Chapter 137: Arrival

The chilling sting of Jingliu’s world-sundering strike still lingered in the air, a phantom cold that clung to the very atoms of the chamber. Yet, as the blinding flash of power finally receded, Chen, the epicenter of it all, remained standing.

He casually patted his clothes, brushing away nonexistent dust as if he had done nothing more strenuous than take a short walk. With a thought, the form of the legendary swordmaster dissolved, and he reverted to the familiar black-haired, black-eyed youth. He bounced on the balls of his feet, a picture of boundless energy, as if that cataclysmic attack had absolutely nothing to do with him.

“Whew, all done!” Chen stretched with a theatrical yawn, his tone so relaxed it bordered on lazy.

“Xing… Chen… you…” March 7th’s hand, still pointing, trembled uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide, darting from the spot where the Abundant Ebon Deer had been utterly annihilated to the perfectly refreshed Chen. Her mind felt like it was short-circuiting, struggling to process the flood of impossible information. “You… you’re completely fine?! Weren’t you just…”

“Ah, that,” Chen waved a dismissive hand, explaining the phenomenon as if he were merely commenting on the weather. “Just a minor issue. The power consumption from that last move? Switching back to my own body made it like it never even happened.”

“That’s… that’s incredible!” March 7th’s shock rapidly morphed into bubbling excitement. She bounced over to Chen, her eyes sparkling with a hero-worshipping gleam. “And! Chen, all the characters you transform into are so beautiful!”

She ticked them off on her fingers. “That pink-haired big sister was so serious, but so cute at the same time! And also…”

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that failed to hide her intense curiosity. She gestured vaguely to the spot where Jingliu had stood moments before. “Who was that white-haired, blindfolded sister? I’ve never seen her before! She… she’s so strong! But she felt… so cold, and so sad.”

The question hung in the air, drawing the attention of everyone present.

Chen scratched his cheek, a flicker of unease in his eyes. Jingliu’s identity was a hornet’s nest on the Xianzhou Luofu, deeply entangled with the tragic history of the High-Cloud Quintet, the Imbibitor Lunae Incident, and the ultimate taboo of the Mara-Struck. He opted for a strategic dodge, forcing a lighthearted laugh.

“Her? She’s… more like a borrowed power,” he said, choosing his words with uncharacteristic care. His tone turned serious for a brief moment. “A senior who left behind many legends on the Xianzhou long ago, but whose story didn’t have a happy ending. As for who she is exactly, it involves some old Xianzhou affairs, so I’d rather not say more.” He grinned, his usual levity returning. “All we need to know is that she can fight!”

Ms. Welt, ever perceptive, understood the unspoken message and smoothly took control of the conversation. “Everyone has their own past and their own sources of power. There’s no need to probe further. For now, the immediate crisis has been averted. We must take the hidden path to the Alchemy Commission at once to rendezvous with Lady Fu Xuan.” She turned her gaze to Chen. “Chen, can you still move?”

“Absolutely! I’m in top form!” Chen immediately straightened his back, striking a pose to indicate he was ready for action.

Ms. Welt nodded, her expression firm as she turned toward the passage entrance. “First, let’s reunite with Mr. Tingyun and Master Gongshu and brief them on the situation.”

“Right, right, almost forgot about them.” Chen slapped his forehead. He spun around and started walking back the way they came, raising his voice to a shout that echoed through the now-empty core of the Artisanship Commission.

“Master Gongshu! Mr. Tingyun! It’s all taken care of! Come on out and check it out!”

A few moments later, Mr. Tingyun’s elegant figure and Master Gongshu, still clutching her massive wrench, emerged from the shadows near the entrance. They had clearly followed instructions, waiting in a relatively safe location, and the tension of the long wait was still etched on their faces.

However, the moment they stepped fully into the chamber and took in the scene before them, that tension was instantly vaporized, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock.

