Chapter 384: Martyr, Heir (7000)

Tenzan Lixiang, male, 18 years old, is a Master.

Arriving in this 1994 Yuwen Mushi due to the formation of a subspecies Singularity, he brought along the local Mr. Weigong Shilang, intending to find Servants who could offer some assistance, only to be drawn into a cosmic-level crisis!

According to the fleet from the Servant Universe, if the enemy succeeds in consuming the Root, all Parallel Worlds born from this universe will be erased.

As a Master, one can provide considerable aid to Servants, so he was forcibly conscripted into this group of unfamiliar Servants.

"I've detected that the artificial intelligence monitoring the Wind Holy Grail world is pregnant—the underlying code is in chaos!"

"What? Did your monitoring ship's captain do this?!"

"The captain is pregnant too! Contamination level rising! Main control cabin set to high alert!"

"Information gathering complete—the source of contamination is the Confucian Sage!? So all those awful scenes from that TV drama were real after all!!!"

Nonsensical words poured from the Servant soldiers; Tenzan Lixiang, who understood only the broad outline of the situation, had only one role: to use Command Seals to boost the combat power of Special Servants during battle.

Special Servant.

Apparently, it is Mr. Siegried from the Servant Universe.

Holder of the title "Godslayer," the strongest and oldest swordsman of antiquity, said to have slain an ancient universe's goddess in the distant past.

"Within three seconds! Cross the Numeral Sea immediately to the destination!" Siegried waved his hand and said:

"To make a married couple both pregnant? Damn it, is this also called a Sage?!"

"Our connection to Chaldea has also been severed." Tenzan Lixiang sighed, rubbing his hair as he watched the handsome swordsmaster with glasses coordinating other Servants.

"After all, weren't we supposed to save Human Order? Why did we suddenly get dragged into this?"

"But there's no other choice now," Mashu encouraged. "Cheer up, Senior!"

"I guess we have no choice." Tenzan Lixiang smiled. "By the way, about the chocolate you gave me before we came—when we get back safely,"

WARNING! High-energy signature ahead!

WARNING! High-energy signature ahead!

WARNING! Ahead

Boom—boom—boom!!!

Explosions erupted one after another, like firecrackers in an unbroken chain.

"Attack!!"

Tenzan Lixiang instinctively glanced at the screen ahead and broke out in a cold sweat.

Countless golden spears, each the size of mountains, plummeted from the sky and slammed into the field-energy barrier constructed by over a thousand cosmic warships, followed by a storm of varied energy weapons.

"Prepare for combat!" No sooner had Siegried spoken than a devastating kinetic force tore through the seamless super-dense alloy hull—a massive hole instantly appeared on the side of the flagship.

The pressure differential sucked countless objects outward, instantly vanishing into the clear blue sky; only then did they realize that countless objects, like meteors, were flying through the heavens.

Mashu shielded Tenzan Lixiang behind her, yet heard the whispered conversation of two girls.

"I attacked the moment I smelled the stench of romance on this ship—but where did they find a Cang King?"

"Senior… watch your wording."

They turned—and saw two girls: one, an orange-haired girl in a Chaldea uniform; the other, Ma…Shu?!

"Have you betrayed us?!" Siegried drew his Noble Phantasm and stood between the two groups: "Your power right now—"

"Tenzan Lixiang?!"

"Same name?!"

"Twenty-one's Ancient Gauntlets, kid." The female Tenzan Lixiang raised her fist, smiling at them; her Command Seal's unmistakable signature glowed. "By the name of the Command Seal—Geryon, Tiamat, Draco—"

"Restore your complete Spirit Origins!"

Nearly identical pairs of swords crossed, leaving behind several near-perfect silver arcs in the air.

Magic power, mass, speed, strength—all elements constituting sword and technique—though initially differing, quickly synchronized to perfect alignment.

Dozens of blades shattered every second, yet new ones instantly appeared in their hands.

The clatter of iron rain nearly drowned out the sound, crimson blood blossoms staining the parched Imaginary Number World—the already red soil now painted anew.

