The moment Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, and Meiyun's forms returned to Haotian's chamber, the Sea of Consciousness shivered.
Alter felt it at once.
His golden gaze sharpened, senses flaring as the soulrealm trembled—not with threat, but with transition. The change was deep, resonating through the child's spiritual body. The Four Ancestors' perfected legacies had begun to cycle, their cultivated essence flowing directly into Haotian's dormant form.
Flame discipline, starmap meridians, compressed essence, and karmic dreamflow spun together into a seamless rotation around his unawakened core, anchoring a foundation that would have taken lifetimes to create naturally.
Yet Alter's expression shifted.
His brow furrowed. His shoulders tensed."…Wait."
A long pause.
Then he dragged a palm down his face and slapped his forehead."Damn it—of course. I've been absorbing all of this—techniques, principles, manuals, martial systems, formation theory, alchemy nodes—and it's all in my consciousness." He turned slowly, gesturing at the spiral of tomes drifting around him in radiant orbit.
"But none of it transfers to Haotian. Not naturally. His soul isn't ready to absorb it. I've been studying for days, and the moment I fall asleep… it's gone."
He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "I should've realized. I'm not just a guardian—I'm a vessel. But this knowledge isn't alive until he uses it."
The Sea grew still.
Then—
Gaia's voice stirred from above, calm and echoing like drifting wind through starlight.
"It is not lost. You can pass it on."
Alter blinked, straightened.
"…Explain."
"All the knowledge you have obtained—both sacred and secular—may be archived and compartmentalized within the Sea of Consciousness. I can create divisions. Memory Sectors. Each sector may be sealed behind cultivation thresholds, unlocking only when Haoyue's soul structure reaches sufficient maturity."
Alter paused, lips slowly parting as the idea blossomed fully.
"An archive… that grows with him."
He smiled.
"I like it."
Then he added, more quietly, "And once he reaches the Immortal Realm, that will be the moment I reawaken. Just once. To guide him through what comes next."
Gaia responded with crystalline warmth."It shall be done."
But before the archive process began, Gaia spoke again.
"Alter. Before we proceed… are there any further requests you would like to submit into this foundation?"
Alter fell quiet.
He folded his arms, thinking.
Then, a grin.
"Yeah. About that…" he said. "Is Haoyue going to have a system? Like mine? A system prompt with levels, quests, and notifications?"
Gaia replied:"Yes. That is the default interface for game-embedded soul constructs in this developmental cycle."
Alter frowned slightly.
"That's not going to be much fun," he muttered. "Can we not give him a system?"
There was a pause.
A long one.
For the first time, Gaia did not immediately respond.
Then, at last—"That... may be permitted. It shall be marked as an experimental outcome. This realm is still in its early phase of developmental simulation."
Alter tilted his head. "So he'll be an anomaly."
"Correct. A naturally-growing soul construct without artificial prompts or interface. His growth will follow cause and karmic consequence, not system stimulation."
"Good," Alter said. "Let him figure things out for himself. He'll have the archive—he won't be helpless."
"Confirmed," Gaia intoned. **"Two requests registered and accepted:
Knowledge archive bound to cultivation milestones.
System interface deactivation—classified as an experimental directive."**
Alter nodded.
"Anything else?" Gaia asked, one final time.
Alter shook his head.
"No. That's all."
"Then it is done."
Light spilled downward again—this time not as tomes, but as crystalline plates etched with golden lines. They floated outward into the sea like drifting seeds, each marked with a category:
"Foundations of Flame Cultivation""Alchemy: From Reaction to Refinement""Forging Theory & Flame Tempering""Martial Patterns and Technique Harmonization""Divine Formations and Runic Script Arrays""Physician's Codex – Restoration Through Meridian Clarity""Beast Bloodlines and Elemental Synergy"
And more.
Each plate rotated once, then sank into radiant wells beneath the Sea of Consciousness—sealed vaults that would only open when Haotian's cultivation was ready.
Alter watched them vanish, his breath easing."Thanks, Gaia."
"You may continue your studies," she whispered.
Alter turned back to the still-hovering tomes, summoning the next set with a sweep of his hand. Pages fanned open in flames of golden script, their light reflecting across the mirrored ocean below.
In the quiet depths of the Sea, the path of a child—and the legacy of an unbroken lineage—had been set.
The chamber in the waking realm shimmered with living gold. Spiritlight pooled in layered currents above Haotian's crib, drifting down in motes like falling embers. The veils overhead stirred with a wind that had no source, catching sunbeams that slipped through windows never opened. It was as if the child's soul had drawn a breath from beyond the walls, tasting the world outside through the steady rhythm of cultivation now alive within him.
