The Abyssal Clocktower was no longer just a clocktower.
On this day, it became the throat of all Skycast City.
——Downward lay the abyss.
——Upward, the height where the New Covenant Council spirit-chain hung.
On the mid-level of the tower, a ring of stone platforms that had once been empty was now filled in by spirit-chains.
They weren't stone stools or chairs, but a circle of hollow-centered "seats":
Each seat was a segment of chain the world had marked out, with a tiny plaque of light hanging from it, a name written on the plaque—some complete, some broken.
[Rust Street Mortal Representative—]
[Star-Signet Academy Dissenting Apprentices' Representative—]
[Provisional Representative of the Minor Gods' Alliance—]
[Winged Race Remote Seat—]
[Remnant Consciousness of Runic Machinery Seat—]
Some name-blanks were still empty. Some had already been filled.
Beyond this inner ring lay the gods' projection-seats.
Those seats came in different shapes: the main gods' seats were tall, their crests intricate; the minor gods' seats were much smaller, some no more than a faint "spirit-point" the system had barely agreed to recognize.
Farthest out, the High Gods' Legion chains formed a cold, hard perimeter.
Light-armored envoys and covenant warriors lined the inner wall of the tower, some hovering in midair, some standing on the stone steps—
nominally to "supervise council security," in reality eyeing every mortal representative like a potential "agitator."
The Night Bell atop the tower was silent.
Only a newborn halo of light slowly turned higher up—that was the world's newly acknowledged New Covenant Council spirit-chain.
[New Covenant Council · Trial Operation]
[Status: First Session · Before Case One]
Those cold words flickered faintly in the spirit-sight of every participant.
Qi Luo sat in a half-ring of shadow on the abyss-facing side.
He was not seated among any of the "mortal representative" spots. He sat on a stone marked—
[Temporary Administrator's Observer Seat]
—that was it.
A corner the world had awkwardly carved out: not counted as a mortal seat, not counted as a god-seat, not part of the legions.
The Key-Sigil under his sternum burned quietly.
Every time someone responded through the council spirit-chain, the "New Covenant cost node" etched into his bones gave a tiny shudder.
——Just now, that winged youth had connected to the remote seat: one jolt.
——The Rust Street craftsman had clomped up to the mortal seats in his worn boots: another jolt.
——The old priest from the little church had been half-dragged, half-shoved into the "Grassroots Prayer Seat": a third.
The world was booking every bit of this "noise" under Qi Luo's name.
"You don't look so great," Ruan Ji murmured.
She stood at his side, still in her Hunter uniform, though she'd taken off the cloak and swapped it for a simple black mantle—her own choice, belonging to no temple.
The Hunter badge fastened at her chest was now encircled by a new annotation:
[Co-hunter · Ruan Ji]
[New Covenant Council · Permanent record-keeper]
"Getting used to it," Qi Luo said. "People who keep the books never look great."
Ruan Ji gave him a look.
"Case One," she said. "Who are you planning to let speak first?"
Qi Luo lifted his head, looking over the not-yet-full but already crowded seats.
The mortal representatives were eyeing each other, some whispering over whether to "argue working hours first or taxes first"; the minor god reps nudged their faint lights a bit forward into the open, then shrank back; the main gods' projections sat high above, clearly too proud to be the first to open their mouths.
"You," Qi Luo said.
Ruan Ji blinked. "Me?"
"You're the only one here who's tagged as both 'God's Blade' and 'New Covenant record-keeper'," Qi Luo said.
"You were the Old Covenant's knife, and you've been rewritten."
"On the level of clauses, you're a wound."
"Let the wound speak."
Ruan Ji went quiet for two beats.
The Hunter chains inside her drew taut, as if reminding her: you're supposed to stand with "order," to draw your blade when others go too far, not walk up there and talk.
"So what do you want me to propose?" she asked.
Qi Luo met her eyes, gaze steady.
"Propose yourself," he said.
"Read out your rewritten covenant."
