Chapter Sixty-Eight: Meeting in the Written Word

The young man's voice was gentle, soothing to the ear. Yet Ye Pei's heart was far from calm; this was not simply an unexpected encounter—she had never even considered such a possibility. Moreover, what kind of existence was this, locked in place yet half-transparent? Was it a haunting?

“I know,” the young man spoke again, “what you’re seeing now surpasses your understanding.”

Nonetheless, Ye Pei was accustomed to composure. Hearing him speak, she drew a deep breath and replied, “Indeed. I truly did not expect you to be alive, let alone living in such a manner.”

He chuckled softly. “Let’s introduce ourselves. My name is Jue. I was born in the fiftieth year of Qingshao, and died in—wait, did I die? In any case, since the seventy-sixth year of Qingshao, I have been like this, here... Yes, I was twenty-six when I arrived.”

Ye Pei’s eyes widened in utter shock, unable to conceal the awe she felt. For now, it was the year 836 of the Unified Calendar, but “Qingshao”—that was the name of the previous era. If she remembered correctly, the Qingshao Era ended in its 1247th year; which meant this ancient man named Jue had been locked here for two thousand years.

It was only after Mu Piaoyan had traveled through Wangmai that she discovered there had once been an era called Qingshao. Most people in Wangmai knew nothing of it—the official histories began recording from the first year of the Unified Calendar. According to those records, humanity had only just learned to make fire and cultivate from the Starfolk; generation after generation passed down the stories orally, until around the hundredth year, when a systematic writing developed and the mythic tales of the founding years were finally chronicled.

Based on Mu Piaoyan’s research and deductions, people of the Qingshao Era should have lived as primitive hunter-gatherers, exposed to the elements. Yet Mu Piaoyan never discovered who named the era “Qingshao,” nor why, in over a thousand years, its people never developed a mature civilization, while in just a century after the Unified Calendar began, human civilization blossomed.

But now, looking at the throne behind Jue’s semi-transparent form, the chains binding him, and the entire tomb chamber, Ye Pei was certain: no primitive could have built this. Furthermore, Jue’s speech was indistinguishable from contemporary language. This meant either Jue was lying, or there was a world-shattering secret hidden in the Qingshao Era.

“My surname is Ye, my given name Pei,” Ye Pei began slowly. “Now, it is the year 836 of the Unified Calendar.”

“Unified Calendar?” Jue murmured, then asked, “How old are you?”

“Almost nineteen,” Ye Pei replied.

Jue smiled. “Still young. Do you know when the Qingshao Era ended?”

“Qingshao, year 1247.”

A hint of nostalgia crossed Jue's face. “So a thousand two hundred years passed after my death? The people of Qingshao were stronger than those of the Wuming Era.”

“Wuming Era?” Ye Pei frowned. “There were other eras?”

Jue looked at him and said, “Ah, you don’t know. That makes sense; when I heard of the Unified Calendar, I thought you wouldn’t even know about Qingshao.”

“The Wuming Era preceded Qingshao—it was the first civilized era in human history. In its later years, the Starfolk invaded the land from the Star Realm. The people of Wuming fought back valiantly, but ultimately failed, nearly facing total annihilation. Afterwards, the Starfolk sought to occupy the land.”

“Wait…” Ye Pei interrupted, “Forgive me, but what exactly is ‘the land’?”

Jue was surprised. “Even that has changed… The land is the birthplace of humanity, where the Wang and Yan tribes lived together.”

Ye Pei, now too absorbed to be shocked, pondered as he spoke, “Please, continue. Once you’ve finished, I’ll tell you about the present.”

Jue nodded. “But the Starfolk soon realized they couldn’t stay long in the land. If they did, they easily succumbed to disease and died.”

---

“What?!” Ye Pei’s heart raced. “Both Feilan and Princess Yan have been away from the Star Realm for ages, but they…”

“Their analysis showed the vast land’s environment resisted outsiders. Most could only live there for about five years, except for the Imperial Star lineage, whose survival was unrestricted.”

Jue snorted. “This only made them more convinced of their so-called divine right, fueling their ambition to conquer the land.

Of course, the Imperial Star line wouldn’t venture into the land themselves, so the Starfolk sent teams to study and alter the environment.

That was around my birth. My grandfather was ‘Chu Jian’ of the ‘Sword and Bow of Wuming’, a survivor of the Wuming Era. The Starfolk ordered him to conceal the truth, telling his descendants he was sent to cultivate the land.

I knew nothing at first; I studied swordsmanship. I placed the sword manual ‘Stellar Jade Edge’ in my tomb—perhaps you’ve found it.

