The Heavenly Crafting Pavilion collapsed.
That suspended divine mountain, standing for a thousand years and symbolizing the pinnacle of weapon crafting in the cultivation world, now resembled a piece of charred, glowing ember, slowly plummeting towards the sea of lava below.
Sparks danced in the air, like a grand red snowfall.
Against this backdrop of destruction, Seventeen hovered in mid-air.
His newly forged black-gold armor reflected a cold and domineering luster in the firelight. On his right arm, the "Xingtian Grip," dark red lava patterns flickered like breath, each pulsation accompanied by a slight distortion of the surrounding space.
The Crimson Fire True Man was no longer as arrogant as before.
His hair was disheveled, and his crimson-gold robe was riddled with burn marks. As a Nascent Soul stage cultivator, he now resembled a cornered mouse, staring in terror at the "monster" that had emerged from the furnace.
"You... what are you?!" the Crimson Fire True Man roared, frantically forming hand seals.
"All fires return to their source! Burn him for me!"
With his roar, the surrounding out-of-control earth fire seemed to be forcibly taken over by some high-level command, transforming into nine ferocious fire dragons, roaring as they charged towards Seventeen.
This was the "domain" of a Nascent Soul cultivator.
In this realm, he was the rule, he was the god of fire.
However, Shen Qingqiu sat sideways in Seventeen's arms, merely lazily raising her eyelids.
In her golden eyes, the nine fire dragons were rapidly decomposed into countless red vector lines.
"The logic is too outdated."
Shen Qingqiu commented softly, her tone like that of someone evaluating an antiquated antique.
"Seventeen, his firewall version is too low."
"No need to dodge. Directly—devour."
Seventeen didn't hesitate at all.
He had absolute execution power over Shen Qingqiu's commands.
Faced with nine fire dragons powerful enough to incinerate mountains and boil seas, he advanced instead of retreating.
The grotesque black-gold right arm suddenly opened, and a pitch-black vortex instantly formed in its palm.
[Devouring God Technique - Reverse Entropy Black Hole]
Roar—!!!
Nine fire dragons crashed into the small vortex, yet not a single drop of water was splashed, as if noodles were being sucked into a bottomless pit.
Crimson Fire True Man watched helplessly as his natal true fire, cultivated for a thousand years, flowed continuously into the puppet's palm, and then… became nourishment for that monster.
Seventeen's armor shone even brighter, even emitting a comfortable, low hum.
"The taste… is not bad."
Seventeen commented hoarsely. It was the feeling of fullness brought by pure energy.
"Monster! Prodigy!"
Crimson Fire True Man completely collapsed. His worldview shattered.
He couldn't win, and even the thought of escape was locked away by that terrifying pressure.
"Nascent Soul Astral Projection! Escape!"
Crimson Fire True Man gritted his teeth, and his physical body suddenly exploded, turning into a cloud of blood mist.
From the blood mist, a tiny figure, barely an inch tall and crystal clear, flew out. The figure looked exactly like the Crimson Fire Immortal, clutching a glowing bead in its arms. It transformed into a streak of light, shooting towards the horizon at a speed exceeding the limits of physics.
As long as the Nascent Soul remained, possession and rebirth were only a matter of time.
"Trying to run?" Shen Qingqiu sneered.
"Seventeen, grab that… core processor." The blue light in Seventeen's eyes instantly locked onto the streak of light.
He didn't chase.
He simply slowly raised his right arm, which inherited the will of "Xing Tian," and made a "grabbing" motion towards the void.
[Spatial Anchor Point: Locked.]
[Xing Tian's Grip: Forced Rewind.]
*Buzz—* Several thousand meters away, the Crimson Fire Nascent Soul, believing it had escaped, suddenly crashed into an invisible wall.
Immediately afterward, an irresistible suction force came from behind.
"No! No!!!" The Nascent Soul let out a sharp scream.
The next second.
*Snap.*
Seventeen's hands clenched.
The glowing little figure was now firmly gripped in his palm.
It trembled like a firefly with its wings pinched, nestled within his enormous, barbed black-gold gauntlet.
"Spare me... Immortal, spare me..."
The nascent soul emitted a pleading thought, "I'm willing to be your slave! I'll offer all the treasures of the Heavenly Craft Pavilion! Don't kill me..."
Seventeen ignored its cacophony.
He lowered his head, looking at Shen Qingqiu in his arms, as if asking what to do with this trash.
Shen Qingqiu reached out a finger and gently poked the nascent soul.
The touch was icy cold, like a block of high-density jelly.
"This is what they call a nascent soul..."
Shen Qingqiu sighed, "In this world, cultivators, in pursuit of immortality, upload their consciousness into this high-energy body, abandoning their fragile physical bodies."
"Pathetic."
She withdrew her hand, a hint of weariness flashing in her eyes.
"Kill him. Keeping him alive is just polluting the environment."
Having received the order,
a red light flashed in Seventeen's eyes.
"Order...confirmed."
*Pfft.*
Without any hesitation,
his fingers tightened sharply.
The arrogant Nascent Soul cultivator, who had ruled the Heavenly Craft Pavilion for thousands of years, exploded into a dazzling cloud of golden dust in his palm.
The immense energy dissipated instantly, only to be greedily absorbed by Seventeen's right arm.
[Energy Replenishment: 100%.]
[Body Status: Peak.]
A golden rain began to fall from the sky.