"Ughhh—" Weigong Shilang drove his sword into the soil, jaws clenched so tight they threatened to shatter, bloodshot eyes fixed on the two figures advancing toward him with swords raised.

Even though his vision was already blurred beyond recognition.

"That's why I hate my immature self."

The voice came from the right; the red Holy Relic robe fluttered, and a newly projected blade—Ganjiang—extended outward.

"All you do is talk big—about becoming a Partner of Justice, protecting everyone."

"Just talking big, like wanting to be a partner of justice, protecting everyone."

"You're no different from those bratty kids."

No disappointment, no mockery—just the calm statement of an undeniable fact. Weigong Shilang had no strength left to refute.

Healed flesh expelled a bullet; as it fell, revolting memories flooded his mind.

His soul was being peeled away; the core of his being slowly rotted, his mechanical blade regenerating, trigger pulled—only to achieve the most efficient killing.

"You ask if a Partner of Justice can do evil? Of course—he's already rotten to the core."

"You ask if a partner of justice can do all kinds of evil? Of course, because I've been rotten to the core already."

Innocent civilians lay beneath his feet, limbs severed everywhere—just to protect that demonic girl, he had sacrificed his life.

His past ideals and beliefs should have long since died; all that remained was the fact that he was skilled at killing. Yet the relationship between biological soul and memory was far stranger than imagined.

Even fallen into demonic corruption, even forgotten the most important people or things in life, the instinct to protect Human Order remained.

The past etched into his soul still manifested before Weigong Shilang's eyes.

Of course, the cost was the power—once dedicated to prioritizing Human Order—that had now evolved into a spiritual contamination ability, stamping a steel seal deep within Weigong Shilang's mind.

"Contamination… still… a bit short of… staring at Kleine… and listening to Su Lin's records." Weigong Shilang staggered to his feet, head tilted up, sneering.

"Contamination. Compared to staring at Miss Kelaien and listening to Su Lin's records, it's still not enough." Weigong Shilang staggered to his feet, tilted his head, and sneered:

"Isn't this just asking to be overtaken by me?"

In response, four giant weapons materialized out of thin air—this speed didn't even give the current Weigong Shilang time to project.

Yet, with just a single forceful swing of his arm glowing with magical radiance, those weapons shattered like glass.

"Actually, there's no need to be bound by weapons—so long as magic flows smoothly and delivers destruction, that's enough. Thanks—I've learned this."

After exhaling deeply, Weigong Shilang looked at Weigong Alter and said:

"But I don't believe the creator's intent is meaningless. Weapons are tools forged for efficient killing, yet beyond that, they can be given other meanings."

He wasn't correcting their ideology—he wanted to tell these two.

That he had not been defeated by them!

"I merely think this method is easier than defeating you head-on," Weigong Alter said, expressionless, as if nothing concerned him:

"When you collapse, my mission this time will be complete."

"Continue. Don't waste time."

The last words were directed at the Heroic Spirit Weigong—He could see that although Weigong Shilang's body was recovering fast and his magic was infinite, his soul and spirit were nearly at their limit.

Clang—

The elderly Weigong Shilang walked forward, gripping a longsword without a hilt, its blade still searing hot, never cooled.

Along the way, sparks flew and fluttered in the wind, then quickly extinguished.

"Sorry for the wait."

He smiled, yet his form gradually grew translucent.

Even as his mind was flooded with fragmented data and his eyeballs felt nearly cooked, Weigong Shilang could discern the raw material of that longsword.

It was the opponent's spiritual foundation.

"Even under the influence of Kozanji, I never particularly liked forging—but there is one thing I share with him."

The moment he finished speaking, short sword, long sword, and bullet pierced Weigong Shilang's side, chest, and cervical vertebrae respectively.

"Projection… begins."

His vision turned red, then was swallowed by boundless white light.

Crash—

His battered, broken body finally—at this very moment—

Fell to the ground with a thud.

"Aren't you going to save him?" Kleine said to Su Lin.

"Though about one percent of the magical girl worldline's soul energy remains untransferred back, if this soul annihilates, restoring it will be troublesome."

He asked Su Lin because he himself was currently restrained by Su Lin.

