Chosen: Beyond Fate

Snap!

There was another faint snap, so soft it was almost inaudible. Spirit matter dispersed once more, flowing into Ji Jue’s hands. His palms had already begun trembling from overexertion and from trying too hard to maintain stability. He breathed heavily, his lungs burning from holding his breath too long earlier.

This attempt had gone slightly better than the last, but only slightly. He had managed to touch the spirit consciousness, then crush it after creating it.

After six attempts, the best result Ji Jue managed was barely getting a grip on that fragile little spark of spirit. That dying candle flame flickering in the wind[1] was extinguished completely by his movements.

Dizzy and lightheaded, Ji Jue couldn’t help sighing. “Ms. Ye, can this really be done?”

According to the foundational theories of modern alchemy, the world was composed of physical matter and spirit. Ascension intertwined with Ruins, and soul fused with physical matter, and from that union the first Holy Spirit was born. This was the oldest form of the Supreme Benevolence, with neither side preceding the other. To endow physical matter with spirit, that was the true essence of alchemy.

But what Ji Jue was attempting now was to grant physical matter a spirit and then completely extract that spirit from the material.

Leaving aside the intimate fusion and connection between physical matter and spirit, not to mention whether Ji Jue could even approach such a feat with his skill level, wasn’t this basically the same as completely pulling someone’s soul out of their body?

The instant the realization hit him, Ji Jue froze in shock, his face twitching uncontrollably. Wait.

If one used the Dissociation Technique to dismantle a matrix, break through its defenses, used alchemy to suppress blessings and prevent interference, then finally relied on the spirit manipulation of Pacifier, then, theoretically speaking, it really could be possible to forcibly drag someone’s soul out.

But in practice? Ji Jue swallowed hard, his throat dry. His posture unconsciously hunched several degrees lower.

“Can that really be done?”

Professor Ye looked eager. She even raised her hand. “Want to try it? Interested in experiencing it personally? It’s been a long time since I last did it. I’m worried I might be a little rusty.”

Ji Jue shook his head wildly without even thinking. He was genuinely afraid that if he hesitated for even a second longer, Professor Ye would suddenly let out a villainous laugh and say, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time,” before ruthlessly making her move.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Professor Ye. It was simply that, as an apprentice craftsman marching full speed down this path, Ji Jue really could not bring himself to trust the average moral standards of craftsmen.

Craftsmen could kill people and make use of their ashes. Bothering to dig a grave and bury the victims afterward turned them into exceptionally kind-hearted saints. One could easily imagine how horrifying the average ethical standards of other craftsmen were.

Professor Ye sighed regretfully. “Relax. I can’t do it.”

Although she specialized in spirit matter studies, precision manipulation wasn’t her field of expertise. The effect of Mo Ye was merely division and repulsion. It could not completely extract a person’s soul from their body while preserving the integrity of the soul’s structure.

But that did not mean nobody could accomplish such a thing.

In fact, certain Ascension-type abilities are capable of soul manipulation far beyond that. The more vicious ones could rip a soul out and devour it on the spot if they wanted to. Chopping it into pieces, slicing it into strips, shredding it however they pleased was hardly a challenge.

As for true masters specializing in spirit matter, this kind of precision operation was merely troublesome, not difficult. For the nearly all-purpose spirit manipulation of Pacifier, it was entirely within the realm of possibility.

Ji Jue could pull it off. In fact, the odds were so high that it was practically a certainty.

“Even if extracting another person’s soul is impossible, what about the consciousness and spirit matter you created yourself?” Professor Ye asked. “The greatest difficulty in spirit extraction lies in suppressing the instinctive resistance of the spirit itself. Even in an unconscious state, a complete spirit entity will instinctively resist modification.

“But if the spirit actively cooperates...” She cast a calm glance at him. “Then even at your level, you should be able to do it.”

Ji Jue froze. If the scope were limited only to the spirit consciousness created by his Deus Ex Machina, then the value of this technique would further decrease...

No. Wait.

Suddenly, realization dawned on him. Its value hadn’t decreased at all. Rather, after repeatedly narrowing the scope and lowering the requirements, this technique had become perfectly suited to Ji Jue’s level, almost flawlessly so.

If he could freely extract and release the spirit consciousness he bestowed, then creations that had previously been limited by their materials and were unable to improve could be upgraded far more easily through a sort of “out with the old, in with the new” method. Even the spirit consciousness inside the Thunder lever-action rifle could potentially be transferred into a more suitable vessel.

