Chapter 238.1: Poison and Medicine Part 1

Far above the earth, fierce winds howled. The tremors and rumbles from the ground below were faint, and death and destruction seemed impossibly far away, yet the deadly struggle raging across the heavens felt close enough to touch.

Looking up, Ji Jue saw a darkened sky, as though gods had descended upon the world, only to wage war against one another. On the other hand, when he looked down, he saw the world washed in white, with everything reduced to the size of ants.

As those ants ceaselessly slaughtered each other, they screamed and sobbed. From the heavens to the earth, the entire world was in turmoil, with conflict filling every corner. In a way, it was kind of like a chessboard. But what kind of invisible hand was manipulating it all? Who stood beyond the heavens above? Could this, too, have been part of the so-called Divine Mandate?

Ji Jue looked up at the shattered boundary membrane before Jian Yuan, then at the enormous roaring engine beyond it. His thoughts were a mess.

Suddenly, Jian Yuan turned around. Flames rose within his emerald eyes as he studied Ji Jue. “You seem nervous.”

“I am.” Ji Jue lowered his gaze and silently gripped the handles of his wheelchair. “How can anyone not be nervous after seeing all this?” ℯℯ𝘭.

Jian Yuan glanced at the wheelchair as though he could see the blade concealed within it.

“This isn’t the best opportunity to strike,” he warned.

“I know. That’s precisely why I’m nervous.” Ji Jue smiled faintly, not even trying to hide anything. He sneaked a glance behind Jian Yuan. “What is that?”

“Nothing more than a remnant of former glory.” Jian Yuan reached out and ran a hand over the blazing engine as it roared away, then he sighed. “Lu Changsheng offered it as payment for my assistance. It’s the legacy of the final Titan. According to him, it was hidden here all along. People searched for it for generations, yet all their efforts proved futile.”

Ji Jue flashed a mocking smile. “You couldn’t make something like this yourself?”

Jian Yuan shook his head. “Even if I could, what difference would it make? Its value lies not in this shell, but in the purpose it was created to serve, and in the Skyrail behind it, which once connected the entire world.”

For a single moment, Ji Jue wanted to throw himself toward the engine, cross the short distance between them, and awaken the remnant spirit struggling within its cage, but he couldn’t move. Reason held his body in check, forcing him to remain perfectly still in the wheelchair. When he swept his peripheral vision across the surroundings, he discovered that President had vanished without a trace, and his heart sank even further.

It was bad enough that President was a dog. Worse, the damn dog was also a useless boss[1]. It somehow managed to be the two most irritating things in the world at once: utterly useless and a boss. How had Ji Jue ever been blind enough to place his hopes in it?

Jian Yuan and the engine were right before him. He would have only one chance. So, he had to wait.

“Isn’t this precisely what you came here for?” Jian Yuan asked, mocking Ji Jue.

Ji Jue didn’t respond. All he could do was watch in silence as Jian Yuan went on.

“In the past, ‘Onyxist’ was merely an umbrella term. In fact, the vast majority of the members came from within the Eternal Empire. Take the last Titan, for example. When he sacrificed himself to stand in the Emperor’s way, who could have imagined that the Emperor’s right-hand man would one day draw his sword against his leader?”

Jian Yuan looked back at Ji Jue, his gaze falling upon the hands clenched tightly around the wheelchair’s armrests. His expression was full of playful mockery. “You bear Pacifier and carry the Sage’s legacy. How can you possibly know nothing about this?”

Ji Jue wouldn’t stay silent this time. He merely shook his head, unconcerned. “And what if I truly know nothing?”

Jian Yuan watched him. Was Ji Jue deliberately putting on an act, or was he only making some mocking joke? Either way, he didn’t care. He truly thought nothing of the so-called Titan’s legacy.

“It makes no difference whether you know or not. The past is gone. It cannot be reclaimed, much less relied upon. If one truly wishes to usher in a new era, how can one place one’s hopes in the fading glory of what once was?” Jian Yuan raised a hand toward the sky. “Today, I’ll show you just how much of the Skyrail’s former glory can be restored through a work of my own making.”

Boundless streams of dark light spewed from the workshop. They surged into the heavens and spilled across the earth, forming a colossal pillar that stretched between sky and ground. It seemed to pierce through the very axis of heaven and earth as it stood at the very center of the world, where Origin was.

The boundary membrane collapsed completely, disintegrating and melting away like snow. From within came the deafening blare of the engine running at full force, resounding across heaven and earth.

As lightning struck, Ji Jue tried to rise, only for his vision to darken in waves. He couldn’t move! All over his neck, heart, arms, legs, right eye, and internal organs, every punishment Jian Yuan had ever inflicted upon him activated. The cold, pitch-black runes began to circulate, shifting of their own accord like living creatures.

The instant they linked together, they underwent an earth-shattering transformation and turned into a lock that pierced through Ji Jue’s flesh and soul, sealing him completely and shackling him within his own body.

Jian Yuan raised both hands. From his battered body, riddled with countless holes, an immense matrix unfurled like the tangled, vast roots of an ancient tree, shifting through the air and transforming into an intricate spirit matter structure. Then, it plunged into the engine and seized control of everything. It was a perfect fit, like a key sliding into a lock.

A click resounded across heaven and earth.

The engine’s roar and discordant clamor vanished, whatever resistance it had offered disappearing without a trace. In their place rose a magnificent hymn, formed from the overlapping vibrations of countless pieces of steel.

Spring City shook violently as the sky split apart. A purple-black fissure opened above, stretching across the entire city. A second fissure followed, crossing the first like a bloodstained cross. These were wounds in the world itself, and beyond them loomed a colossal presence formed from boundless darkness and eerie streams of light. Though only the smallest fragment of it had revealed itself, it seemed vast enough to swallow the entire world.

