Chapter 2: The World That Forgot Me
The first thing Ye Wuchen noticed after awakening was the silence.
Not the absence of sound.
Silence was something he had experienced countless times throughout his cultivation. He had meditated within collapsing stars, secluded himself in regions where time had lost its meaning, and once spent an entire era in a place where even the concept of sound did not exist.
This silence was different.
It was unfamiliar.
Ye Wuchen sat on the edge of the stone bed, his silver eyes calmly examining the chamber.
The wooden table was still there.
So was the chair.
Even the small lamp he remembered placing beside his bed remained untouched.
Everything appeared exactly as it had before he entered his slumber.
Except for one thing.
The door.
Ye Wuchen distinctly remembered that the entrance to his chamber had been an ordinary passage.
Now, an unfamiliar wooden door stood in its place.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then he looked toward the translucent panel floating before him.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Explain."
[Please specify your inquiry.]
Ye Wuchen's expression remained unchanged.
"Why is there a door in my room?"
[Analyzing...]
A moment passed.
Then another.
[Analysis complete.]
[The door was installed during the Host's period of unconsciousness.]
"..."
Ye Wuchen waited.
The system remained silent.
"By whom?"
[Unknown.]
"When?"
[Unknown.]
"Why?"
[Unknown.]
Ye Wuchen stared at the panel.
"Your usefulness seems to have declined."
[The system respectfully disagrees.]
"Naturally."
He rose from the bed.
His long black hair fell loosely across his shoulders as he approached the door.
The wood appeared ordinary.
There were no visible formations, spiritual fluctuations, or defensive restrictions.
Yet something about it was unusual.
Ye Wuchen placed his hand against its surface.
For a brief moment, his silver eyes narrowed.
"This material..."
He paused.
Then shook his head.
"Never mind."
He pushed the door open.
And discovered that his sleeping chamber was no longer where he had left it.
A Palace That Should Not Exist
Beyond the wooden door stretched a long corridor illuminated by pale golden lamps.
The walls were made from an unfamiliar black stone.
Ancient symbols were engraved into the floor, forming patterns that extended beyond the reach of ordinary sight.
Ye Wuchen stepped outside.
His gaze traveled slowly across the corridor.
"...Interesting."
He remembered building a small residence before entering seclusion.
Nothing extravagant.
A quiet mountain.
A simple courtyard.
A few rooms.
He had chosen the location precisely because it was unremarkable.
He had no interest in constructing a magnificent palace or announcing his presence to the world.
Yet now, his modest residence appeared to have been replaced by something resembling an ancient imperial tomb.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Did I construct this?"
[No relevant construction records found.]
"Did someone move my residence?"
[Unable to determine.]
"Did someone discover me while I was asleep?"
[External activity detected during the Host's dormancy.]
Ye Wuchen stopped walking.
"How much activity?"
[Retrieving available records...]
A stream of information appeared.
[Foreign spiritual signatures detected: 18,742,991.]
[Unauthorized entry attempts detected: 3,891,406.]
[Attempts to breach the inner chamber: 72,118.]
[Successful breaches: 0.]
Ye Wuchen read the numbers.
Then he looked back at the wooden door.
"That many visitors?"
[Affirmative.]
He considered the matter.
Apparently, his sleeping arrangements had become rather popular.
"Did they disturb my cultivation?"
[No.]
"Then it doesn't matter."
He continued walking.
The system remained silent for several seconds before another message appeared.
[Host, additional information is available.]
"Speak."
[The surrounding structure is currently designated as the Immortal Tomb.]
Ye Wuchen stopped.
"The what?"
[Immortal Tomb.]
He looked around.
Then back toward his chamber.
A long silence followed.
Finally, he asked, "Am I supposed to be the immortal?"
[The designation appears to refer to the structure rather than its occupant.]
"And the tomb?"
[Unknown.]
Ye Wuchen sighed.
"Eight billion years, and people have developed strange naming habits."
The Hall of Forgotten Scriptures
The corridor eventually opened into an enormous hall.
Thousands of stone tablets floated beneath a ceiling that resembled the night sky.