The man whose face was nearing perfect divine perfection sat inside this projected theater, eyes fixed intently on the outside, his gaze shimmering with inexplicable brilliance, a smile on his lips as radiant as sunlight.

"Necessary? No, it isn't," Su Lin smiled at Kleine.

"We outsiders shouldn't interfere too much—otherwise, wouldn't all this lose its meaning?"

"In the absence of conflicting interests, witnessing someone who pushes to the extreme, walks into a dead end, yet still pursues their ideal and path—its outcome is equally worth anticipating."

"The ticket price for this journey has already been earned. Want to go take a look, Fool?"

Su Lin inserted a semi-god trait of the Audience Path into his own historical projection—the Followers of the Audience Path can enter another's subconscious.

Kleine looked at Su Lin's genuine, joyous smile, then glanced at Weigong Shilang whose aura was fading, "Go ahead. With you there, I don't need to act."

Su Lin's eyes glowed golden vertical pupils, his skin covered in gray-white dragon scales—he vanished instantly into the world of the mind.

Kleine shook his head, "I hope this guy hasn't opened a door to a new world."

More terrifying than physical pain were these transmitted memories.

Radically different.

The reasons Weigong Shilang changed, and the reasons that Weigong Shilang reversed.

Countless acts impossible to judge as right or wrong—acts of murder, yet rationalized.

Beauty wearing the mask of ugliness, ugliness draped in beauty's cloak.

He wasn't always twisted to this extent.

But faced with such evil, he could not turn a blind eye.

Because of the vow he once made, because of the ideal he firmly believed in, he would walk the path of "Justice," even if he lost everything.

Others' betrayal? Irrelevant.

As long as he himself did not betray Justice—the very "Justice of the Masses" he had dreamed of since youth.

"Blood tide like iron, heart like crystal."

Nearly identical—it was as if fate had predetermined Weigong Shilang's nature: chase an ideal, and sooner or later, you will walk this absurd path.

Without blood, without tears, suppressing personal emotion—resulting in being treated by those around him as a tool—【because it was convenient】.

Enduring all this.

A group of children wrapped in bandages, even missing limbs, offered him flowers.

Was all this meaningful?

At night, artillery lit the sky, thunder roared, and everything turned to ash. The man returned to the town at dawn, finding only ruins too broken to even be called a city. So he took up his weapon again and marched toward the next battlefield.

"He had fought countless battles without defeat."

When he came to his senses, Weigong Shilang's body was pierced through with countless different weapons.

To fulfill his ideal, he had killed many, slaughtered until even innocent lives meant nothing—yet ultimately saved thousands of times more lives than those he had taken.

Standing amid endless yellow sand, each step forward made the weapons feel as if they were drilling into his flesh and bone.

His body was already pierced—where else could they drill?

In this state, no further progress is possible; the sandstorm is growing stronger. Let's rest here.

"Can you keep up?" The voice of that man seemed to echo beside his ear.

"Uhh—Eeeeeaaahhh!!!" He opened his eyes, held his breath, and as he lunged forward, his nearly shattered body took a step, the sound of blade scraping against bone ringing out.

His dying body stirred, swallowing the blood clot in his throat.

"You're the one!"

"You're the ones who should be keeping up!"

In his frenzy, he did not see that behind him, within the desert storm, countless figures with similar faces had long been left far behind—because his gaze never wavered from the distance, he could not see them at all.

"Hmph." The central red figure smiled faintly at the corner of his mouth, and with those shadowy figures, vanished into the wind and sand.

Thump—!

The sound of a fall reached him.

After running out of the desert, falling onto this barren black earth was inevitable.

It was not because of the distance he had traveled, but because at the end of the road, he had dug for himself a grave deeper than anyone else's.

Pitch-black as an abyss, not a ray of sunlight reached it; no direction could be found.

This decayed messenger of justice had broken beyond redemption; compared to other Emiyas, this man had long abandoned himself.

The black gears were the only thing he could clearly "see." Weigong Shilang felt the rising turmoil within his body—the swords that had pierced him had just calmed, yet now became new threats.

'Was it because I was too arrogant? Trying to carry even this man's burden with me.' Weigong Shilang could not help but think.

