o— Legend has it that the Sages of the Myriad Worlds possess a phantom key, one that can unlock the puzzles that imprison truth and grant an enlightenment beyond human comprehension.
Unfortunately, no matter how the holder demonstrates or proves its existence, those around them cannot see the key.
Some believe it to be a mercy from the heavens; others, a precursor to insanity.
What had appeared now was not a phantom key, but a tangible [Key of Inspiration] that truly contained a sliver of power from the Path of Erudition.
It could unlock the inspiration sealed deep within one’s consciousness.
To grasp the key was to grasp the sparks flashing through one’s thoughts, illuminating the path forward.
Of course, this applied to ordinary scholars.
For a genius like Herta, who was worthy of Nous’s gaze, or for a traveler who had long journeyed upon the Path of [Erudition], a single Key of Inspiration would not bring about a world-altering change.
But it was more than enough.
Following the station’s regulations, Hua Yi sealed the completed Key of Inspiration.
He packaged the entire ritual process and its related data, uploading it internally according to the Department of Lumina Archives’ procedures.
It was late at night, and most of the scholars had already gone to rest.
The new experiment report would likely not be reviewed until the next day.
Hua Yi had no intention of using the Key of Inspiration to explore the Path of Erudition himself.
He had already stirred a droplet from the Path’s great river; why abandon the essential for the trivial by fixating on the droplet itself?
Without ever having met a Pathstrider, Hua Yi had already located the Path of Erudition through his ritual.
The next step was not to step onto it, but to use the Imaginary as an oar, attempting to create ripples, and perhaps even waves, within it.
There was no need to repeat the ritual.
Hua Yi himself was the ferryman.
—o— By the giant viewport that formed the station’s outer protective shield, allowing the light of the stars to spill into every corner, stood an elderly researcher, gazing up at the cosmos and coughing from time to time.
He tried to suppress the noise he was making, not wanting to disturb the station staff who were already asleep.
Only a certain newcomer, working late to complete a ritual, followed the sound and approached.
“Even if the Medical Department hasn’t found any serious health problems, an elder like yourself should still carry a water bottle to soothe your throat.
Taking care of your body is what’s most important.” “That’s just how it is when you get old.
The body fails you.” Taking out a drink he had purchased from a vending machine, Hua Yi handed it to the old man he had met briefly a few days prior.
He didn’t press for conversation, allowing the man to twist off the cap and take a long drink of the cool, soothing honey water.
“Hah…
much better.
Thank you.” “Why are you not sleeping so late?
Staying up to watch the stars?” “I suppose so.
It seems I’ve unwittingly become a playful old child in your eyes.
Well then, as far as I know, you’ve been at the station for some time now.
I imagine you’ve observed the starry sky more than once.
Standing in a planet’s orbit, one can always see more cosmic wonders than from the planet’s surface—what do you think about when you look at the stars?” “I think they’re beautiful.” During their last meeting, the old man had a similar conversation with Hua Yi.
He knew the young man before him was different from most.
“Where is the beauty?” “Across distances measured in light-years, starlight traverses space and time to paint a magnificent scene.
Standing here on the station, I can see in all directions, across the primordial universe, as if I could embrace the stars themselves.
Isn’t that romantic?” “It is indeed romantic.
And poetic.” It wasn’t the first time the old man had noticed Hua Yi’s talent, but he still couldn’t help but turn his head to look at the charming young man beside him, whose temperament, looks, and conduct were all so pleasant.
“You…
I don’t wish to discourage you, but I still feel I should remind you of something.
The starry sky isn’t as beautiful as it appears on the surface.
The Swarm, the Denizens of Abundance, and the Antimatter Legion have destroyed so, so many galaxies—galaxies, not just planets.
Can you imagine it?
The flames of war that burn the cosmos, the ruin that destroys everything.
Those stars we see with our eyes may have died long, long ago.
What we call starlight is merely the afterglow they left for the universe.” “Yes, I can imagine it.” “One of the station’s five major research departments, the Department of Jurisprudence, was founded in staunch opposition to the theory that might makes right.
The lofty Aeons command their Paths, and countless people, both mediocre and genius, chase after them, doing things that benefit the Aeons in exchange for power from their Paths.
The value of humanity itself has long been trampled.” The tone of the elderly researcher—Guen, the founder of the Herta Space Station’s Department of Galactic Jurisprudence—was calm.
He was not lost or helpless, nor was he cynical or bitter.
His heart was as still as water, weathered by the storms of time.
“The vast majority of stories in the universe are just the Aeons and their devoted followers doing as they please upon the stage.
As for those who do not wish to follow an Aeon, they have no power to resist.” Guen gazed at the starry sky, his eyes like stagnant pools.
“Justice.
For those without power, it is an overly luxurious word.
They cannot stop the powerful who treat human life as grass, nor can they save the weak who perish in the wind, even when they themselves are about to perish.” Hua Yi’s gaze fell upon the old researcher, sensing his frailty and the weight of his twilight years.
Simple platitudes would be meaningless at this moment.
He, like the old man, turned his eyes to the vast sea of stars.
“What is a Path?” “The way an Aeon walks is its Path.
As for whether the Path chose the Aeon or the Aeon created the Path, academia has no definitive answer.
After all, the Aeons are aloof, and mortals have no way of finding them.” “The Aeons seem to be a kind of highly condensed personification of philosophy.
Even though the universe is vast, with infinite living beings, to receive even a distant glance from an Aeon is a supreme honor.
How different is it for people to believe in a remote, sentient celestial body than it is to believe in an idea?” “An idea…” “Justice isn’t a luxury.
We can always find epic stories on the planets that have given birth to civilization.
If anything, it is the Aeons who are the luxury.
I believe there are far more people who know what justice is than people who know what an Aeon is.” Leaning against the railing, Hua Yi could take in the entire star-filled sky.
“Civilization.
When did it begin?” “Are you asking about the civilization of the azure planet, or the first civilization in the cosmos?
I cannot answer the latter.” “Allow me to make an irresponsible guess—one night, in the distant past, a primitive man, or perhaps a non-human intelligent being, happened to look up at the sky.
They saw the stars, and they felt a certain emotion.” “It was fear, wasn’t it?
Fear of the unknown.
Standing on a planet, the universe you can see with the naked eye is very limited.
Most of the night sky is pitch black.
The stars are too few, and too dim.” “I don’t know.
But if it was fear…
then that’s even more impressive.” Hearing Hua Yi’s reply, Guen couldn’t help but narrow his old eyes, studying the young man from the side as he gazed at the stars, bathed in their light.
“Why?” “Because the place we now stand…
is among the stars.” —o—