Chapter 3: The Name That Should Not Exist
The Hall of Forgotten Scriptures was silent.
Thousands of ancient stone tablets floated beneath the artificial starry sky, their inscriptions emitting a gentle radiance that illuminated the enormous chamber.
At the center of the hall, Ye Wuchen stood before a weathered monument.
His silver eyes rested upon a name.
A name written in a language that should have disappeared billions of years ago.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then, almost imperceptibly, his expression changed.
"Of all the names that could have survived..."
His voice was quiet.
"Why yours?"
He reached toward the inscription.
The characters were old.
Not merely ancient by the standards of the current cultivation world, but old enough to belong to an age that even Ye Wuchen rarely remembered.
And yet, they had been carved here.
Inside a palace that had appeared around his sleeping chamber.
Beneath the name was a sentence.
IF YOU HAVE AWAKENED, THEN WE HAVE ALREADY FAILED.
Ye Wuchen read it again.
The wording was peculiar.
Not if you awaken.
Not when you awaken.
But if you have awakened.
Whoever wrote those words had not been certain that he would ever open his eyes again.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Can you identify the language?"
[Analyzing...]
A faint blue light passed across the inscription.
[Analysis complete.]
[Language classification: Unknown.]
[No matching linguistic records found.]
Ye Wuchen was not surprised.
The language had existed long before many of the civilizations recorded within the system's database.
"Can you translate it?"
[Unable to establish a reliable translation.]
"I see."
He looked back at the inscription.
There was something almost amusing about the situation.
A system capable of monitoring his cultivation for more than eight billion years could not understand a few lines of writing.
Yet he could read them as easily as his own name.
Ye Wuchen lowered his hand.
His gaze lingered on the name.
And for the first time since awakening, a memory surfaced.
A Memory Beyond the Ages
A courtyard.
That was the first thing he remembered.
Not a magnificent palace.
Not a battlefield filled with immortal armies.
Just a small courtyard beneath an unfamiliar sky.
The trees were covered in pale blossoms.
A stone table stood beside a narrow stream.
Two cups of tea rested upon its surface.
Ye Wuchen remembered sitting there.
Across from him sat another person.
Their appearance was strangely indistinct within his recollection.
Not because someone had concealed their face.
Not because of a powerful illusion.
The memory itself had become incomplete.
Only fragments remained.
A hand resting against a teacup.
A faint laugh.
The sound of wind passing through the courtyard.
And a voice.
"Do you truly believe everything can be understood through cultivation?"
The younger Ye Wuchen had answered without hesitation.
"Everything that exists follows principles."
"And if something exists beyond those principles?"
"Then the principles are incomplete."
The other person had laughed.
"You always answer like that."
Ye Wuchen remembered looking toward the sky.
At the time, he had been pursuing a question that no one around him could answer.
A question about the origin of cultivation itself.
The person across from him had suddenly become serious.
"Wuchen."
"Hm?"
"If one day you discover that the world is not what you believe it to be..."
The voice paused.
"Will you still continue?"
Ye Wuchen had taken a sip of tea.
"Of course."
"Even if the answer changes everything?"
"Especially then."
The courtyard had fallen silent.
Then the other person had spoken again.
"Then I hope..."
The memory broke.
The courtyard disappeared.
The pale blossoms faded.
And Ye Wuchen found himself standing once more within the Hall of Forgotten Scriptures.
He looked at the inscription.
The final words of that conversation remained missing.
How strange.
He could remember cultivation principles learned billions of years ago.
He could recall techniques he had studied only once.
Yet a simple conversation had faded beyond his reach.
Ye Wuchen closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, his expression had returned to its usual calm.
"Memory is a troublesome thing."
The Formation Beneath the Words
Ye Wuchen crouched before the monument.
At first glance, the inscription appeared to have been carved directly into the stone.
But the longer he examined it, the more unusual it became.
The characters were not part of the original monument.
They had been added later.
Much later.
He extended one finger.
