49 – The Turning of Fate

“Do people name their weapons here?” I asked the old man.

“Of course.”

I pulled out my hammer and casually wiped the dried blood from its head. “Good. Because I already have the perfect name for this beauty.”

My father raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”

I lifted the hammer high. “The Nutcracker.”

“No,” he said flatly.

“I think it’s pretty fitting,” I protested, waving the weapon around. “You think those five were the only pair of nuts this thing has cracked?”

“Back in Jinchuan, there were the Yougu sect remnants, the one that controls corpses. There’s this woman that controls a corpse puppet and when she died, she transferred her soul to the puppet.”

“You make a woman feel a man’s treasure being destroyed!?” The old man was surprised for the first time.

“Damn right! Haha!” I laugh while the old man is torn between smiling or cringing. “She felt every bit of it!”

After a long pause, he simply sighed.

“Suit yourself.”

“Nutcracker it is, then,” I declared, brooking no further argument.

Then I remembered something.

“By the way, I met with senior sister Hanhua.” I changed the topic. 

“She seems… odd,” I added carefully. It was hard to describe how she had started insulting me out of the blue. 

The old man’s expression didn’t change much, but I could tell he was listening closely.

“Why exactly don’t you want me interacting with her too much?” I try to ask. “I can know this much, right?”

“You can,” he said. “Hanhua… she desires the Xuan’s sword arts and sword refining arts.”

“Can she have it? Or is there an implication that I don’t know of?”

“The Xuan sword arts require a sword that has been personally refined with our family’s sword refining method,” he explained. “Those arts were created through the sacrifice of a thousand other sword styles. An ordinary sword artifact would shatter after a single swing. Even high-quality ones might only last a few strikes.”

I recalled how the sword he swung rings beautifully, echoed by the other swords, only to crumble into dust soon after at that workshop where I found and picked the Nutcracker. So it is a matter of compatibility and power?

“And how does one refine a sword using the Xuan method?” I asked.

“You’ll learn when the time comes,” he replied. “By family tradition, you will inherit the complete sword arts and refining techniques upon reaching the Golden Core realm.”

I nod. So that’s why he is quite insistent on me using swords. But swords are… eh. Overrated in my opinion. It was never the main weapon back on Earth and only sidearm at most. But this world is clearly played by different rules. Maybe I should reconsider. I still prefer the gun and hammer though. Also…

“This still doesn’t explain why I need to limit contact with her,” I pressed. “Is she greedy enough to be dangerous?”

“She has decided to dedicate her entire life for revenge. And she possesses the dangerous mindset that if one behaves correctly, the world must respond in kind.” 

“If only life worked that way,” I muttered.

The old man leaned forward, intrigued. “You speak from experience. Good.” He studied me for a moment. “Come to think of it, I’ve never asked you properly. What kind of world did my son come from? Have you ever thought about returning?”

I blinked in bewilderment. Never would have thought he would be interested. Before, there’s this sense of boundary. Like our adoptive relationship might be just a formality. This felt… different. Warmer. I suppose this is a good sign. But home…

“I don’t think I want to go back.” I answered honestly.

“Yes, we are at the peak of our civilizations.” I still saw the sun rings, the spaceships, and stations in wonder. “But it wasn’t exactly a good place to live.”

“After university, the number of people I met face to face for the next seven years is less than ten, half of which is family. I worked for a job posted by a machine, odd jobs here and there. Reviewed by a machine and dismissed by a machine.”

“Then there’s the end of the world, constantly hanging over our heads.” I look away, trying to think of how to explain nuclear weapons. ”What do you suppose a man would do, if they can make little suns and put them in containers?”

“They make weapons.” The old man answers.

“Yes. We have enough of these suns. To raze the entire surface of the earth more than two times over. There are efforts of course, so that no war breaks out.” I narrate, more remembering than explaining. “Then we make the spaceships, the one you call voidships. It was promised as the new age of exploration. To set foot, explore, and build on new worlds. It didn’t last long enough to matter. Anything that can carry a man, will carry weapons. And each spaceship can carry enough to raze a continent. Then space… was quickly forbidden. Spaceships that should be our hope to reach the stars quickly become a bad omen. It was never a good sign for even one to be visible in the sky.”

“But if you are strong enough, you may return and put a stop to this.” The old man quickly replied.

I take a long sigh. “Everyone keeps saying that.” I didn’t blame him. He doesn't know how much the sentence is repeated over and over. In school, ads, slogans, processed food, everything. Not verbatim, but the same in message.

“I’m tired… caring for the world.” Only then do I look back at him. “I’m sorry if that is disappointing.”

“It is not.” Was the only thing the old man said.

“So what’s after this then?” I shift the topic from the heavy stuff. “More missions?” 

