Inside the luxurious, lone house that overlooked the vast North Pacific Ocean near the shores of Babel, an elderly man in a crimson martial arts uniform—Li Kenxie—stood on the veranda, gazing out at the open sea.

Swoosh-

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

The sound of waves came in together with the sea breeze. The horizon before him seemed to stretch endlessly, offering a refreshing sense of openness, yet Li Kenxie felt nothing from it.

—Master, can’t you come back now?

The voice of Caden, his first disciple, emanated from the phone resting on the table. He had called every day since Li Kenxie’s arrival in Babel.

Li Kenxie continued to stare silently at the ocean.

—The Seven Saints find your absence displeasing. It’s unsettling the atmosphere within the party.

“...”

—If you continue to act like this, they might resort to action—

“Action?” Li Kenxie interrupted flatly. “Do you think those fools can actually do something?”

—...

Caden couldn’t respond. He was well aware the Seven Saints’ dominance over China wasn’t due to their prowess as S-rank heroes, but rather the Sacred Equipment given to them by Li Kenxie himself.

Rebelling against Li Kenxie would also mean throwing away their control over China, which was something the Seven Saints would never do.

—They can’t, of course.

Though reluctant, Caden admitted it.

—But if they lose footing in the party, you’re the one who will be inconvenienced.

It was the Chinese government that handled the acquisition of materials Li Kenxie needed and cleanup of the aftermath caused by his forging, meaning that if the Seven Saints lost their political power, someone else would have to step in to manage the entire mess, adding unnecessary work for him.

—I’m not asking you to return immediately. Just make it clear you don’t intend to stay in Babel for long, at least publicly—

“Caden.”

The coldness in Li Kenxie’s voice made Caden pause before he softly apologized.

—My apologies, Master.

“I’ll contact you first when I’ve made my decision. This conversation is over. Do you have any other matters to address?”

Though prompted, Caden’s hesitation through the phone could be heard.

—...What are you going to do about Wen?

Hearing the cautious mention of the name, Li Kenxie frowned and let out a sigh.

“Tell the Heroes Association to keep him detained for now. If he’s released now, he might come straight to Babel looking for Fei.”

—Understood.

“I’m hanging up.”

Without waiting for a reply, Li Kenxie ended the call and returned his gaze to the ocean.

“...What a hassle.”

Everything felt burdensome—the power struggles in the party, the issues with his son and granddaughter, and even the fact that he was mulling over those problems in Babel.

He felt like just letting go of everything and returning to Huangshan to clear his mind of the tiresome matters, but he couldn’t; he had made a promise.

There’s less than two weeks left, he thought, deciding to endure it a little longer.

Pocketing his phone, he stepped inside, heading toward the living room where his granddaughter, Li Fei, sat.

The sound of a news broadcast from the large TV filled the room.

「Recently, S-rank hero Albert Hardegen caused some controversy by describing the Apostate Elimination Campaign as ‘a profitable exchange.’ Due to his words, fellow S-rank hero Ryu Eun-Ha assaulted him. There were no casualties, but Albert Hardegen’s mansion had been destroyed completely...」

A devastated property was shown, followed by a man with sunglasses and a mask covering his injuries, angrily threatening legal action.

“Pathetic,” Li Kenxie muttered, shaking his head as he turned toward his granddaughter.

Li Fei was sitting on the sofa, blankly staring at the television. She hadn’t been herself since hearing that Se-Hoon had been attacked by the Ten Evils and left comatose, with absolutely no sign of improving.

She only met him once, but she’s this attached...

Regret tinged his thoughts. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let them meet, yet part of him also hoped it could become a valuable learning experience for her.

But for that to happen, the boy would need to die.

His gaze lingered briefly on the news, where Se-Hoon’s name was being mentioned repeatedly. Then, without a word, he slipped out of the building, ensuring Li Fei wouldn’t notice.

And once outside, he spoke to the empty space before him. “Bring me to him.”

Immediately after his words, the surrounding space distorted, and Li Kenxie found himself in the underground facility of Babel. The walls and ceilings were all filled with pipes, all leading to the center where a glowing red orb pulsed with energy—a crude imitation of his flames, reproduced by the Vermilion Bird.

“What are you stalling for? Show him to me already.”

“Yes, yes, right away...”

