The silence that followed the collapse of the Blood Covenant was not the silence of peace. It was the silence of a held breath, of a world waiting to see what would come next. The Hall of Golden Chimes lay in ruins around them, its pillars shattered, its ceiling open to the grey sky. The bodies of Wei Wuming's guards were scattered across the floor, their golden abaci still gleaming at their throats, their eyes still wide with the shock of their sudden deaths.
Gu Yao stood in the center of the ruin, his hammer in his hand, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The golden threads that had bound the city together were gone, their light faded into nothing. The debts that had held the people captive for three thousand years had been erased, their records reduced to ash. The machine was broken. The system was broken. The people were free.
But he knew that the freedom would not last. He knew that the Sects would not allow the system to remain broken. He knew that they would send someone to restore order, to rebuild the machine, to reassert their control over the people. He just did not know how long it would take.
Shen Yi stood beside him, her body still glowing with pale, golden light. She was exhausted, her face pale, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. She had spent everything she had to break the Blood Covenant, to shatter the golden threads, to free the people from the debts that had held them captive. She had given everything, and she had nothing left to give.
"Brother Gu." Xiao Liu was at his side, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the sky. "There's something coming."
Gu Yao looked up. The sky was still grey, but there was something else now—a faint, blue light that was growing brighter with each passing moment. It was not the light of the sun. It was not the light of the moon. It was something else, something that he had seen before, something that he had hoped never to see again. It was the light of the Sects, the light of the cultivators who had come to restore order.
"It's the Sects," he said. "They're coming to rebuild the machine."
Xiao Liu's face went pale. "Brother Gu, we can't fight them. We're too weak. We're too tired. We have nothing left to give."
Gu Yao did not answer. He was staring at the blue light, his eyes fixed on the figure that was descending from the sky. It was a man, tall and thin, his face hidden behind a mask of polished jade. He wore a robe of pale blue silk, and the golden abacus around his neck was larger and more ornate than any Gu Yao had seen. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his eyes were cold and distant.
"Gu Yao," the man said. His voice was soft, almost gentle. "I have been expecting you."
Gu Yao walked toward him, his hammer scraping against the stones, his broken leg dragging behind him. "Who are you?"
"I am Han Feng," the man said. "I am the Liquidator. I am the one who cleans up the messes that the Sects have made." He gestured to the ruins around them. "And you have made quite a mess, Gu Yao."
Gu Yao stopped in front of him. His hammer was in his hand, its iron head dark and cold. "I've done what I came here to do," he said. "I've broken the system. The debts are gone. The people are free."
Han Feng's smile did not waver. "You have broken the system. But you have not broken the Sects. You have not broken the machine. You have not broken the power that holds everything together." He gestured to the blue light that was still descending from the sky. "The Sects will rebuild the system. They will restore the debts. They will reassert their control. And there is nothing you can do to stop them."
Gu Yao felt the weight of Han Feng's words pressing down on him, the weight of the truth that he had been trying to ignore. The Sects would rebuild. The debts would return. The system would continue.
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm not going to stop trying."
Han Feng's smile widened. "You are a fool, Gu Yao. You are a fool, and you are going to get yourself killed."
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
"Maybe," Gu Yao said. "But I'm not going to stop trying."
Han Feng raised his hand, and the blue light began to pulse, to flicker, to shift. It wrapped around him, forming a cocoon of pale, cold light. His body began to change, to shift, to transform. He was no longer a man. He was something else, something that had been shaped by the Sects, something that had been forged in the fires of their power. He was a Liquidator, and he had come to do what Liquidators did.
"This is your last chance," Han Feng said. "Surrender now, and I will let you live. Resist, and I will destroy you."
Gu Yao did not answer. He raised his hammer, his eyes fixed on the figure that was descending from the sky. He had fought for fifty years, had bled for fifty years, had sacrificed everything he had for fifty years. And he was not about to stop now.
"Come on, then," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
Han Feng's smile widened. "So be it."
He raised his hand, and the blue light began to pulse, to flicker, to shift. It shot toward Gu Yao, a bolt of pale, cold fire that was aimed at his heart. It was fast, too fast for him to dodge, too fast for him to block.
But he did not dodge. He did not block. He planted his feet, raised his hammer, and swung.
The impact was shattering. The blue light exploded against his hammer, sending shockwaves through the ruins. The stones beneath his feet cracked, the walls around him crumbled, the air itself seemed to shudder. He felt the force of the impact travel up his arm, through his shoulder, into his chest. He felt it in his bones, in his teeth, in the hollow spaces where the nails had been.
But he did not fall. He stood his ground, his hammer raised, his eyes fixed on the figure that was still descending from the sky. The blue light was growing brighter, more intense, and he could see the shape of the figure within it. It was a man, but it was also something else—a weapon, a tool, a machine.
"Impressive," Han Feng said. "But you cannot stop me. You cannot stop the Sects. You cannot stop the machine."
"Maybe," Gu Yao said. "But I'm not going to stop trying."
He raised his hammer again, his eyes fixed on the figure that was still descending from the sky. The blue light was growing brighter, more intense, and he could see the shape of the figure within it. It was a man, but it was also something else—a weapon, a tool, a machine.
Han Feng raised his hand, and the blue light began to pulse, to flicker, to shift. It shot toward Gu Yao again, a bolt of pale, cold fire that was aimed at his heart. It was faster than before, stronger than before, more powerful than before.
Gu Yao did not dodge. He did not block. He planted his feet, raised his hammer, and swung.
The impact was shattering. The blue light exploded against his hammer, sending shockwaves through the ruins. The stones beneath his feet cracked, the walls around him crumbled, the air itself seemed to shudder. He felt the force of the impact travel up his arm, through his shoulder, into his chest. He felt it in his bones, in his teeth, in the hollow spaces where the nails had been.
But he did not fall. He stood his ground, his hammer raised, his eyes fixed on the figure that was still descending from the sky. The blue light was growing brighter, more intense, and he could see the shape of the figure within it. It was a man, but it was also something else—a weapon, a tool, a machine.
"Gu Yao," Han Feng said. "You cannot win. You cannot fight the Sects. You cannot fight the machine. The machine is too large. It is too powerful. It has been in place for three thousand years, and it will be in place for three thousand more."
Gu Yao did not answer. He raised his hammer, his eyes fixed on the figure that was still descending from the sky. He had fought for fifty years, had bled for fifty years, had sacrificed everything he had for fifty years. And he was not about to stop now.
"Come on, then," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
Han Feng's smile widened. "So be it."
He raised his hand, and the blue light began to pulse, to flicker, to shift. It shot toward Gu Yao, a bolt of pale, cold fire that was aimed at his heart. It was fast, too fast for him to dodge, too fast for him to block. But this time, Gu Yao did not try to block it. He stepped aside, letting the bolt pass within a finger's width of his chest. The blue light struck the ruins behind him, and the stones exploded into dust.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed. "You are more clever than I thought. But you are still a fool. You are still going to die."
"Maybe," Gu Yao said. "But I'm going to take as many of you with me as I can."
He raised his hammer and charged. His broken leg dragged behind him, his body screaming with every step, but he did not stop. He could not stop. He had been fighting for fifty years, and he was not about to stop now.
The blue light descended around him, but he kept moving. His hammer swung, and the blue light shattered. He stepped over the bodies of the fallen guards, past the crumbled ledgers, through the fading threads of golden light. He was no longer fighting the system. He was fighting the man who had built it.
Han Feng's eyes widened. "Gu Yao, stop. You cannot win. You cannot defeat me."
"Maybe not," Gu Yao said. "But I can try."