A faint silver line appeared in the air.
It moved across the inscription without touching the stone.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the surrounding surface rippled.
A second layer of markings appeared beneath the first.
They were extraordinarily fine, almost impossible to distinguish from the natural patterns of the stone.
Ye Wuchen studied them.
"Concealment formations."
That was not surprising.
Ancient cultivators frequently used formations to hide important messages or inheritance locations.
But these were different.
They did not simply conceal the inscription from spiritual perception.
They interfered with the relationship between the inscription and the surrounding heavenly laws.
A cultivator examining the monument through divine sense would find nothing.
A formation master attempting to trace its construction would discover only ordinary stone.
Even someone using temporal techniques would struggle to determine when the inscription had been added.
Ye Wuchen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Interesting."
He recognized the underlying principles.
But not the method used to combine them.
The formation was built upon several concepts that had been considered theoretical during his era.
Someone had developed them further.
Someone had taken incomplete ideas and transformed them into a functioning concealment system.
And that someone had used those techniques to hide a message intended for him.
Ye Wuchen examined the formation more carefully.
Then he noticed something else.
Its purpose was not merely to conceal the inscription from cultivators.
It was designed to prevent the inscription from being recognized by the Heavenly Dao.
He remained silent.
That was considerably more interesting.
The Heavenly Dao governed the natural laws of a world.
Although its authority varied between realms, its influence was woven into the foundations of cultivation itself.
To conceal something from ordinary divine sense was simple.
To conceal something from the Heavenly Dao required an entirely different understanding of existence.
Yet the formation before him had been designed for precisely that purpose.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Can you determine when this formation was constructed?"
[Analyzing...]
A pale blue light spread across the monument.
Several seconds passed.
Then a new message appeared.
[Formation structure recognized.]
[Construction principles partially identified.]
[Estimated development period: After Host dormancy began.]
Ye Wuchen nodded.
As expected.
"Can you determine its creator?"
[Insufficient information.]
"Can you trace the formation's original source?"
[Attempting historical reconstruction...]
The panel flickered.
For several moments, lines of information appeared and vanished too quickly to read.
Then the system stopped.
[Historical reconstruction failed.]
[Required records unavailable.]
Ye Wuchen looked at the panel.
"Unavailable?"
[Affirmative.]
"Explain."
[Relevant historical records are absent from the current database.]
"How much is missing?"
[Calculating...]
A longer silence followed.
Then:
[Unable to determine the complete extent of missing information.]
Ye Wuchen raised an eyebrow.
That was new.
The Gathering of Immortal Emperors
Far above the insignificant Lower Realm, beyond countless spatial barriers, the Upper Realm remained in turmoil.
The appearance of the mysterious silhouette upon the Supreme Throne had shaken every major power.
The Ancient Dragon Court had sealed several ancestral territories.
The Phoenix Race had awakened its oldest surviving elders.
The Human Court had dispatched investigators across the nine territories.
Even secluded existences who had ignored worldly affairs for millions of years were beginning to emerge.
At the center of the Upper Realm stood the Celestial Convergence Palace.
It was an ancient structure suspended above an endless sea of clouds.
Its foundations were supported by nine colossal pillars, each engraved with the laws of a different celestial domain.
Within its central chamber, representatives of the Upper Realm's greatest powers had gathered.
Long Tianque sat upon a golden throne decorated with dragon patterns.
His appearance had changed little since the expedition into the Immortal Tomb.
But the aura surrounding him was vastly different.
Countless years of cultivation had transformed the once-arrogant dragon prince into one of the Ancient Dragon Court's most respected ancestors.
Across from him sat Feng Qingluan.
Her crimson robes shimmered with faint phoenix flames.
Beside her stood several elders of the Phoenix Race.
Representatives of the Human Court, Celestial Spirit Race, and Ancient Demon Race occupied the remaining seats.
At the center of the gathering floated a recording crystal.
Within it, a faint image repeatedly appeared.
An enormous celestial throne.
