The Invisible Hand

When Fang Heng returned to the ground, it was still deep in the night. Before him stood an ancient hall, with three rows of solemn, towering stone pillars stretching from front to back.

Specks of starlight glittered atop the pillars—some places still retained their stone-vaulted ceilings.

Pale radiance spilled between the columns. Their upper halves were moon-white, their capitals carved with ornate buttercup leaves, while their lower halves gradually disappeared into darkness. It would take two or three people to wrap their arms around each pillar, and even the stone bases beneath them stood far taller than Fang Heng.

With Scarpe on his back, he walked out of the hall.

Outside lay a plaza lush with grass and trees, scattered stone slabs strewn throughout. Two rows of pillars extended into the distance, uneven in height. Shrubs swallowed the white boulders, forest surrounded the area, and moonlight hung hazily over everything.

At the edge of his vision seemed to be the center of an ancient city, filled with lofty buildings. Though deserted and reduced to broken walls and ruins, they still faintly revealed some of their former splendor.

He had long since lost track of where he was, but fortunately, he could see a broken tower in the distance, rising from the forest—the direction where the Gliding Boat had crashed.

Fang Heng descended the high steps. Scarpe's head rested against his shoulder, and she had long since fallen into a deep sleep. In the enormous ruins, it seemed as though he was the only person left. His hollow footsteps echoed like knocks against his heart.

He accidentally kicked a fragment of stone. It rolled all the way down, and the sound it made was chilling.

The moon was slanting westward, and the shadows grew longer, seeming to stare at him from the ground for a long time. Something indescribable seemed likely to emerge from the darkness, but fortunately it was only an illusion. The plaza held nothing but the soft rustle of his footsteps.

Fang Heng saw only a gray fox, somewhat wolf-like in appearance. It glanced at him before running off into the distance.

After passing through a patch of woods, a rippling lake appeared before him. The blue moon hung over its surface, casting a pale blue-silver glow. Stones lay scattered along the shore, beside an arched wall that incompletely recounted the passage of a thousand years.

He paused. Normally, he would certainly have stopped to admire the scenery, but he had no mood for it now. Miss Scarpe's breathing was steady, but that did not mean her injuries had improved. She was merely growing weaker and weaker, and Fang Heng feared that once she fell asleep like this, she would never wake up.

Fortunately, he knew that Dragon Knights possessed some degree of healing ability, mainly to protect their operators. He did not know what type the Blade of Tara belonged to, but it was at least his greatest hope.

He was beginning to feel anxious, and was even more worried about the others. Then he heard a burst of rapid gunfire from ahead, with flickers of muzzle fire flashing in the distant forest.

Fang Heng jumped in fright and hurriedly hid behind the ruins. Only then did he realize the gunfire was not aimed at him, because shots immediately rang out from the other side as well, as dense as popping beans and no less intense than the first barrage, mixed with flashes of explosions.

Only then did he realize that people were fighting, and there were quite a few of them. He guessed it was the Jefflitte Redcoats and the Silverwood Spear—were they actually fighting inside the ruins? Fang Heng was surprised.

He was worried that someone might notice this side, but at the same time hoped a group would come over, preferably with a healer. But nothing happened. Fang Heng could only discover with a headache that the two warring sides blocked the path he had to take.

Fortunately, there were ruins everywhere here, with no shortage of places to hide.

The night was already past its midpoint, moonlight woven like silk, warm and milky in color.

The forest was shrouded in smoke.

The air was filled with a choking smell—not saltpeter and sulfur, but igniting powder, the scent of an alchemical catalyst. After getting closer, Fang Heng finally made out the two sides. The Redcoats seemed to have suffered badly. People in silver battle robes were everywhere in the ruins, splitting them apart and surrounding them.

Not far away, a small group from Jefflit was holding out in a temple, but they did not look like they could last much longer.

Fang Heng did not know whether to feel pleased or worried at the sight. As far as he was concerned, the best outcome would be for both sides to destroy each other. But he knew that was unrealistic. After a while, he saw a female Chosen One looking this way from the temple, and his heart suddenly leaped—she was a healer.

A new idea immediately formed in his mind.

He set Scarpe down and gently leaned her against the wall, then picked up the Seventh Style Firearm and silently crept over. He observed the situation. There were four people in the temple: two warriors, a crossbowman, and a healer.