Ji Jue finally saw the thing known as Maelstrom!

Visions of fire and frost, collapse and rupture, devastation and annihilation flashed before his eyes. Merely gazing upon it caused numerous visions, or perhaps fragments of history, to unfold before his eyes. There was nothing within reach but unfathomable darkness. It felt as though he were falling into a bottomless abyss.

Streams of light flashed from the engine, shooting in every direction. They descended across Spring City and linked together the enormous structures buried throughout the region.

Colossal alchemical creations were driven into overload, burning until they glowed red-hot. The streams of light broke through Origin’s blockade, following invisible tracks toward the facilities that had long since been established throughout Haizhou. Just like that, the network spread everywhere.

This was the Skyrail Jian Yuan had rebuilt!

No one knew how many years he had spent preparing for this. The Heretic Cult had plotted and maneuvered between city-states, planting dormant alchemical constructs and establishing esoteric rituals in cities, throughout the wilderness, and among ruins while waiting for the appointed day to arrive.

Now, with a mere flick of a finger, translucent tracks of flowing light spread like a web and completely enveloped Haizhou, but not even that was enough. They continued extending toward the Endless Sea and beyond, reaching in every direction.

Deep beneath Spring City, amid the numerous living sacrifices and corpses offered as tribute, a bare-chested old monk slowly raised his eyes. The sutras sewn across his lips tore apart thread by thread. He opened his mouth and chanted scriptures that had long since been tainted by corruption as lightning flared in his eyes. Neither his words nor his voice could be heard. Only a vast surge of spirit matter poured forth.

The instant his seven days of chanting came to an end, many words seemed to overlap into one, soaring into the sky before pouring into the intersecting wounds above. Amid that hymn, woven from endless malignant thoughts, distorted perceptions, profane whispers, and corrupt imaginings, Maelstrom trembled and let out a deafening roar.

It was like the tolling of a great bell. That dark, monstrous toll traveled along the tracks Jian Yuan had created, resounding throughout Haizhou and spreading ever farther.

A call rang out. The whole world seemed to freeze, and all fell silent. Wherever the toll passed, everyone and everything came to a halt.

Across cities, wilderness, ruins, and farmland, wisps of pitch-black mist rose from former battlefields and burial grounds, from beneath the soil, among corpses, inside graves, within the so-called sanctuaries of underground churches, and even from living people.

The suffering inflicted by Origin’s shackles, the resentment born of White Deer’s tyranny, the yearning of those denied Ascension, the greed of those who had schemed for every possible advantage, the pain created by conflict, the deaths caused by calamity, and the delusions of those lost in illusion—over the long years, all the evil that had lain dormant within the land and people’s souls rushed forth, answering the call.

All the evil of the Four Seas charged!

The dark, iridescent glow in the sky was on the verge of collapsing beneath the blazing onslaught. From within it came a sigh, followed by a quiet laugh.

“Mr. Tao, I won this round.”

As Changsheng spoke, the earth convulsed and boundless darkness erupted. Buried evil amassed like an ocean, while countless malevolent forces surged like a tide. When centuries of accumulated evil from across Haizhou converged in one place, it formed a vast, black cascade that loomed over all of Spring City, shrouding everything beneath it as it slowly descended.

The surging blaze of light did not falter for even a moment. It stood directly before the black cascade, holding back the accumulated evil of all Haizhou just as it had once held up the entirety of Spring City!

Everyone in Spring City trembled as they looked up at the sky. Should that cascade fall and blow up alongside the city, vast as Haizhou was, how much of it could possibly survive?

The world seemed poised to end in the very next moment—the apocalypse had arrived. The sky collapsed, the earth shook, and everything fell apart, just as it had in this city decades ago.

The wails buried beneath the Ninefold Earth, the cries entombed beneath the ruins, the unclaimed bones, and the remnant spirits that had never moved on all seemed to come alive once more. Under an unprecedented onslaught of corruption, scenes from the past reappeared, only to vanish again almost at once, flashing by like fleeting reflections right before Ji Jue’s eyes.

Blood trickled down a shattered face and disappeared into the unseen earth below. Amid the rising flames, one screaming figure after another vanished from sight. He thought he heard someone crying, but during the stampede, no one else noticed.

A child sat sprawled on the ground, struggling to get up with no avail. She looked around blankly and cried out, but saw nothing except ruins. A slender, unsteady figure rushed toward her. She stumbled, scrambled back to her feet, and crawled forward on hands and knees before pulling the child into a tight embrace, holding her with all her strength.

Lowering her head, she murmured gentle words of comfort. She smiled as though she were saying something positive, but the words didn’t make it to anyone’s ears. Tears slipped down her pale cheeks. They traced the curve of the smile, reflecting the last fading glimmer of light.

Ji Jue reached out instinctively, wanting to touch her, but the vision quickly dissolved once more. She had died long ago, many years before. She had long been forgotten, overlooked, and buried.

Ji Jue looked blankly around him and asked hoarsely, “What will happen to Haizhou?”

Jian Yuan considered it for a moment. “Probably half of it will be contaminated.”

“What about Cliff City?”

“With some luck, it’ll escape the worst of it. It’s a long way from here, after all,” Jian Yuan answered without the slightest concern. “But even so, what does any of that have to do with you?”

Ji Jue glared at him and opened his mouth to speak, only to see the mocking smile on Jian Yuan’s face.

“Do you truly care as much as you think you do? Have you ever actually managed to save anything?”

1. In Chinese internet slang and everyday speech, “dog” is often used as an insult or a teasing label for someone who behaves despicably, annoyingly, unpredictably, or does something outrageous at another person’s expense. This line wouldn’t make sense if translated literally into English, hence I changed it to “useless boss.” ☜