Volume One, Chapter Fifty-Seven: Receiving the Body

Howard Loveschus Lee, the genius alchemist, possessed a talent unrivaled in his era. Yet in his time, metallic lifeforms were a rarity. Throughout his life, Howard refined thirteen batches of Deathmetal, each attempt a resounding success. These thirteen pieces were forged into a set of weaponry—the very first "Deathmetal Arms."

During the Metal Frenzy, people discovered these weapons could wreak havoc on metallic lifeforms, although their use also incited mass riots among metal spirits. The wielder could slaughter the encroaching metal spirits with impunity at first, but soon would be overwhelmed, their strength gradually depleted, until finally they were swallowed by the tide of metal.

"This wall is reinforced with at least three batches of Deathmetal—it’s solid as can be," Mu Qing remarked, striking the barricade with her fist. After a dull thud, she withdrew her hand, and the iron wall bore not so much as a scratch.

"Let me try," Mode ventured, eager to test his skills. He wanted to see whether the iron wall could withstand the refining power of Blackfire.

"You really aren’t afraid of letting whatever’s inside out, are you?" Mu Qing looked at Mode with surprise, seeing his eagerness.

With Deathmetal sealing the door, it was likely that a powerful metal spirit was imprisoned behind it.

"Nothing stays unscathed under the passage of time. Without sustenance, a hundred years is enough to wear any metal spirit down to weakness, unable to move. And this ruin has stood far longer than a century," Mode replied, glancing at Mu Qing and negotiating, "Could I borrow some fire?"

"When you ask someone for a favor, you ought to be sweeter about it if you want them to like you," Mu Qing retorted, vexed by Mode’s directness.

"Miss, may I borrow your fire?" Mode rephrased, this time displaying a sincere, if awkward, smile, accompanied by a polite gesture.

"You’re hopeless..." Mu Qing grumbled, removing her amber sunglasses. She once more released the seal on the Blackfire deep within her eyes, allowing Mode to draw upon it.

Activating his fire control technique, Mode did not channel the Blackfire into the black cord on his wrist but instead gathered it onto the sheath of the Boundary Stone Blade. The Blackfire within the sheath seemed to resonate with the external flame, the two forces combining as if to refine something, yet lacking a final catalyst.

A sudden inspiration struck Mode, and he infused a trace of golden light into the blade sheath, providing the missing catalyst.

The golden radiance formed a pattern at the mouth of the sheath; within Mode’s perception, the many wards and membranes enveloping the sheath now seemed to possess a freely operated gateway. Through it, he could draw Blackfire into the sheath, or extract it as needed.

However, without the aid of the wards and membranes, Mode’s current strength was insufficient to manipulate all the flames stored within the sheath.

"If you don’t stop, you’re going to drain me dry," Mu Qing’s weakened voice sounded, prompting Mode to halt the fire transfer at once.

Once the transfer stopped, Mu Qing’s legs buckled and she sank to the floor. The process had drained not only the Blackfire, but also much of her physical strength.

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away this time..." Mode apologized. Without their usual method of bodily contact, he’d overdrawn the fire, nearly causing Mu Qing to faint.

"I told you, don’t use your half-baked fire control for transfers," she grumbled, but said no more, retrieving food and water from her storage ring and sitting to replenish her strength. Her amber sunglasses were quickly restored to her face, sealing the Blackfire back within.

After repeated apologies, Mode turned to the iron wall, condensing a hint of golden copper light and pressing it to the surface.

He gently tapped the blade sheath against the golden radiance. The Blackfire burning quietly outside the sheath was catalyzed upon meeting the golden light, spreading rapidly across the iron wall, igniting it in fierce flames.

After committing the entirety of the sheath’s flames to the iron wall, Mode turned and scooped Mu Qing up, carrying her away from the inferno.

He was unconcerned for himself, but worried the Blackfire might burn too fiercely, endangering the now-weakened Mu Qing.

Slumped in Mode’s arms, Mu Qing was too exhausted to resist, instead quickly devouring the food from her tin can. Curiously, the taste seemed less unpleasant than before.

The ethereal Blackfire, upon contact with the golden radiance, became tangible, its fiery tongues sweeping across the entirety of the wall.

Refining fire surged, its arrogance unbound. The room’s temperature barely rose, yet the massive iron wall began to melt, slowly but surely.