Around him, the Four Ancestors sat in a perfect square, their bodies forming a soul convergence array. At the center, threads of spiritual energy curled in gentle spirals over the child's small form, each rotation deepening the soft pulse in his core—a heartbeat not of flesh, but of nascent starlight.
Days had passed since they had received their perfected cultivation legacies. In that time, the results had been nothing short of astonishing.
Yangshen stood upon a floating plate of living script, robes edged in firelight. His breaths drew in heavenfire from the very air, each inhalation pulling bright strands into his meridians. A deep hum resonated through the chamber as radiant veins lit under his skin, his aura sharpening until it carried the weight of a newly stoked forge.
Jinhai sat cross-legged, surrounded by concentric rings of compressed essence that anchored him to the ground. The formations beneath him carved themselves into the floor with every pulse of his core. His gaze stayed locked on Yangshen, reading each fluctuation in the other man's aura with the eye of a craftsman watching a blade temper.
Yuying sat in a veil of hovering calligraphy, the characters turning and folding like petals in an unseen wind. Her cultivation moved inward, condensing into something so still and deep that the chamber's spiritlight seemed to bend toward her with reverence.
And Meiyun… was staring at the ceiling.
Her fan rested loosely in her hand, her eyes following the lazy swirl of golden motes above. Her expression was serene, but the slight curve at the edge of her lips hinted at something else—amusement, and perhaps… mischief.
"Thirty-seven years," she said softly, watching Yangshen's aura twist like a coiling dragon. "All that time, and all he needed was one perfect manual."
Jinhai's mouth twitched. "Don't mock the moment of breakthrough."
"I'm not mocking," she said sweetly, hiding her smile behind the fan. "I'm simply noting that someone should visit the one who made this possible."
Yuying's eyes slid open just enough to glance at her. "You mean Alter."
Meiyun's nod was slow, deliberate. "He's probably been alone this entire time. Studying. Organizing knowledge. Laying paths for someone else to walk. A little company wouldn't hurt."
Jinhai gave her a long look. "That's not why you want to go."
"Oh?" Her gaze sharpened.
"Your tone says curiosity, not compassion."
The fan snapped shut with a muted click."Even if I am curious," she replied evenly, "it is within my right as a cultivator of the Dream-Path to observe. There's no harm in understanding the one shaping Haotian's soul."
He looked away. "Then go."
The next morning, Meiyun placed a hand lightly over Haotian's chest. The pull was instant.
The Sea of Consciousness rose to meet her, not as an empty sky and starlit ocean, but as a world reborn.
She stepped into cool grass beneath white-leafed trees heavy with blossoms. Sunlight spilled in warm ribbons over mountains wreathed in drifting soulclouds. Spirit fish leapt through crystal streams, flashing iridescent scales. Petals floated on the breeze, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and spring water.
Her breath caught."A small world… He made a small world…"
Ahead, by a lake fringed with flameblossoms, stood a carved pagoda. At its heart, beneath the hanging blooms, was a stone table set with an open scroll.
Alter sat there.
His black-and-gold attire was simple, his posture straight, eyes tracing dense lines of calligraphy that blurred to anyone untrained. He didn't look up until her presence crossed the threshold of the pagoda.
His golden gaze lifted."…You came."
Meiyun lowered her fan slightly. "I didn't expect this place to change so completely. It's… beautiful."
"I reorganized the Sea," Alter said simply. "Gaia and I reshaped it last night for the Archive. Haotian's mind will grow better in a place that feels… human."
He gestured to the opposite side of the table. A cushion appeared from the air, settling into place. Moments later, a tray floated in—a pot of steaming jasmine tea, porcelain cups, and an array of delicate spirit confections: candied lotus root, rice pearls, almond-thread cookies. The set landed in perfect order before her.
"Have some," he said, returning his eyes to the scroll. "Ask whatever you wish."
Meiyun sat gracefully, pouring herself tea, her eyes lingering on him. For the first time, she saw him not as the untouchable force within Haotian, but as a young man—quiet, precise, carrying the work of ten lifetimes on his own shoulders.
A scholar.A builder.A lone sentinel.
She sipped slowly, resting her cheek in her palm, studying the man framed by scrolls, mountains, and a world he had made from nothing.
"…Let's see if I can break that silence," she murmured.