The Vermillion Bird scrambled, bringing out a small sphere that it placed before Li Kenxie.

Fwoosh-

The sphere glowed softly, flames faintly burning within. And while that might be all that some saw, Li Kenxie could clearly see the figure of a young man holding a green spear within.

The spear’s regenerative power is preserving his body, but not for long, Li Kenxie assessed.

At best, Se-Hoon had a week before his body would start burning away, leaving nothing behind. Seeing him like that—about to succumb to flames that were a pale imitation of his own—Li Kenxie couldn’t help but recall his own past.

...It has already been thirty-three years.

Back when he had been stopped by the last wall before ascension, he had flailed recklessly, engaging in all manners of foolish behavior. In hindsight, those actions were all meaningless, but at the time, it was his desperate act to overcome the wall.

When you face it as well... what will you choose?

Would he fail to overcome it? Or would he, as he had claimed, carve a different path?

“...”

Unsure, Li Kenxie stretched out his hand toward the flames but pulled back just before touching them.

It doesn’t matter either way.

Losing interest, he turned and vanished into the shadows.

***

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Earth-shaking sound of explosions echoed across Huangshan. Though the sounds weren’t enough to shatter the mountain, they came close.

Crack!

A middle-aged man with jet-black hair and a crimson martial arts uniform repeatedly slammed his forehead against a cliff, sending deep cracks splintering through the rock each time.

“He’s doing that without using mana, right?”

Watching from a distance, Se-Hoon frowned.

“Probably,” replied Meirin, nonchalantly.

Se-Hoon’s eyes returned to the man: Li Kenxie, in his prime during his S-rank hero days. Currently, the Sacred Craftsman was famous for his craftsmanship, but he had also once been renowned for his physical strength.

Swimming through molten lava, walking the ocean floor, and grappling with S-rank monsters barehanded—those feats had earned him the title of “The Indestructible Blacksmith.”

Boom!

Unable to endure the relentless headbutts any longer, the cliff finally began crumbling. But just as it seemed it would collapse completely, Li Kenxie abruptly stopped and let out a long sigh.

“It’s no use.”

Exhausted, Li Kenxie muttered to himself as he returned to the workshop where he spent most of his time.

And upon seeing his retreating figure, Se-Hoon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

He’s seriously unwell.

For the past several days. Se-Hoon had been carefully observing the S-rank figure of Li Kenxie. Of course, even though the figure looked and acted like the real Li Kenxie, it was ultimately a construct created from Se-Hoon’s own synesthetic mindscape.

And Se-Hoon knew that, which was why he had approached the situation with caution, unsure what flaws or abnormalities might emerge. But to his surprise, the construct seemed nearly perfect. In fact, it even replicated the infamous slump that the real Li Kenxie had experienced.

Lying on a brazier, diving underwater for hours, jumping off mountain peaks, smashing his head against a cliff until it collapses... even I couldn’t have imagined half of this stuff.

The copy performed the bizarre acts with uncanny accuracy, as if channeling the frustrations Li Kenxie might have had during those years. That, on top of the imitation’s blacksmithing techniques and smallest quirks, matched closely enough to convince Se-Hoon.

“Master.”

“What is it?”

“That man... he’s definitely the real Li Kenxie.”

Hearing Se-Hoon’s serious tone, Meirin, who was puffing on her cigarette, squinted at him.

“I already told you,” she said, exhaling smoke. “He’s not perfect, but he’s ninety-nine percent of the way there.”

“You did mention that.”

“If you remember, why the hell are you acting so dramatic now?” Meirin asked, clearly annoyed.

“If I’d said that you were right immediately, you’d have accused me of being thoughtless and just nodding along.”

“Of course I would’ve,” she bluntly agreed.

“Then shouldn’t you praise me for verifying it myself?” Se-Hoon asked, his tone pointed. After all, Meirin was always harping about how important it was to make his own judgments.

Alas, Meirin was predictably dismissive.

“You should’ve figured it out days ago, you idiot. There’s no pride in being slow.”

“...”

“Experience aside, you’re still as dense as ever.”

She shook her head in mock pity, causing Se-Hoon’s expression to twitch in irritation.

This woman...

Meirin had a habit of dismissing others entirely, judging them solely by their talents. Because of that, even people with considerable abilities often found themselves labeled “stupid” or “slow” under her harsh assessments.