Each tablet contained an ancient cultivation scripture.
Some radiated golden light.
Others were surrounded by elemental manifestations.
At the center of the hall stood a monument.
THE HALL OF FORGOTTEN SCRIPTURES.
Ye Wuchen glanced at the inscription.
"Forgotten?"
He approached the nearest tablet.
Its surface contained a cultivation technique known as the Nine Revolutions Celestial Body Art.
According to the description, it was a supreme body-refining scripture capable of allowing its practitioner to withstand the destructive force of heavenly tribulations.
Ye Wuchen read the opening passage.
Then the second.
Then the third.
His expression became slightly peculiar.
"Isn't this the body-training exercise from the old mountain school?"
He remembered a small cultivation academy from his distant past.
It had been located beside a river, in a region whose name he could no longer recall.
The academy's disciples practiced a simple body-refining method every morning.
The technique had been useful for strengthening their foundations.
Nothing more.
Yet the scripture before him described the same exercise as an ancient supreme inheritance.
He examined another tablet.
Heaven-Devouring Flame Scripture.
Ye Wuchen recognized the method almost immediately.
It was a modified version of a fire-control technique he had once encountered.
Another tablet contained the Void Severing Sword Art.
He remembered its creator.
A young sword cultivator who had spent several centuries attempting to improve the efficiency of spatial sword techniques.
Ye Wuchen had exchanged a few pointers with him.
The young man had been rather talented.
Unfortunately, Ye Wuchen could no longer remember his name.
He continued examining the scriptures.
One after another, familiar techniques appeared.
Some had been modified.
Others had been renamed.
A few had become so distorted that their original principles were barely recognizable.
Ye Wuchen stopped before a tablet surrounded by brilliant silver light.
THE SUPREME NINE HEAVENS SWORD CANON.
He read the first line.
Then the second.
His expression remained calm.
But his eyes lingered on the third.
"...Someone actually completed it?"
The scripture was based on an incomplete sword theory he had once encountered.
At the time, its creator had insisted that the technique could eventually reach the pinnacle of sword cultivation.
Ye Wuchen had disagreed.
Not because the theory was wrong.
But because its foundation contained a minor flaw.
He examined the completed version.
The flaw remained.
And it had been repeated throughout the entire scripture.
Ye Wuchen shook his head.
"Eight billion years, and no one corrected the third movement."
He raised one finger.
A faint silver line appeared above the tablet.
With a casual motion, he adjusted a single character in the opening passage.
The silver light vanished.
Nothing else happened.
At least, nothing visible.
Far away, in a realm separated from the Lower Realm by countless layers of space, an ancient sword monument suddenly trembled.
Within the Nine Heavens Sword Palace, a white-haired ancestor opened his eyes.
The monument before him had stood unchanged for millions of years.
Now, one of its inscriptions had altered.
The old man stared at the new character.
His breathing quickened.
"This..."
He immediately began circulating his sword intent.
A moment later, an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.
"The flaw..."
His hands trembled.
"The flaw is gone!"
Back inside the Immortal Tomb, Ye Wuchen had already moved on.
He did not consider the correction particularly important.
After all, it was only one character.
Visitors from the Lower Realm
Outside the Immortal Tomb, the nameless mountain had become the center of a growing dispute.
Three cultivation sects had arrived almost simultaneously.
The Azure River Sect.
The Crimson Cloud Pavilion.
And the Blackstone Sword Sect.
Each claimed the right to explore the mysterious palace.
None possessed sufficient strength to force the others to withdraw.
After several days of negotiations, their elders agreed to send a joint expedition into the outer halls.
Among the chosen disciples was a young woman named Lin Qingyue.
She wore pale blue robes and carried a narrow sword at her waist.
Unlike the other disciples, she had not volunteered for the expedition in search of treasure.
Her master had ordered her to accompany the group because of her unusual sensitivity to spiritual formations.
Standing beside her was a broad-shouldered young man named Zhao Ming.
He belonged to the Blackstone Sword Sect.
His cultivation had recently reached the middle stage of Foundation Establishment.
Among the younger generation of the surrounding region, he was considered exceptionally talented.
