The old lady's funeral was held half a month later.
With the tail end of the Blightwind gradually drawing to a close, the lingering dregs of the Ruin of the Four Seas completely purified, and the Duel of Embers and Stagnant Rot once again culminating in a sweeping triumph, the cheers and celebrations faded, and the entire world seemed to return to its regular course, everything functioning as usual.
Tianshu still towered amid the vast azure seas, never having departed; instead, it had gone through great pains to relocate from its original position to this place.
On the one hand, it was to monitor the contamination and fissures left behind by the Profound, preventing any renewed loss of control or resurgence; on the other, it was to commemorate the sacrifices of this struggle.
A catastrophic loss unprecedented in two hundred years: within a mere four days, seventeen Masters and one Grandmaster had perished one after another, buying the continuation of orthodoxy and the stability of the physical world.
And upon Tianshu Plaza now stood a stone monument crafted personally by Grandmaster Plowsmith—in accordance with Her Excellency Carrion Eater's last will, refined through a fusion of the foundations of modern alchemy she had established, alongside the six hundred and forty-four different skills and the crowning arts of sixteen schools she had founded throughout her life.
On the one hand, it showcased her contributions to the Association; on the other, it carried forward the radiance she had gifted—any artisan who came on pilgrimage could, to some extent, perceive and comprehend the exquisite subtleties within the stone monument. If their talent was sufficient and their direction aligned, they might very well replicate or carry on the Grandmaster's legacy through their own abilities.
The funeral held no sorrowful rituals or mawkish proceedings; there was only a brief address by Gustav, followed by a silent tribute from the artisans gathered for the ceremony.
The fresh flowers laid around the monument were continuously replaced, to the point where the entire stone monument was submerged and smothered in blooms several times over.
In four hundred years, there had never been such an astonishing spectacle. Artisans from diverse factions and lineages, hailing from the Federation, the Empire, and the Thousand Islands, set aside all divisions to pay their respects to the departed Grandmaster with the deference owed a beloved mentor.
Through four hundred years of guidance and tutelage, even if she had left behind no exclusive lineage or closely guarded secret techniques, nearly every artisan in the entire Association had inherited her past arts in some measure, having received her advice and blessings.
No matter how arrogant or aloof one might be, when confronted with such selfless generosity and hope, they would bow their heads willingly, mourning from the bottom of their hearts.
To say the whole world was clad in mourning white might have been an exaggeration, yet even if the Emperor himself had passed, hardly so many souls would have felt such heartfelt sorrow and regret.
There were even complaints and resentment toward the Association that had brought all this about, with denunciations and challenges flying at Gustav like snowflakes.
To this, Gustav offered no defense whatsoever, calmly and serenely accepting the criticism, letting the storm rise and fall. As the Council President, this was his duty; he had to answer for everything that transpired, good or ill.
No one within the Council used this to make trouble. Carrion Eater's disciple Li Lin and Plowsmith, who had not shown himself in public for a long time, also stepped forward voluntarily to offer an explanation.
Heaven-allotted lifespans have an end; life and death have their natural course.
Decades ago, the old lady's body had already begun to fail; the lengthy years of recuperation and treatment had merely been prolonging her final days.
To a degree, the Grandmaster's passing could already be considered a celebration of a life well lived.
Compared to ten or twenty more years of futile extension and doing nothing, she had chosen, as a Grandmaster and as an artisan, to dedicate one final transmutation and gift to the world.
For an artisan, wasting away on a sickbed was the true torment. What ending could be more beautiful than sacrificing one's life to take creation one step further?
And in the end, she had left behind such bountiful gifts and legacy.
When a whale falls, all life flourishes.
At the funeral, Gustav read out the will Her Excellency Carrion Eater had left in advance—even though the Grandmaster had not hoarded much private property in her lifetime, what she left behind was still an astronomical sum that left people dumbfounded.
Using this as the foundation, a fund was established and entrusted to the Association to provide aid and loans to young artisans of modest means. Properly managed, it would be sufficient to supply every future generation of outstanding newcomers who passed the examination and earned their artisan license with a sizable, low-interest loan as seed funding.
