The three hundred ninety‑two granite steps of the Sun Yat‑sen Mausoleum glimmered pale in the twilight breeze. Chen Yuan's crystal‐forged boots clicked against the stone as he gazed at the bronze cauldron floating in the pavilion. Its surface, once inscribed with excerpts of the Founding Doctrine, now writhed into tentacles of eldritch energy, while within it churned a chaotic core infused with the spirit‐aura of Purple Mountain.
"Old Bones," he muttered, running a fingertip along the new "Blue Sky and White Sun" gears integrated into his crystal arm. The cloud‑thunder scales on his flesh shimmered in resonance with the pavilion's glazed tiles. "If we packed this thing off to the Cthulhu realm, the Gearwrights in Ironhold would have a field day turning it into a steam‑punk star engine."
At that moment, his talisman throbbed against his chest, and the cauldron's surface rippled, projecting a vision of 1937: his father, Chen Yuanshan, dagger poised, pressing back the core's tendrils; his mother, Su Mingyue, her prosthetic arm clamping the chaotic breach shut.
Lily's Shadow‑cloak swept over his shoulder. "Selene's Astral Core now senses your parents' echoes within the cauldron. Their relic fragments are merging with the chaos heart." She brushed a fingertip over the bronze, and her shadow‑power sparked against the inscribed Founding Doctrine, "Those corrupted founding ideals are breeding a new Elder God."
Old Mo's caravan rumbled to a halt before the plaza gates. His mechanical tendrils drained spirit‑aura from Purple Mountain's earth: "In '37 your parents laid out a seven‑star Soul‑Lock array on these steps—each embedded with the blood‑sigils of anti‑Japanese martyrs." He brandished a reclaimed Republic Star‑Chart, its needle jerking toward the cauldron's core. "Now the array's broken. The chaos core's feeding on every injustice in Nanking, including your father's last Manual of Entropy Victory hidden here."
Chen Yuan's crystal fingers clenched reflexively as a fissure split the tiles above, revealing the buried astral anchor. "So we're here not for the map, but to build a cardiac bypass on a modern chaos engine?" He tapped the steps, the cloud‑thunder scales glinting. "Selene—when you mark the anchoring points, avoid the Confucian Classics Cauldron. Don't want my gears scratching Mr. Sun Yat‑sen's calligraphy."
Inside, the bronze cauldron roared. Chen Yuan's bone‑sense detected countless trapped spirits—victims of the Nanking Massacre, twisted into mechanized revenants. His crystalline gauntlet morphed into a drill, cloud‑thunder runes whirling in harmony with the blood‑rune steps, humming the March of the Volunteers' melody.
"Historic hornets' nest if the authorities knew what's in here," he snarled, his crystalline turbine gauntlets blazing Manjianghong verses. "Lily—use shadow‑power to stall these spirits; Mo—point your eye‑ward to the temporal rift in the core. Let's give this engine a crash course in modern Chinese history."
The revenants fought fiercely, their rifle‑bone limbs bearing the rage of martyrs. Only when Chen Yuan stabilized his aura to 1937's frequency did the core reveal his parents' last words flickering within its dark heart:
"Yuanshan—this cauldron holds Purple Mountain's ley lines. Only our son's talisman can activate it."
"Mingyue—when he's grown, let him bring Cthulhu's gears to restore our fractured astral anchors…"
"Could you guys add subtitles?" Chen Yuan quipped as he pressed his crystalline arm to the core, fragments of his parents' talismans fusing into his flesh. "Old Bones—why lock away my parents' love note inside an apocalypse engine?" At once, his talisman flared fiercely, injecting his crystalline limb with their power—his mechanical heartbeat now harmonized with the mountain's ley lines.
Selene's star‑shards whirled into the pavilion's night sky. "Within this core… lies the fusion of the Elder Heart and the First Dies' Dao‑Core. They're joining to birth a new source of chaos!" Her hair floated in still air as her Astral Core blazed like the sun. "Chen Yuan—your talisman is the only key to sever their union!"
The ground trembled as the cauldron exploded. The pavilion's tiles shattered, revealing the twin heart‑cores: the First Dies' Dao‑Core—etched with cloud‑thunder sigils—and the Elder's throbbing chaos heart. Suspended between them were his parents' relic fragments. Chen Yuan's crystalline arm glowed uncontrollably as a new dual‑sigil rune appeared—a symmetrical weave of cloud, gear, and star.
"Great, the final boss is a cosmic couple!" he grit his teeth, molding his crystal arm into a double‑edged blade crackling with starfire and thunder. "Lily—lock the Dao‑Core in shadows; Selene—use your Core to slow the chaos heart. Mo—feed my limb with your Furnace shards. Tonight, I'm the dual‑core arbiter!"
With a single strike, Chen Yuan cleaved both cores. Suddenly, his consciousness was dragged into the seam between worlds: the Shattered Plains of Cthulhu overlapped with Nanking's cityscapes. The First Dies' echo and the Elder's will warred over his talisman. His father's voice boomed within the Dao‑Core:
"Yuanshan—your mission isn't to destroy chaos, but to weave the energies of both worlds into harmony!"
"Been there, read that! Could've saved us all the monologue," Chen Yuan laughed. His crystal arm and bone scales harmonized the sixfold energies into an unbreakable Möbius loop. Selene's Astral Core poured in Purple Mountain's dragon‑chi; Mo's Furnace shards lubricated the flow.
"Mo—if that thing short‑circuits again, you're cooking your own ancestors in the Classics Cauldron," he teased, examining the newly unified twin core spinning in his palm, its surface surprisingly etched with the digits 0731—his birthdate. "Turns out I am the ultimate key? Old Bones, your heir‑selection process is more random than Cthulhu prophecy."
As the cores fused fully, the three hundred ninety‑two steps shone with golden runes. The vengeful revenants knelt and released pure astral energy, coalescing into spectral guardians of the Nanking defenders.
Lily's silver eyes brimmed. "Their souls… can finally rest."
"Remember to file that incident report," Chen Yuan grinned, embedding the twin core into his talisman. "Just say the pavilion's supernatural glitch is fixed."
Mo cranked the caravan engine. His eye charm reflected the dawn over Purple Mountain; in its lens he glimpsed Chen Yuanshan teaching at Nanking University. "Son, your mother planted seven astral anchors here, each holding a fragment of the First Dies' soul—your father tucked his final Handbook of Entropy alongside them."
Shadow‑cloak swirling, Lily wove a "National Museum Honorary Expert" badge of shadow‑threads onto Chen Yuan's chest. "Want me to brag that your crystal arm was forged from Chiang Kai‑shek's heirloom armor?"
"Nah," Chen Yuan chuckled, kicking the wheel until the tread stamped Blue Sky & White Sun motifs. "What I really want is a new mom‑arm by Nika—maybe with lotus‑gear inlays and a jade pivot at the elbow, so she doesn't mock my 'Cthulhu‑rustic chic.'"
As the caravan plunged back through the Star‑seam, Chen Yuan traced the twin‑core rune flowing along his crystal limb. He felt a new kind of hope—born of cosmic irony, forged in the clash of history and horror. No longer mere prey, he was the Inverse‑Entropy Warden, the bridge of two worlds, destined to shepherd both chaos and civilization into a shared dawn under the cloud‑thunder emblem.
And so, beneath the twin heavens, the caravan sailed home—carrying a soul who spoke with gears and stars, laughter and legacy, writing the symphony of coexistence across realms.