No, what if he didn’t transfer it? What if he simply left it inside his soul instead?!

If he did, there would be no more need for training or practice. By granting an object intelligence, extracting it, and absorbing it into his soul, he could instantly become a peerless marksman who never missed within three kilometers, a swordsman unmatched within ten paces, and a martial artist capable of standing against entire armies at an arm’s length.

This was a technique capable of causing a qualitative evolution in the very nature of Deus Ex Machina!

But the prerequisite was simple: he had to actually be capable of doing it first. Just thinking about it made Ji Jue’s fighting spirit surge. His eyes shone like hundred-watt light bulbs, gleaming brightly inside the workshop.

Professor Ye said, “Once you can freely extract and transfer the spirit consciousness of Deus Ex Machina creations at will, then you’ve finally grasped the basics of spirit matter manipulation. After that, you may begin trying lessons involving alchemical construction composed purely from spirit matter.”

Ji Jue didn’t move an inch. ???? Meow meow meow? Ms. Ye, do you perhaps want to reconsider what you’re saying?

Extracting a complete spirit consciousness created by Deus Ex Machina was already unimaginably difficult for Ji Jue, but performing alchemical construction through spirit matter alone, without any physical vessel whatsoever, and ultimately creating a stable independent construct, had already gone beyond the realm of fantasy.

“Are you serious, Ms. Ye?”

Professor Ye did not answer. She merely walked deeper into the workshop, casually waving for him to follow.

As the corridors shifted and rotated around them, another enormous workshop appeared before Ji Jue. The place was vast enough to make one feel suffocated.

This wasn’t his first time here, yet every time he entered, he gained a completely new understanding. Every time, he became more deeply aware of the terrifying transformations saturating every bit of the air, and the star-like torrents of spirit matter flowing beneath matter.

But this time, what rested upon the workbench was not some unfinished creation or bizarre construct. Instead, it was... a pink rhinestone-studded cat carrier?!

Ji Jue rubbed his eyes and confirmed he wasn’t hallucinating. He even recognized it. Wasn’t this the ridiculous bag Chen Yubo and Tong Hua had been fighting over previously?!

Beneath the cat carrier, a tiny shape wriggled continuously, struggling until, at last, a round little head squeezed out from the bag’s opening.

It looked at Ji Jue, then opened its mouth, letting out a loud “Meow!”

“Fufu?” Without thinking, Ji Jue reached out and rubbed the cat’s little head before lifting it up for a closer look. After checking several times, he confirmed that this really was Chen Yubo’s cat. He’d even fed it canned food before! “How did you end up here?”

Fufu extended its claws and latched desperately onto Ji Jue’s collar, refusing to let go. It meowed pitifully, eyes glistening with tears.

“It was sent here this morning,” Professor Ye explained. “Chen Xingzhou’s little brother has been acting like the world’s ending. He calls Chun every single hour asking for his cat. It’s so annoying. So when you head back today, take it with you, lest he barges into the workshop screaming again.”

Professor Ye waved her hand in disgust. Instantly, the floating cat fur in the air gathered into a compact ball and flew straight back into the carrier, leaving the workshop spotless. Then, within the cold and detached expression Ji Jue had long grown accustomed to, there seemed to appear the faintest trace of amusement.

“Speaking of which, didn’t you want to see an alchemical construct formed purely from spirit matter?” Professor Ye asked, eyes fixated on Ji Jue.

The blue cat struggling in Ji Jue’s hands suddenly froze. It felt as though some invisible shackle had been released. Beneath the workshop lights, Fufu’s shadow began to expand abruptly, like it was inflating. The darkness spread wildly as countless strands of shadow writhed and twisted, forming ever-changing outlines.

One light after another flickered out. At last, the pitch-black shadow completely separated itself from Fufu’s silhouette, engulfing the entire workshop and transforming into some creature with vast wings capable of blotting out the heavens. Slowly, it unfolded its wings casually, revealing a terrifying form impossible for ordinary eyes to fully comprehend.

Ji Jue stood frozen in place, not daring to move a single muscle. Even the cat in his hands no longer struggled, and both of them trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t hear anything nor see that thing’s true shape, but it felt as though something had lowered its gaze, examining the tiny existence before it calmly. It leaned closer and studied him carefully.