Yet this was still the most insignificant of the legacies Carrion Eater had left behind.
The final Virtuous Transmutation achieved by the Grandmaster directly delivered an all-around boost to the Embers of the present era—from top to bottom, front to back, three hundred and sixty degrees without a blind spot.
Ascension, Purification, Transmutation, and Integration—the efficiency and results across all four branches of modern alchemy received an uplift. The inverted Principle of the Griefsmith merged into the physical world, shaving off a sliver of failure's odds for future artisans while adding a glimmer of possibility for success.
If one were to draw a comparison to gacha games, it was akin to permanently boosting the drop rate for top-tier pulls from 0.8 percent to 0.85 percent.
It seemed negligible, but spread across every single artisan, it was an immeasurable boon!
From apprentices to Masters, every last one received this precious gift and wept with gratitude. After all, how often had so many projects and transmutations been pushed to the very end, exhausting all effort and lifeblood only to fall short at the final hurdle, missing success by no more than this negligible sliver?
How often did artisans of Stagnant Rot abandon all conscience, extinguish their humanity, and make preparations without regard for consequences or cost, just to fight for a sliver of improvement in their odds?
This gift overlooked not a single artisan; it even encompassed Stagnant Rot, transcending good and evil, love and hate, devoid of prejudice or pettiness.
It was precisely this philosophy of impartiality and benevolence that had forged the glorious achievements of Embers today. No matter how narrow-minded the speculations, none could diminish her final nobility.
As the funeral concluded, the crowd lingered still.
Amid the sense of loss and regret, everyone knew in their hearts... perhaps this moment of soundless silence was the final curtain dropping on an entire era.
With Carrion Eater's passing, everything she had once created would ultimately belong to the past. Swept along in the surging torrent of time, how many could avoid feeling bewildered and adrift?
Having waved farewell to this mentor, they had now graduated. In the days and years ahead, where would they go from here?
Soon, a new announcement issued by the Association was delivered into the hands of every artisan.
Grandmaster Plowsmith would assume Her Excellency Carrion Eater's duties within the Association, providing regular guidance and tutelage to newcomers over the coming century. The tradition pioneered by Her Excellency Carrion Eater would not waver in the slightest, destined to endure alongside the Association.
And the Association would implement a series of measures to ensure that the favors and creations left behind by Her Excellency Carrion Eater would neither be squandered nor forgotten.
A flurry of new regulations was introduced, including internal Association inspections, artisan evaluations, and the demarcation of entirely new treatment standards...
Seizing upon this grand triumph and Her Excellency Carrion Eater's sacrifice, the reforms planned and prepared for so long commenced.
"Just as you said, His Excellency Plowsmith has accepted the Association's plea and appointment..."
In the afternoon sunlight, Gustav sighed softly, marveling, "Truth be told, it truly exceeded expectations."
After all, given how aloof and reclusive Plowsmith was, he was notoriously difficult to deal with.
Of the three Grandmasters of the past, he had maintained the coldest distance from the Association. For him to step forward and shoulder this duty now was practically a miracle—as if smoke were pouring from the Association's ancestral graves—to the point where everyone's immediate reaction upon hearing it was to ask if it was some kind of joke.
"Plowsmith's temperament might be a bit eccentric, his thoughts a bit erratic, his tongue a bit sharp, and his actions a bit too blunt... but he is a Grandmaster after all. If duty calls for him to step forward, he won't shirk it."
Tianlu held his teacup, speaking slowly: "In a sense, as an artisan, no one is purer than him. Compared to a fellow like me, he's the one walking closest to the Association's path. In the future, if you have any troublesome matters, feel free to ask. As long as your attitude is sincere enough, he has such thin skin that he'll find it hard to refuse.
"Of course, if you push things too far... don't blame him when he leaves you on read and vanishes off the face of the earth."
"I understand."
Gustav offered a wry smile and sighed. The only person who could nitpick and talk about Plowsmith like that was Tianlu. For someone like Gustav, how could he presume to fathom or criticize the actions of a Grandmaster?
