Zechariah Lee watched as Quinn Shepherd approached, struggling to steady himself before raising his hand and saying, "Cult Master Quinn, please!"
Quinn looked puzzled. "Why?"
Zechariah's expression was grave. "To die by the Cult Master's sword is a hundred times better than dying at the hands of Prince Autumnshade. If I fall to you, I will have no regrets."
Quinn couldn't help but laugh and shake his head. "Zechariah, you've misunderstood."
Zechariah looked blankly at him.
"I'm not here to kill you. If you die here, it's a huge hassle for me."
Quinn walked over, lifted Zechariah out from the rubble, and explained, "There's a poem on this pillar—it's the key to cracking the Ghost Ship's divine art. If you stand here, once the ship resets, you'll fuse with the pillar. If I kill you here, your blood will smear the writing, and I'll have to wait for another whole loop for it to reset clean. If you really want to die, at least do it farther away."
Zechariah grunted, staring at Quinn's hand—he saw that Quinn was holding a vial of Dragon Spittle Elixir, already applying it to his wounds.
"Cult Master Quinn, you're treating my injuries," Zechariah reminded him.
Only then did Quinn realize what he was doing. He casually dropped Zechariah to the ground and muttered, "A doctor's heart is like a parent's—it's just a habit."
Zechariah winced as the pain flared from being dropped, but then realized Quinn had already treated his wounds—they were knitting together, no longer bleeding.
"You still saved me."
His feelings were complicated. "Cult Master Quinn, you know we're enemies. Both of us clawed our way up from nothing, so if I die by your hand, I'll have no complaints. Let's duel our Daos—let me truly lose to you, and die by your sword!"
Quinn shook his head. "Zechariah, you're really mistaken. Are we truly grassroots? Compared to Prince Autumnshade, maybe, but compared to ordinary people, we were born with golden spoons. You're a god's descendant, exceptionally gifted, taught by Logan Cross and Furylo. What commoner ever had your advantages?"
Zechariah was taken aback.
Quinn continued, "I may have been an abandoned child in the Great Ruins, but I was raised by the nine elders of Oldridge Village—the best teachers anyone could ask for. Plus, I'm the Netherworld Divine Son, a descendant of the Pioneer Emperor. It may just be background, but the status is there. And I have the Overlord Body."
He shook his head. "How are we grassroots? The real grassroots are ordinary people—parents who work from dawn to dusk and still go hungry, children born into danger, where every meal and every day is a struggle. Some places are full of beasts and bandits; parents leave to find food and might not return alive. Those born in such hardship fight their way up, step by step—that's grassroots."
He spoke calmly, "People like that have none of our advantages, no background, no luck. They face countless traps and setbacks, struggle for survival, and finally achieve something. We're not the grassroots heroes—they are."
Zechariah stood up, thought for a moment, then nodded. "Cult Master Quinn, you're absolutely right. Compared to them, we're more like that detestable Prince Autumnshade."
"Everpeace Reform aims to change exactly that situation."
Quinn's eyes burned with passion. "The goal of Everpeace Reform is to let everyone fulfill their potential and make the best use of resources! Every person should receive a full education—primary schools and universities everywhere, Dao and divine arts taught to all, so the grassroots can become heroes with fewer traps and setbacks, and everyone's talents can shine!"
He grew excited. "This reform will bring gods down from their lofty heights, make them each serve a role, each contribute their part! Imagine the future Everpeace: world-ark battleships soaring through the sky, goods flowing freely, people talking across ten thousand li, reaching the moon above and the seas below, unleashing all their talents! They'll build magnificent cities, connect countless heavens and worlds, create dazzling arts, and endless minds will work to make life better! Zechariah..."
Zechariah stared at him, stunned. Quinn leaned in enthusiastically. "Have you heard of the Cult of the Heavenly Saint?"
Zechariah's mouth hung open and his eyes widened.
"Join me. Let's do this together!"
Quinn grabbed his shoulders, shook him hard, and laughed. "Let's build something great together! In that ossified Heavenly Court, you fight and struggle to climb up, but where can you go? Even at the top, you'll just be another Logan Cross, leading the Prodigy Legion. Above you are countless nobles; you still have to bow to people like Prince Autumnshade. But Everpeace's future is different—you can have greater ambition, more possibilities!"
Zechariah was dizzy from being shaken, struggling to steady himself—and his Dao-heart. "Cult Master Quinn, let me think about it..."
Quinn let go, clenched his fist, and quietly encouraged him, "Think about your dreams, your heart, and what you truly want."
Zechariah, still dazed, felt deeply moved. He nodded, "I do think the lower realm is far more exciting than Heaven... but trapped on this Ghost Ship, we may not make it out alive. What's the point in talking about all this?"
Quinn smiled. "We can get out. Haven't you noticed? I'm stronger than you and Prince Autumnshade, but I haven't started to virtualize."
Zechariah grunted, realizing he'd agreed a bit too quickly. "This guy has never known what humility means!"
"Venerable Skysoar's divine art turned this ship into the Ghost Ship. It looks incredibly powerful, but at its core it's a creation-art that reverses matter, holding it in a fixed state, even making it flow backward! But when she cast the art, her mana wasn't enough—she couldn't fully achieve it."
Light exploded again, engulfing them both.
Quinn's eyes sparkled with excitement as he paced through the radiance, explaining to Zechariah, "The Ghost Ship's matter still changes. When the change reaches its limit, her divine art triggers, detonating again to recalibrate the ship's matter back to its original state."
