Chapter Fifty-Six: Ancient Remnants of Midgard

After passing through the portal, King Bradley and Ivan Vanko were transported to different places. After leaving a handwritten letter in King Bradley's home, Yang Qiu returned to his own residence, and the settlement for Script Eight officially began.

Script Eight: The Alchemist’s Resurrection

Script Synopsis: Owing to the madness of their own kind, the alchemists vanished from the earth for a time. As the years slipped by, this dim and fading group finally welcomed fresh blood…

Script Evolution Outcome: Favorable

Script Evolution Products: King Bradley, the Gate of Truth (False), Alchemy

King Bradley: A top-tier warrior fused with the alchemists’ greatest creation—the Philosopher’s Stone. He possesses rich combat experience, mastery in swordsmanship, and an advanced professional rank.

Gate of Truth (False): A gate imbued with truth, bearing a faint sense of self-awareness. At present, only its concept has been successfully evolved; its physical form and the truth within remain to be developed.

Alchemy: A unique discipline that follows the principle of equivalent exchange. The highest alchemical text currently available ranks at the intermediate professional level, with further evolution pending.

The rewards from this script’s evolution were quite decent, but most significant was the fact that knowledge and influence from the arcane realm had successfully spread from the Americas and Europe into Asia.

As the knowledge of alchemy appeared in his mind, Yang Qiu suddenly sensed something amiss. The disturbance was unrelated to alchemy itself, but rather to the location where the last script had evolved.

Yang Qiu’s gaze traversed vast distances, landing in the desert where Tony Stark resided.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. rapid-response jet was parked not far from Tony. Soldiers disembarked and, under Tony’s direction, began retrieving the now-abandoned Mark I suit.

Agent Natasha, who had come along, kept finding various topics to broach, trying to extract information from Tony.

But something wasn’t right with this stretch of desert. The abrupt patches of ice and the sandcastle left behind by Ivan Vanko all attested to the recent presence of arcane forces.

The information Natasha sought concerned precisely these phenomena.

Had this been before, Natasha’s plan would likely have succeeded easily. After all, it must be said, Natasha’s appearance and figure were exceptional—she was exactly Tony Stark’s type.

But now, after suffering several consecutive setbacks and the mocking words of King Bradley and Ivan Vanko, Tony was in an even more ascetic state than usual.

What use were beautiful women?

Women only served to distract him and slow his progress.

As these people cleaned up the aftermath, Yang Qiu, having detected the anomaly, teleported directly to the site.

After King Bradley, Ivan Vanko, and the Mandarin departed, the energy fluctuations here should have gradually subsided. Instead, they were intensifying.

Following the path of converging energy, Yang Qiu, shrouded by the effect of psychological invisibility, strolled toward the nexus of the disturbance.

There, a shovel was thrust into the ground—the very one Tony had used beside Yinsen’s grave.

The Eye of Insight.

A small magical eye materialized beside Yang Qiu. Through it, he could see all the threads of energy clearly, and at the very center of these converging forces, he saw a transparent, spectral soul.

Yang Qiu extended a finger to the heart of the soul, intricate magical patterns blossoming from his fingertip and enveloping the spirit. Under the array’s influence, his psychic power split into countless strands, injected into the soul from every angle. Within seconds, the soul stabilized.

Now its features became clear, and as Yang Qiu had suspected, it was none other than Yinsen, who had died in this very place.

Around Yinsen’s soul was a web of energy lines, one end tethered to his spirit, the other shooting skyward and vanishing into the clouds.

At that moment, a familiar surge of energy appeared beside Yang Qiu.

“Master Ancient One, you’re here too… Don’t tell me this is the work of Mephisto and his ilk?” Yang Qiu asked, not turning his head.

Mephisto, one of the most powerful demons of Hell, delighted in seizing human souls through contracts, and was one of Kamar-Taj’s chief adversaries. Whenever an unknown soul appeared on Earth, odds were it was Mephisto or one of his minions.

But Yang Qiu felt that this time, Yinsen’s case was different, for his soul radiated an aura of sanctity.

“No, this time it’s not him. In fact, the source of this energy comes from his ancient enemy,” the Ancient One replied with a smile, approaching Yang Qiu and gently touching Yinsen’s soul.

When it came to soul consolidation, the Ancient One’s skills were a cut above Yang Qiu’s. Under her influence, Yinsen’s soul became as solid as if he were still alive.

Yet outwardly, Yinsen’s spirit still had its eyes closed, unresponsive to any external stimulus, as if this soul before Yang Qiu were merely a shell.

This seemed to be within the Ancient One’s expectations. She pressed her right hand to Yinsen’s chest, and golden light blossomed forth.

Bathed in this radiance, Yang Qiu sensed the surrounding space and time stretching and elongating, as if they were nearing a place of tremendous repulsion.

As the distance shrank, Yang Qiu felt a force pushing him away. Glancing sideways at the unaffected Ancient One, he began adjusting his own aura by her example.

Once the repulsive force faded, Yang Qiu ceased his adjustments. Now, his aura felt similar to the sacred presence that had emanated from Yinsen, though his own was purer, carrying the distinct flavor of “sunlight” and “flame.”

A few seconds later, the sensation of movement ended, and Yang Qiu arrived at their destination alongside the Ancient One.

Before his eyes, only two colors existed: yellow and white.

Amid this endless expanse of yellow and white, Yang Qiu saw Yinsen standing tall.

A flicker of magic crossed his gaze—Yang Qiu could tell that this Yinsen was neither soul nor flesh, but something akin to a manifestation of consciousness.

Yinsen stood with his hands slightly outstretched, cupping a wavering flame between them. To behold this flame was to have one’s own goodwill and sense of justice awakened—this, it seemed, was the source of the sanctity in Yinsen’s soul.

“What is he doing?” Yang Qiu whispered to the Ancient One.

He could see the holy fire and Yinsen’s consciousness slowly merging, but could not discern the nature of the process.

In this area, Yang Qiu had little experience. After all, this mystery was not of his own creation through script evolution, but a vestige from the ancient history of this planet. Fortunately, the Ancient One was well-versed in such matters; many of the historical tomes in Kamar-Taj’s library had been written by her after tracing back through time.

“He is being tested by the holy fire—undergoing a trial of the heart,” the Ancient One replied. As she spoke, a screen of light appeared before them, displaying the entirety of Yinsen’s life.