"Let them see—gods can write wrong covenants, and they can rewrite covenants."
"They can stand on the side of humans in the clauses."
Ruan Ji's mouth twitched.
"You know if I admit in public that my covenant's been rewritten," she said quietly, "I'm basically telling every god I'm no longer a pure 'God's Blade'."
"I'll be treated as an unreliable tool."
"You're human now," Qi Luo said.
"Not a tool."
"Tools don't need to be convinced. People do."
"Which side you stand on has to be written on paper."
He paused, voice lowering. "Besides—your so-called hidden priority shouldn't stay forever visible only to the two of us and the self-check module."
"Some lines have to be read out in front of the gods."
Ruan Ji thought of that sentence—
——"When the interests of gods and humans come into irreconcilable conflict, prioritize basic human rights."
A line Qi Luo had added deep into her covenant when he rewrote it in the interlayer space—
buried among all the tedious obedience clauses.
She'd been ashamed, afraid, furious back then, yet when that line settled into place, some unspeakable weight had lifted.
She'd always thought this line would only quietly function between her and the world.
Now Qi Luo wanted her to stand on the stage and read it out loud.
"You sure you've thought this through?" She stared at him. "This will be more explosive than you refusing rollback."
"The main gods would rather you haggle with the Shadow at the bottom of the abyss than see someone read a clause like that over their heads."
Qi Luo smiled.
"I know," he said.
"That's why you're first."
"You're the record-keeper. This is the first line of your record."
"Not for me."
"For yourself."
Ruan Ji was silent for a while.
In the end, she took her hand off her sword-hilt.
"Fine," she said.
"Then let this 'God's Blade traitor' swing the first cut of the New Covenant Council at the Old Covenant."
——
High above in the tower, the self-check module's voice rumbled softly:
[New Covenant Council · First Session——]
[Status: participant nodes stable.]
[First-case procedure may begin.]
On the newborn spirit-chain ring, a particular node lit up.
[Record-keeper seat has requested to speak.]
The main gods' projections shifted their gazes slightly.
"The record-keeper?" a god murmured. "From the Hunters?"
"The God's Blade whose covenant the Key rewrote," another projection said mildly. "Name was… Ruan Ji."
"Interesting." A third projection laughed softly. "A traitor keeping the minutes."
On the mortal side, whispers rose as well.
"That the Hunter who arrested Qi Luo?" the Rust Street craftsman muttered.
"And later helped him escape," the old priest coughed. "Ahem… may the Lord forgive me, but sometimes I think she's more human than some of the ones in white robes."
"She's a god?" a boy gaped.
"——She used to count as half," the priest said. "Now… we'll see where she stands."
In the middle level of the tower, a round platform had been left open, ringed by spirit-chains.
That was the "speaking platform."
Ruan Ji stepped forward.
She hadn't changed clothes: still in black Hunter uniform. She merely unpinned the temple-issue metal shoulder plate and set it down on the stone beside Qi Luo.
"Watch that for me," she said.
Qi Luo nudged the badge lightly with his toe, didn't pick it up, just pushed it into the crack of stone at the Temporary Administrator's Observer Seat.
The instant Ruan Ji stepped onto the speaking platform, the chains beneath her lit in a circle.
[Identity verification:]
[Hunter system——core Hunter · Ruan Ji.]
[World Base-Covenant——God's Blade executioner · serial number ×××.]
[New Covenant Council——permanent record-keeper.]
Three systems' labels floated up line by line.
She was standing at the intersection of three worlds.
"Ruan Ji."
The world's mechanical voice sounded once in her inner ear.
[Confirm: under which identity do you speak?]
She paused for a heartbeat.
"As Ruan Ji," she said.
She deliberately added no title.
The world hesitated half a beat—clearly a little displeased with a reply that came with "no role" attached.
[Recorded as: 'the existence named Ruan Ji'.]
[Speaking permissions: opened in accordance with New Covenant Council rules.]
The spirit-chain ring around the platform drew in a little, unfolding a faint screen of light in front of her—her "contract-screen" with the world.