When the light faded, the ruined great halls were restored, and the pillar with the poem returned to its original form.
Quinn still showed no signs of virtualizing—he circled Zechariah, excitement in his voice. "This recalibration brings about shifts in time and space, letting the Ghost Ship traverse different eras. Thirty-six traversals make one full deployment of the art. So after thirty-six small loops, there's one great loop that returns everything to the start! Does that make sense now?"
Zechariah stared blankly, eyes wide. After a moment, he snapped out of it and quickly shook his head.
Quinn went on, "I tuned myself to the same material-change frequency as the Ghost Ship. Venerable Skysoar's divine art treats me as part of the ship, so I don't virtualize. Among our boarding batch, only two can remain solid: you and me. Get it now?"
Zechariah's eyes went wide again, and even the demon blade on his back seemed to stare in confusion.
"I get it."
Zechariah straightened his expression. "One conversation with you is worth ten years of study. Cult Master Quinn, your wisdom is truly unmatched—I'm in awe!"
Quinn looked quite pleased.
But the demon blade on Zechariah's back was still utterly lost.
"If I admit I don't get it, he'll think I'm an idiot."
Zechariah thought, "When dealing with research maniacs like him, if you don't understand, just pretend you do. As long as you don't speak up, you'll never reveal your ignorance."
"And as for escaping this ship, there's one best opportunity!"
Quinn grew even more excited. "That's when the material change is most intense! And when is that? The very first time the Ghost Ship traverses. At that moment, all the Feather-Guard troops aboard turned virtual, and the ship itself became virtual! If I'm right, that's also when the four ancient beast-emperors—Black Tortoise, Vermilion Bird, Azure Dragon, and White Tiger—boarded and left their seals!"
Zechariah clapped in admiration. "Brother Quinn, your insight is truly extraordinary!"
But the demon blade on his back was still completely lost.
Quinn beamed. "Brother Zechariah, you truly are my kindred spirit—you understood right away. When the Four Ancient Emperors came to investigate the Feather-Guard Time-Traverse Incident, they boarded this ship, triggering massive changes in its matter. The entire Feather-Guard Corps virtualized, becoming unobservable. Venerable Skysoar's divine art erupted in full and clashed with the Four Emperors. That's when we can use the Four Emperors' power to break Venerable Skysoar's art! If we succeed, we'll rescue those who virtualized and send everyone back to their own era!"
Zechariah only understood the last part, but smiled broadly. "Cult Master Quinn, what should we do?"
"Survive!"
Quinn's face grew serious. "All we can do now is stay alive. Right, Deputy Commander Lin Hawk?"
Zechariah's heart skipped—he looked around, then spotted a lantern hanging from the ship's mast.
The lantern's door swung open, and a tiny bird-headed, human-bodied figure stepped out, sunlight blazing behind him.
The little sprite clapped his hands in praise. "No wonder you're one of the Nine Heavenly Venerables, Shepherd Venerable! Just a few loops and you've figured out the solution. Autumnshade's plan to kill all the Immutable Constants—I tried it too, but it didn't work. Your method may be the only way off this ship."
Quinn smiled. "But as the Empress's confidant, you won't let anyone escape—lest the secret get out."
The lantern sprite sighed. "That's right. All Immutable Constants must die—every last one."
Quinn suddenly asked, "So, Lin Hawk, do you remember how many loops you've gone through on this ship?"
The lantern sprite paused, not understanding.
Quinn smiled. "Each small loop brings a new batch aboard, so no one truly dies. After death, after virtualizing, when the next loop starts, they're alive again, boarding the ship once more. The ship's matter remains constant—no increase, no decrease, no change. That's Venerable Skysoar's art. So when you board with Absolute Dust, does the current you still exist?"
Suddenly, the lantern's light flared—Lin Hawk grew anxious.
Quinn smiled faintly. "At that moment, the current you vanishes, replaced by the you just boarding. You'll repeat the same actions with your companion, Absolute Dust, again and again. How many times have you done this?"
The lantern sprite laughed. "I remember every loop..."
"You don't."
Quinn's look turned scornful. "If you remembered, I'd remember too, and so would every Immutable Constant. But you keep killing them—they don't remember, and neither do you. The only one with fragments of memory is Lord Drakebar—the mad old dragon fused with the ship—but even his memory is incomplete."
The lantern sprite's pupils shrank. Suddenly he cackled like a rooster. "But you'll die soon enough. After thirty-six loops, you'll revive—and I'll kill you again!"
The lantern blazed, its sun spinning, unleashing a terrifying wave that shattered the ground where Quinn stood!
The lantern sprite lunged, but Quinn and Zechariah had vanished!
Quinn cast a teleportation art, whisking both himself and Zechariah away. He spoke quickly, "That guy cut his own cultivation, but he's still as strong as a god—he survived Village Chief's strike. We need to hide somewhere safe until he resets. Then he won't remember us..."
Suddenly, a beam from the lantern swept past, vaporizing everything in its path. The sprite laughed, "Hide? I know this ship inside out. Where could you possibly go?"
Zechariah shook his head. "Cult Master Quinn, if we join forces, couldn't we kill that rooster-dragon?"
Quinn paused, looked him over, and shook his head. "If I teamed up with Void Blossom, I could fight a god. But you're not Void Blossom."
Zechariah grunted, his fighting spirit blazing. "I'm not as good as Void Blossom? Don't underestimate me!"
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