Over a hundred li from the epicenter of the blast, Quinn Shepherd clawed his way out of a massive crater, his clothes shredded and his pants in tatters. He slapped at the lingering tongues of flame still burning on his body, the embers crackling and popping, roasting him until he was steeped in the scent of cooked meat.
Just now, he’d used a thread of demonic qi to ignite Heavenly Fire, and the explosion had gone off without the slightest warning.
Luckily, he’d been cautious—only a wisp of Netherworld Miasma to trigger Profound Capital Heavenly Fire—so the blast wasn’t as ferocious as it could have been. It merely sent him flying for a hundred li.
Even so, it nearly killed him. Fortunately, the creation arts of Crimson Emperor and Bright Emperor he’d cultivated managed to keep him alive, if barely.
"Youdu belongs to the demonic path, Profound Capital to the divine. Using Netherworld Miasma to ignite Profound Capital Heavenly Fire… yeah, that’s bound to go wrong," he muttered.
The youth brushed off the last traces of magic fire from his body, then turned to check his clothes—riddled with gaping holes, half his snow-white backside exposed.
This outfit had been tailored by Ariel Skyfeather and her clan’s finest artisans. It could resize at will, shift its colors with his mood—never too dull or plain.
He’d worn it constantly, but now it was officially unwearable.
"Guess I’ll have to ask Sister Ariel to make me a few new sets," he sighed.
He soared into the air, feeling a chilly breeze on his exposed backside.
Quinn Shepherd flew back to the blast’s center and found his Sword Pill. During the explosion, he’d directed the firepower straight at his weapon, letting it take the full force of both demonic and heavenly fire. He wasn’t sure if it had been melted or blown apart.
"Huh—"
Quinn let out a soft sound of surprise. The Sword Pill had shrunk even further—now only the size of a fist. He couldn’t tell if some of it had evaporated, or if the forging had simply compressed it more.
At this moment, the Sword Pill radiated a tranquil, ghostly glow, like a luminous bead in the night. Its light wasn’t harsh, but flowed gently from within, making the whole sphere seem woven from pure light.
He picked it up, feeling its incredible weight in his palm. It hadn’t gotten any lighter, meaning the explosion hadn’t vaporized any material.
Quinn pondered: fusing divine fire and demonic fire really could rapidly refine the Sword Pill to a near-liquid state. But this time, the explosion had been so violent that it was almost hard to believe the weapon survived—and became even more perfect.
He gripped the Sword Pill with force. Inside, sword-lights streamed out between his fingers, bending and flowing at his will.
These sword-lights were eerily silent and mysterious. As they sliced through the air, there wasn’t a sound—not even the usual whistle of a blade. Their quiet was almost frightening.
Yet when Quinn brushed his fingertips over the sword-light, he could clearly feel the icy, solid texture of the blade.
This meant the Sword Pill’s flexibility was nearly liquid, but its structural strength was extraordinary.
The Sword Pill’s toughness and strength had reached a level of perfection.
“My forging and refining skills aren’t anywhere near this level. Even Grandpa Mute couldn’t necessarily pull this off. So what in the world happened here?” Quinn wondered aloud.
Most people, once they finished refining a treasure, considered it a success and moved on. But Quinn was more interested in figuring out why this phenomenon occurred in the first place.
[Omitted: Irrelevant congratulatory/system message per guidelines.]
Quinn rummaged in his Glutton Dragon Pouch and pulled out the Heaven-Bane Bell—a treasure from Nether City. Back in the Tianyin Realm, Nether City disciples had battered him with this artifact, causing no small amount of trouble.
The Heaven-Bane Bell was a divine artifact forged by gods and demons, made from Umbral Gold—the same as his Sword Pill. But Quinn’s Sword Pill also contained a touch of Buddha-Origin Red Chrome.
He lifted the bell and ground its rim against the Sword Pill, rubbing for a long time. When he checked, the bell’s mouth was clearly worn down, but the Sword Pill remained utterly untouched.
“Its wear resistance is off the charts!” he exclaimed.
Quinn stared, realizing that while his refining techniques were advanced, they weren’t this advanced.
“Was it the heavenly fire and demonic fire? That helped, but I bet it was the extreme temperature and pressure from the explosion itself.”