A black-robed figure.
And countless golden rings surrounding the heavens.
The recording was incomplete.
Every attempt to preserve the figure's appearance had failed.
His face remained obscured.
His cultivation could not be determined.
Even the shape of the throne seemed to change whenever the recording was examined.
An elderly Immortal Emperor finally spoke.
"We have gathered because of an event that should not have been possible."
His voice echoed throughout the chamber.
"The Ten Thousand Daos paid homage."
No one interrupted.
"The Heavenly Dao itself manifested."
The old emperor paused.
"And then..."
His expression became grave.
"It closed its eye."
A heavy silence descended.
Long Tianque leaned forward.
"Are you suggesting that the Heavenly Dao feared that existence?"
The old emperor shook his head.
"I am suggesting nothing."
"Then what do you believe?"
"I believe we witnessed something beyond our understanding."
Feng Qingluan studied the recording crystal.
"The figure's appearance was concealed. His cultivation was concealed. Even the heavenly phenomena vanished without leaving traces."
She paused.
"That level of concealment cannot be accidental."
A representative of the Celestial Spirit Race spoke.
"Perhaps the figure is a newly ascended supreme existence."
Long Tianque laughed coldly.
"Newly ascended?"
He gestured toward the recording.
"Have you ever heard of someone ascending and causing the entire Heavenly Dao to lower its head?"
The representative fell silent.
Another elder suggested that the figure might be an ancient being emerging from seclusion.
Others believed a forgotten primordial inheritance had awakened.
The discussion continued for several hours.
But no one reached a conclusion.
Then a quiet voice sounded from the edge of the chamber.
"Perhaps we are searching in the wrong direction."
Everyone turned.
A white-robed swordsman sat beside an open window.
His long hair was tied loosely behind his back.
An ordinary sword rested across his knees.
Ji Wuhen.
The former genius of the Nine Heavens Sword Palace.
Now an ancient sword cultivator whose reputation had spread throughout the Upper Realm.
Long Tianque looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Ji Wuhen gazed at the recording crystal.
"During the tenth opening of the Immortal Tomb, we witnessed three heavenly phenomena."
Feng Qingluan's expression changed.
"The scriptures bowing."
"The Eye of Heaven."
"And the Ten Thousand Daos paying homage," Ji Wuhen continued.
He looked toward the gathered Immortal Emperors.
"The recent phenomenon resembles those events."
The chamber became quiet.
Long Tianque frowned.
"Are you suggesting that the mysterious figure is connected to the Immortal Tomb?"
Ji Wuhen did not answer immediately.
He remembered a narrow corridor.
A wooden door.
And five simple words.
THE OWNER IS ASLEEP.
He remembered how his sword intent had vanished upon touching the door.
He remembered the strange feeling that the world itself refused to acknowledge the passage.
And now, after countless years, a mysterious figure had appeared upon a throne beyond the heavens.
A figure whose cultivation could not be measured.
A figure before whom the Ten Thousand Daos had bowed.
Ji Wuhen lowered his gaze.
"It is only a possibility."
Long Tianque considered his words.
Then he turned toward the others.
"Find the Immortal Tomb."
An elder frowned.
"It disappeared countless years ago."
"Then search again."
"Ancestor, the Upper Realm is vast. Even if the tomb still exists, locating it may be impossible."
Long Tianque's expression remained cold.
"Then search beyond the Upper Realm."
The chamber fell silent.
For the first time in countless years, the greatest powers of the Upper Realm began preparing to investigate the Lower Realms.
None knew that the existence they sought was currently examining a weathered stone monument in an insignificant world.
The Missing Years
Back within the Immortal Tomb, Ye Wuchen was still examining the formation.
The system had finally completed its preliminary analysis.
[Historical database integrity check complete.]
[Result: Incomplete.]
[Multiple chronological discontinuities detected.]
Ye Wuchen read the notification.
"Chronological discontinuities?"
[Certain historical intervals contain insufficient or inconsistent records.]