That gaze was enough to leave Ji Jue drenched in cold sweat, not to mention the terrifying spirit matter fluctuations raging through his perception like a world-devouring tidal wave. Something was there, grinning savagely right in front of him, before exhaling a breath that made his very soul tremble.

Professor Ye snapped her fingers. The colossal shadow blanketing the entire workshop instantly contracted, flowing back into Professor Ye’s shadow before vanishing completely.

Ji Jue was still utterly motionless. He was soaked through with sweat, unable to speak properly. “Ms. Ye, what... was that?”

“You could consider it the first work I created after becoming a master,” Professor Ye replied casually. “I finished it around the age of twenty-seven.”

She snapped her fingers again, seemingly playing with the monster hidden inside the shadows. The shadow reacted as though her finger had tapped it lightly on the forehead, causing it to obediently curl up and return to its place.

“At the time, I was obsessed with reputation and recognition. I cared far too much about how others viewed me. Whenever I achieved even the slightest result, I couldn’t wait to display it before everyone else, as I believed that enough accomplishments would force the incompetents to understand the gap between us.”

She paused. “Looking back now, I was shallow and naïve. After registering it with the Association, it was more or less granted a Divine Creation classification. As the years passed, creations of this lineage gradually came to be known as the ‘Omen Series.’ And among them is this. Its codename is Black Swan.”

Professor Ye lowered her gaze. As if proud of itself, the Black Swan, hiding in the shadows, spread its wings. It was elegant and graceful, and it almost looked as if it was dancing. Like every catastrophe that arrived without warning, it stole one’s breath away. Ji Jue had almost forgotten how to breathe.

Professor Ye asked, “Ji Jue, do you think you’ll be able to create something like this one day?”

Ji Jue instinctively shook his head. “I don’t know.”

That future was too far away. He couldn’t see it clearly, and he didn’t dare make promises about it.

But Professor Ye seemed to not have heard his answer at all. Instead, she asked again, “Will you be able to create something even greater than this one day?”

Ji Jue fell silent. He thought for a long time, but he only let out an embarrassed sigh. “I don’t know.”

After a brief pause, however, he suddenly felt a kind of courage rise from somewhere unknown. No, calling it “arrogance” would probably be more accurate. He was ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth[2], like a clown overestimating himself, yet he could not stop himself from saying aloud, “I want to try.”

For a brief moment, Professor Ye seemed distracted. Her silence stretched wide. It was as though a scene from thirty years ago had suddenly replayed itself before her eyes. Back then, when her teacher had asked her the same question, she had answered in much the same way.

No, not quite. There was no need to romanticize the past. Unlike the restrained Ji Jue, her younger self had been far more arrogant and wild, utterly convinced of her superiority.

What had her teacher thought at the time? For all these years, Ye Xian had no clue. But now, hearing her own student’s answer, she unexpectedly found herself feeling happy. His response was like a refreshing wind blowing in from afar during a long journey.

The Ember Path was far too rugged, far too long. One could spend an entire lifetime walking it and still never glimpse the end. It almost felt eternal. And every time she saw someone chasing after her from behind, she felt a strange sense of joy and anticipation.

Back then, had her teacher felt the same way she did now?

Unfortunately, no matter how hard Ye Xian tried, she could never become the sort of kind elder who excelled at praise and encouragement. Besides, for a student to already harbor thoughts of standing alongside his teacher this early... Such a foolish student clearly needed a good knock on the head.

Sobering up from that rare moment of genuine delight, Ye Xian mercilessly put Ji Jue down. “With your level? It’s still far too early. Save these ridiculous dreams for after you’ve earned your craftsman license.”

Just like that, she smiled, clasped her hands behind her back, and turned away, leaving behind only her words echoing in the air. “Still, your fighting spirit is commendable...”

1. 风中残烛 literally means "a dying candle flickering in the wind." It's a Chinese idiom that originally referred to an elderly person nearing death, but it is now more broadly used to describe anything that is weak, failing, or on the verge of disappearing altogether. ☜

2. If you’re well-versed with Chinese translated books especially in wuxia or xianxia genre, the phrase '不知天高地厚' (literally “ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth”) is often used for people who are overly confident and don't know their place. It commonly describes someone who is arrogant enough to overestimate their abilities and underestimate the challenges before them. It is often said of young people who are impulsive, overconfident, and unaware of their own limitations. ☜