Zhao Ming looked toward the palace gates.
"An ancient inheritance ground appearing in our territory..."
He smiled.
"Perhaps this is the opportunity I've been waiting for."
Lin Qingyue glanced at him.
"Don't be careless."
Zhao Ming laughed.
"Senior Sister Lin, you worry too much."
"We don't know what this place is."
"Then we'll find out."
He stepped forward.
The palace gates stood open.
Beyond them stretched a corridor illuminated by golden lamps.
The disciples exchanged glances.
Then entered.
Their exploration proceeded more smoothly than expected.
Although the palace contained countless mysterious inscriptions, no immediate dangers appeared.
The corridors were quiet.
The walls remained still.
Even the spiritual pressure within the palace was surprisingly gentle.
Zhao Ming gradually relaxed.
"Perhaps the ancient restrictions have already weakened."
Lin Qingyue said nothing.
She had been studying the symbols engraved into the floor.
The longer she examined them, the more confused she became.
They did not resemble any formation language she had studied.
Some characters appeared to contain multiple meanings simultaneously.
Others seemed to change depending on the angle from which they were viewed.
Eventually, the group reached a vast hall.
Thousands of stone tablets floated above the ground.
The disciples stopped.
For several moments, none could speak.
Then Zhao Ming exclaimed, "Cultivation scriptures!"
He rushed toward the nearest tablet.
A golden inscription appeared before him.
NINE REVOLUTIONS CELESTIAL BODY ART.
His eyes widened.
"A body-refining scripture!"
Another disciple discovered a sword technique.
A third found an ancient movement art.
Excitement spread throughout the group.
Only Lin Qingyue remained cautious.
She examined the enormous hall.
Something felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Just... unusual.
The tablets appeared perfectly arranged.
As though someone had been organizing them.
Then she noticed a figure standing near the far wall.
A young man.
He wore simple black robes.
His long black hair fell loosely down his back.
His expression was calm.
And he appeared to be examining an ancient scripture with mild disappointment.
Lin Qingyue froze.
"Someone's here."
The other disciples turned.
Zhao Ming frowned.
"Who are you?"
The young man looked toward them.
His silver eyes moved across the group.
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he seemed to be studying their clothing.
After a brief pause, he asked, "Are you from this region?"
Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes.
"We asked you first."
The young man considered the response.
Then nodded.
"Fair enough."
He paused.
"Ye Wuchen."
The name meant nothing to them.
Zhao Ming examined him with his spiritual sense.
No cultivation aura.
No spiritual fluctuations.
Nothing.
An ordinary mortal?
Impossible.
How could a mortal have entered such a place?
Perhaps he possessed some concealment treasure.
Or perhaps he was merely a weak cultivator who had arrived before them.
Zhao Ming crossed his arms.
"Which sect do you belong to?"
"None."
"Then how did you enter?"
Ye Wuchen glanced toward the corridor behind him.
"I walked."
"..."
Zhao Ming's expression stiffened.
Lin Qingyue almost laughed.
But she restrained herself.
There was something strange about the young man.
His answers were simple.
His expression was indifferent.
Yet he seemed completely unconcerned by their presence.
Not arrogant.
Not cautious.
Simply uninterested.
Lin Qingyue stepped forward.
"Fellow Daoist Ye, my name is Lin Qingyue. We are disciples from the nearby cultivation sects."
Ye Wuchen nodded.
"Good."
Then he asked a question that none of them expected.
"What era is it?"
The hall became silent.
Zhao Ming stared at him.
"What?"
"The current era."
Lin Qingyue hesitated.
"We are currently in the 4,317th year of the Great Yan Calendar."
Ye Wuchen repeated the words quietly.
"Great Yan..."
He searched his memories.
Nothing.
He had never heard of such a dynasty.
"How long has the Great Yan Dynasty existed?"
"Over four thousand years," Lin Qingyue replied.
"And before that?"
"The Northern Xuan Dynasty."
"Before that?"
"The Seven Kingdoms Era."
"And before that?"
Lin Qingyue frowned.
"Our historical records don't extend much further."
Ye Wuchen fell silent.