He set down his teacup and said solemnly, "The outcome of this contest was owed entirely to Your Excellency's stewardship. The Association is profoundly grateful from the bottom of our hearts. Thank you for your tireless efforts."
"No matter what, I am still Tianlu. There's no need to be so polite." Tianlu waved his hand casually. "I take it you didn't come to see me just to say this?"
At that, Gustav fell silent.
After a long pause, he sighed softly, took a deep breath, and asked frankly, "Grandmaster, you dislike the present Association, don't you?"
"..."
Tianlu's brows arched slightly. He turned his head and looked at him, surprised that he would be so direct. In sheer guts and mettle, he was certainly a cut above Delong.
Yet he didn't hide it either. "I just... don't like it that much."
"I understand."
Gustav lowered his head and said nothing further, but Tianlu's voice sounded: "Even if I don't care for it, it's fine this way. After all, creation is also an aspect of Embers. Even though I am Tianlu, I can't expect everyone to think the same as I do.
"Had the old lady not laid the foundations of the Association, how could the Embers of today have attained such glorious growth in their capacity as artisans?
"It isn't your fault. Such is the overarching trend; it is the same for anyone."
"Does the Grandmaster not wish to change it?"
"No need. You... are doing quite well."
Tianlu raised his head, looking toward the sky, and chuckled softly. "As long as neither side holds the other in contempt, it's fine.
"Like a married couple banding together to get by—circumstances are limited, so let's just endure and bear with each other.
"Although there's currently a fellow named Tianlu who refuses to leave and clings overhead, at least he can still keep out a bit of the wind and rain."
He said, "You need only do what you wish to do."
Gustav remained silent for a long while before nodding solemnly.
Just as he was about to speak again, a crisp sound rang out right beside him—as if some shackle had loosened from within Tianlu's body.
Suddenly, Gustav found it hard to breathe, his vision darkening in wave after wave.
An invisible torrent surged forth from that body, violently blanketing reality and shaking all phenomena, washing against the seals erected within the Border Realm, nearly swallowing the entirety of Tianshu within its reach.
That was...
"Too slow. A bunch of old bastards dawdling until now—what a disgrace."
The artisan on the armchair leaned on his cane and stood up, giving Gustav one last backward glance. "Sit tight for a moment. I'm going out."
Gustav broke out in a drenching sweat, his face turning pale.
He strained with all his might to lift his head, but it was too late to stop him. He could only manage a final question: "Are you planning to..."
"Dropping in on the Profound. Back in a bit."
A crack surfaced beneath the cane, tearing open and spreading wide. Tianlu stepped inside.
He vanished.
Silence. A long, suffocating silence. Gustav wiped away his sweat, snatched out his phone, and frantically dialed numbers, only to watch warning messages pop up across the screen one after another.
All that could be seen was the terrifying storm raging beneath the Vortex.
Sudden and without any warning, it came to an abrupt halt.
Fifteen minutes later, the rift opened once more.
Blood staining his white robes, Tianlu returned, leaning on his cane. The grinding sound of falling shackles rang out again, and the dreadful pressure dispersed without a trace.
Only a single, heavy object was tossed onto the table.
It sent a violent shock through Gustav's eyes.
He forgot to breathe.
"...An old tortoise will always be an old tortoise—runs damn fast."
Tianlu tossed his cane aside, slumped back into his chair, picked up the teacup, and drained it in a single gulp. He marveled with genuine feeling, "That was close. Almost wrecked the cart. Fortunately, I, Tianlu, am no slouch either...
"He wouldn't take the hook, but does that mean I can't jump into the pond? Did he really think I bought that stun baton for nothing?"
"D-Dead?"
Gustav was in disbelief.
"Half of him, maybe. The other half ran too fast, and I couldn't catch up in time. But it's enough to make him miserable for a few centuries."
Tianlu lowered his eyes, glancing at the object on the table, and let out a cold laugh. "Who would have thought that Stagnant Rot could actually possess a sincere heart?"
On the table, a heart as black as ironstone pulsed soundlessly.
Hairline cracks began to show.
Chapter 826