Golden motes lingered in the vast expanse of his Fortune Realm, circling the tome as if reluctant to let it rest. Tian Lei's gaze deepened, the faint glow of contemplation flickering in his pupils.
"The Key of Unification…" he whispered again. "Not a technique, not an inheritance. Something else. Something that even their fall could not erase."
At his will, the golden river of books parted, yet none answered him. The Fortune Realm itself was the oldest foundation of his existence, a mirror of truths that could not be deceived. If there was more, it would not lie in scattered fragments—it would be etched where only those with patience dared to look.
He returned to the tome. Page after page passed beneath his will, the records recounting brilliance and collapse, until he reached the very last leaf. There, written not in luminous script but in a hand plain and faint—as if deliberately hidden—was a single note.