Reality gave him no chance to regret. He moved forward aimlessly—and then—

"Aaaah!!!" He screamed, looking down at his feet—a black, irregular blade had pierced through his sole.

Immediately, the soil of the black earth was replaced by steel; countless broken swords sprouted from the ground like plants.

Fragmented memories surged into Weigong Shilang's mind, along with inverted thoughts.

Even so, Weigong Shilang did not stop moving.

"Stop denying yourself!"

More intense than his earlier stubborn defiance, this was rage.

That ideal was shattered, twisted—but even so, this man had clung to it until the very end.

"Even now, transformed like this, you're still moving."

Blood streamed from his eyes, nose, and mouth; his face was monstrous, yet without hesitation he stepped forward, the broken blade piercing his other foot.

"To fight evil!"

Run. Don't stop. Surpass this place!

Nothing has meaning—not morality, not love, not kinship, not even ideals. Pick up a weapon, aim for the vital point. A simple motion is enough to take a life. If you meet someone hard to kill—use that.

If you fall, use your hands to push yourself up. Whether palms or soles, even if broken, what does it matter!?

Pain surged through his nerves; tears, snot, and blood mixed together. He didn't care how filthy he looked.

Don't look back. Don't stop. Even if his soul was slowly left behind, piece by piece with his flesh and blood, at least he must reach—

A place farther than any of them!

With this thought arising, a mad idea suddenly surfaced in Weigong Shilang's mind.

'The swords come out from within.'

He ceased suppressing them. The same steel blades tore through skin and flesh, bursting from his body; broken soles and palms were entwined with nascent, unformed "swords."

His mind went blank. Even his repeatedly strengthened soul could not contain the agony of this runaway outbreak.

"Lose to anyone—but never lose to yourself!"

His foot stepped forward—and the sound that rang out was no longer flesh being pierced or his choked screams, but the clash of blades!

Finally, his entire body bristling with iron spikes, he reached—

A forge.

"Life, death, past, future… I failed again." The man, whose face was identical to his own but with white hair and an aged tone, set down his hammer and stood up.

"The restraining force intended for me to forge a weapon capable of severing karmic chains, piercing past and future, and cutting through life and death."

"Applied to Weigong Shilang, perhaps it could resolve the crisis."

"But think for a moment—itself cannot accomplish this. How could I possibly complete it in a short time? Still, the knowledge from the Ten Directions Sword Art gave me a new direction."

"Sorry… I'm old, and my words grow longer."

"Ten Directions Annihilation—this sword is incomplete."

He placed a red-hot iron block into cold water; steam hissed upward.

"But your current state has reached its limit."

His voice was cold, yet carried a warning; though his face was young, he gave the impression of an elder.

"Go back. It's enough. You still have other resurrection methods inside you—now would be a fine time to use them." The man smiled and said:

"Regrettably, this is the end."

Weigong Shilang fell silent. He felt he had forgotten many things. He lowered his head and looked at his current state.

Why was he here?

That matter could wait.

He raised his head, gazing forward. His body moved awkwardly toward the man with the identical face, his eyes locked on the long sword in the man's hand.

"You'll die." The man's smile vanished. He gripped the blade with both hands—but his gaze suddenly shifted to Weigong Shilang's back. His raised sword lowered slightly.

Weigong Shilang instinctively looked behind—not only because of the man's gaze, but because he felt something…

A pure white gown fluttered, ribbons and hem trailing on the ground. A silver-haired girl stood behind Weigong Shilang. Blood seeped from her high heels, pooling on the floor. Her white calves were covered in wounds; the celestial robe bore stains like a few plum blossoms.

I can't remember what happened.

He should have remembered the other person's name—this feeling, it felt like he had seen it somewhere before.

"Shilang, you're running too fast!" The girl's voice trembled; her expression was unnatural, yet she still forced a smile:

"I can barely keep up with you."

It was a tone as if she had regained something precious—mingled with relief and joy, yet hiding fear, her voice unsteady.

"Why… are you here?" Weigong Shilang asked, puzzled.

"Because I was worried seeing you act so recklessly, so I came to check on you," said the silver-haired girl with a smile:

"Soul manifestation is the Einzbern family's ancestral magic."