The light breeze carried the scent of soul-blossoms through the open air, rustling the pagoda's silk-tassel canopy as the golden lake rippled gently in the distance. The fish leapt quietly now, less frequent, as though giving space to the conversation beneath the flame-hung roof.
Meiyun's cup clinked softly against its dish as she lowered it, crossing one leg beneath her while watching Alter continue to study. He sat beneath the curved roof with scrolls and jade slips drifting around him in slow, orbiting motion—each inscribed with scripts from dozens of civilizations. His fingers moved with graceful familiarity across a glowing panel of runic ink, transcribing something with divine efficiency.
She tilted her head slightly.
"…What are you studying now?"
Alter paused. His golden eyes flicked up, then back down again.
"Various cultivation systems," he replied calmly. "I'm sorting them into accessible tiers for Haoyue's future growth. Martial disciplines… soul-tempering methods… supportive professions like forging, formation weaving, alchemy, and physician practices. I'm trying to archive everything he might need… once I fall asleep."
Meiyun blinked once. Her violet eyes softened.
"You're preparing everything," she murmured. "Even what he doesn't know he'll need."
He nodded once, absently rotating a jade slip through the air with his fingertip. "If he's going to awaken alone… he should awaken prepared."
She smiled.
A slow, warm smile—touched with something almost wistful.
"…Thank you," she said quietly, the words sincere. "You're doing more than any of us could have imagined."
Alter didn't reply. He simply gave a small bow of acknowledgment and returned to his scroll.
But then—
His eyes widened slightly.
Wait.
He sat up straighter.
"…I only gave you all the cultivation methods."
Meiyun tilted her head again. "Hm?"
"I never gave you the technique sets. The ones Gaia paired with your methods—the ones designed for direct synergy…" He blinked, then pressed a palm to his face. "I forgot."
As he lowered his hand, he found Meiyun still watching him—closely.
Intently.
Her eyes gleamed with a glint of curiosity. Her expression unreadable, but soft.
And she was smiling.
She was beautiful.
She was really beautiful.
For the first time, Alter noticed the subtle sheen in her lips, the way her hair cascaded like midnight ink down her back, how her cheekbones were lifted just so by the natural curve of her smile.
His throat caught.
He blinked once.
Then he choked.
A harsh cough escaped as he tried to breathe mid-thought, his back tensing, hand flying up to cover his mouth as his posture shifted instinctively. Tea almost went the wrong way. Divine focus shattered. He couldn't believe it. He—he—was choking.
Meiyun blinked in surprise.
But only for a moment.
Then, realization dawned. And her smile… widened.
"Oh…?" she said softly, voice like velvet silk. "Did something get caught in your throat…?"
She rose from her seat and approached slowly, her expression shifting from curious to wickedly amused. Each step was graceful. Intentional.
She knelt beside him, fingers brushing his shoulder gently as she leaned in.
"You okay?" she asked, her tone low and sweet.
Her chest, soft and full beneath her elegant robe, pressed delicately against his upper arm. Her breath lingered near his neck. Her fingers curled ever so lightly along his sleeve.
The warmth of her skin. The scent of perfume and soul incense.
Alter froze.
His entire body tensed.
But before Meiyun could react further—he vanished.
Completely.
Even though her fingers were still touching his sleeve, he slipped from her grasp like mist between shadows. She blinked, startled.
In the distance—near the lake's edge—Alter reappeared, hand to his throat, coughs finally subsiding as he regained composure. His eyes widened just slightly before narrowing again.
"…That," he said slowly, "was inappropriate behavior for a great grandaunt."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Meiyun burst out laughing.
Truly laughing. Not a small chuckle or a teasing giggle—but a rich, melodic laughter that echoed through the air, scattering the birds from a nearby tree and rippling across the lake's surface.
"I'm sorry," she said between giggles, lifting a hand to her lips. "I couldn't resist. You looked so flustered. So… guilty."
Alter's face flushed slightly, but he held firm. "I was just… admiring. You're… you're beautiful. I didn't expect someone who looks your age to be my… great grandaunt."
Meiyun's laughter softened. She placed a hand on her hip and offered him a slow, sincere nod.
"Thank you," she said gently. "That's kind of you to say."
She turned back toward the pagoda, fan flicking open again.
"I promise not to tease you again," she said with a sly smile, "but only because you recovered faster than I expected."
Alter exhaled slowly.
Then looked skyward with a quiet shake of his head.
Even in a soul-crafted world of knowledge, serenity, and cosmic order… one thing never changed.
Ancestors were unpredictable.