Chapter One: The Childish Visitor

Ning Family.

The Hall of Deliberation.

The spirit lamp cast a bright light across the chamber.

The patriarch of the Ning family, the young master, and the assembled elders were all gathered here. Several jade slips passed from hand to hand, each recording the entire process of the Ning family's recent grand examination.

The patriarch stroked the jade slip in his palm, eyes half-closed, as the scenes recorded within unfolded in his mind, replaying again and again.

Unlike previous years, this time his focus was on the assessment of mechanical arts.

This year, the Ning family's exam on mechanical techniques had been altered: the challenge was now to control marionettes suspended by threads.

The young cultivators infused their spiritual power along the threads, transmitting it into the puppets. With the combined force of spiritual awareness and magical energy, they gave the puppets the ability to act, making them perform a variety of movements.

Yet, even the most outstanding youths managed only to make their puppets walk, tumble through the air, and roll on the ground—no more.

Overall, the results were lamentable.

The patriarch slowly opened his eyes, withdrew his consciousness from the jade slip, and set it down gently upon the table.

"This time, among the younger generation, we have not found even a single seedling for the mechanical arts," he sighed.

The school elder, feeling the pressure, quickly spoke up: "Patriarch, esteemed elders, our Ning family excels at talismanic arts. Among the myriad skills of cultivation, mechanical techniques are a niche discipline. Our foundation in such arts is shallow, and the teachers in our academy are barely proficient. How can we hope to nurture true talent in this field?"

The patriarch soothed him: "Be at ease, I do not blame you. But Lava Palace is a city of mechanical immortals; in years past, the three sects' elders buried themselves within Fire Persimmon Mountain to quell its eruption. If we wish to obtain the treasures and mechanical inheritance of Lava Immortal Palace, the best approach is through mechanical masters."

"It was only this year that our Ning family discovered the Lava Immortal Palace. The other two clans and the city lord have been ahead for quite some time. They have had the opportunity to secretly cultivate mechanical talents, but we do not."

"We are latecomers, far too late. Our only chance is to hire outsiders as guest experts with heavy rewards, so we might compete."

He produced another jade slip: "This records the prominent mechanical masters in Fire Persimmon Immortal City and the surrounding regions. Pass it among yourselves."

Once the elders had reviewed it, he continued: "We must contact every mechanical master, making every effort to win them over. Especially the Threaded Stranger! He is a mechanical master within Fire Persimmon City, formidable in skill, and should be our primary target."

The young master spoke: "Threaded Stranger's identity is shrouded in mystery; he has never appeared in public. His creations sell well, but only through the monthly black market."

"The black market is controlled by Sun Lingtong. She is an outer disciple of the Void Gate. It's extremely difficult for us to approach Threaded Stranger directly."

The patriarch frowned: "Xiaoren, I am not interested in hearing about difficulties; I want solutions."

Sweat beaded on Ning Xiaoren's forehead as he hastily assured: "Yes, Father. I have already dispatched people to attempt contact, and results should be forthcoming soon!"

The patriarch stroked his beard: "Good. I will await your progress."

...

After the meeting, the young master summoned his subordinate, Ning Ze.

"Ning Ze, as the purchasing manager of the Ning family, I promoted you myself. I asked you to reach out to Threaded Stranger, but you have made no progress. What exactly have you been doing?" The young master's brows were tightly knit.

Ning Ze, a middle-aged man, wore a bitter expression; if possible, he would have avoided such a task altogether.

"Young master, I have failed you. My efforts have been fruitless, and I deserve punishment."

"But Threaded Stranger is truly difficult to communicate with. Each time I transact with him in the black market, purchasing the Ascending and Descending Threads, I plead and bargain, but he remains unmoved. He refuses to discuss anything beyond the transaction itself."

"He is too enigmatic. I have tried everything to gather information, but only managed to offend Sun Lingtong, the black market's mistress. Not only did I lose men, but I was framed and forced to pay a hefty sum of spirit stones. To this day, I am still covering that loss..."

"Enough!" The young master interrupted impatiently. "You've been played for a fool—embarrassing enough. Do you expect the clan to cover the consequences of your mistakes?"

"This time, our family needs eighty Ascending and Descending Threads. Go and procure them."

Ning Ze was astonished: "Eighty? That many?"

