolding within the evolution of the apocalypse had spiraled completely out of control. It had neither been cleanly and decisively destroyed as Tianlu had hoped, nor had it been brought to completion amidst agonizing struggle as Elder Zhen had planned. Instead, having exceeded both their expectations, it triggered a bizarre transformation. Entangled by the Principle of the Griefsmith, the constantly correcting and transforming Ji Jue had turned into the most massive Gordian knot in the entirety of Eschatology. This was not a solution to the apocalypse, nor was it a verification of it. It was a vicious bug catalyzed from ruin and aberration! It could not negate the current apocalypse, yet it also prevented the current apocalypse from negating itself— Distorted and empowered by the Principle of the Griefsmith, the moment Ji Jue drew his sword once more, it was predestined that everything spiraling out of control would forge a new apocalypse. Yet before that new apocalypse could be forged, Ji Jue, who served as the linchpin, would die at the hands of the self he had created! And then, the nearly finished progress would once again return to square one, restarting the futile cycle anew, returning to the origin yet again— Like a progress bar that could never be filled: after reaching ninety-nine percent, it started all over again. The two obstructed, shackled, checked, and catalyzed each other. To the point where as long as Ji Jue existed, the apocalypse could never be completed. And as long as the cycle continued, Ji Jue would never cease! From then on, what was once a one-track road was blocked at both ends, deadlocked completely! Yet while the evolution of Eschatology could continue indefinitely amidst this stuttering and looping, how many times could the Saintly Fool Instrument endure such wear and torment? Crack! A fissure emerged between countless curled, deformed fingers. The unstoppable fracturing had begun!