Chronicles of the Star-Ash Mystic Armor

The farmland of Daqian is withering, and the mechanical wasteland is spreading. As Pei Jiuyue feels the Star Core burning against his chest, he finally remembers the diagram Old Craftsman drew in his palm with his own blood before he died: the core design of the ancient starship Black Armor.

“You knew all along?” he whispers to Old Craftsman’s grave.

The wind whips metal scraps past him. In the distance, the bells of the Mechanical Divine Cult ring. On the night of the full moon, they intend to take his Star Core and “offer it to heaven.”

But standing atop a mountain of scrap, with astral patterns crawling over his body and the brittle sounds of metal reshaping his bones and organs, he suddenly laughs.

Those fools who say the Star Core will corrupt him and turn him into a monster have no idea that the so-called “Black Armor bloodline” was never controlled by the Star Core. It is...

“The Mechanical Heavenly Way wants to wipe out civilization?” He gazes toward the cult’s forbidden zone, and a metal blade shoots from his fingertip. “Then I’ll tear that Heavenly Way apart.”