"Use this large order to make a breakthrough. You've met Threaded Stranger many times, but have never managed to advance cooperation."

"Your performance is making me seriously doubt your capabilities, Ning Ze."

Under immense pressure, Ning Ze repeatedly assured he would give his utmost.

...

Ning Ze made his way to the southeastern district of Fire Persimmon City.

Within the immortal city, this area was notorious for disorder—a mix of dragons and snakes, rampant theft, and the worst security.

This was also home to the black market.

At one of its entrances, Ning Ze presented a token.

A brooding cultivator examined the token carefully, tossed it back, and said coldly, "Follow me."

He led Ning Ze into a small house, lifted a floorboard, and revealed a hole.

Together, they entered the passage, winding through the subterranean corridors until they arrived at an underground trading space.

It resembled a small bazaar.

Ning Ze scanned the area and spotted his target.

"Threaded Stranger, we meet again," he greeted enthusiastically.

Threaded Stranger was an elderly man, hunched severely, leaning on a cane, his posture bent like a lobster. His face was weathered, his eye bags dark and swollen, deep wrinkles capable of trapping insects. His tangled black hair cascaded from crown to shoulders, reaching his feet like a broad, black cape.

---

Threaded Stranger stood behind a mechanical cart, glancing at Ning Ze with only the faintest acknowledgment, saying nothing.

He always maintained this attitude, and Ning Ze, though helpless, could not help but simmer with frustration.

He was, after all, a cultivator of the Ning family, yet Threaded Stranger showed him no respect.

But since the young master was intent on recruiting this elusive figure, Ning Ze had no choice but to swallow his pride and smile: "Esteemed Threaded Stranger, I bring a substantial order this time."

"Eighty Ascending and Descending Threads!"

"Such a large transaction—perhaps you could offer a discount?"

"I’ve been a loyal customer, supporting your business. More orders will come. It's always two hundred spirit stones per thread, never changing; isn’t that a bit unreasonable?"

Threaded Stranger nodded slightly, his voice rough and aged: "You’re right."

"In that case, let's make it two hundred fifty per thread."

Ning Ze was stunned, then laughed: "Sir, you must be jesting. That's not how discounts work."

Threaded Stranger snorted: "For every word you utter, the price increases by fifty spirit stones."

Ning Ze stared, frozen in place.

His anger roared within, longing to slap the old man to the ground. Yet he forced himself to hold back, agreeing through gritted teeth: "Fine, we'll take your price."

"But our family wishes to add some functions, to better suit our techniques. The specifics of the modification—"

Threaded Stranger cut him off sharply: "No modifications. Buy as is, or leave."

Ning Ze was silenced.

He took a deep breath, then forced a bitter smile and nodded, consenting to the transaction.

Threaded Stranger made no movement, but atop his mechanical cart, several puppet figures descended from the roof.

Each puppet, manipulated by threads, seemed almost alive, laughing and chattering.

They tumbled and leaped, even bickering and shoving one another, until they opened the circular hatch of the cart.

One by one, they slipped through the opening, dragging out the Ascending and Descending Threads like serpents.

Every time Ning Ze witnessed this, he was awed.

Such mastery over mechanical threads—so skillful that the puppets seemed alive.

If only the young cultivators in the Ning family's exam had even one percent of this degree of control, the mechanical arts portion would have been rated excellent!

"Mechanical arts rank lowest among the myriad cultivation skills, plagued by many weaknesses. The most obvious is the method of manipulation!"

"Take these puppet figures: sever the threads, and they collapse instantly."

Ning Ze handed over the spirit stones, collected the threads, and left the black market, finally revealing a trace of vicious, angry expression.

"Threaded Stranger! Every time, I treat you with politeness—far too much!"

"This time, I’ve specially hired the Huang Clan’s Three Ghosts, and prepared a 'gift' just for you!"

"If you refuse the wine of courtesy, then you'll taste the wine of punishment."

Driven to desperation, Ning Ze had no choice but to resort to risk.

His plan was simple: first, let the Three Ghosts deal with Threaded Stranger, then step in to 'rescue' him, thus currying favor. If Threaded Stranger was seriously wounded, Ning Ze might even force him into submission.

Above all, his priority was to break open the situation and fulfill his mission.

Other matters would be left for the rest of the clan.

After the black market closed, Threaded Stranger walked through a shadowy alley, his cart heavy with goods.

