Chapter 954: Deciphering the Pattern Marks

The Ten-Thousand-Guide Divine Hammer let out an angry roar: “Too much talk, die! Die! Die! Die...”

This roar was not a sound, but a soul-shriek, rippling outward like a shockwave.

In arcana, there is a sound magic that releases special-frequency waves to attack enemies; now, this hammer’s shriek was just like that magic, striking everyone’s soul.

Ange didn’t care, but the others suffered—especially Negrilis, who instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, but this wasn’t sound; covering ears did no good. To block it, you had to cover your soul.

Du Luo surged forth with a thud, appearing before Negrilis, his cloak swirling to wrap both him and Negrilis inside.

Anthony stepped forward, slammed his staff onto the ground—thud—then slammed it again—thud—

Rings of holy light spread outward, neutralizing the soul-shriek; by the time it reached them, it caused little harm.

Still, it was unbearable, like having a sound amplification spell blaring in your ears; Anthony’s face was twisted so tightly he could have crushed a mosquito between his brows.

This lasted four seconds, then the soul-shriek cut off abruptly. The hammer, the size of a human head, shrank in a flash to the size of a finger, held in Ange’s hand.

“What happened? What did you do to it? Why... why did it shrink?” Negrilis poked his head out from under the cloak, hesitantly asking now that the fighting seemed over.

Ange said: “Lock... seal.”

“Seal? Did you seal it down to this size, or did you seal it, causing it to shrink?” Negrilis asked.

There was a difference: if the former, Ange had mastered a sealing technique that shrunk matter; if the latter, the hammer was naturally this small.

Ange tilted his head, frowning: “I use, its power, seal it, shrink.”

Anthony and Du Luo exchanged glances—they clearly didn’t understand—but Negrilis got it: “You can do that? You used its devouring power to seal it into this size? So the seal is your power, but the shrinking is its power?”

Ange exhaled in relief and nodded vigorously.

“That’s brilliant! So if you don’t break the seal, it’ll stay this small forever?” Negrilis asked.

Ange nodded.

“Can it still answer questions now?” Negrilis asked.

Ange held out the tiny hammer.

Negrilis shouted at the tiny hammer: “Who are you? How did you end up here?”

The tiny hammer roared angrily: “Too much talk... die.”

Negrilis asked several times; the hammer only repeated the same roar, showing no sign of normal consciousness.

“It’s ruined—it’s an idiot. Why does it keep muttering that one phrase? Did someone piss on it?” Du Luo said, baffled.

“So it smashed me because I was talking? Am I talkative? Is it insane?” Negrilis snapped.

Anthony nodded: “No complete consciousness? Definitely insane. Psychotic.”

Questioning was impossible—the tiny hammer had no full awareness, only repeating that one phrase.

Everyone stared grimly around the space: a hammer that could swell to such size, wielding immense devouring power, and having shattered a Mourning Body—what was this hammer’s origin? Who did the Black Crystal Body belong to? Why was such a powerful artifact here? Were there other things nearby?

One question after another filled Anthony and the others’ minds; with these questions, they began searching the entire space.

Ange didn’t wander. He immediately planted a World Tree sapling, spread cultivation substrate around it, scattered seeds of the Dead Fruit Tree, then stamped his foot.

The Dead Fruit Tree didn’t need light to grow—it was one of the few crops that thrived in darkness. Ange realized the death energy here was extremely dense—perfect for growing Dead Fruit.

As the Rapid Death Aura activated, the Dead Fruit seeds sprouted and grew rapidly, surging with vitality, spurring the World Tree sapling to grow at breakneck speed.

The World Tree was a miraculous plant: it could reshape environments, and adapt to them too—it was life’s greatest protector.

In this place, choked with black crystals and with almost no soil, the World Tree abandoned its original deep-rooted, towering growth pattern. It spread along the ground, extending through gaps between black crystals, expanding like a net.

“Wait, wait—I haven’t finished observing! These patterns seem regular—likely a script. I’m analyzing the pattern, don’t cover them up!” Negrilis had been intently studying, just made a discovery, then turned to see Ange planting trees.

Ange ran over and handed him the Ten-Thousand-Guide Divine Hammer.

“Makes sense—I’ll just examine the hammer directly. Sticking my neck out like an idiot. Du Luo, give me a magnifying glass,” Negrilis grumbled.

Of course, a magnifying glass was just Negrilis covering his embarrassment—his mental perception was far better than any lens; even the tiniest patterns were clear to him. Finding patterns on the hammer was easier than scanning the whole space—no need to move.

Quickly, Negrilis deduced the pattern’s rules: “I’ve figured out the pattern. Now there’s one problem—I need references. Without them, I can’t deduce what these patterns mean.”

A completely unfamiliar pattern system was nearly impossible to decipher without references—you didn’t know if it was writing, tone, or some abstract symbol. Three horizontal lines might look like “three,” but actually mean “ Chuan .” How do you translate that?

You needed references: one line = one, two lines = two, three lines = three. Once you understood that, four lines must mean four.

Once you knew what four lines meant, you could examine context, find recurrence patterns, then deduce the next pattern’s meaning. Once you deduced the next character, you could link it to context, summarize the second character’s rule, then deduce the third.

The more characters you deduced, the more you could cross-validate—checking if earlier guesses were correct. Repeat this process until full decipherment.

But this method required references. More references meant faster decipherment.

“When speakers of different languages meet, one points at the sun and says ‘sun,’ another points at the sun and says ‘firepot’—then you know, in their language, ‘firepot’ means sun. That’s a reference,” Negrilis explained.

Ange thought, then formed a water sphere, placed the tiny hammer inside—it showed no reaction.

Ange formed a fireball, placed the hammer inside—it burned, and one of the markings reacted.

“Reaction! Reaction! That marking probably means fire, heat, or fire element,” Negrilis quickly noted.

Ange immersed the hammer in all natural elements—fire, lightning, dark—all triggered the same marking.

“Hmm, fire, earth, dark elements all trigger it—so it doesn’t mean fire element. Maybe energy? Source? Transformation?” Negrilis hastily revised.

Ange then tossed the hammer, struck objects with it, unleashed soul impacts, soaked it in death energy, shouted at it—he tested every possible stimulus he could think of, and found nine markings that reacted.

“Good. Nine references. Let me see if I can decipher them. This one is fire, this one is magnetism—fire magnetism? No, it must be energy, magnetism, electricity, weak, strong—with magnetism, electricity, weak, strong power? Core—what about core? Contraction or fusion? Ange, try fusion. Good—fusion. With strong-weak electromagnetic power, fusion of what what? Four forces unified—Ten-Thousand-Guide Divine Hammer...”

As Negrilis deciphered and muttered, the tiny Ten-Thousand-Guide Divine Hammer suddenly trembled violently, as if trying to break free from Ange’s seal.