Finding himself somewhere he hadn’t expected, Li Kenxie looked toward the gaunt man lying coughing in a worn-out room. With no money for hospital bills, the man—his father—was slowly dying.
“Kenxie...” His father reached out with trembling hands to grab the young Li Kenxie sitting beside him. “You must not let our family’s craft die out...”
“Although your skills are still unpolished... with your talent, I believe you can do it. Hone your skills and revisit our family’s old contacts...”
At the brink of death, his father had tried to guide him down the path that his father himself wanted. He spoke as if all would go well if only Li Kenxie followed that path.
But reality had been far less forgiving. The craft passed down for generations wasn’t all that special. Furthermore, all of their previous clients had only continued trading with them out of habit. But once his father became bedridden, all those deals dried up, with most turning to better options.
Following his father’s advice was guaranteed to lead to a slow collapse—like a tree rotting from the roots.
Yet even so, his past self had nodded, not refuting his father’s words. Back then, Li Kenxie hadn’t wanted to argue with a dying parent, and truthfully, he just hadn’t known any other path.
Was I... really that pathetic?
Li Kenxie silently observed the side of himself he had forgotten, or perhaps willfully ignored—
Li Kenxie’s expression froze at the faint voice brushing past his ear. Through the haze of painkillers, his father had struggled to say those words... but why?
What is he sorry for...?
In the past, in the present, and even in the future where he had become a Perfect One, he had never known what that apology had been for.
Everything vanished again before he could linger on the question. Following up the darkness, a yellow flame appeared immediately to illuminate it.
The last flame. If he accepted the fragment of synesthetic mindscape held within it, he could return to being who he was before forging the Five Element Equipment—to before he lost his humanity.
But despite his previous resoluteness, Li Kenxie couldn’t bring himself to reach out.
What meaning is there in accepting something like that...?
Perhaps because he had already accepted most of the other flames, he had a vague sense of what the final memory would reveal. The first four flames had been the ones he actively severed and turned into four of the Five Element Equipment. The fifth flame—the one he ended up putting into the Earth Weaving Loom—hadn’t been part of the original plan.
It was only while crafting those weapons from the first four that he’d noticed something: a quiet, previously unacknowledged interest in sewing. Only then did he find the natural talent he hadn’t realized he possessed.
It must have been buried beneath everything else and surfaced because I severed everything else.
All along, perhaps sewing had suited him more than blacksmithing. Yet he had just cut it away, not even bothering to explore it. From then until the current moment, he had dismissed it as a lost opportunity.
With emotions rushing in, though, he felt different.
Maybe it was what I was gifted with.... Have I... been running from that possibility?
If he had pursued sewing from the start, even at the cost of hearing his father nag him, maybe he could have earned enough to save him. Maybe Gao Long wouldn’t have had to rely on that subpar spear and might’ve lived to show the world his true strength. And maybe, just maybe, his wife wouldn’t have died.
If he had just made that choice... maybe they would’ve been living happily together even now.
Imagining that now impossible future, Li Kenxie became overwhelmed by grief welling up inside him. And because of that feeling, Li Kenxie finally, at long last, understood why he had so blindly wished to reach anatta and beyond.
I’ve just always... wanted to escape from it all.
From his past mistakes.
From the regrets those mistakes left behind.
From the obsession and delusions that kept him chained to that regret.
He had turned away from all of that pain—denied it—and fled as far as he could, convincing himself that anatta was enlightenment.
“How... how can someone be this pathetic...”
He had sacrificed countless lives, chasing a so-called “truth” that turned out to be nothing more than a shield from his suffering. Irritation, anger, shame, emptiness—and the most intense of them all, a deep and crushing guilt—consumed him.
“I... am not worthy of becoming a Perfect One.”
How could someone so small, so narrow-minded, ever be worthy? Even if he somehow reached that level again, he would likely end up creating another selfish power and end up repeating the mistakes of the Sacred Craftsman.
Crumbling, Li Kenxie refused the flame until it vanished, plunging everything back into darkness. Now there was no path forward and no way back. Yet Li Kenxie didn’t react, already sinking into the emptiness.
However, at that moment, the final yellow flame burst forth once more. It let off a radiant light that twisted Li Kenxie’s eyes into a grimace. The cycle continued. Li Kenxie would ignore or reject it, and the yellow flame would vanish before stubbornly reappearing, as if pleading with him to take hold.
Eventually, its persistence sparked something beyond annoyance within Li Kenxie: curiosity.
Why... Why go this far?
What kind of synesthetic mindscape could be inside to chase him like it was? Wavering, Li Kenxie hesitated... but then decided it didn’t matter and reached out.
The yellow flame engulfed everything, and the scenery changed. Unlike before, however, he was no longer an observer. Now, he was the subject of the memory.
He was surrounded by machines, with doctors rushing around. All of it was so strangely familiar, making him stare blankly—
Suddenly, an old man burst through the door of the hospital room. Looking over, Li Kenxie saw himself—no, the Sacred Craftsman, who had already abandoned everything to conquer the Tower of Heroes, and his eyes widened.
“The child is safe! Get a grip!”
The Sacred Craftsman was shouting at him with an urgency, his entire body flickering with flames. Even though he should have long lost the ability to feel unnecessary emotions, the Sacred Craftsman was displaying worry and fear—which filled in the hollow space within him.