On it, familiar yet distant words rose into view.
[God's Blade · Ruan Ji · Basic Covenant]
[Summary of original clauses:]
[1. Born a blade, never for oneself.]
[2. All actions shall prioritize the main gods' orders.]
[3. When executing Name-Erasure upon carriers, heretics, and violators, no hesitation is permitted.]
[4. Where doubts arise, doubt itself counts as blasphemy and may be erased by superiors on your behalf.]
That was the outline of her life.
Each line was iron carved into her bones.
On the mortal seats, someone sucked in a sharp breath.
"This… is a god's covenant?" the craftsman blurted. "Her whole life is four lines?"
"There are the fine-print clauses too," the old priest murmured. "More than the small print on your loan covenants."
The screen scrolled downward, revealing dense lines of micro-clauses:
"Must not question or interpret the oracle," "must not form emotional bonds with targets," "must not exchange excessive words with targets before Name-Erasure"...
Every line like a thin needle pinning her behavior to a fixed track.
Ruan Ji knew many eyes—gods' and mortals' alike—were on these words.
Her throat went tight for a moment.
"I was a God's Blade," she said, head lifting, voice steady.
"I used to be."
"My birth, my training, every assignment I carried out was controlled by these clauses."
"I have killed," she said.
"I have erased names."
On the mortal side, some faces turned pale, some hands balled into fists.
Along the legion chains, an envoy snorted. "It's a confession, not a tragedy," he said. "Spare us the pathos."
Ruan Ji ignored him.
"I'm standing here," she said, "not because I'm cleaner than you."
"But because I know better than you how dirty clauses like these are."
She lifted a hand and tapped the screen.
[God's Blade · Ruan Ji · rewrite record]
New words rose.
[Added clauses:]
[5. When a divine order and the World Base-Covenant fall into severe conflict, preventing world-collapse shall take priority.]
"This was the first rewrite," Ruan Ji said.
"In the interlayer of the abyss, the High Gods' Council tried to use me as the knife to wipe out the Key."
"Qi Luo added this line for me."
"So before executing a god's command, I had the right to 'check' whether the world was using 'order' as an excuse to do something stupid."
The main gods' projections grew colder.
They remembered that time—
they remembered the boy who'd "stolen a rewrite" of a god's covenant in the interlayer.
"This is the second time," Ruan Ji said, tapping again.
On the screen, a line of text surfaced, its color paler than the rest, as if it had been carved deeper and was even less something the world wanted to show.
[Hidden clause (now revealed):]
[6. When the interests of gods and humans come into irreconcilable conflict——]
[Prioritize basic human rights.]
The moment that line appeared, the air around the speaking platform seemed to snap tight.
The self-check module flashed red warnings almost instantly:
[Warning: detected a clause in direct conflict with the "god-first" principle.]
[Original principle: when divine command conflicts with human demands, divine command takes precedence.]
[Current clause: when divine and human interests conflict, prioritize basic human rights.]
[Conflict level: fundamental.]
[Source: Hunter system · God's Blade · Ruan Ji · personal covenant.]
[Status: active (local).]
In an instant, every god-seat flickered.
Some projections shot to their feet, some eyes went ice-cold, some god-chains rippled with twisted tremors.
"This is——"
"A god-reversing clause?"
"Who wrote this into her?"
"How did the world allow something like this onto the paper?"
On the mortal side, silence fell instead.
Those who should have been terrified into kneeling simply pressed their lips together and stared at the line.
——"Prioritize basic human rights."
"You wrote this for me," Ruan Ji said, looking toward the shadows where Qi Luo sat.
"You didn't let me read it out then."
"You called it my 'fallback clause'."
"Now I'm reading it."
Qi Luo didn't dodge her gaze.
He only dipped his chin slightly.
"I really didn't let you say it back then," he said. "You weren't ready yet."
"You walking onto the speaking platform now means you are."