Quinn frowned slightly. “Can explosions be used for forging and refining? Grandpa Mute never taught me that… Wait! Traditional forging uses hammers to strike, and the Supervising Foundry’s giant mechanical colossi can exert millions of jin of pressure in an instant. Grandpa Mute, as a divine smith, can multiply that by hundreds or thousands, raising the temperature close to the sun’s surface! But an explosion can produce the same effect, maybe even greater pressure!”
His eyes lit up and he began pacing, muttering under his breath, “When heavenly fire and demonic fire collide and explode, the resulting temperature and pressure are beyond what even Grandpa Mute can match. That’s why my Sword Pill was instantly refined to perfection! Explosion forging—there’s real potential here!”
Quinn spread his fingers wide. The Sword Pill rang out sharply, splitting into eight thousand swords, their tips all aimed at the center.
With a thought, the Sword Pill vanished, transforming into twin long sabers. Quinn grabbed them, unleashed half a move of Butcher’s Night Battle in the Storm-Lashed City—only to end up panting, nearly collapsing to his knees.
“The Sword Pill’s just too heavy. Flying it with yuanqi is one thing, but wielding it by hand—can’t even get through a single move.”
Quinn willed the twin sabers to vanish, merging back into a fist-sized Sword Pill. He stuffed it into his Glutton Dragon Pouch, where its weight dragged down his belt, pulling his tattered pants even lower.
The capital’s guard corps, alerted by the explosion, arrived riding black-feathered, red-crested birds. Seeing the disheveled, half-naked Quinn Shepherd, they were shocked. “Lord Quinn, what happened here?”
Quinn waved them off with a grin. “Just a minor mishap, nothing to worry about. I’ll head back to Torr River Supervising Foundry—can you fill in the crater for me?” With that, he turned and walked off toward the foundry.
The guards exchanged glances, watching the famous Lord Quinn trudge along the riverbank toward the foundry, his stride exposing half his snowy-white backside.
"Should we lend the lord a robe to cover up?" one soldier whispered.
[Omitted: Irrelevant webnovel system line, not part of the story.]
The squad leader hesitated, then shook his head. "I’ve heard Lord Quinn is a tailor too—back in the day, capital elites sought him out for custom outfits. This ragged look is probably a new design from Lord Quinn, his latest ‘beggar chic’…"
Quinn Shepherd returned to the Supervising Foundry and found Bruno the Dragon-Qilin sprawled flat on the ground, chin pressed to the floor, legs stiff and straight under the weight of his Glutton Dragon Pouches. Quinn couldn’t help but shake his head.
Disciples from Heaven-Craft Hall hurried over with clothes. "Cult Master, we don’t have anything fancy—just plain coarse cloth. Please make do."
Quinn threw on the clothes and laughed. "I’m about to run some experiments, so fine garments are pointless. Bring me a few extra sets—I might need to change after more explosions. By the way, is Master Daniel Shan around? Get him over here!"
The disciples rushed to summon Master Daniel Shan, baffled. "Cult Master, what exactly are you planning?"
"Explosion forging!" Quinn declared.
Master Daniel Shan had been in Goldenridge, building Solar and Lunar Arks with the Imperial Preceptor and the Emperor. Now, with those problems solved, he raced back by fast boat, arriving just before sunset.
Quinn, Daniel, and the Heaven-Craft disciples dove into the workshop. For the next ten days, explosions rocked the foundry, shaking buildings across the capital and driving citizens to complain about sleepless nights.
At last, even the Empress and Crown Prince Luther Ling couldn’t ignore the ruckus. They arrived at the foundry, where gods and divine craftsmen circled a pill furnace over ten zhang tall, inscribing runes all over it.
This furnace was no ordinary alchemical vessel—there were no vents, and its surface was covered in Vermilion Bird patterns and mysterious flame runes. Its internal structure was fiendishly complex.
"Your Majesty! Your Highness!"
Master Daniel Shan’s face was blackened by repeated explosions. Seeing the Empress and Crown Prince, he hurried forward and bowed. "I’ve disturbed Your Majesty and Your Highness—I deserve a thousand deaths!"
The Empress laughed. "You’ve been blasting away here day and night—no one in the capital can sleep! I had to come see what you’re up to. Where’s Lord Quinn? What kind of madness is he leading you into now?"
"Cult Master Quinn went south to the frontier, asking Chief Ariel Skyfeather to make him some new clothes," someone replied.
