It had been nearly a quarter of an hour since Shekri and his team endured countless hardships, breaking through all obstacles.

Finally rushing into the gates of the Tower of Audience, they were immediately faced with the rioting darkness and numerous maddened shadows attacking and entangling them.

The bandages on Shekri's body instantly unravelled, releasing a rotten stench that spread and caused everything to decay and wither, even the darkness rapidly losing its depth.

And within his body, the sound of rupture was incessant.

The pressure of the tower's shadow rapidly increased, targeting them progressively.

And just as he barely made it to the top of the tower, he was met with a scene of chaos, with scorched marks and cracks everywhere, only patches of sticky blood were left behind.

Yet, there were no corpses to be found anywhere.

Such a scene wasn't due to accidentally triggering some temple taboo; rather, it seemed like a massacre had occurred! A withering slaughter and brutal, fierce ravaging!

Yet, the scene was too clean. Besides the blood and cracks, there wasn't even a trace of spiritual essence or fragments of flesh remaining.

As if everything had been devoured entirely by an unseen monster.

Realizing the scene in an instant, Shekri retreated swiftly without hesitation, even disregarding the taboo against ascending, vaulting directly off the tower's edge and plummeting downwards.

And at the last moment, a crisp sound rang out.

—Within the core of the high tower, the self-destruction sequence, initiated!

Along with the tremor resonating throughout the Crack Realm, the invasion bell within the temple rang out fiercely, echoes high-pitched, darkness flooding like a spring, wantonly sweeping everything away.

The vast Tower of Audience collapsed with a thunderous explosion, the terrifying shockwave erupting from nowhere, sweeping in all directions.

Countless subordinates who had no time to dodge were torn apart by the unleashed Thunderbolt and Flame Light, thrown skyward, shattered along with bricks and stones.

"Damn it!"

Shekri, mid-air, felt his heart tighten, unable to care about the countless black lines entangling him after violating the prohibition, turned back in shock: "Wuyou, be careful!"

It was too late.

As the ritual of audience was completely interrupted with the destruction of the last high tower, the alarms had already been triggered.

The fury buried within the temple erupted together with the darkness!

Amidst the roar, the walls of the Forbidden Domain trembled violently, doors of grandeur appearing out of nowhere, and grotesque, savage faces surfaced within, opening their eyes.

They began to attack indiscriminately any creature dares to venture close.

At the forefront was Wuyou, now stared at by dozens of faces, each crimson pupil brimming with wrath, delivering absolute retribution without reservation!

[Death to the Usurper]!

In the midst of high and shrill bell tolls, murky clouds appeared out of nowhere overhead, like an iron curtain, obscuring the last sliver of illusory daylight.

A massive riot of residual shadows and black lines ensued, plunging into complete madness.

Thus begins the night of brutal carnage!

.

.

No longer could the outside world's catastrophic upheaval be heard, only the crisp ticking echoed within the dead silence.

Inside the workshop of the Doomsday Special Train, a brand-new space unfolded from the darkness, where, under hanging chains, shell after shell of nearly lifeless bodies hung suspended.

Mercury flowed, penetrating the bodies, under the reverse suppression of solid alchemy, shackling the soul, sealing everything.

Like dripping water, blood and life alike gradually ebbed away.

When a slight breeze blew from the ducts, the suspended bodies began to sway, like wind chimes in the moaning and sighing intervals, resonating crisply.

"Modern Alchemy, after four hundred years of development, has encompassed all aspects, blood, flesh, spiritual essence, soul, consciousness, resentment, Curse…

The life and value of a person has gradually risen with the development of alchemy. Until today, even the worthless, once despised like wild grass, can become priceless.

The essence of alchemy is to transcend the mundane, to purify gold from rusty iron.

However, the applications and effects of Mutated Alchemy surpass even the associations constrained by human morals.

Of the techniques I know, there are twelve distinct Great Evils, three categories, and sixteen types of transformative Mutant technologies, seventy-seven forms, and transformations of the Great Evil...

The quantity possessed and comprehended surpasses even that."

Ji Jue stood before the workbench, categorizing and placing tools, elaborating on their functions one by one, and even demonstrating each detail on the spot.

No concealment, no reservations.

"Now, you can choose, as material, to have one last effect, I assure you, your consciousness and soul, after receiving Zhi Fu's grace, will remain forever unextinguished throughout millennia of torment.

Alternatively, you can choose a simpler, easier method beneficial to all… we could conclude everything."

At that moment, the crisp sound rang again.

The sealing and restraints of mouths and tongues loosened amid wails, cries, shouts, or pleas.

"Now, you can tell me."

Ji Jue raised his head, gazing at the distorted faces before him, and finally asked:

"His name."

.

.

An hour later, Ji Jue stepped out of the workshop.

Behind the closed door, in the darkness, there was only dead silence.

Pale light shone down, illuminating his face, hands, and the blood on his body, layer upon layer, flowing down like a winding river, painting shockingly scarlet patches.

As if lost in thought, he familiarly approached the sink, adhering to standard operating procedures, and washed and cleaned after the task.