Mode did not set Mu Qing down—should danger arise, he could whisk her away in an instant.

His fire control technique within seemed to be driven into a frenzy by the flames themselves. Through the raging Blackfire, Mode sensed the iron wall’s resistance and struggle, but it was futile.

The surface layer of the wall had already melted, twisting and writhing like a desperate creature, but unable to escape the relentless Blackfire clinging to it like maggots on bone.

It was as if the infernal flames of hell licked at the souls of the damned—the pale blue iron wall was engulfed and consumed by black. The popping of molten bubbles was accompanied by shrill, miserable wails.

Standing at the mouth of the chamber, Mode frowned. Distance hampered his fire control, but staying here forced him to endure the iron wall’s cries. He had to hold Mu Qing with one arm, plugging one ear with the other, yet the anguished noise poured ceaselessly into his mind.

Suddenly, the noise diminished. Mode’s right ear was covered by a warm palm.

Looking down, he saw Mu Qing’s comical posture—her left hand stretched over her head to block her own ears, her right hand pressed firmly against Mode’s ear.

Though her pose was amusing, Mode’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

To reach Mode’s ear, Mu Qing had to lean sideways against his chest. In that position, as Mode looked down, he saw two full, rounded forms pressed against him, the north hemisphere taut beneath her shirt, outlining supple curves. Between the layered peaks, a hidden valley emerged, and once his gaze fell in, he found it hard to look away.

For all his composure and maturity, Mode was still a young man with hot blood.

A sudden pain in his right earlobe jolted Mode out of his clouded thoughts. He coughed lightly, reluctantly dragging his gaze from the hills and depths, and refocused on the burning iron wall. The Blackfire had refined most of it; beyond the pale blue iron, another door was faintly visible.

Mu Qing released her grip on Mode’s earlobe as his heated gaze finally turned away, continuing to block the noise for him.

Whether it was the roasting flames or Mode’s increasingly warm embrace, Mu Qing’s cheeks were now tinged with red, her ears flushed as well.

Mu Qing could not know that while she merely felt a bit warm, for Mode it was agonizing, as if consumed by fire.

The soft, yielding weight pressed tightly against his chest, the warmth nearly igniting Mode’s already boiling blood. The pressure of life never before endured left him breathless. Even through their layers of clothing, Mode could sense the outline of the two moons in his embrace.

Round as moons, paired and perfect. Each unique, each hinting at hidden sharpness.

The body heat of these young companions seemed to rise in tandem, challenging the burning iron wall before them.

Mode endured the dual impact of the moons, closing his eyes and biting his tongue, forcing himself to focus on the fire control technique running through his body. He needed to shift his attention, lest he succumb to embarrassment.

The fire control guided the foreign seed within him to flow swiftly along a set path, his mind following the technique through every part of his body. His consciousness observed his inner world through the lens of fire control—the weaving of flesh, the structure of bone, the gathering and dispersal of the foreign seed...

Everything became clearer and more intuitive in Mode’s eyes.

His spirit wandered his inner world, projecting his consciousness into his body. As his thoughts imprinted themselves throughout, a complete diagram of his body’s meridians emerged in his mind, the key points shining where the fire control technique circulated.

Mind and thought united, sensation and body as one. Mode felt he was seeing his true self anew—a newly awakened being, different from others.

So this was an Awakened, so this was a Gift.

From mere use to true understanding, Mode’s mindset was once again transformed. The foreign seed within him flowed more nimbly and freely.

Ordinary Awakened, in the physical mastery stage, continuously imprint their "heart image"—the crystallization of their Gift’s insight—into their bodies, letting their flesh directly sense and comprehend the mysteries of their Gift, striving for effortless use.

But Mode’s path to awakening was unlike any other. Until he broke through the physical mastery stage, he had never deliberately cultivated a heart image, relying solely on instinct to trigger and wield his Gift.

Now, aided by the fire control technique, Mode’s spiritual journey through his inner world allowed him, for the first time, to observe and understand the foreign seed, to comprehend and dissect his Gift, to truly see himself.

His spirit flowed, his thoughts clear, his entire body light and agile, his Gift more deftly controlled than ever.

Mode opened his eyes once again. Reflected in his pupils was the blazing iron wall. A new clarity and resolve shone in his gaze.