Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

~Well, let's ask him.- Seth suggested, not intending to overthink the matter. Although they had superficial knowledge of cultivators, they lacked the background knowledge to infer what they would need in that situation.

Although the blacksmith would have preferred to be the shadowy powerhouse that simply appears, predicting the protagonist's greatest need and offering a helping hand at just the right moment, reality was that Seth simply wasn't him.

Yi Mo would have to deal with the fact that he would have to voice his needs to the blacksmith, offering unsolicited help.

~I think it would be best to approach him tonight,” Mina suggested, looking at the crowd of cultivators celebrating the target of their conversation.

~At Night, Yi Residence.-

Yi Mo sat in the study of the guest annex, where he was currently living after the palace of the original owner was burned down.

“Ugh, I drank too much...” he mumbled, holding his head. His cultivation level was still too low to purge the alcohol from his system, so he felt dizzy, but at least he finally managed to escape the victory celebrations.

In a way, he was glad things worked out, but he was worried that he had revealed himself too early. The situation had forced his hand. Although he felt conflicted, he was not callous enough to watch his people die in front of him if he was able to help.

Just what were those rifts? He had never seen rifts in space just open and pour out monsters. He still had a hard time figuring out what had happened to their Luminous Plain after his death, but he knew that his home had changed a lot.

People called it the XiGuang Province of the Voracious Cloud Continent, and he had no idea why. He had not dared ask about things that seemed like common knowledge in this age. He wasn't even able to ascertain how many generations went by since his death...He already had enough trouble dealing with Yi Mo's terrible reputation and surviving.

Fortunately, he was able to access the secret vault of his Sacred Mountain Sect. Although it seemed like later generations had taken more than they returned, it was enough to guarantee him some leeway for the time being. The Yi Family also wasn't poor, allowing him to prepare a solid foundation.

Thinking back at the scene of the temple their great ancestor erected, crushed and flattened by later generations, his heart ached. To think the greatest monument to the earth mother was crushed by a single palm strike... His only solace was that he was able to reclaim the essence of the Guardian bell. With this, he might be able to resurrect his sect in the future.

“Cure”

Yi Mo jumped from his chair and rolled over the table, taking a battle-ready stance, the moment he heard someone speak behind him. In his hand he already held the Warthful Spear, the maleficent voices of the armament whispering in his mind to no avail.

At the wall, right behind the chair he just sat on, stood a blurry, translucent man, his body and face concealed by a cloak. The figure made no attempt to move. They only spoke up. “Sorry, I thought it would be easier to have a conversation if you were not drunk”, they said.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Only now did he realize that he was bathed in a dim, benign, yellow light and the dizziness of the alcohol was quickly fading away. They removed the cloak, revealing their face. A face Yi Mo knew from the last, painful memories left in this body just before its death.

“Did you come to finish the job you began?” he asked carefully, vigilantly pointing the spear at the intruder. He could feel the power of the bizarre weapon flow through him, strengthening him. Another relic of the past, like him, that had surfaced from the wakes of time.

“<Disarm>” the figure spoke, beckoning with his finger. Suddenly the spear jumped forward like a docile puppy seeing its owner, leaving his grip. Effortlessly, the figure caught the weapon and simply held it in a relaxed posture.

“You are a little on edge for someone who revealed his power so brazenly,” the figure said, lazily leaning the stolen spear against the wall behind them. “ Relax, I'm not here to harm you,” the halted for a minute as if thinking about those words, nodded to himself, and then rummaged in their pocket.

“You know what this is?” the figure asked, holding up a small trinket they took from their pocket. His eyes constricted at the sight of the broken sigil of an elder of the Temple of the Earth Mother. It was the corroded bronze coin he had tried to obtain during the auction.

At the time he had given up on it, as it only held sentimental value at best and he lacked the resources to waste on old attachments. Why did it suddenly appear before him again? Why now?

Could it be...they knew?

“Are you really a possessor? Even I can read your thoughts on your face right now...” the figure said, somewhat disappointed. Yi Mo closed his mouth and gave the figure another, serious look. They knew, but how? Just who were they really?

Despite his best attempt, he couldn't peer into them at all. He had no idea about their cultivation realm or intentions. Had he become rusty, or were they this far above him?

“Okay, okay, stop wrecking your brain. I just want to know one thing: are you an expert from the time when the Spirit Temple was actually built?” they asked seriously. He hesitated. To think his identity was revealed mere days after he woke up in this body, by the killer of this body to boot...

“Why do you want to know that?” There was no point trying to hide it at this point.

“Well, depending on your answer, I intend to help you out a little,” the figure said mysteriously.

“You want me to be in your debt. But why? I have nothing to offer you...” His strength was negligible in the great scheme of things, but even if he had to die again, he would not sell his sect's techniques and teachings.

“Now you show the wit I would expect from someone with a previous life, but don't be so quick to say no. I'm not looking at the present; I'm looking forward to your future. I'm very interested in the technology of the Spirit Temple,” he said, playing with the coin in their hands. “You don't have to teach me; I'm looking forward to trading the final products,” they said calmly.

“Maybe you could even join our side when the time comes,” he added mysteriously.

“So, are you someone from the distant past, willing to resurrect your fallen sect, and are you willing to shoulder a little debt in exchange for some timely support?”

Yi Mo stared at the man, casually leaning against his desk, playing with the keepsake of his sect. he looked at the spear that had so easily left his hands. He pondered. The figure seemed convinced of what he was. Of course, he wanted to resurrect the temple, and he needed help, but were they trustworthy?

Did he even have a choice if they weren't? There was a very real chance his second life depended on the choice he made now... if his demise wasn't already a signed fate. In lieu of all this...

“Yes. I'm the 81st. Great Deacon of the Temple of the Earth Mother. I will accept your support, if it helps me rebuild what was lost,” he said firmly, staking his life on this choice. If he was wrong, he would die again by the hands of this figure; however... They clapped.

“Great, good choice. So, what do you need the most right now?” they asked happily, leaving him somewhat dumbfounded.