Suddenly—

A Divine Suppression Talisman!

A talisman activated in an instant, sealing the surrounding space.

Threaded Stranger halted, motionless.

"Hehehe..."

Light laughter echoed; three ghosts emerged, attacking Threaded Stranger.

He stood as still as stone until the ghosts were nearly upon him; then his body shuddered.

Several mechanical birds shook loose and shot out.

Mechanism—Thunder Silent Birds!

In the darkness, lightning flashed, flowers of thunder bursting silently.

In a blink, the Thunder Silent Birds pierced through the three ghosts.

"Impossible!"

"The Divine Suppression Talisman should prevent you from using your spiritual sense to control mechanisms!"

"Strange. They're supposed to be mechanical puppets, but he never even used threads."

"Forget it, attack together!"

---

The Huang Clan’s Three Ghosts leapt forth, launching their attacks in unison, surrounding Threaded Stranger.

In an instant, a dozen specters erupted, sinister and savage, clawing from every direction.

Threaded Stranger remained unmoved. His unruly black hair, trailing to his feet, suddenly twisted together, forming long whips.

Black whips danced like dragons and serpents, silent and deadly, radiating murderous intent.

Mechanism—Threaded Death Whip!

The whips lashed fiercely, devouring all in their path—wherever they struck, souls vanished.

The Three Ghosts’ eyes blazed with ferocity as they prepared to counter.

Within Threaded Stranger’s mind, a treasure seal appeared, vast as a mountain, both Buddhist and demonic, erupting with wondrous light.

Treasure—Buddha-Heart Demon Seal!

The Three Ghosts froze simultaneously, exposing fatal weaknesses. Panic-stricken, they tried to retreat, but it was too late.

Two screams echoed; two ghosts perished.

The eldest’s eyes bulged with rage and hatred, desperately drawing upon his foundation, launching a death attack on Threaded Stranger.

The dagger he trusted for vengeance streaked like lightning, striking the center of Threaded Stranger’s forehead.

Ding.

A crisp metallic clang.

The eldest ghost froze, incredulous.

Thud, thud, thud.

Next instant, a dozen Threaded Death Whips converged, piercing him from every direction.

He stared wide-eyed, his body impaled and suspended in midair, blood raining from his wounds, splattering the ground and walls—yet concealed by the heavy night.

When nearby cultivators heard the commotion and came to investigate—

"What happened?" they wondered.

There was not a single corpse or drop of blood in the alley.

Ning Ze, waiting in vain for news, grew cold with anxiety: "Why is there no word? It’s been so long—it should have succeeded by now."

"Threaded Stranger is at Foundation Establishment; so are the Three Ghosts. Even in Fire Persimmon Immortal City, where combat power is suppressed, three against one should not fail," he tried to reassure himself.

"I gave them the Divine Suppression Talisman, and the Green-Blade Mantis spirit pet, capable of severing threads. With such preparation, a mechanical master should be seriously restrained!"

"I’ll wait a bit longer."

But this wait was destined to be fruitless.

Threaded Stranger strode through the underground tunnels.

Three Threaded Death Whips lashed behind him, each suspending a cultivator’s corpse. As he marched, monstrous shadows danced along the walls.

Ahead, a red glow appeared; the air grew hot.

Rounding the corner, a massive alchemical furnace came into view.

He opened the furnace door and expertly placed the three corpses inside.

Closing the door, he moved to the storeroom.

He poured several pounds of Fire Essence acquired from the black market into the reserves.

Years of accumulation had built a small mountain of Fire Essence.

"Only ten pounds more to go."

Threaded Stranger entered the teleportation chamber and activated the array.

In the next moment, he returned to his subterranean workshop.

His form began to shift.

The bizarre, floor-length black hair rapidly contracted; the hunched figure straightened; beneath the black robe, the old man’s body shimmered and changed, revealing his true appearance—

A silver-gray mechanical armor.

Its surface shimmered with faint treasure light. Talismanic marks and array patterns adorned its frame. Upon the helmet, a fresh scar had appeared—the result of the eldest ghost’s final attack.

The breastplate, abdominal armor, and leg guards opened symmetrically.

From within stepped a young man.

His face was pale and flawless, his eyes clear as water, his bearing calm and serene.

The armor was named: Iron Blue Man Armor.

The youth: surname Ning, given name Zhuo.