All four wore brown hooded robes, and their tricorne hats bore no feathers. They looked like mere peripheral members of Jefflit. Naturally, those besieging them were not much stronger either. There was an obvious gap in the defenses in one direction, but pressured by the other sides, those people had never noticed it.

Fang Heng saw that only an archer and a Gunslinger were guarding there. After observing more carefully, he found that they were only first-tier professions, and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. First-tier professions were no higher than level five. The Seventh Style Firearm in his hand could absolutely pose an effective threat.

He calmly loaded the gun while keeping a close eye on the situation outside. When he saw the archer seemingly intending to move, he chose a window and raised his gun by it, aiming at the other man's neck.

A faint aiming-assist guideline appeared in his field of vision—

Fang Heng's hand jerked, and the gun nearly fell from his grasp. How could he have a Chosen One interface? But when he looked again, the faint line had vanished. He could not help rubbing his eyes, suspecting he was hallucinating.

During that delay, the archer had already left his original position. Fang Heng could not tell where the man had hidden, so he could only shift his target to the Gunslinger. He took a light breath and steadied his hand.

A gunshot rang out.

He was less than sixty feet from the Gunslinger, who still had his back to him. Though the Seventh Style Firearm was outdated in every respect, the accuracy of a rifled musket at that distance was still reliable.

The shot struck the man's left shoulder. The lead bullet's force exploded there, and the Gunslinger fell without a sound. The gunshot drew the attention of the four people in the temple. They turned in this direction, surprise showing on their faces.

Fang Heng hurriedly stood and waved at them.

Only then did they notice the gap here, and delight appeared on their faces. "Brother, thanks!" They withdrew from the temple, crossed the street, and looked up from beneath the window. "Friend, you're not one of the Redcoats?"

"I'm a mercenary. I'm on your side," Fang Heng replied. "I got separated from the others. Someone here is injured and urgently needs treatment."

"A mercenary?" The warrior was a bald, burly man with a shiny scalp and an honest-looking face. "No problem. Can you give us a hand?"

Without thinking much of it, Fang Heng bent down and reached out.

But before he had fully leaned out the window, a tremendous force yanked him back. At the same time, a crossbow bolt flew past where he had been and embedded itself in the ceiling.

"Don't trust them." He heard a weak voice behind him.

Fang Heng barely had time to be shocked before turning around in delight. "Miss Scarpe, you're awake?" Scarpe's face was bloodless, and her hand, pale as bone, gripped him tightly. In a threadbare voice, she said, "Run!"

Fang Heng saw Scarpe staring fixedly at him, a blazing determination to die shining in her eyes. Unease rose sharply in his heart. "Miss Scarpe?"

"Tricking mercenaries into entering the Zone of Silence as cannon fodder—if word of that got out, it would be a scandal," Scarpe continued as if she had not heard him, speaking in broken phrases. "Never reveal that you're a mercenary in front of anyone else. No side in these ruins can be trusted. What they fear is the footage in our Glowstone equipment. Only the dead cannot talk."

She placed a hand against her right cheek, her expression unusually calm and gentle. A faint glow emanated from there, and Fang Heng saw a golden crystal being extracted and gradually appearing in her palm. Scarpe looked up at him.

"This is my Glowstone. After I die, this thing cannot be taken out, but you can extract the images inside—"

"But..."

"Live on, and let me see what your adventure party becomes."

Scarpe leaned against the wall and used all her strength to raise a hand, straightening the collar of this big boy. Her eyes were full of warmth.

Fang Heng opened his mouth. He wanted to tell Scarpe that he could not extract the images at all—because he was not an official Chosen One and had no system. But seeing the hope in her eyes, the words stuck in his throat, and he could not say a single one.

He silently looked at the Glowstone in his hand, then put it into his pocket and carefully stored it away.

Climbing sounds came from outside the window, but Fang Heng seemed not to hear them. He fell silent for a moment. He could not tell whether he felt sorrow or anger, yet he was not surprised. He only found it somewhat laughable.

Chosen Ones were the pioneers of the new age.

The heroes of humanity.

Scarpe pushed him. "Go."

Fang Heng shook his head. Without even looking out the window, he silently hoisted Scarpe onto his back. "I'm taking you with me."

"Foolish child."

Scarpe did not object. She merely smiled faintly.