Daniel Shan smiled. "The Cult Master has us researching explosion forging. This furnace was built for that purpose. Your Majesty, Your Highness, this device can rapidly refine divine weapons to usable quality. The runes are Vermilion Bird and Heavenly Fire runes—once ignited, the explosion drives the internal hammer shaft, striking god-metal in a single, instant blow! Refining speed is incredible!"
Luther Ling and the Empress were stunned. "You can refine divine weapons that fast?"
Daniel Shan grinned. "Quenching god-metal is extremely difficult. Torr River Supervising Foundry is one of the few places that can do it at all, and even here daily output is low. Our Everpeace gods have weapon orders queued for years! But with this furnace, we could produce all the god-metal needed in two months!"
Luther recalled Emperor Evan’s complaints and quickly asked, "How much does it cost to run this furnace? Cult Master Quinn is always extravagant—his Solar-Shooting God Cannon ate up so much pill-herb, my father couldn’t sleep for three months after firing it once."
Daniel hesitated. "It’s not… too expensive. Not too expensive…"
At Lijiang Academy, Quinn found Ariel Skyfeather and asked her to help craft new clothes. Ariel quickly gathered Celestial Feather clan artisans, smiling: “Your Highness, I’ve been raising silkworms here and found some excellent materials. Rest assured, I’ll make you something perfect. Do you want a dragon robe?”
Quinn shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not planning a rebellion.”
Ariel looked disappointed. “I could make two just in case.”
Quinn shook his head again and went to see Bashan, the Wine Master. The two brothers drank together in the hall. Fox Spirit Ling’er was also in the southern frontier, training with the Fox Immortal of the Five Monster Immortals. Hearing the commotion, she rushed over demanding wine—only to see Bruno the Dragon-Qilin outside, pummeling the Green Ox, who wailed in protest.
“Big Sister, I’m your little brother, the Green Ox—please save me!” the ox cried.
Ling’er just shook her head and ignored him, slipping inside to drink with Quinn and Bashan.
A few days later, Ariel finished several sets of clothes. Quinn tried them on and was very satisfied. He embroidered the garments with gold and silver thread, adding Heavenly Fire and Netherworld runes for decoration.
These runes would ensure that, should he face another explosion of that magnitude, his clothes would remain intact.
“Your Highness, lately my Celestial Feather kin have grown homesick—they long to return to the Celestial Feather World.”
Ariel cautiously probed Quinn’s thoughts, smiling: “Now that Everpeace is free from disasters, shouldn’t we consider the fate of the worlds beyond?”
Quinn understood her meaning and smiled. “Everpeace is just stabilizing; there’s much to rebuild. The Emperor doesn’t have enough troops to pacify the Celestial Feather World. It’s like the Great Ruins—safe by day, but invaded by darkness at night. Until the Lady of Umbral Heavens finishes clearing the last threats, it’s best to wait. Once the Umbral Heavens are secure, you’ll be able to return.”
Ariel bowed. “I await your word, Your Highness.”
Quinn drew a map. “Clan Leader, you can take some young men and women to the Umbral Heavens first. The Lady of Umbral Heavens needs help—she’ll value your talents. Later, when other clans enter, there’ll be fewer opportunities. I have to visit Fengdu and can’t escort you myself.”
Ariel was overjoyed and quickly began preparations.
Quinn bid farewell to Bashan and Ling’er, then set out for the Great Ruins.
He reached the Great Ruins and entered Fengdu, leaving Bruno outside to wait. Inside, he didn’t see Empress Yue or Tian Shu—the city was unchanged, untouched by reform.
“Could Empress Yue still be searching for King Tian Shu?” Quinn wondered.
Confused, Quinn took Sage Lingjing’s little boat to leave Fengdu, only to find Bruno bruised and battered, looking utterly miserable.
Quinn hurried over. Bruno said, “I ran into an old ox plowing a field—looked a lot like the Green Ox, so I tried to bully him. Got beaten up instead.”
Quinn blinked. “Where’s this old ox?”
Bruno led him to the scene, near some rice paddies. From afar, Quinn saw an old ox sitting with its rump on the ground in the shade, hind legs stretched out like a person, front hooves clutching a water pipe, leisurely puffing away and squinting at the fields.
Beside him was a tiny stone table with a pot of tea steeping.
Quinn approached and bowed. “Daoist brother.”
[Omitted: Irrelevant congratulatory message not part of the story.]