Strands of blood blurrily diffused under the wash of water, streaming over the white porcelain, disappearing into the drain.

In the reflection of the Mirror, his fingers, hands, neck, hair, and face, all residual traces gradually vanished, except for the burn scar on his face, still appearing red.

No matter how hard he scrubbed and rubbed, it wouldn't go away. Instead, more and more blood blurredly spread from his fingertips, equally scarlet and bright, yet so glaring, meandering knowingly, bringing waves of raw and dull ache.

In that moment, Ji Jue lowered his gaze in confusion, staring at his hands.

After a long time, he finally realized.

"So that's it..."

He smirked self-deprecatingly, "It's my blood."

"Sir, are you alright?"

Sparkles of light appeared from behind Ji Jue, converging.

Ji Jue raised his eyes, looking towards the Projection in the Mirror.

Snap!

At that moment, a cracking sound emerged from the surface of the Mirror, cracks interwoven, splitting the face within the reflection.

Unrecognizable.

It's like waking up suddenly from a long and hazy dream; thus, gradually realizing amidst the winding cracks.

In unprecedented tranquility, thoughts flow.

Seeder, beneath the Vortex, the plight of the Flame Tide, Lord Wuyou, the curse of White Country, Wolf Nest...

Clearly, he should be furious, roaring with anger and regret, but at this moment, the only thing emerging from his heart is an indescribable joy.

So light and easy.

He closed his eyes and smiled silently.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not, sir."

The spiritual projection changes, hesitates, staring at him intently: "You... are in pain."

"Perhaps? But that doesn't conflict with joy, right?"

Ji Jue shook his head indifferently: "The greatest issues and confusion of my life, today, have been resolved. I just feel... it's something to celebrate, nothing could be better."

Fate is so stingy, letting him struggle in confusion and pain until now.

Yet fate is also so generous, giving him the final answer.

How fortunate!

All the sufferings encountered in his life actually have reasons...

No longer an avenging cataclysm and misfortune, but truly existing somewhere, an enemy will never let down this long wait!

He was delighted, ecstatic about it.

So happy, he wants to burn the whole world into ashes!

In silence, Ji Jue grinned, unable to restrain this surging and wild joy.

Only a trace of crimson slowly flows from the scar, like unburnt tears, sliding silently, as if falling into an abyss.

There is no abyss.

Because a cold palm lifted, spread its rough fingers, carefully caught it.

Tight grip.

Isis was silent.

Clearly so close, as if within reach. Yet the spiritual illusion is so fragile, like a bubble, trapped within the fragmented mirror, unable to touch anything real.

Until, amidst the sharp friction sound, a pair of cold and rough steel hands slowly lifted, bit by bit closing.

A gentle embrace.

As if fearing to pierce that fragile illusion.

Delicately cautious.

"Then burn everything to ashes, sir."

Isis' eyes were gentle and tranquil, "Ignite the flames, throw everything causing you pain into the fire, burn it to nothing, even if it turns the world into Hell.

If, by then, amidst that scorched earth, you still have interest and leisure... then we shall go and pick up the trash together."

Ji Jue froze.

He heard her voice, so gentle.

In the reflection, her eyes were like stars, overflowing with sparkling light, staring intently at him, promising the Creator before him:

"No matter where you go, I will be by your side."

This is her innate duty and function, the soul named Isis, for a mission she chose for herself.

"..."

Ji Jue gazed at her eyes, lost in thought.

For a long time.

As if, for that moment, the pain enough to crush his consciousness seemed absent.

Another kind of power infused into his soul, gentle yet persistent, wanting to support some weight for him, although so small and overconfident.

But as he perceived that moment, inexplicably, he felt light. Even if he were to fall into Hell, there would be joy and anticipation.

"Then let's create Hell, Isis."

He reached out his hand, touched the shimmering dreamlike light, telling her: "Together."

"I am your tool; you only need to command me."

Thus, the starlight gathered again, forming a figure like a maid, bending to bow, "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Help me check the stock on the Special Train, find something old." Ji Jue said, "In this world, there's a place needing some flame, some despair, and a bit of surprise."

"As you wish, sir."

Isis nodded, without hesitation.

"And..."

"Hmm?"

The starlight glanced back, puzzled.

"Thank you."

Ji Jue laughed, looking at her.

"..."

Isis paused, said nothing, withdrew her gaze.

The starlight slightly trembled and disintegrated, like fireflies disappearing.

In the ensuing silence, Ji Jue leaned on the chair before the window, stroking the armrest, quietly gazing at the station outside, and the dark sky beyond it.

The same train, the same waiting, just like being engulfed by the disaster of Flame Tide back then.

Seemingly unchanged.

But unlike the fear and confusion then, this time, Ji Jue was full of patience and anticipation.

This feeling is so mysterious.

It's as if the world suddenly contains someone very important to him, more than life, future, or ideals, without him ever realizing.

Thus, next, Ji Jue will find that person, by every means necessary.

Until amidst the flames of Hell, he and everything about him...

Suffer a thousand cuts, crushed into ashes!

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