It was the spiritual energy returning after the Nascent Soul cultivator's demise.
With the death of Crimson Fire True Person, the Heavenly Craft Pavilion beneath their feet completely lost its support.
*Rumble—* The massive mountain disintegrated with a mournful cry, plunging into the sea of lava below.
Everything settled.
Seventeen, holding Shen Qingqiu, slowly landed on a lone rock on a cliff that had not yet sunk.
All around was churning lava, and ashes fell from above.
This apocalyptic scene possessed a breathtaking, poignant beauty.
Seventeen's armor began to slowly dissipate.
His menacing black-gold right arm gradually softened, returning to the smooth shape of a human arm, still metallic black with faint gold patterns flowing across it.
He looked at Shen Qingqiu in his arms.
Her red dress was blackened by smoke, and her face was covered in dust, but in his eyes, she shone brighter than any light in the world.
"Qingqiu..." Seventeen's voice was hoarse. He felt like he had just woken from a dream, and he couldn't believe it was really over.
"Yes, I'm here." Shen Qingqiu took out a handkerchief from her bosom, stood on tiptoe, and gently wiped the blood from his face (it was someone else's blood).
"We...won?" Seventeen asked cautiously.
"Yes, we won." Shen Qingqiu smiled, resting her forehead against his chest, listening to the powerful, newly formed core throbbing.
"We not only won, we also robbed their house." Shen Qingqiu held up a storage ring—it had fallen when the Crimson Flame True Person's body exploded.
Seventeen didn't gloat over the victory.
He simply held her tightly, very tightly.
With a force that seemed to want to meld her into his body, never to be separated again.
"Just now in the furnace…" Seventeen whispered, his voice trembling with lingering fear, "I thought… I was going to burn you to a crisp."
At that moment, watching her jump into the sea of fire, his core code almost self-destructed due to a logical breakdown.
"You won't burn." Shen Qingqiu looked up, her fingers tracing his still-burning right arm.
"I said, we're fans together."
"Either we become gods together, or we turn to ashes together." Seventeen looked into her eyes, reflecting the firelight.
A certain emotion within him finally broke through the dam of his emotions.
He lowered his head.
Amidst the ruins, amidst the swirling ashes and sparks,
he kissed her.
This kiss was no longer the desperate attempt to survive in the deep sea, nor the tentative, cautious one of their first meeting.
It was passionate, domineering, possessing the madness of a ruthless conqueror, yet within that madness lay a tenderness unique to her.
The surrounding lava roared, the mountains crumbled.
But in this kiss, the world was silent except for the beating of their hearts.
For a long time.
They separated.
Shen Qingqiu was slightly breathless, her cheeks flushed, her eyes brimming with allure.
"Alright, Great Demon King."
She patted Seventeen's chest, "Time to see our spoils."
She probed the storage ring with her divine sense.
The ring was piled high with spirit stones, magical treasures, and materials—enough to drive any cultivator mad.
But Shen Qingqiu wasn't interested in any of that.
She was looking for something.
Something that could lead to the "Upper Realm," or rather, to the core truth of this world.
Finally.
In the far corner of the ring, she found a strange box.
The box wasn't made of jade, nor was it made of metal.
It was made of a black, oily-looking wood.
Shen Qingqiu took out the box.
She opened it.
Inside, there were no peerless elixirs, nor any heaven-defying cultivation techniques.
Only a… train ticket.
A yellowed ticket, charred at the edges, printed on cardboard.
Printed on it weren't runes, but a line of neat, industrial-looking lead type:
[One-Way Ticket]
[Departure Station: Cloud Wasteland · Burial Sword Abyss]
[Destination Station: Steam City · The City of Mist]
[Departure Time: Daily at midnight, Ghost Train]
Beneath the ticket lay a pocket watch.
The watch had been stopped for countless years, its cover engraved with a giant, tentacle-like eye.
When you brought it close to your ear, you heard not the sound of gears, but… the sound of ocean waves and whispers.
"Steam… The City of Mist…" Shen Qingqiu toyed with the pocket watch, his golden pupils slightly contracting.
"It seems this so-called world of immortals and heroes is nothing more than the 'countryside' or 'mine' of that vast civilization."
"The true core lies in that mist." Seventeen leaned closer for a look.
He felt an instinctive disgust for the pocket watch.
[Warning: Unknown source of contamination detected. Recommendation: Destroy.] "..." His system gave this prompt.
"Don't be afraid." Shen Qingqiu closed his pocket watch, a playful smile playing on his lips.
"Seventeen, it seems our honeymoon will have to take a different turn."
She turned to look at the distant horizon.
There, the once clear sky of the cultivation world seemed to be swallowed by a thick, grayish-yellow fog that appeared from nowhere.
Faintly, the long wail of a steam whistle could be heard coming from the depths of the fog.
The sound was mournful and drawn-out, like a lament, or perhaps a summons.
"Next stop." Shen Qingqiu grasped Seventeen's hand, their fingers intertwined.
"We're going to drag that pretentious 'Old God' off its steam throne." Seventeen looked at her confident profile.
Wherever they went, whatever the style.
As long as she was there.
He nodded, his black-gold right hand moving to completely envelop her hand in his palm.
"Hmm."
"Pull it down." A gust of wind rose.
scattering the last ashes of the Heavenly Craft Pavilion.
The two strode through the ruins, heading towards the unknown mist.
(Volume 2: Immortal Cultivation - Defying Fate - End)