"How many?"
[Several.]
"Show me."
A long timeline appeared before him.
It began with the moment he entered his slumber.
From there, it extended across billions of years.
Much of the timeline contained only basic system information.
Energy accumulation.
Environmental monitoring.
Dormancy maintenance.
Occasional external disturbances.
But several sections were different.
They contained no historical information whatsoever.
Not even environmental observations.
Ye Wuchen examined the first empty interval.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The gaps were not evenly distributed.
Some lasted only a few thousand years.
Others extended across periods far longer than the entire recorded history of the Lower Realm.
He pointed toward one of the largest gaps.
"What happened here?"
[Unknown.]
"Was the system inactive?"
[No complete shutdown recorded.]
"Were the records deleted?"
[Unable to determine.]
"Corrupted?"
[Unable to determine.]
Ye Wuchen stared at the timeline.
The system had been designed to continue operating during his slumber.
Its primary responsibility was simple.
Maintain his dormant state.
Replenish the required energy.
Restore his consciousness once the process was complete.
Historical monitoring was secondary.
He had never expected it to preserve every event occurring across the countless realms.
Nevertheless, the gaps were unusual.
Even the most basic environmental information was missing.
Ye Wuchen selected one of the intervals.
"Does this period have a designation?"
[No official designation found.]
"Then we'll give it one."
[Please specify.]
Ye Wuchen considered the empty section.
"A blank era."
[Designation accepted.]
[Temporary classification established: Blank Era.]
He examined the surrounding records.
The interval began long after his slumber had started.
It ended long before his awakening.
And the concealed inscription appeared to have been created somewhere within that period.
At least, according to the system's limited estimates.
Ye Wuchen folded his arms.
"So someone left me a message during a period you cannot remember."
[That interpretation is consistent with available data.]
"And they used a formation designed to conceal it from the Heavenly Dao."
[Affirmative.]
He looked toward the monument.
The name remained visible beneath the ancient characters.
A person from his distant past.
A warning.
And an unexplained gap in history.
The pieces did not yet form a complete picture.
But they were beginning to suggest something.
Something had happened while he slept.
Something important enough for someone to leave a message specifically for him.
Ye Wuchen's expression remained calm.
Yet his curiosity had deepened.
The Symbol of the Forgotten
He returned his attention to the monument.
The concealed formation had become partially visible after his examination.
Beneath the final sentence, another marking slowly emerged.
A circle.
Divided by a vertical line.
Ye Wuchen recognized the symbol.
He had seen it beneath countless stone tablets throughout the hall.
At first, he had assumed it was the emblem of whoever constructed the palace.
But the marking before him was slightly different.
A small additional stroke appeared beneath the circle.
It was so faint that even an experienced formation master might have overlooked it.
Ye Wuchen leaned closer.
The stroke was not decorative.
It was a separate inscription.
A tiny fragment of a formation.
He studied its structure.
Then his silver eyes narrowed.
"This isn't part of the concealment formation."
The surrounding markings were designed to hide information.
But this small symbol served another purpose.
It was an activation point.
A mechanism intended to respond to a specific condition.
Ye Wuchen examined it for several moments.
Then he extended one finger.
He did not inject spiritual energy.
He did not activate a divine ability.
He merely touched the mark.
For an instant, nothing happened.
Then the monument trembled.
A faint silver light spread across its surface.
The surrounding inscriptions began to disappear.
The hidden formation unfolded like an ancient scroll.
And a voice echoed through the hall.
It was faint.
Distorted.
As though traveling across an immeasurable distance.
But the moment Ye Wuchen heard it, his expression changed.
Not because the voice was powerful.
Not because it contained any extraordinary cultivation.
But because he recognized it.
"...Wuchen."
The voice was quiet.
Almost hesitant.
"If you're hearing this..."
A faint crackling sound interrupted the message.
The silver light flickered.
Then the voice continued.
"...then the final seal has already—"
The message broke apart.
