Pillar of Yita

Four minutes and forty-seven seconds.

Fang Hong closed the main communication channel, leaving only the vision of the clockwork fairy hanging in the air. Through this fixed perspective, the onlookers gazed down upon him—not too close, nor too far—watching as he unfolded numerous large and small flexible constructs amidst a shower of light rain. The constructs, varying in height, were like silent sentinels surrounding their alchemist, their exteriors reflecting the cold metallic gleam.

Fang Hong held a clockwork fairy in his hand and looked at the matrix floating in midair, a golden array of clockwork fairies. He gently rotated his right hand, palm facing upwards, as gears and gauges on the metal glove spun.

Opposite him, countless golden spheres undulated. Invisible etheric threads, unobservable to the people, connected Fang Hong’s magic guided reactor’s main crystal to the central control crystal of the clockwork fairy swarm.

And between them, a mark was left.

Fang Hong activated every clockwork fairy. Spectators saw a dim red glow light up and then extinguish underneath each brass shell in succession, like waves in a sea of light; most understood the implication yet were filled with doubt. Why activate so many clockwork fairies? Were they really necessary?

Fang Hong silently flipped his palm, severing the connection between the clockwork fairies and the transmission crystal, letting each one fall to the ground.

Only then did he quietly turn to one side, where, in a space invisible to the crowd, a petite fairy lady hovered—her four thin wings like cicada wings, her long, emerald-green hair cascading like a waterfall, and the calm light in her eyes as still as an ancient well, untouched by the tidal onslaught of enemies.

”Miss Tata.”

A barely perceptible silver gleam flickered in Fang Hong’s eyes as Tata nodded. No further exchange was necessary; a myriad of words flowed in a flash of thought, resonating within their hearts.

Both reached out, fingertips meeting midair. To the bystanders, it simply appeared as though Fang Hong extended his index finger and lightly touched the emptiness in front of him. A vague silver network radiated from that center, spreading in all directions.

But what that was, the people did not know, not even Phales and Virus had an answer in their hearts. Both felt a slight surprise but remained silent. Alchemists had too many secrets; it could be some kind of enhancement plugin, but it could also be something else; there was no definitive conclusion.

Only Phales felt a twinge of familiarity—it seemed like the calculative power authorization transfer of a fairy master, forming a network with the system’s calculative power to share with others. But this thought merely flickered through her mind: Where was there a fairy master here? Who were these others?

And within the office of the head of the Crystal Department in Colin Ishurian’s craftsman headquarters, a loud bang echoed—

Phales Copper Bay almost sent everything on his desk flying with a slap, then leaned back in his chair, unable to restrain a loud laugh:

”That’s it, Guardian of the Silver Tower, I’ve found you, Miss Number Five—!”

That was the true Dragon Soul.

Yet it was not a Dragon Soul in the conventional sense.

He laughed so hard that he could not straighten his back, tears and snot streaming freely.

But as he laughed, his complexion gradually dimmed, only the area around his eyes remained red, while his white beard trembled: ”Look at that, that fellow did it, he proved that all of us were wrong, outrageously wrong—”

He sighed deeply, and beneath his snowy eyebrows, his murky eyes intently watched Fang Hong in the transmission crystal: ”Work hard, Lady Tata...”

Three minutes and fifty seconds.

Two tides of darkness had already swept over the nearest street. Between them and Fang Hong, there was just one last barrier—the fissure formed by the previous earthquake, with the collapsed and broken buildings serving as a natural rampart.

The onlookers simply hoped Fang Hong would quickly gather his supplies and leave the area, for the encirclement was not yet complete, and there was still a sliver of chance before the two tides of darkness merged.

But to their surprise, Fang Hong appeared extremely calm, not moving an inch.

The faint light in the darkness only highlighted the young man’s focused expression. Fatigue and old injuries had rendered his complexion pale, beads of sweat now covered his forehead, but the depths of his dark eyes still reflected that twinkling light.

At this distance, it was even difficult for the onlookers to discern what he was doing with his hands.

Only Hilveld, weakly propped up beside a crystal, watched the earnest actions of this young man. She saw Fang Hong hold every clockwork fairy in his hands, as the phantom of a shell overlapped with the brass sphere, a flash of silver on the sphere vanishing in an instant before he turned his hand and set it aside.

To the others, it just appeared as though Fang Hong lightly picked up a clockwork fairy with his left hand and then put it down again.

This strange behavior made them both anxious and puzzled:

What exactly was he doing?

Why wasn’t he leaving this place?

These were the unanswered questions in everyone’s minds at that moment.

”Mr. Ambassador?” in the command center, one of the military personnel turned around in confusion.

But the ambassador just shook his head slightly.

”Trust in Mr. Xiaya.”

A moment of silence.

Perhaps at this very moment, their only choice was to trust.

But naturally, they could not see the eyes of the serene fairy lady floating in front of Fang Hong—the long lashes of Miss Tata framing her light green eyes, gazing at the two ’storms’ on the horizon.