Along the legion chains, a heavily armored envoy stepped forward, his voice like clashing metal:
"This clause was never reviewed by the High Gods' Council."
"Unauthorized rewriting of a God's Blade Covenant constitutes an attack on the divine structure."
"I propose we immediately freeze her covenant and revoke her Hunter and speaking qualifications—"
His voice cut off.
Because the self-check module dropped a line onto the chains beneath his feet with icy calm:
[Reminder: during the New Covenant Council, within the range of the council spirit-chain, the execution of Name-Erasure and comparable extreme measures is forbidden.]
[Acts of retaliation against speakers will be recorded as "applying pressure to the New Covenant Council".]
[Said records will be included under "abuse of power" in future clause discussions.]
The envoy's expression changed.
This wasn't Qi Luo's tone of threat, nor a slogan shouted from the mortal seats. It was the world's own "footnote."
Right now, it wasn't siding with anyone; it was merely reminding them:
if you move against her now, you'll be a negative example in future textbooks.
On the high seats, the main gods conferred coldly deep in their chains.
"The world is shielding her?" one god asked.
"No," another projection narrowed its eyes. "It's shielding that 'council' it just wrote."
"It's afraid this little gadget gets smashed on day one."
"And what about this 'human-rights-first' line?" a third god said darkly. "How is it classifying that?"
The self-check module's answer was as emotionless as ever:
[Current status: this clause binds only "God's Blade · Ruan Ji".]
[It has not yet been elevated to a general principle.]
[Whether to adopt it as a high-level rule will be determined in the New Covenant Council's later discussions.]
In other words, this "god-reversing" clause was, for the moment, just her personal case file.
But it was already on the world's paper.
Already read aloud.
Ruan Ji stood at the center of the platform, listening to the gods' murmurs above and the mortals' held breaths below.
Her palms were slick with sweat.
This wasn't the calm of drawing her blade on a target.
It was the raw discomfort of stepping into the light and peeling back her own wounds for all to see.
"I used to be a God's Blade," she said.
"I acted under Clause Three."
"Executing Name-Erasure, never asking who the target was, whether the clause was fair."
"I've killed people in Rust Street."
On the Rust Street seats, someone sat up straighter, anger and something more tangled flashing in their eyes.
"I've killed gods," Ruan Ji went on. "Those minor gods the High Gods' Council labeled 'unstable factors'."
On the minor gods' ring, a faint point of light flared bright.
"These are the clauses I've been obeying." She pointed at the lines on the screen. "Do you think they're reasonable?"
No one answered.
"Reasonable" had never been a question the Old Covenant liked to ask.
"For Case One of the New Covenant Council," Ruan Ji said, "I'm not opening with mortals' working hours, or with minor gods' tax burdens."
"I'm opening with myself."
She drew in a deep breath.
"The first case is as follows——"
"——I request that the world recognize the following fact:"
"Gods can, and are entitled to, choose to stand on the human side in their covenants."
"And I request that 'a god's voluntary inclusion of a human-rights-priority clause in their personal covenant' be recognized as a lawful act, not blasphemy."
At once, the screen began to display the text of her spoken motion:
[New Covenant Council · Case One (Draft):]
[Proposer: the existence named Ruan Ji.]
[Subject: the legality of "whether gods may, in their covenants, voluntarily stand on the side of human rights".]
[Suggested clauses:]
[1. Any god (including main gods, minor gods, and derived priestly offices) shall be permitted to add, in their personal covenants, clauses of the form: "when divine commands conflict with basic human rights, human rights shall be prioritized".]
[2. Such clauses shall not be considered blasphemy or a violation of the Basic Covenant, but rather as a god's self-restraint and adjustment of their role.]
[3. The High Gods' Council shall not, on the basis of such clauses alone, subject that god to Name-Erasure or equivalent extreme punishments, unless their conduct has otherwise breached bottom lines separately established in the New Covenant.]
"This is Case One," Ruan Ji said.
"I'm holding up my own covenant in front of you."
"Not to show off my virtue."