The expected aftermath of a brutal battle—scorched metal, shattered debris, the gruesome remains of the Ambrosial Arbor—was nowhere to be seen. The area was clean. Unnaturally, eerily clean. The only evidence of the conflict was the piercing, bone-chilling cold that had yet to fully dissipate and the scars left behind.

Etched into the ground and even across the towering metal exterior of the Creation Furnace were impossibly clean, bottomless sword marks. They silently, terrifyingly testified to the power of the strike that had made them. Everything the blade’s path had crossed, whether it was the last vestiges of the Ambrosial Arbor’s roots or the thick metal plating of the furnace itself, had been severed with a cut so impossibly smooth it looked like a mirror’s edge. It was as if the world’s most precise instrument had sliced through reality in a single instant, then eternally sealed the wounds in a layer of cryogenic frost.

Clang.

Master Gongshu Liang’s wrench clattered to the ground once more. Her mouth hung agape as she stared, dumbfounded, at the flawless sword marks on the floor. Her gaze traveled up to the miraculously intact furnace, now adorned with what looked like a few decorative etchings, before finally locking onto the very lively Chen.

“Resolved? Those roots? They’re just… gone?”

Though Mr. Tingyun maintained his refined posture, his gentle eyes could not conceal his own deep astonishment. He crouched down, his slender fingers lightly brushing over a sword mark on the ground. A lingering chill, so potent it felt capable of freezing the soul itself, bit at his fingertips. He took a deep, steadying breath, slowly rose to his feet, and looked at Chen with an entirely new level of respect.

“Incredible… To possess such means… Mr. Chen, and all of you… are truly astonishing.”

“Hehe, no big deal, no big deal,” Chen accepted the praise without a shred of modesty, shaking his head with a proud little smirk. “I told you it was a one-click clear service, satisfaction guaranteed. Master Gongshu, go ahead and check the furnace. The core should be perfectly fine. Think of those marks as some personalized exterior artwork—it won’t affect performance, right?”

Only then did Gongshu Liang snap out of her stupor. She rushed to the furnace, her hands flying over its surface, touching here, inspecting there. She paid special attention to several energy circuit nodes that had been grazed by the sword marks. After confirming that everything was stable, she let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, turning to the group with a smile that was equal parts grateful and fearful.

“It’s fine! The furnace structure is stable, and the core energy flow is normal! The root erosion has completely stopped!” she exclaimed. “Th-thank you all! This is… this is a miraculous skill!”

“It is good that the crisis is resolved,” Ms. Welt interjected, forestalling what might have become a lengthy session of mutual praise. She turned to Mr. Tingyun. “Please continue to guide us. We must get to the Alchemy Commission as quickly as possible.”

Mr. Tingyun’s expression grew serious once more, his surprise receding as he nodded sharply. “Indeed. There is no time to waste. Please, follow me.”

Without another word, he turned and led the group swiftly through the now-cleared rear passages of the Artisanship Commission. Soon, they arrived at the juncture connecting to the Alchemy Commission.

The door slid open.

Before them lay a broad street, but it was a far cry from its usual orderly appearance. The scene was shocking. Figures in the distinctive armor of the Cloud Knights were strewn haphazardly across the pavement.

Some had fallen mid-charge, their cloud-knifers dropped from lifeless hands. Some had slid down against walls, their helmets shattered. Others lay in clusters of three or five, the grim tableau of a desperate melee. Most were completely motionless, their condition unknown, while the groans of a few wounded survivors were a faint, agonizing counterpoint to the silence.

It was clear that the Cloud Knights vanguard, led by Fu Xuan, had already clashed with the enemy here—the fanatical Disciples of Sanctus Medicus and the Abominations of Abundance they commanded. A fierce battle had taken place, and from the looks of it, the situation was not good.

A sharp gasp escaped March 7th’s lips. She instinctively tightened her grip on her bow, the earlier excitement on her face completely erased and replaced by wide-eyed distress.

“So many people…”

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]