"Hold on tight, Miss Scarpe," Fang Heng reminded her softly.

Scarpe had long known what he intended to do. She tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, like a dying candle in the wind. Fang Heng retreated in another direction while freeing both hands to reload the Seventh Style Firearm.

The crossbowman finally climbed in through the window. He raised his crossbow to fire, but Fang Heng was faster. He raised his gun and fired in one smooth motion.

Muzzle fire flashed. A burst of bloody mist exploded from the crossbowman's chest, and he rolled backward off the ledge. Angry curses rose from below. "That was cool." With her eyes closed, Scarpe murmured softly, "I really know a good girl. Little guy, do you want me to have Quilod introduce you to her...?"

Her voice gradually faded.

Fang Heng did not know whether to laugh or cry. "Let's talk after we get out of here alive." Yet another girl's figure came to mind.

But Scarpe did not respond.

"Miss Scarpe."

"Miss Scarpe?" Fang Heng called twice more, softly, before finally understanding what had happened. Her icy hand was still around his neck. There was no pulse, no heartbeat. She looked as though she were asleep, her eyelids lowered and her long lashes naturally resting together.

Fang Heng froze in place.

The sounds outside seemed to vanish all at once. Countless fragments of memory flooded into his mind. In Kapuka and Rodell, he had begged every passing party to take him along on an adventure. He had stayed there for a full six months, sleeping on the streets most of the time, but no one thought much of a rookie, someone without Magic Adaptability.

Only one team had accepted him.

That small adventure party was called Dawnstar.

He turned around and removed Miss Scarpe, who had already lost all warmth, from his back. He gently leaned her against the wall, as though she were still alive in Aethelria. He gripped the Seventh Style Firearm in his hand tightly and said nothing.

Then he stepped back, pulled the latch, and smashed the Magic Musket against a stone. Its entire firing mechanism and the Magic Crystal inside flew out at once.

Fang Heng tore open his robe and wrapped two layers around his hand before picking up the scalding Attribute-less Crystal. The stench of scorched cloth instantly filled the air. Ignoring it, he pulled an unfinished Clockwork Sprite from his pocket, opened its casing, and dismantled the Clockwork Sprite's own construct, leaving only the part controlling its hinges.

Then he removed the Magic Musket's firing mechanism and quickly fitted it into the Clockwork Sprite's casing, connecting it to the hinges. Next, he tore open a paper packet and filled it with catalyst, then securely installed the overheated Magic Crystal in the place originally meant for the visual-link crystal.

Only after finishing all that did he stand up.

Below the window, the two warriors were still staring at their companion's corpse in bewilderment.

They assumed Fang Heng must have escaped already, but having one of their men killed for no apparent reason would be difficult to explain. One of them took out a crystal pendant and entered, "Captain, we found people from the Dawnstar mercenary group."

Canghai Guzhou: "Dawnstar? I don't have time to deal with that now..."

But after a while, another line appeared: "Wait, how did they get here? Have they been dealt with?"

"They supposedly got separated, but we had bad luck. That kid got away."

Canghai Guzhou: "Idiots. Why aren't you chasing him?"

"Don't worry, Captain. One of them is seriously injured. They can't have gone far. We just need to apply for battlefield reconnaissance authorization."

Canghai Guzhou: "Fine. I'll speak to Kaka."

If it was Kaka, there naturally would be no problem.

The warrior could not help excitedly rubbing his bald head. Kaka was the most gifted rising talent among this generation of Chosen Ones trained by the club. It was said that he was not even a Combat Artificer, yet could already skillfully operate a Clockwork Sprite. Even in the history of a club like BBK, such talent was rare.

He was considering how to build good relations with those elite Chosen Ones in the guild when he heard a cry of alarm. "Watch out above!"

It was the healer's voice.

The two warriors looked up together, just in time to see Fang Heng coldly watching them from the window. "Go to hell." He hurled the Clockwork Sprite in his hand downward with all his strength.

"A Clockwork Sprite?"

The bald warrior was briefly stunned.

But Fang Heng had already pulled down his goggles.

The hinges activated the firing mechanism, which accurately struck the crystal primer wedged against the other side of the casing. The alchemical formula on it ignited instantly, driving the catalyst into violent combustion and injecting magic power into the central Attribute-less Crystal.

And the Attribute-less Crystal had already overheated. Just as Scarpe had warned him, it suddenly expanded before shattering.