“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “You’ve done enough.”

“I have done enough?” I repeat like a fool.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I am your father. I have said so.”

The word struck me stunned. No one has ever told me that before. It was… indescribable. I slump forward. Only now realizing that my back and shoulder tense all this time. Not anymore. Like a great burden has been lifted. Exhaustion came after.

“Come here.” He gestures to his lap.

I was hesitant. Before slowly and awkwardly placing my chin on my father’s lap. The size of my deer skull head and antlers make it difficult.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” I asked quietly.

“Of course.”

—

Back at Lingshan Temple, Fumo and Yinrui departed for the south. Changsheng saw them off at the gates, watching their figures disappear down the mountain path before returning to the Abbot’s quarters.

The temple had been in a flurry of activity ever since the Xuan left. The Abbot had ordered the disciples to copy every sutra and sacred art in their possession, while urgently recalling all monks currently traveling outside.

Changsheng entered the Abbot’s private study. His master was already waiting.

“Changsheng,” the Abbot said calmly, handing him a folded letter. “Check this for me, then, would you mind delivering it personally for me?”

Changsheng accepted the letter with both hands. Anything personally written by the Abbot and requiring his direct delivery was bound to be momentous. He opened it and his smile vanished in an instant. His fingers tightened, nearly crumpling the paper as his arms began to tremble. His composure broken in an instant.

“Master! This is…”

“Changsheng,” the Abbot interrupted gently. “The golden age has passed. There is nothing left of our sacred peaks. I… can no longer guide you all.”

“But this?” Tears welled in Changsheng’s eyes. “What about Eldest Brother?”

“Jianglong has already departed. He carries the Heart Refining Pagoda on his back. Whether the esteemed master can repair it or must destroy it to forge a new one… I leave to fate.” The Abbot’s voice remained steady. “As for the letter… The Emperor is wise. I trust he will do what is right.”

Inside was an official decree of submission. Lingshan Mountain and its surrounding blessed lands were to be ceded to the Emperor. The temple would disband. Those willing to follow the Abbot would embark on a long pilgrimage to Wújìn Cāngyuán (無盡蒼原|Endless Azure Plains). A plea for the Emperor to manage the land wisely.

Changsheng wiped his tears. He knew there was no room for objection. With a heavy heart, he kowtowed three times before his master, then rose and departed without another word.

—

Back in Tianhe, within Shengyuan peak (The healer’s peak), a woman entered a modest, sparsely furnished room. It was hers, though she rarely stayed long. She placed her sword beside the dresser and sat on the stool in front of the dressing table. A featureless mask covered her face. Slowly, deliberately, she removed it, then her cloak, her outer robes, and finally the rest of her clothes.

Beneath them lay a body almost entirely wrapped in bandages.

With the same careful movements, she began unwinding them. As the layers fell away, horrific burn scars were revealed. Twisted, blackened flesh that still smoldered, devouring her own Qi. The result of being burned by primordial fire.

Of Hanhua’s entire face, only her left eye untouched. Of her whole body, only her left shoulder and arm had been spared. It was as if she had been pinned beneath rubble that was burned with primordial fire.

She discarded the used bandages, now blackened and charred from absorbing the lingering fire. Then, with quiet endurance, she wrapped fresh ones around her wounds. A sharp gasp escaped her as the cold of the Ice Yin Qi-treated cloth touched her skin. It was supposed to soothe the burns.

It never did.

Once she was clothed again, she retreated to her bed. From her storage ring, she gently retrieved a burned skull and spine, placing them carefully on the pillow beside her head.

“This older sister is not weak.” She whispered. “I will be strong enough soon. I swear.”

—

Within the capital of Xian, in a certain room of a noble household, a loud hysterical laugh can be heard from the entire place.

“Great Fortune! Great Fortune!” A young woman shouted and laughed and spun gracefully with joy. She is Gù Línghuá (顧凌華|Noble Towering Brilliance), the second lady of the noble Gù family. Her beauty is counted among the top ten of the entire Xian.

“Not only I transmigrated into the Tài Xià Zhànjì (太夏戰紀|Supreme Summer War Records), I have the body of Gù Línghuá.” She mutters in joy.

“Ah~, all the love interests are wasted for the Heaven’s Chosen as the developer insists on not having a reverse harem route. But this doesn’t apply to me. Hehe” She hurriedly went to find a book and brush, writing down all the detail and plotline of the game that she have finished multiple times.

—

“So, can it be done?” I handed the strange rock to the Grand Strategist.

He examined it with his piercing purple eyes. Despite his immense cultivation and high position, he still wore simple, modest robes. His upright character and benevolent worldview had earned him widespread admiration and no small amount of jealousy. Even from me.