Four thousand years.
Seven Kingdoms.
Northern Xuan.
Great Yan.
Names that meant nothing to him.
He looked toward the floating scriptures.
"How old is your world's recorded history?"
Lin Qingyue considered the question.
"The oldest reliable records are several million years old, though some legends speak of civilizations that existed before then."
"Several million..."
Ye Wuchen murmured.
To ordinary cultivators, that was an unimaginable span of time.
To him, it was barely a moment.
He had slept through the rise and fall of more civilizations than he cared to count.
And now, even the names of the greatest powers from his era had disappeared.
He looked at Lin Qingyue.
"Have you heard of the Human Court?"
She blinked.
"Human Court?"
"Yes."
"Is that a sect?"
Ye Wuchen said nothing.
"The name sounds impressive," Zhao Ming remarked. "Perhaps it's some ancient organization."
Ye Wuchen looked away.
The Human Court.
Once, it had been among the most powerful human institutions in the cultivation world.
Its territories stretched across countless star regions.
Its emperors commanded armies capable of shaking entire realms.
Its scholars had recorded the histories of civilizations older than most immortal dynasties.
And now...
These young cultivators had never heard of it.
Of course, they were merely disciples from an insignificant Lower Realm.
Their ignorance proved little about the state of the wider universe.
Nevertheless, the realization was unavoidable.
Eight billion years had passed.
Even if the Human Court still existed somewhere, the world he remembered was gone.
Ye Wuchen closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, his expression was unchanged.
"Senior..."
Lin Qingyue hesitated.
"Are you lost?"
Ye Wuchen considered the question.
Then he answered quietly.
"Perhaps."
A World Without Familiar Names
The disciples continued exploring the hall.
Zhao Ming attempted to comprehend the Nine Revolutions Celestial Body Art.
After several unsuccessful attempts, he began complaining about the difficulty of the scripture.
Ye Wuchen watched him for a moment.
Then turned away.
Lin Qingyue approached.
"Fellow Daoist Ye."
"Hm?"
"Are you searching for something?"
Ye Wuchen glanced toward the countless tablets.
"Information."
"About what?"
"The world."
Lin Qingyue looked confused.
"You mean the Great Yan Dynasty?"
"Among other things."
She hesitated.
"If you wish, I could tell you what I know."
Ye Wuchen studied her.
There was no greed in her expression.
No obvious ulterior motive.
Only curiosity.
He nodded.
"Then tell me."
For the next hour, Lin Qingyue explained the surrounding region.
The Great Yan Dynasty ruled over seventeen provinces.
The three strongest local sects were the Azure River Sect, Crimson Cloud Pavilion, and Blackstone Sword Sect.
Above them existed several powerful cultivation kingdoms.
Beyond those kingdoms lay the Eastern Desolation, a vast region containing ancient ruins, forbidden territories, and countless cultivation forces.
According to local legends, the world itself was divided into several continents.
Travel between them was extremely difficult.
Ye Wuchen listened quietly.
Occasionally, he asked a question.
Most of the answers were unfamiliar.
The names of mountains had changed.
The territories were different.
Even the commonly used cultivation terminology had undergone subtle alterations.
At one point, Lin Qingyue mentioned a legendary realm known as the Heavenly Ascension Stage.
According to local beliefs, reaching that stage allowed a cultivator to transcend the mortal world.
Ye Wuchen raised an eyebrow.
"Heavenly Ascension?"
"Yes."
"What happens after that?"
Lin Qingyue shook her head.
"No one knows."
Ye Wuchen nodded slowly.
He did not ask further.
The cultivation system of this Lower Realm was clearly incomplete.
That was not particularly surprising.
Lower Realms often possessed limited spiritual energy and fragmented inheritances.
But something else caught his attention.
"Have you ever heard of the Upper Realm?"
Lin Qingyue's expression changed.
"Of course."
Ye Wuchen looked at her.
"Tell me."
"The Upper Realm is said to be the dwelling place of true immortals. Some ancient records claim that cultivators who surpass the limits of our world can ascend there."
"Can they?"
Lin Qingyue hesitated.
