Morning light spilled over the rooftops of the city in pale ribbons, gliding across windows and car roofs and lingering briefly on the quiet streets before dissolving into the usual urban rhythm. For most students, it was just another day—another rushed breakfast, another walk to school, another round of gossip and noise.
For Long Xingchen, it was simply one more day he needed to survive to reach the truth.
He left the villa early. Too early for the watchers outside to adjust their rotations. A lone security guard nodded at him from the gate, unaware that a cultivator who had lived through two lifetimes walked past him with the quiet determination of a blade kept wrapped in silk.
The city air still felt cold. A thin mist clung to the sidewalks, curling around Xingchen's ankles as he walked. His breath came out in faint clouds. The morning carried a silence that didn't feel natural—not threatening, not peaceful, but expectant, like the world had paused to watch him take his next step.
He passed the bakery's front window; the scent of fresh bread drifted out, warm and familiar. A memory flashed across his mind of a morning long ago—his mother buying him a sweet bun before dropping him at school, laughing when sugar dusted his nose.
He walked on.
The street curved gently. A black sedan sat parked farther down, engine off, silhouette still. The windows were up. No movement inside.
Too still.
He didn't stare, didn't break stride. But the corner of his vision tracked the car.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
Either the watcher inside was good at hiding his presence… or empty.
He turned the next corner and made his way toward the school, where the morning crowd was beginning to gather. Students rushed past in small groups. Teachers walked at a more dignified pace, clutching coffee cups or folders. Cars pulled up to drop off younger students. The usual noise built up—laughter, footsteps, the metal clang of lockers being opened.
But beneath the noise, Xingchen sensed a distortion.
Not a threat.
Not danger.
A ripple.
Someone was looking for him.
He found them near the entrance.
Chen Hao and Zhao Feng stood under the tall campus tree, looking unusually serious for two boys who usually acted like the comedic relief of the world. They spotted him and walked over immediately.
"Xingchen," Chen Hao muttered, gripping his backpack straps hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, "you weren't kidding. Some men came to the school early. Asking for you. Not the same ones as before."
Zhao Feng nodded quickly. "They were… polite. Too polite. And they said they were from an 'Education Partnership Office' in the capital. Never heard of it."
Xingchen already knew.
The Qin family was probing faster than expected.
He put a hand on Chen Hao's shoulder.
"Thanks for telling me. Stay away from them."
"What about you?" Zhao Feng asked.
A small smile curved on Xingchen's lips.
"They're not my problem. I'm theirs."
The boys exchanged a look but didn't ask further. They had seen enough in the past few days to know Xingchen was walking in a realm they didn't understand.
As they entered the building, normalcy washed over them for a moment. The hum of chatter, the slam of classroom doors, the teacher's stern voice telling a student to fix his tie—it was an ordinary school morning.
But as Xingchen sat at his desk, he felt something shift inside the room.
The system whispered faintly at the back of his mind.
> [Micro-distortion detected.]
He frowned slightly.
Then it happened.
A blink.
A whisper of light.
A flash behind his eyes.
He was no longer in the classroom.
He stood in a corridor made of jade stone, the walls engraved with ancient constellations glowing faintly under lanterns of blue flame. Footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond a bend. The air was warm, heavy with rich spiritual essence so dense it vibrated through his bones.
A voice spoke behind him.
"You returned too soon."
He turned.
The woman stood there again—the one from the fragments, from the ruins, from the field of white flowers. Her long dark hair fell behind her like a waterfall of midnight. Her eyes were calm, too calm, as if she had watched countless dawns rise and fall.
"Who are you?" he asked.
Her expression didn't change.
"I am the Echo of What Was Forgotten."
Her voice drifted like a whisper torn from an old prophecy.
He stepped toward her, but the corridor trembled.
Voices—distant, panicked—rushed through the jade walls.
"Run!"
"They're coming!"
"Seal the vaults!"
"Protect the Celestial Archives!"
Her eyes flickered with something sharp and sorrowful.
"You cannot stop what you see. These are only shadows trapped in the fragment."
"What attacked you?" he demanded.
She looked at him, and something ancient stirred in her gaze.
"Not 'what.'"
