Chapter Thirty: Death-Defying Flight

Chen Tu assumed a horse stance, the chair beneath him sliding out as if propelled by some unseen force. He raised his hand in anticipation, effortlessly catching the incoming punch. His palm absorbed the blow silently, as though cushioned by cotton, dissolving its force and returning it with a subtle pull that caused Li Zhicheng’s balance to waver.

Li Zhicheng stomped, the floor cracking beneath his foot as he steadied himself and unleashed another volley of fists, swift as arrows. Even before his fists landed, their intent struck first, creating an illusion of impact that pressed upon his opponent.

The martial arts of the Golden Gate were renowned for their fierce power, favoring overwhelming strength to suppress skill. Since Chen Tu had blocked one punch, Li Zhicheng would answer with a hundred.

Chen Tu sighed deeply, his hands moving like butterflies weaving through flowers, ten fingers agile as serpents flickering their tongues, silver light flashing with each movement.

Li Zhicheng felt as if his blows were sinking into cotton, powerless and unsatisfying. He gathered his internal energy, preparing to unleash it, when suddenly Chen Tu pulled his hands through the air, forming a seal that materialized before him.

With that motion, the subtle resistance became an irresistible force, binding Li Zhicheng’s hands to his chest. Any attempt to break free drew blood, rendering him unable to continue the bout.

In the shifting light, faint silver threads flowed between them—remarkably resilient strands.

These silver threads had, unbeknownst to him, wrapped around Li Zhicheng’s fists, elbows, and arms, finally forming a butterfly knot.

It was clear that if Li Zhicheng forced his strength, the threads—finer than hair, tougher than steel—would cut straight into his bones.

The one who controlled these threads, so light they could vanish with a breeze, was Chen Tu and his jade-like hands.

The silver threads also entwined Chen Tu’s fingers, extending up his wrists beneath his sleeves, their full length a mystery.

Chen Tu spoke coldly, “Li Zhicheng, have you caused enough trouble?”

Li Zhicheng conceded without hesitation, “The Silken Hand, Chen Tu—your reputation is well earned. I admit defeat.”

Chen Tu’s expression softened; in the world of practitioners, Li Zhicheng’s words were a rare admission—unless national or personal grudges were involved, such concessions were freely given.

With a flick of his fingers, Chen Tu loosened the butterfly knot, the silver thread slipping from Li Zhicheng’s hands and being spun back into Chen Tu’s sleeves.

The sharp yet drifting threads obeyed as if alive, with not a hint of disorder.

Yet something was different.

The previously invisible threads had been stained crimson by Li Zhicheng’s blood, painting broken patterns across Chen Tu’s hands that made one’s skin crawl with imagined fissures.

Li Zhicheng muttered, “The Bloody Hand, Thousand Nets—Chen Tu…”

Hearing that familiar, blood-soaked moniker, Chen Tu’s anger flared. With a flick, the silver threads sliced silently, severing a corner of the table, which clattered to the floor.

Years of disciplined cultivation quickly restored Chen Tu’s composure. He sighed, “Enough. I am Chen Tu now—just the decrepit head of an orphanage.”

Li Zhicheng did not leave immediately. He produced a small token and placed it on the table.

On the token, the bold black character for “Scorch” was inscribed.

Upon seeing it, Chen Tu leapt to his feet. “How do you have this? You’re one of the ‘Imperial Star.’”

Li Zhicheng replied, “Imperial Star’s Zhang Liao Yuan—you know him better than I. You were his chief disciple, and a coward who fled during the last decisive battle thirty years ago.”

“What do you know…” Chen Tu gritted his teeth, seeming ready to retort, but changed the subject, “Why are you here?”

Li Zhicheng gazed at him. “Not just me. We’re all searching for the same thing: Leviathan, the strongest esper hidden by Amester for sixteen years. Or rather, Livida.”

Chen Tu’s breath remained steady, “Who is she? Why seek her?”

“To bring her to the Imperial Star.”

Chen Tu’s eyes widened in shock. “Has the Master…broken free?”

Li Zhicheng shook his head. “The previous generation’s seal was powerful. Imperial Star still needs a catalyst to escape.”

“That catalyst is Leviathan?”

“Yes—and no. Leviathan is one of the catalysts. She is the key element in our transaction with Frankenstein. To be precise, it’s not her we seek, but the other life growing within her.”

A fetus?

Chen Tu suddenly grasped the implication.

Mother and child, in every culture, symbolize origin and chaos, ideal vessels for supernatural phenomena.

He murmured, “Another life… Is she a medium?”

Li Zhicheng replied bluntly, “Since your ambitions lie elsewhere, further details are not for me to share.”

Chen Tu smiled faintly, “A demon seed from beyond… Never mind. You should leave. I’ll pretend I never heard any of this. These matters are not mine to bear.”

Li Zhicheng did not press further. Bowing in farewell, he turned and departed.

Chen Tu watched his retreat, hands behind his back, fingers spinning as flashes of silver danced like butterfly dust. Countless fine threads glided through the air, weightless yet perilous as blades.

Swish!

A soft sound, and suddenly scratches appeared on the corners of tables and chairs throughout the room.

Chen Tu gazed at the delicate silver threads dangling from his hands, as if a dying spider clung desperately to its last web. His myriad thoughts finally coalesced into a long sigh.

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Human beings are creatures of paradox—complex yet simple.

They possess the basic instincts to seek benefit and avoid harm, but are also ruled by emotional impulses that lead them away from the optimal path, sacrificing everything for their obsessions.

Selfishness, ignorance, laziness, fear, fragility… Religion claims these are punishments bestowed upon humanity by the gods, sins inherent to mankind. Yet even the gods themselves likely cannot overcome these flaws of human nature.

Adonsa did not disdain human emotions, for it could sense immense power within the chaos of their thoughts. As feelings surged, the faint Delta waves in their bodies rose and fell in tandem.

For Adonsa, power was everything, and evolution promised unrivaled strength.

If love and justice could grant power surpassing all, it would not hesitate to become an avatar of righteousness, vanquishing evil and safeguarding the weak, dedicating its existence to the welfare of humanity.

Yet it would not exaggerate the capabilities of the barely two-kilogram mass of interconnected neurons.

From its current research, excessive distractions clouded human courage, focus, and wisdom. When an emotion reached its peak, it erased cowardice, confusion, and folly, liberating hidden potential.

Adonsa did not deny the immensity of human agency, but it was significant only compared to the generally low initiative of most individuals.

Humans wasted vast energy and resources on meaningless internal conflict.

With their potential, if united, they could venture into space and colonize the cosmos within a decade. Yet they remained trapped on this tiny planet, squabbling over meager resources, blind to the expanse above.

But a person with pure conviction and emotion stood apart from the masses, wielding an influence over the world so immense that even Adonsa could not ignore it.