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Inside the Joururi Workshop, the colossal mech of the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom stood silently, its cold metallic shell gleaming with a chilling, merciless light.
The entire machine resembled an indestructible fortress of steel, emanating an indescribable sense of majesty.
At this moment, Scaramouche was suspended in the inner chamber within the head of the mech.
Behind him, several tubes inserted into his back continuously pumped streams of knowledge into his body.
Suddenly, the previously silent workshop rumbled with a heavy boom.
Moments later, the massive iron gate began to creak open, inch by inch.
As the opening widened, a lone figure slowly emerged into the workshop.
It was Shao Yun! Step by step, he walked toward Scaramouche, utterly alone.
His figure looked small against the vastness of the workshop, yet it carried an inexplicable sense of pressure.
Scaramouche, whose eyes had been closed as he basked in the torrent of surging energy, finally opened them when the loud noise of the gate broke the silence.
When he saw that it was Shao Yun, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Clearly, he hadn't expected Shao Yun to face such a powerful enemy alone.
Scaramouche's lips curved upward in a faintly mocking smile.
He didn't even bother to unleash his divine aura and said coldly, "Hmph, I thought the one who came would be the God of Wisdom, but it's just you."
"What's this? Do you really think you can defeat me all by yourself? What a fool's dream!"
His words echoed throughout the chamber, dripping with contempt and disdain.
Standing not far away, Shao Yun merely chuckled and replied with a teasing tone, "To deal with a clown like you, why would we need a whole army? One man's more than enough."
Scaramouche narrowed his eyes and said icily, "Arrogant and foolish—that will be the root of your demise."
Shao Yun looked up at the mech and countered, "Hmph, don't think wrapping yourself in that thick armor makes you invincible."
Hearing Shao Yun's taunt, Scaramouche felt nothing but mild irritation, as though the man before him were a rabid dog barking pointlessly.
"The source of true power does not lie in my shell," he said flatly, "but within my heart. Even now, can you not feel the boundless might of a god?"
Then, as if something dawned on him, Scaramouche sneered, "Oh, of course. How could a lowly mortal like you comprehend the essence of divinity?"
Instead of getting angry, Shao Yun raised his right hand and waved it lightly before his nose, teasing, "Hmm? What's that awful smell? Don't tell me you haven't gone to the toilet in ages and… pissed yourself? Hahaha!"
Even when mocked so crudely, Scaramouche remained calm and unshaken.
He squinted slightly and said with a level tone, "A sharp tongue will not save you. To defeat me, you'll need far more than words."
Shao Yun shook his head, then lifted his chin proudly. "Who said I came to defeat you? I'm here to send you to hell!"
Scaramouche responded loftily, "That line should have come from my mouth. Mortals like you, ignorant of your place, belong in the eternal abyss."
Shao Yun merely smiled again, extending a finger first toward Scaramouche, then toward himself.
Every gesture radiated the presence of a seasoned outlaw.
"You kill people. I rob people. You steal the dreams of Sumeru's citizens; I steal their coin. We both belong in hell."
Then his tone hardened, and his eyes blazed with ferocity. "The only difference is this—in the coming fight, I'll win. You'll lose."
"Since ancient times, the victor is king and the loser is dust. And you, loser, should learn to die with the dignity of one."
Hearing Shao Yun's brazen words, Scaramouche threw back his head and laughed wildly. "Hahaha! Such arrogance! You've got quite the mouth on you."
Ignoring the mockery, Shao Yun reached into his Legend of the East pack and drew out an apparently "ordinary" sling and a "plain" stone.
Then, out of nowhere, he muttered, "You know, humanity's oldest skills are simply boiling water… and throwing stones."
Scaramouche frowned in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
Shao Yun didn't answer. He gripped the sling tightly, muscles tensing, veins bulging as he swung it with explosive rhythm.
The sling whistled sharply through the air.
Scaramouche, unimpressed, smirked. "Hmph! You think that little toy can defeat a god? What a joke!"
But Shao Yun's composure didn't waver.
"Beelzebul said something similar once," he said coolly. "Didn't expect you'd turn out just like her. Guess the saying's true—like mother, like son."
At the mention of Beelzebul, Scaramouche's expression twisted in rage. His voice roared through the workshop, "Silence! Don't you dare mention that so-called 'mother' who created me!"
Shao Yun remained unfazed. "It's fine. You'll be seeing her soon enough."
Before Scaramouche could respond, Shao Yun released the sling. The stone—charged with immense force—shot straight toward the mech's head.
It was like witnessing David's fateful strike against Goliath reborn in Teyvat.
Because of the link between Scaramouche and the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom, any damage to the mech reflected upon him as well.
That meant—if the armor took a hit, he would feel it too.
Scaramouche glanced at the stone with utter disdain. To him, it was nothing but a joke—hardly worth defending against.
After all, with his overwhelming power, how could such a tiny pebble ever threaten him?
But the next moment, the unremarkable stone struck the mech's head dead center.
Scaramouche's mocking smile froze in place.
An indescribable pain exploded in his mind, spreading through his entire body.
If he'd been made of flesh, blood would've streamed from every orifice, and a goose-egg-sized bump would have bulged upon his forehead.
And then—the impossible happened.
Cracks began spreading across the mech's frame with a series of crackling noises, its structure collapsing like shattered glass.
Fragments fell away, raining down like shards of golden light.
Moments later, the entire colossus disintegrated and crashed into the ground with an earth-shaking BOOM.
The floor of the workshop splintered under the sheer impact.
The tubes that had been channeling energy into Scaramouche's back snapped violently.
The agony that followed was unbearable—like someone ripping his spine straight out of his body.
Now, Scaramouche finally understood what it meant to fall from heaven to hell.
His body plummeted uncontrollably as his thoughts screamed:
'I am a god! How could I—how could I lose to a mere mortal?! I refuse to believe it!'
The pride once blazing in his eyes was now drowned by confusion and despair. His world was crumbling.
Meanwhile, Shao Yun unfolded his long-forgotten wind glider, descending calmly onto the platform below.
Scaramouche crashed heavily to the ground as the remains of the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom rained down around him.
The metallic wreckage scattered across the lower level of the workshop, merging with the debris to paint a scene of ruin and sorrow.
To any outsider, it would look as though Shao Yun and Scaramouche had fought an epic, world-shaking duel lasting hundreds of rounds.