The monument trembled violently.
Several inscriptions vanished.
Ye Wuchen watched silently.
A moment later, the voice returned.
Only for an instant.
"...do not..."
Then silence.
The silver light disappeared.
The formation collapsed into countless tiny particles.
The monument returned to its original appearance.
Only the hidden inscription remained.
IF YOU HAVE AWAKENED, THEN WE HAVE ALREADY FAILED.
Ye Wuchen stood motionless.
The voice had been unmistakable.
Even after eight billion years, he remembered it.
The same voice from the courtyard.
The same voice that had once asked him whether he would continue pursuing the truth even if the answer changed everything.
He looked toward the place where the silver light had vanished.
For the first time since awakening, his eyes revealed something beyond mild curiosity.
Recognition.
And perhaps...
A question he had never expected to ask again.
His lips moved.
A name escaped them.
But at that exact moment, the Hall of Forgotten Scriptures trembled.
The floating tablets emitted a sudden burst of light.
A low humming sound filled the chamber.
And the name was swallowed by the noise.
A Voice Across Eternity
The disturbance lasted only a moment.
Then everything returned to normal.
Ye Wuchen remained standing before the monument.
His expression slowly became calm again.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Did you record the message?"
[Affirmative.]
"Replay it."
A faint sound emerged from the panel.
"...Wuchen."
"If you're hearing this..."
"...then the final seal has already—"
"...do not..."
The recording ended.
Ye Wuchen listened without speaking.
Then he asked, "Can you reconstruct the missing portions?"
[Attempting reconstruction...]
Several seconds passed.
[Reconstruction failed.]
[Original signal incomplete.]
"Can you determine where the message originated?"
[Analyzing...]
The system remained silent for an unusually long time.
Finally, a notification appeared.
[Origin: Unknown.]
[Transmission method: Unidentified.]
[Temporal reference: Unavailable.]
Ye Wuchen looked at the panel.
Then toward the monument.
The message had not been an ordinary recording.
Its structure was too unusual.
Its concealment too deliberate.
And its activation condition too specific.
Someone had expected him to awaken.
Someone had prepared a message.
Yet whoever left it had apparently been unable to guarantee that the message would survive intact.
He thought about the warning.
If you have awakened, then we have already failed.
What had they failed to accomplish?
What was the final seal?
And why had the message ended with the words do not?
Do not what?
Leave the tomb?
Search for the truth?
Trust someone?
Ye Wuchen did not know.
For now, the questions outnumbered the answers.
But that was not something he found discouraging.
He had spent countless years pursuing truths that others considered impossible to uncover.
A mystery was simply a question whose answer had not yet been found.
And he had never been particularly fond of leaving questions unanswered.
Ye Wuchen turned away from the monument.
His black robes moved gently as he walked toward the hall's exit.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Preserve every remaining fragment of that formation."
[Completed.]
"And begin reconstructing the missing historical intervals."
[Estimated completion time: Unknown.]
"Take your time."
He paused.
Then added, "We have plenty of it."
The system did not respond.
Ye Wuchen continued walking.
Behind him, the monument stood silently beneath the floating scriptures.
The hidden inscription remained unchanged.
Yet deep within the stone, where even the system's analysis had failed to reach, a tiny symbol flickered.
A circle.
A vertical line.
And one additional stroke.
For a fraction of a moment, the mark emitted a faint silver light.
Then it vanished.
Far beyond the Lower Realm, somewhere within the countless heavens, an ancient mechanism that had remained dormant for an unimaginable span of time registered a change.
A single line of information appeared upon a dark surface.
[The Sleeper has awakened.]
A second line followed.
[Final message delivered: Incomplete.]
Then a third.
[Awaiting response.]
No one stood before the surface.
No voice answered.
And the mechanism returned to silence.
But somewhere in the endless darkness, something had begun to move.
Something that had been waiting for Ye Wuchen's awakening.
Something connected to a name that should no longer exist.
End of Chapter 3