"I knew it—once you let your guard down, you end up like this."

Weigong Shilang noticed the girl's high heels and froze.

Sensing his gaze, she covered her feet with the long hem of her dress and smiled: "My body is materialized soul—so it doesn't matter. I'll recover soon."

Weigong Shilang opened his mouth, reached out to touch her, but saw his own hands covered in blades and froze mid-air. "Ilya… I'm sorry."

He didn't know if his apology was for forgetting her name, or for causing her harm through his own actions.

"It's fine," the girl said, gently taking his hand in her small one, smiling. "Because Ilya already made a promise with Shilang."

"No matter where we go, I'll walk with you to the very end."

"I've always wanted to help Shilang, but all I could offer was magic. Strategy, direction—I was always just standing by, even until the end."

"No, I never consulted you. I…" Weigong Shilang suddenly remembered many memories; seeing the girl before him, injured from his touch, his heart clenched sharply:

"Ilya, stop!"

Under that accepting gaze, touched by her gentle hands, an unprecedented wave stirred within him.

"Honestly, I'm still angry—because if you keep going like this, you'll just hit another dead end."

"For me, this life is already like a dream. The Third Magic has been fulfilled, yet I am no longer an Einzbern doll, nor do I live to fulfill someone else's wish."

"There's enough time ahead to stroll through streets and malls, to witness spring, summer, autumn, winter, to enjoy each season, to travel the world and see its many landscapes."

"But none of it has meaning if Shilang isn't beside me."

Blood streamed down her palm onto Weigong Shilang's body; endless soul energy began repairing his shattered form, and the runaway Origin returned to stillness within the lullaby of the soul.

She had always remembered the promise—while I plunged headfirst into my own vortex.

People always keep stumbling over the same mistake.

Under that gaze, what surged within him was not only guilt, but another unfamiliar emotion.

"Ilya—?!"

The words on his lips were silenced, as if two soft petals had pressed against his lips, slender arms circling his neck as light as air—the soul's repair even filled the hollow space within his heart.

Unlike last time's shy impulse, nor using movie lines as an excuse—this was simply:

The girl's heartfelt love and resolve.

A short distance away, Elder Weigong stood frozen, staring at the "Ten Directions Annihilation" in his hand, lost in silence.

After a long while,

"Next time, don't you dare forget my name," Ilya said, her cheeks flushed with mild reproach: "Not this—never this!"

"Yeah," Weigong Shilang scratched his head, embarrassed. "Wait for me."

He turned and walked toward Elder Weigong, whose expression was strange. "Sorry for the wait."

"I know young people get lost in emotion—even I was no different," Elder Weigong murmured, glancing at the blade in his hand and shaking his head:

"But no one told me this was the timeline."

The Historical Gap.

A cinema, manually grafted from the past by the Mystery Lord, the Time King, the Fate Beacon, the Source Fortress Avatar, and the Spirit Realm Ruler—its screen is empty, directly facing the outside world.

In the center seat, Kleine ate popcorn, watching the two unvanished Guardians raise their blades to deliver the final strike to the kneeling Weigong Shilang.

At that moment, a spectral silver-haired girl embraced Weigong Shilang from behind.

Soon after, brilliant swordlight erupted from Weigong Shilang, as if slicing through the entire world.

"Aren't you going to deal with the Holy Grail?" Kleine muttered to himself. "I thought the Holy Grail Core was crucial."

"Nothing matters anymore," Su Lin said, his eyes clear, his face divine, a radiant halo of merit glowing behind his head, radiating serene stillness:

"I'm using the Holy Grail from the Magical Girl timeline to blast open the Root's gate."

"You're back already?" Kleine said, expressionless. "What about the enemies?"

"Enemies?" Su Lin's lips curled into a faint smile. "They came because of a misunderstanding. Guests are guests."

This sense of completion—unless something had exceeded his satisfaction threshold, or he'd renounced the world—this Sage Mode was as extreme as his past state of demonic possession.

"My treat—everything in the theater."

I thought it better to finish writing and post it—otherwise it would look strange.

(End of Chapter)