"But to tell every god present——"
"——you can choose."
She raised her head to the gods' ring.
"You can keep writing yourselves as cold tools 'for the world, for order alone'."
"Or you can write into your covenants the people you actually want to protect."
"You've been saying you love this city," she said, enunciating each word.
"Now——put it in your covenants."
The scoffing from the main gods' seats came almost in unison.
"Absurd."
"Arrogant."
"This little clause-scrivener thinks she can teach us how to write?"
The most stable of the main gods' projections slowly rose.
The god-chain behind him was heavy, wrapped in countless clauses of "sovereignty," "protection," "purification."
"God's Blade," he said.
His voice fell on the stone walls like a bell.
"Have you forgotten who forged you?"
"Every authority you wield came from us."
"Your covenant was signed by us."
"Today, you stand here and read out a rewrite that was never approved by the High Gods' Council."
"This is rebellion against your forgers."
Ruan Ji lifted her head, meeting that projection's eyes.
The Hunter chains pulled taut within her—instinct warning her: this is "superior," you should bow, kneel, beg forgiveness.
She didn't.
"Forgers," she repeated.
"You forged me as a blade."
"I'm standing here speaking, no longer in your grip."
"Of course this is rebellion."
A stir rippled around the ring.
Someone on the mortal seats couldn't hold back a cheer, only to be yanked down by a neighbor: "Keep it down, keep it down!"
The projection on the high seat dimmed a shade.
"And you still dare ask us to acknowledge this 'human-first' clause?" the main god said coldly.
"You think saying it out loud will write it into the world?"
"You think we will allow other gods to imitate you?"
"You think this clause of yours will someday become part of the New Covenant?"
"I know you won't want it," Ruan Ji said.
Her voice didn't rise, but it carried with the clarity of words spoken in utter stillness.
"That's why I brought it here."
"If you won't acknowledge it, I'll write it on the world's paper."
"If you call me a traitor, I'll let the mortals, the minor gods, the names you've trampled, see that a covenant can take another shape."
"You can choose not to adopt it."
"Then let them choose."
In the shadows, Qi Luo watched her, a taut line in his chest easing slightly.
——She hadn't framed the clause as "Qi Luo's mercy to me."
——She'd framed it as "my own choice."
Good.
It meant that even if one day the world erased the name of the Temporary Administrator, the New Covenant would still have other signers.
"You realize what this implies?" the main god's projection said softly.
"It implies that every god who writes in such a clause may, in the course of duty, betray divine command."
"It implies the divine structure will no longer be one-way."
"It implies——"
"——the world will no longer be able to use you as tools."
A brief stillness settled over the platform.
Ruan Ji suddenly smiled.
It was a thin smile, almost invisible, but very real.
"Yes," she said.
"It implies exactly that."
She raised her hand and pointed at the line already marked on the screen as a "Hidden clause (now revealed)."
Then, she read it out, word by word:
"——When the interests of gods and humans come into irreconcilable conflict,"
"prioritize basic human rights."
Inside the tower, it was as if something unseen had been pressed firmly into place.
Not the rollback key, but a new standard.
The self-check module went wild:
[Detected: "human-rights-priority clause" publicly read in high-level council.]
[Current direct effect: restricted to the speaker's personal covenant.]
[Potential propagation path: following passage of the New Covenant Council's resolution, may be adopted by gods who voluntarily accept it.]
[Note: if widely spread, this clause will produce systemic conflict with the "Eternal Obedience" master clause.]
[Long-term evaluation required.]
On the mortal seats, some shivered; some eyes shone wet.
The Rust Street craftsman clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white.
"You hear that?" he rasped to the person beside him. "A god just said—humans matter more than god-orders."
The old priest lifted a hand and traced a makeshift sign over his chest—
not the main gods' crest, not any known church's rite.
"May they remember this line," he whispered. "Even if they only remember half."
On the minor gods' side, a nameless little god usually petitioned to treat warts gave a tiny shiver.