"No one from our region has successfully ascended in recorded history."
Ye Wuchen fell silent.
The Upper Realm still existed.
That was useful information.
But he had no intention of going there immediately.
First, he needed to understand what had happened during his slumber.
And why his sleeping chamber had become the center of an enormous palace.
The Inscription Beneath the Wall
Several hours later, the disciples began preparing to leave.
They had collected copies of several scriptures and were eager to report their discoveries to their sect elders.
Lin Qingyue approached Ye Wuchen one final time.
"Fellow Daoist Ye, will you be leaving with us?"
Ye Wuchen shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"Then please be careful. We still don't know whether this place contains hidden dangers."
Ye Wuchen looked at her.
Then nodded.
"I will."
Zhao Ming called from the entrance.
"Senior Sister Lin! We're leaving!"
She gave Ye Wuchen a final glance.
"Perhaps we'll meet again."
"Perhaps."
The disciples departed.
Their footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
Soon, the Hall of Forgotten Scriptures became silent once more.
Ye Wuchen remained standing near the center of the hall.
He looked toward the floating tablets.
Then toward the enormous monument.
THE HALL OF FORGOTTEN SCRIPTURES.
For some reason, the name bothered him.
Forgotten.
The word seemed strangely deliberate.
He approached the monument.
At first glance, its surface contained nothing unusual.
But beneath the final line of the inscription, there was a faint irregularity in the stone.
A mark.
Almost invisible.
Ye Wuchen crouched.
He brushed his fingers across the surface.
A thin layer of dust fell away.
Beneath it lay a small inscription.
Not written in the common language of the current era.
Nor in any ancient script preserved by the Upper Realm's known civilizations.
It belonged to a language that had disappeared long before Ye Wuchen entered his slumber.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"...This language."
He had not seen it in an unimaginably long time.
The characters were simple.
Only a few lines.
Yet their presence here was impossible to explain.
Ye Wuchen slowly read the inscription.
The first line contained a name.
A name he recognized.
For the first time since awakening, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough to disturb the indifference that had remained upon his face for countless years.
"How..."
He stopped.
Then read the name again.
It belonged to someone from his distant past.
Someone who should have disappeared long before his slumber began.
Beneath the name was a final sentence.
IF YOU HAVE AWAKENED, THEN WE HAVE ALREADY FAILED.
Ye Wuchen remained motionless.
The hall was silent.
The floating scriptures continued emitting their gentle light.
Nothing moved.
Nothing changed.
Yet the atmosphere seemed different.
After a long moment, Ye Wuchen straightened.
He looked toward the deepest region of the palace.
Then toward the small inscription.
A faint trace of curiosity appeared in his silver eyes.
"...Interesting."
For eight billion years, the world had continued without him.
Empires had fallen.
Civilizations had vanished.
Even the heavens seemed to have forgotten the names of those who once stood beneath them.
But someone had left a message.
A message written in a language that should no longer exist.
A message intended for him.
And it contained a warning.
Ye Wuchen turned toward the darkness beyond the hall.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Tell me something."
[Please proceed.]
His voice remained calm.
"During my slumber..."
He paused.
"Did anyone enter my chamber?"
[No successful intrusions recorded.]
Ye Wuchen looked back at the inscription.
"Then who left this message?"
For the first time since his awakening, the system did not answer immediately.
Several seconds passed.
Then a new notification appeared.
[Warning.]
[Insufficient historical data.]
[Origin of inscription: Unknown.]
[Temporal classification: Unavailable.]
Ye Wuchen stared at the panel.
Then smiled faintly.
It was the first smile he had shown since awakening.
"Very well."
He placed his hands behind his back.
"Let's see what happened while I was asleep."
Far above the Immortal Tomb, the clouds drifted peacefully across the Lower Realm's sky.
The surrounding sects remained unaware of the young man walking through the palace's forgotten halls.
The Upper Realm continued searching for the mysterious figure who had appeared upon the Supreme Throne.
And somewhere within the countless realms, an ancient secret remained buried beneath eight billion years of history.
A secret that had been waiting for one man to awaken.
End of Chapter 2