“This was supposed to be nothing more than a myth,” he murmured, tracing the spiraling symbol etched on its flat surface. The pattern seemed to writhe slowly, as if trying to swallow the world itself. “How did you even find this?”

“Does it matter? I got it.”

His smile faded. Those purple eyes turned toward me, radiating an inscrutable, unfathomable presence that could see through the fabric of the world.

“It can work,” he said grimly. “But it can only be activated if someone has already meddled with time… or completely upended the fate of the world.” I shuddered at his words.

Then, he presented it back to me. 

“What are you doing? Immediately I back away a step.

“You have to use it.” He followed with two.

“Why don’t you use it yourself? You are the one that has me looking for it!

“It's too late for me. This is a Mortal grade realm. If I use it, the Heavenly Dao might retaliate for my overreach.” The Grand Strategist explains.

I stopped. “Did you just say I can use it because I am weak enough?”

“Yes.”

A boy gasped awake inside a cramped wooden barrack. A measly insignificant outer sect disciple of the Tianjian Sect.As he looked around, memories that shouldn’t exist flooded his mind. He had lived in this room for a long time. He recognized the snoring disciples, the creaking floorboards, even the faint smell of stale sweat.

“I succeeded…?” the boy whispered in disbelief, then shouted with joy. “I actually succeeded!”

A wooden plate flew at his face. He tried to catch it, but his body felt sluggish and weak compared to what he remembered. The plate smacked him hard on the forehead, knocking him flat.

“Shut up! It’s not even afternoon yet!” roared the fat outer disciple in charge of the barracks, the same bully who would make his outer sect days hell.

But this time, the boy wasn’t afraid.

He lay there, recalling his final conversation with the Grand Strategist.

‘I am already in the Nascent Soul realm. Using this would invite punishment from the Heavenly Dao. You are still Golden Core, still within the bounds of this Mortal-grade realm.’

“Big news! Big news!!” An outer sect crier sprinted past the barracks, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Elder Xuan Luochen has adopted a son!”

“His son has killed the Young Master of Dugu family, Heiress of Nangong family, Undefeated Fighter of Dongfang family, Little Strategist of Gongsun clan, and the Second Young Master of Ouyang Family!”

The announcement jolted the entire barracks awake. Even the fat manager froze in shock. Cold sweat drenched the boy’s back. In his hundred-plus years of memories, there had never been an adopted son of Xuan.

‘Remember, since this artifact can be used, it means someone has already tampered with time or fate. Possibly long before the war. This is a second chance… but Heaven will try to correct any anomalies. The past you arrive in may not be exactly as you remember it.’ The Grand Strategist’s final words echoed loudly in his mind.

‘So come find me. I should still be acting like a little shit. I would be glad to call you my sworn brother. My name wasn’t yet Jìzhào (寂照 | Silent Illumination), but — —’ The boy panicked as he realized he couldn’t remember the Grand Strategist’s mortal name. 

But one thing remained crystal clear.

 ‘I should be still getting my older sister in trouble. Her mortal name is still the same, Sùxīn (素心|Plain Heart). When you find her, please… protect her.’

The boy clenched his fists, etching the name of Heaven’s Chosen deep into his heart. 

This time, he would protect her before and during the war. 

Maybe this time, she can be saved. 

Besides, he is eager to see what kind of brat the Grand Strategist was.

—

A little girl with fiery red hair desperately fought back her tears, but ragged sobs still escaped her. Her small body trembled with fear and crushing guilt. In both hands, she gripped a kitchen knife so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Before her, knelt the village uncle who had helped her escape the ruins of her home and accompanied her all the way to Jinchuan. His limbs were broken and twisted at unnatural angles. Blood soaked his clothes and pooled beneath him.

Her breath hitched as a cold, wrinkled hand settled heavily on her shoulders.

“This is your fault Suxin.” An icy old voice whispered from behind her. “If you kill him like I asked, you will be my disciple already.” 

The old voice continued, merciless. “Didn’t you say you wanted revenge? This is the path. You must sever the last chain that makes you weak.”

“Su… xin…” the uncle choked out, blood bubbling from his mouth.

“It’s okay…. It’s okay…” he rasped, forcing the words through agony. The same words he repeated when he held and closed her eyes as the beast killed his brother. The same comfort he offered her now. She could hear the terrible pain it cost him to speak.

This is her fault. It is always her fault. If she didn’t save the cultivator at the river, her brother might still be alive. If she hadn’t cried about wanting revenge, the uncle wouldn’t be here suffering. He had wanted to teach her how to sew clothes…

She couldn’t bear to see him in such pain any longer.

With trembling hands, Suxin raises the knife.

And plunged it into his heart.