She touched two fingers to her lips, then lowered her hand.
"Never speak its name."
A crack snaked across the ceiling of the jade corridor.
The stone split.
The lantern flames stuttered.
Xingchen reached for her—
The world shattered—
And he fell back into his seat in the classroom.
His pen rolled off the desk.
The teacher's voice echoed distantly, muffled, like hearing through water.
No one else had noticed anything.
The system chimed.
> [Fragment Resonance: 27%]
[Echo-type memory continues to awaken.]
[Host proximity to erased history is increasing exposure risk.]
He exhaled once, long and slow.
The classroom returned to focus. He lifted his pen. Wrote the next line of notes.
But his fingers trembled faintly.
The bell rang. Lunch break.
He stepped outside, but before he could move toward the courtyard, a gentle voice spoke beside him.
"Xingchen."
Lin Yuerou stood there, holding her tray of food, looking hesitant.
"Can we… sit together? Just for a bit?"
He nodded.
They walked to a corner of the courtyard where sunlight filtered through leaves, casting shimmering patterns on the concrete.
She sat, then looked down at her tray.
"Something's bothering you," she said quietly.
Xingchen didn't lie.
"Yes."
She bit her lip. "Is it… because of those men? The ones near your house?"
"Partly."
"And the other part?"
He looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were soft. Worried. Open. She wasn't ready to know the truth about ancient dynasties or fragments of a shattered heaven. But she deserved honesty—more honesty than she got in the past life.
"There are things happening that I have to deal with," he said slowly. "They're… complicated. But I promise, Yuerou—when the time comes, I'll tell you everything."
She nodded, her face relaxing.
"Okay. I trust you."
He lifted a hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
She leaned slightly into the touch.
Then a sharp sensation cut across his senses.
Someone was watching them.
Not the Qin family.
Someone else.
A pair of eyes from across the courtyard—
Belonging to a student he didn't recognize.
But the aura…
Wrong.
Too cold.
Too steady.
He didn't stare directly.
But he memorized the face.
A new player.
A new danger.
After lunch, he slipped through a quiet hallway, footsteps soft. He didn't go to class. Instead, he went toward the back of the school near the abandoned art room—quiet, secluded, perfect for what he needed.
He stood near the window and whispered:
"Show me."
The system responded instantly.
> [Fragment playback.]
The world dimmed.
He was back in the jade corridor.
The woman turned to him again, but this time, she wasn't alone.
A man stood behind her—a tall figure, armored in black-gold, face hidden behind a mask shaped like a dragon. His presence was like a collapsing star—dense, suffocating, impossible to measure.
He spoke, his voice low and final.
"They've broken through the outer skies."
The woman closed her eyes.
"Then the Celestial Archives will fall."
The masked man looked directly at Xingchen—not the Xingchen in the memory, but the one watching from across time.
His voice pierced through the illusion.
"You are not ready."
The jade corridor exploded in light.
Xingchen staggered back into the abandoned art room, heart pounding.
The system chimed urgently.
> [Warning: External attention detected.]
[Entity of the Great Silence briefly noticed the Host.]
[Threat Level: Catastrophic.]
[Solution: Strengthen soul and retrieve additional fragments.]
Xingchen wiped sweat from his forehead.
So that was its name.
The Great Silence.
Not a person.
Not a god.
Not a creature.
A force.
A devouring phenomenon older than heaven itself.
He walked back to class, but the world looked different now.
More fragile.
More temporary.
More like something painted over an ancient ruin.
When he returned home that evening, his father was waiting near the entrance.
"Xingchen," Long Tianhai said, voice tense. "Someone from the Qin family came again. They want to arrange the meeting tomorrow instead of next week."
Accelerating again.
He nodded.
"I'll be ready."
He went upstairs and sat cross-legged on his bed, letting the fragment's remnants settle in his soul.
Seven days remained before he traveled almost a million years into the past.
Seven days before he walked into the era of jade corridors and glowing skies.
But now he had a name.
The Great Silence.
He exhaled.
"Come then," he murmured to the empty room. "If you erased the heavens once…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…I'll erase your shadow next."
The night breathed quietly around him, unaware that a boy who remembered dying twice was preparing to challenge something that devoured civilizations.