The covenant chain on it had once held only a few lines: "treat warts on command," "do not expand jurisdiction without authorization."
Now, at the very bottom, a line so faint as to be nearly invisible appeared:
[Candidate: willing to consider adding a "limited protection of mortal rights" clause in future covenant revisions.]
That prompt came from the world, not from the little god itself.
But for the first time, it realized—
it had the right to "consider."
On the high seats, a main god suddenly clenched their hand.
They felt the "Eternal Obedience" master clause under their feet give a faint tremor, as if something had jabbed it from the side.
"This is a virus," they murmured to the god beside them.
"The Key wrote one line into her, and now she's read it aloud."
"It'll crawl along the chains of every god willing to listen."
"We must——"
He never finished.
The self-check module dropped another stern line onto the chains beneath them:
[Reminder: currently in the New Covenant Council's trial-run phase.]
[Before conclusions are reached, any attempt to impose extreme punishments on proposers or supporters will increase the number of "abuse of power" cases.]
[These cases will influence how future clauses define "boundaries of divine authority".]
It was the second warning——
this time explicitly saying: if you move now, you'll be written up later as a negative sample when we define the limits of god-power.
The main gods' projections fell silent.
It had never been mortal curses they feared.
What they feared was being written, on the world's own paper, as "the side that was wrong."
"Ruan Ji," Qi Luo called softly below.
She looked toward him.
Qi Luo's face was pale, but his eyes were bright.
"The line you just read," he said, "is no longer just your fallback clause."
"It's the core of Case One."
"Someday, it might be written as one of the New Covenant's articles."
Ruan Ji steadied her breathing.
"And you?" she shot back. "Temporary Administrator."
"As the 'deletable cost node'—what's your record on Case One?"
Qi Luo lifted his gaze to the halo hanging in midair.
Deep in his vision, on the edge of the master covenant where a fresh blank space had been opened, lines of text unfolded:
[New Covenant Council · Case One (record):]
[Motion: to acknowledge that gods may voluntarily stand on the side of human rights within their covenants and to protect the legality of such standing.]
[Initial status: observed only in the covenant of "God's Blade · Ruan Ji".]
[Potential impact: structural shock to the "Eternal Obedience" master clause.]
Underneath, Qi Luo added a tiny note.
It wasn't part of the motion; it was a recorder's aside.
[Recorder's note:]
[If this case passes, it will be the first time the world has, on paper, acknowledged——]
[that gods not only may protect mortals, but may explicitly put mortals first in their covenants.]
[This is not the end of order.]
[This is taking the phrase "the gods love mankind" and carving it from lips into bone.]
The world hesitated.
In the end, it did not delete the note.
It only added on the side:
[Note author: Temporary Administrator · Qi Luo.]
[Remark: this name may be deleted when necessary.]
——It had not forgotten the line "this name may be deleted at any time."
But on that day, it at least allowed that sentence, together with Ruan Ji's "when gods' and humans' interests conflict, prioritize basic human rights," to sit on the same page.
On the speaking platform, Ruan Ji slowly closed her covenant screen.
"Case One motion submitted," she said.
"World, please record."
The spirit-chain ring hummed low.
[New Covenant Council · Case One: docketed.]
[Current status: under discussion, awaiting statements from all seats.]
In that instant, every chain over Skycast City was trembling—
Not with the rumble of rollback, nor with the boom of the Night Bell,
but with a new vibration whose endpoint no one knew.
On the mortal seats, some clenched their fists; on the minor gods' seats, some quietly lit their chain-ends; on the main gods' seats, some eyes grew darker.
On the legion chains, envoys traded looks, hands on weapons, unable to move—for now.
——The first cut at "divine orders first"
fell on the New Covenant Council's platform.
It didn't sever anything at once.
But from that moment on,
the phrase "gods may, in their covenants, choose to stand on the human side"
was no longer a private arrangement in some abyssal interlayer.
It was a line written on the world's paper,
sending the first true shockwave through every god-chain and mortal chain it touched.