Chapter 115: Fireworks

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city…

March 7th was scuffing the toe of his boot against a loose paving stone, his expression a perfect storm of impatience. He kicked at a small pebble, sending it skittering across the street.

“That guy Chen…” he grumbled under his breath, his words a low, frustrated hiss. “He says he’s going to ‘investigate,’ but everything’s almost wrapped up here and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him!”

Nearby, Ms. Welt stood in quiet conversation with Fu Xuan, the formidable Grand Diviner of the Xianzhou Luofu’s Divination Commission.

“…And that is the situation in brief,” Fu Xuan concluded, closing the glowing jade scroll in her hand with a soft click. Her voice was as steady and unyielding as carved stone. “Kafka has been apprehended and is currently being held in temporary custody by the Commission. General Jing Yuan’s request is that you all proceed to the Divination Commission to await his arrival. Once he has dealt with the remaining trivialities here, he will arrange a time to debrief you personally.”

Ms. Welt adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “We are grateful for your assistance, Lady Fu Xuan. If I may ask, do you have an estimate for how long we will need to wait?”

“It will not be an excessive amount of time,” Fu Xuan replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You will be notified of the precise time.”

Her sharp gaze then drifted past Ms. Welt, sweeping over the pouting March 7th, who was still kicking imaginary enemies on the pavement. From there, her eyes settled on the ever-silent Caelus. The gray-haired trailblazer stood perfectly still, his golden eyes fixed on a point in the distant sky, though what he saw there, no one could say.

“Then it is settled,” Fu Xuan declared.

Meanwhile, far above the city streets, suspended high in the ink-black sky…

Chen’s knuckles were white as he gripped the cold metal edge of a crude ejection seat. The wind howled past his ears, a raw and hungry sound. Below him, the starship’s blue engine flare had dwindled to a pathetic flicker. The makeshift energy shield he’d jury-rigged had finally exhausted its last reserves, and with a groan of protesting metal, the entire vessel gave up its fight against gravity and began its terminal descent.

“Energy depleted… right on schedule,” Chen murmured to himself, a faint smirk playing on his lips. There wasn’t a trace of panic in his expression; this was all part of the plan.

‘Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. Did they really think I’d make the same mistake twice?’

His fingers moved nimbly, giving a final check to the device strapped to the back of his seat. It was an escape mechanism he had cobbled together in a hurry—crude, perhaps, but infinitely better than becoming a smear on the pavement below.

“Geo-Map, retract!”

With a silent command, the small robotic drone that had been clinging faithfully to the starship’s control console dematerialized, safely stored away in his system inventory.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Chen slammed his palm down on the large red ejection button mounted on the seat’s side.

With a violent thump-hiss, the seat rocketed away from the plummeting starship, launching him a dozen meters higher into the air. For a heart-stopping moment, he was in freefall again, but almost instantly, he yanked the ripcord.

A massive canopy blossomed above him in the moonlight, catching the air with a deafening CRACK. His rapid descent slowed dramatically, replaced by a gentle, swaying drift.

Now floating serenely, Chen settled back into his seat. He peered down at the dark shape of the starship wreckage accelerating away from him, a wide, wicked grin spreading across his face.

“And now,” he announced to the night sky, “for the main event! Let’s have some fireworks!”

The last word was punctuated by his right hand slapping down on another, very specific button on the seat’s armrest.

Deep within the powerless, falling husk of the starship, a single red light blinked to life. It was the trigger for a command Chen had pre-programmed. The wreckage shuddered violently. Then, defying all logic and gravity, it ceased its fall. With a final, defiant roar, it surged upwards, climbing several hundred meters as if clawing its way back into the heavens for one last moment of glory.

And then—

BOOM!

The night was torn asunder.

A colossal, golden-red fireball, grander and more brilliant than any celebratory firework, bloomed silently in the vast emptiness. It swelled to a diameter of thirty, then forty meters, a miniature sun born and dying in an instant. At its core burned a point of incandescent, white-gold light that was almost too bright to look at, briefly illuminating half the district below in an ethereal, daytime glow.

A moment later, the sound followed—a deep, chest-rattling concussion. A chain reaction of secondary explosions began to ripple through the heart of the fireball. A dense, crackling barrage erupted from within, sending out countless fine streams of fiery sparks that painted the sky in glittering, cascading trails. It was a perfect imitation of the most spectacular, high-grade ceremonial fireworks reserved for grand festivals.

But this was no mere explosion. Every joule of energy, every degree of heat, was precisely calibrated according to the ratios Chen had set. The intense temperatures didn’t just blow the starship apart; they flash-vaporized its metallic structure. Shards and shrapnel that could have rained down and caused untold damage were instantly incinerated, reduced to nothing more than drifting, incandescent ash.

As the fine metallic dust began to settle, it caught the moonlight, creating the illusion of a brief, shimmering rain of light.

“Whoa—!”

Down on the street below, March 7th’s head snapped up, his earlier frustration forgotten. His eyes went wide with wonder.

“No way… they even have a fireworks show?!”

Ms. Welt also looked up, pushing her glasses higher on her nose as she stared intently at the unusual celestial display. Her expression was one of deep contemplation, not celebration.

Fu Xuan, however, frowned. Her brow furrowed as she analyzed the slowly dissipating cloud of glowing dust. She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible, “At this time… in this location… there are no scheduled pyrotechnics. And that detonation pattern…”

Her words trailed off, her mind already racing, dissecting the anomaly with cold, sharp precision.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]