And she was no different pre-regression. Back then, Se-Hoon had endured the same scathing criticisms as well.

Thinking about it now, she’s always been like this.

While his improved skills and maturity allowed him to not get chewed out as often anymore, back when he was weaker, she had found fault with everything—even the way he breathed.

...Now I’m mad just remembering it.

As Se-Hoon silently fumed, Meirin changed the subject with a casual question. “So, what do you think the wall he’s facing is?”

The abrupt shift was blatant, but the topic was important enough for Se-Hoon to set aside his irritation.

He thought about it.

“It’s probably the same wall I faced.”

“You mean the one about Li Kenxie’s power?”

“Yes. But unlike the real Li Kenxie back then, the fake over there should already know what power he’s supposed to gain.”

Back in his S-rank days, the real Li Kenxie searched for enlightenment to conquer a Tower of Heroes. The fake Li Kenxie that was in front of them, however, was different. Since it was based on Se-Hoon’s synesthetic mindscape, it should instinctively know about Li Kenxie’s power.

“I see. So there’s a difference between reaching it blindly and reaching it with foreknowledge,” Meirin mused.

“Exactly. That might be the one percent that separates the fake from the real one.”

There was a fundamental disparity between carving a new path and someone merely following an existing trail. Even if the imitation figured out how to overcome the wall, they likely wouldn’t reach true ascension.

“Well,” Meirin said, drawing lazily on her cigarette. “The important part is that if you make him understand, you’ll fully unlock Li Kenxie’s power for yourself. Right?”

“For now, yes. That seems to be the case.”

The problem was how to actually guide the fake Li Kenxie toward overcoming the wall. While its closeness to the actual Li Kenxie increased the likelihood of success, it wouldn’t be easy.

Falling into thought, Se-Hoon pondered over how to go about it while Meirin just watched with faint amusement.

“Then there’s no need to overthink it,” Meirin said, offering a straightforward suggestion.

“What do you mean?”

“At the end of the day, that guy was created based on you.” Pausing, she lit a fresh cigarette and gave him a sly smile after a draw. “So just train him the same way that worked for you. He’s bound to figure something out then.”

Mulling over her words, Se-Hoon’s eyes widened when he realized what she was suggesting.

And then his face fell.

“You mean that?”

“Yes, that.”

“I mean... it could work, but do you think he could handle it?” he asked, recalling his own near-death experiences during that training.

But Meirin just dismissed his concern with a scoff.

“You fool. He won’t die unless I allow it.”

***

In a worn wooden workshop, Li Kenxie lay on a crude bed, staring at the dilapidated ceiling.

Something feels... off.

The scenery of Huangshan, his body—everything was as he remembered. Yet deep inside, he felt as though something fundamental had shifted.

The question he had wrestled with for so long—the wall preventing his ascension—seemed distant, as if it wasn’t his own anymore.

Was this truly the wall I’ve been struggling with?

He had pondered over it for days, but no answers emerged.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion abruptly interrupted his thoughts, and the workshop’s ceiling shattered, revealing a man and woman standing in the moonlight.

The man’s sharp eyes and the woman’s languid demeanor contrasted sharply, but both wielded identical crimson swords radiating a menacing aura.

“Those swords—”

Se-Hoon struck before he could finish what he had to say.

CRASH!

Not allowing Li Kenxie to recover, the two figures closed in, following him through the workshop wall that Se-Hoon’s kick had hurtled him through.

Their swords flared with dark crimson flames, and they unleashed their attack.

Soul Weapon: Bloodfire Rain

The ominous storm of fire engulfed Li Kenxie’s body, blasting him into the depths of the mountain, carving out a smoldering crater.

The entire Huangshan quaked from the force.

“Ugh... Why are you doing this to me...?” Li Kenxie writhed in agony, his body covered in burns.

Who were these people that wielded such formidable swords capable of injuring him? As he struggled to process the situation, the two figures soon loomed above him, silhouetted against the moonlight.

Thunk- Thunk-

They dropped their swords at his feet.

“You felt that, right?” Se-Hoon said coldly. “Forge the same sword by tomorrow.”

“If you can’t, we have plenty more beatings to give you,” added Meirin casually.

Then they vanished just as suddenly as they appeared, leaving Li Kenxie battered and bewildered.