The shockwave ripped apart the fragile casing of the Clockwork Sprite, tearing it along its alchemical engravings into countless tiny fragments that scattered in every direction.

The entire process was completed in an instant—

Accompanied by two incomparably shrill screams.

A thousand meters away—

The boy suddenly lifted his goggles. He vigorously shook his head. His childish face looked no older than fifteen, his messy black hair dry as withered grass from malnutrition, his expression listless, with heavy dark circles beneath his eyes.

"What is it? Did you find them?" Canghai Guzhou was no longer nearly as polished as before. He was covered in dust, his scarlet hooded robe had been burned through in one place, and even his elegant sword was gone, leaving only its ornate scabbard.

He did not look utterly miserable, but he was not far from it.

Still, one thing could be said for him: he remained composed, even after being perfectly ambushed by the legendary All-Seeing One of the Battlefield. Then again, how many commanders in the country had not been ambushed by that man?

But Canghai Guzhou did not regard that as an honor. He only saw it as a tremendous humiliation.

The boy shook his head. "I found them, but it's not much use."

He described what he had seen.

"A Combat Artificer?" Canghai Guzhou shouted in disbelief. "Did you get it wrong? That adventure party was a complete nobody around Kapuka and Rodell. How could they possibly recruit a Combat Artificer?"

The boy scratched his hair and replied carelessly, "Then I probably got it wrong."

His tone was like that of the most useless, half-baked alchemists Canghai Guzhou had ever encountered. But heaven knew this was the club's future star, cultivated at tremendous expense, and someone whose status in the guild was even considerably higher than his own. Canghai Guzhou shook his head. There was simply nothing he could do about this fellow's laziness. "Keep watching that guy. Don't lose him."

The boy nodded.

Only then did Canghai Guzhou raise his head to deal with the most pressing problem before him—

In his field of vision, scattered figures in silver battle robes had appeared among the ruins in three directions. Yes, they had been surrounded. He had believed that "the legendary gentleman" could never possibly guess his intentions.

Yet the other man had not only guessed them, but guessed them exactly.

He gritted his teeth and stared at the man among the crowd—the legend of the Crown of Silverwood, the All-Seeing One, KUN. Though Canghai Guzhou desperately did not want to admit it, he had been completely defeated in this battle.

"They seem to have stopped, Captain?" someone suddenly said.

Canghai Guzhou was slightly stunned. He too noticed that the Silverwood Spear's offensive had stopped. It made no sense at all. Then he heard a voice amplified by magic reverberate across the battlefield.

"I would like to ask: who is Jefflit's commander?"

KUN's voice was not loud, neither hurried nor slow.

Only at moments like this did people remember that this refined man was not merely a top-tier commander. He was also a star Chosen One from the Second World, as well as the Crown of Silverwood's sole Dragon Knight.

Canghai Guzhou felt his face redden.

But he still stepped forward responsibly. "That would be me." He looked at the other side, expecting them to laugh at him, but he was wrong. Not one person laughed.

At that moment, Canghai Guzhou suddenly felt a vast sense of disparity, one that hurt even more than mockery would have.

Because he understood that, in everyone's eyes, being defeated by that man was not laughable at all—because it was only natural.

For a moment, he was dazed, until a hand pressed down on his shoulder from behind. The hand was gaunt, but slender and strong. Canghai Guzhou froze before realizing who it was.

"Jory?" KUN's voice was also briefly startled. "I didn't expect you to be here. No wonder this battle was a little harder than I expected."

A little harder than expected.

Canghai Guzhou felt his face burn, wishing he could crawl into a crack in the ground.

But Jory shook his head. "Our commander was fully responsible for directing this battle. I deserve none of the credit."

KUN looked at the young man with some surprise—by a Chosen One's career standards, he himself could no longer be considered particularly young. "Not bad command," he praised. "It seems BBK is about to rise as well."

Canghai Guzhou was completely stunned. But the legend of the Crown of Silverwood was not focused on that. He shook his head and said, "Commander, I propose a ceasefire."

"A ceasefire?"

"Because spies have infiltrated both our sides. Someone has already entered the central area beneath the ruins."

"What?" Canghai Guzhou was greatly alarmed. "...That thing?"

Before he could finish, the ground throughout the forest suddenly began to shake violently.