So that’s how it was...
Seeing him, Li Kenxie remembered how the Sacred Craftsman had told Se-Hoon he had felt nothing when Luo Mingmei, his disciple and daughter-in-law, died. And that had been the truth—but also a lie.
That day, he had, in fact, grieved her death deeply as a master, as her family. But... those emotions had all been burned away on that same day. And as he now knew, those memories were meaningless without emotion.
“Don’t you ever let go of your consciousness!”
Despite everything, the Sacred Craftsman’s emotions kept igniting: he was trying to hold on, trying to protect. And that sight made the owner of the memory—Luo Mingmei herself—have just one thought.
They will be okay as long as the fire that’s burning inside me comes from Master and the talent in my child comes from her father.
She genuinely believed with all of her heart that her master, the Sacred Craftsman, would protect her husband and daughter. It was a thought that brought her, who had been burning in the flames for months and was nearing her limit, a serene smile.
“That’s such a relief...”
The scene faded, and the yellow flame—Luo Mingmei’s synesthetic mindscape—disappeared.
No... it’s inside me now.
Li Kenxie touched his chest and turned toward the surrounding darkness. Although no more flames remained, Se-Hoon was still nowhere to be seen.
Yet it didn’t matter. Li Kenxie understood what he had to do now.
Reaching the state of anatta is nothing but emptiness.
Seeing the world as meaningless, running endlessly from the pain—that had been the path he had pursued. But what Luo Mingmei had seen in him was entirely different.
The “human heart” of even someone like him, who had a hollow heart and a fragile existence, continued to bloom. Despite burning again and again, it bloomed.
That... should have been the enlightenment that I reached.
Alas, it had always been too distant. Too complicated. Too alien. That was the case even now, so rather than chase after that impossible ideal, Li Kenxie followed his heart.
A soft glow of multicolored flames rose from his body, and faint lights hidden in the dark began to shine. They were those who were like his former self—lost and wandering aimlessly in emptiness. While he, with his shallow wisdom, couldn’t grant them enlightenment, he hoped in his heart that at the very least, he could light up their path.
The multicolored flames burned brighter, their glow enveloping the fading lights around them: those broken by trials, those who had lost what they cherished, those who had forgotten themselves, and even those who had abandoned their vows. To these individuals with lost hearts, Li Kenxie wished his flame would offer light.
And so, one by one, they awakened.
Then they, too, started to shine and spread their light outward.
Together, the countless lanterns ignited around Li Kenxie and pushed back the empty darkness until...
The darkness parted fully, revealing the Golden Ring.
It felt like it had appeared so naturally, as if it had always been there. In deep thought, Li Kenxie quietly looked up at it.
“How does it feel to reach the top again?” Se-Hoon asked calmly, having reappeared by his side.
“How do I feel, huh...”
Li Kenxie turned to the newly shaped synesthetic mindscape that had unfolded before him. In the vast darkness, countless lanterns glowed gently like stars to form a beautiful, moving sight.
“It... doesn’t feel too bad.”
Though he actually found it still a bit disappointing, it was enough. The endless tangle of worries in his heart could be tied off. Thinking that, Li Kenxie reached out to Se-Hoon.
“Use your unique skill on me.”
Startled by the unexpected request, Se-Hoon looked blankly at him.
“I already have a rough idea of what your skill does. Go ahead. Use it.”
While his unique skills typically didn’t work on Perfect Ones, Se-Hoon knew it had once with Wurgen in a similar situation. In that case, perhaps it would work again.
Se-Hoon grasped Li Kenxie’s hand.
[Extracting bond from subject ‘Li Kenxie’]
[The bond with the host is Lv. —]
With the activation of the Blacksmith of Bonds, something began flowing from their joined hands.
It was unlike other bonds. The one from Li Kenxie was... vast, hard to define.
As Se-Hoon frowned slightly at the unfamiliar sensation, Li Kenxie explained. “I’ve embedded my understanding of how to use this power—and the final realization I reached at the end. If anything ever goes wrong, that should help.”
Checking it, Se-Hoon realized that Li Kenxie had indeed forged the exact kind of power he’d requested, so he bowed his head.
“No. I should be thanking you. Because of you, I was able to correct my mistakes.”
Without Se-Hoon, he would never have looked back. Without Se-Hoon, the regret known as the Sacred Craftsman would have remained forever as law.
In the end, his choice—as the Sacred Craftsman—had been right. Li Kenxie looked at Se-Hoon.
“Thank you... truly.”
At ease, Li Kenxie’s lips rose into a peaceful smile as he dissipated into flames.
It was a brilliant flame, one that rose into the sky to join the other lanterns. On its way, several rushed toward it, as if they had been waiting. Then, together, they all drifted forward into the darkness. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ NoveI-Fire.ɴet
Going forward, even when all lights had vanished, the lanterns would shine brightly for those lost in the void to find their way.
Staring at them glittering in the sky, Se-Hoon pondered what name would suit the new power the best.
“...The Sacred Lantern.”
A sacred, guiding flame to illuminate the darkness of the world.
With a faint smile, Se-Hoon named the power in Li Kenxie’s stead and turned to begin his descent down the Tower.