Later, my grandfather and Grandfather Tan tried to secretly record the Starfolk’s actions to pass on to future generations, in hopes of overthrowing them. But they were discovered. My family was exterminated; only my fiancée, Ling, and I escaped.

During our flight, my master found us, saved us, and told me I was born with the bone and veins of a blade, meant to wield knives rather than swords. The two blades above my head,”

Jue pointed to the black and red long knives hovering overhead, “Devil Pattern and Flame Pattern, were passed to me by my master.

I was young and impatient then. Under my master's guidance, Ling apprenticed herself to the Lyre Master, joining the School of Falling Notes. I went overseas to hone myself. Who knows what I endured? After five years, I returned, inheriting my master’s title as the Fiery Blade Emperor, feeling ready to challenge the Starfolk. I led my brothers to assault the Star Realm.

I found that Ling’s music increased the speed and strength of my inner power, while it disrupted my opponents. With her help, I was nearly invincible.

But later, she vanished, leaving even her divine lyre, Lingzhou, behind. To this day, I don’t know where she went, why she disappeared, why she broke her promise to me.

Though I was in a poor state, I had to press on. The final battle ensued. I slew Huang Tianhua, the one who destroyed my clan, but I recall that afterwards, I died. When I regained consciousness, I was already here.

Back then, this was just a barren mountain. With the help of a masked man in black robes, I built this place, arranged the mechanisms, and inscribed the guiding words.”

At this point, Jue smiled gently.

Ye Pei sensed a marked gloom in his demeanor when Ling’s departure was mentioned.

He felt his own resolve about the Starfolk grow firmer—they were nothing but ravenous invaders.

“Throughout this process, the masked man continually worked on this chair and these chains. Once the tomb was built, he hurriedly locked me up here. Only then did I realize I was half-transparent. I always suspected he was my master.

I’ve been here so long, time means nothing. If not for your arrival, I’d still be asleep.”

Ye Pei listened, waited a while, then recounted the current state of affairs to Jue.

Jue frowned, “Wangmai, Yandi? Humans and Yan Tribe? Still living as primitives... The last generation of Qingshao suffered greatly.

I am of the Yan Tribe; both Wang and Yan are human. The Starfolk never possessed the power to split the land—I can’t guess what caused that. But after all these years, their transformation of the land must be nearly complete.”

Ye Pei’s brows pressed together. “If the transformation is complete, won’t another invasion soon follow?”

---

Jue laughed. “Not necessarily. That masked man told me, the next person to stand before me would carry the will of heaven and earth, and lead the counterattack against the Starfolk. It seems that person is you.”

Ye Pei, numbed by the torrent of revelations, replied, “What do you mean, ‘will of heaven and earth’…”

Jue’s smile deepened. “You’ll know in time. But from what you’ve said, the two tribes of the land seem to worship the Starfolk excessively now.”

Ye Pei nodded, “Excessively is an understatement.”

Jue said, “Your priority is to go to the Star Realm and gather evidence of their deeds across the past two eras. Only then can you rally the entire land to support you.”

“How do I get to the Star Realm?”

Jue thought for a moment, then asked, “Is the Dead Spirit Volcano still there?”

Ye Pei nodded, “It is.”

Jue replied, “Then it’s simple. Jump into the mouth of the Dead Spirit Volcano, and you’ll arrive in the Star Realm.”

Ye Pei blinked, noting the seriousness in Jue’s expression, but still asked, “Isn’t it a death trap?”

Jue said, “No, just that the price of passage is steep.”

“What price?”

Jue smiled, “You’ll find out when you get there. I once crossed the Dead Spirit Volcano successfully; I’m sure you can figure out a solution on the spot.

If you die there, it means you’re not the chosen one.”

“Hmm…” Ye Pei muttered inwardly, “Easy for you to say. If I freeze up and can’t find a way, even if I am the chosen one, I won’t survive.”

Then Jue waved gently, and the twin blades above his head slowly descended before Ye Pei.

“This may not suit you; your footwork doesn’t seem that of a blade wielder. But take them anyway.”

Ye Pei picked up the two long knives, feeling their warmth and weight, their aura brimming with murderous intent.

On each scabbard were two bold characters: “Devil Pattern” and “Flame Pattern.”

“And one more thing I ask of you,” Jue said.

“Please speak,” Ye Pei replied, slinging the blades onto his back.

“You…” Jue’s expression grew conflicted. “Help me…”

He paused again, as if those final words drained all his strength.

“Save me.”