Chapter 361
Chapter 361: Something Was Missing
Yu Sheng could tell now that the universe had more places full of talent and vitality than just the Borderland. The Thousand Peak Spirit Mountain was blessed too.
And on the bright side, Immortal Qian Ji was actually easy to get along with, which made Yu Sheng breathe easier. Yuan Ling had previously described the elders and leaders of other major factions as “old geezers with nothing on their minds but cultivation.” Yu Sheng had expected stiff, stubborn immortals who only spoke in riddles and scowls. But Qian Ji really was all about research and cultivation—just not in the stiff, stubborn way Yu Sheng had imagined.
Of course, the fact that every conversation with the First Elder of the Reclining Cloud Ten Halls could be yanked off-topic at any moment was a separate, minor issue.
Fortunately, with Yuan Ling’s relentless steering, the discussion finally returned to the point.
“Heart-shaking… truly heart-shaking…” Immortal Qian Ji stared up at the ten-meter-plus Vanguard divine armament peak and let out a long sigh.
“We only removed its front and back armor. We haven’t touched its core,” Yuan Ling said beside him. “What’s really going on inside—you’ll have to tell us.”
Qian Ji waved a hand. “No rush. Let me go up and take a look.”
Before he even finished speaking, he tilted his neck lightly. With a few crisp clicks, his entire head—along with a small section of the structure below the neck—detached and rose straight off his body. With a soft buzz, it floated into the air toward the mechanism core inside the Vanguard divine armament peak.
Several thin mechanical arms unfolded from beneath his hovering head. Tiny joints moved with exquisite precision as the arms climbed onto the giant’s chest structure, probing carefully between dizzying gears and talismanic runes.
Irene nearly jumped on the spot. She instinctively grabbed Yu Sheng’s hair. “Mom! Oh my god—the doll progenitor!”
“Hair!” Yu Sheng slapped her claws away on reflex. He was startled too, but he still glanced at Irene. “Why are you bringing up the doll progenitor right now?”
Irene argued with absolute confidence, “Rules of the Alice dolls. If you see someone’s head fall off, you have to shout ‘the doll progenitor’ right away. That way your own head won’t fall off…”
Yu Sheng stared at her. “…What kind of nonsense is that?”
Qian Ji’s voice came from the chest cavity of the body he’d left behind on the ground. “Yuan Ling, did you notice the inscriptions inside this automaton?”
“Of course.” Yuan Ling nodded. “It’s just that no one recognizes the era name or place names written there.”
“No one recognizes them—true, I don’t either.” Qian Ji’s head drifted down, clicking back into place. “But didn’t you think of anything? Tianyuan Year 127. Tianyuan…”
His chest clicked faintly, as if some inner mechanism were calculating. “The calendar the Grand Void Spiritual Axis uses now matches the Sacred Calendar used by Terra and the Borderland. Alongside it, we also use our own Grand Void calendar. Do you remember how many major revisions the Grand Void calendar went through in its first century, as recorded in the books?”
“Of course I remember,” Yuan Ling said. “The Grand Void calendar has been used ever since the histories were rewritten. But in its first century it had many errors for various reasons. It took three major revisions and four minor ones—constant adjustments—before it was barely usable. It has served to this day as the official calendar on the Grand Void Star for guiding the seasons and agriculture.”
“And those various reasons…” Qian Ji pressed. “Do you remember the main one?”
At that question, Yuan Ling’s expression turned solemn.
“It didn’t match the stars. It didn’t align with the cycle of the Dao. Most importantly—the calendar was incomplete.”
“Yes,” Qian Ji said slowly. “The stars didn’t match. The Dao didn’t align. The calendar was incomplete.”
He spoke as if choosing each word with care. “And in plain terms, the reason the calendar was incomplete and the stars didn’t match comes down to one thing—the new world and the old world.”
Yuan Ling didn’t reply. He only lifted his gaze in silence to the mechanism giants towering on the platform.
Qian Ji’s low, vibrating voice continued beside him. “When heaven and earth changed, the old methods of observing the stars became useless. When lineages broke, many things passed down by the ancestor patriarchs became impossible to trace back to their roots. The ancient holy spirit was magnificent, but it still couldn’t preserve everything. Many things couldn’t be saved—so they became holes in old books, fractures in inheritance. That became ‘the calendar was incomplete.’”
He paused. “The same goes for calendars, and the same goes for era names.”
Foxy blinked, trying hard to follow, but she clearly couldn’t. After a moment she turned and poked Yu Sheng’s arm with her tail. “Benefactor… what are they talking about?”
Yu Sheng had felt like he was listening through fog at first, but he’d learned plenty of this world’s “secrets” from Bai Li Qing. Putting the pieces together, he said, “You mean the inscriptions on these giant divine armament peaks… are information from the old world?”
“That’s one guess.” Qian Ji turned back. His face was metal and stone, yet it carried a heavy, complicated look. “Since Daoist Friend is an expert from the Borderland, you should also know that the countless worlds once suffered a great tribulation—a calamity called Annihilation. After Annihilation, all realms perished. It was only because the ancient holy spirit rose for one desperate attempt that heaven and earth were remade from the ashes. After that, this universe began to speak of the new world and the old world.”
He spoke evenly, but every word landed like weight. “But in the end, it was a great tribulation that wiped out all worlds. Even if heaven and earth were remade, there were always things that could not be saved. By now, those lost things have become the parts that don’t line up—the missing gaps and broken blanks in the history, technology, and inheritance of every civilization.”
“Our Grand Void Spiritual Axis has one of the more complete inheritances. It’s even second only to the academy on the Terra Star. But even so, there are many things we still can’t understand about the old world.”
Qian Ji’s gaze drifted to the towering giant again. “The era name ‘Tianyuan’ has never appeared in the ancient books that survived to today. In fact, we have no idea what era system the Grand Void Star used in the old world. Even the calendar we use to guide farming was cobbled together after the histories were rewritten and the cosmos reopened.”
“And yet the inscriptions on these mechanism giants mention Tianyuan. By common sense, I believe this was an era system used on the Grand Void Star in the old world—at least one node within its system.”
He lifted a hand slightly. “And if that is true, then the Supreme Radiance Valley Cast-Gold Pavilion recorded on the inscription should also be a place name that existed only in the old world. The craftsman Song Xing Zhi was likely a predecessor from the old world as well.”
Yu Sheng didn’t speak for a moment.
He didn’t know what he should be feeling. Awe at the feat of remaking the world? Awe at the history recorded by the Grand Void Spiritual Axis—and the lost “old world”? Or should he be thinking harder about why this Vanguard divine armament peak, carrying old-world markings, had appeared inside a desert otherworld on Nethermoon?
As Yu Sheng sank into thought, Yuan Ling broke the silence. “There should be more evidence than that.”
His gaze rested on Qian Ji.
“Yesterday I sent you the image of the giant divine armament peak’s mechanism core, and you rushed over at once. Did you see something in that image back then?”
“I won’t hide it from you.” Qian Ji nodded. He lifted his hand and produced a wooden box. When he opened it, several exquisite jade chips lay inside, each less than half a palm in size.
He placed them on his palm. Wisps of glowing light rose, and after a few clear chimes, the chips floated up and began circling him. Light and shadow spilled out, sketching enormous silhouettes in the air around them.
Countless models of “giant divine armament peaks,” different sizes and shapes, hovered as shifting projections.
“These are the large mechanism puppets forged by the Reclining Cloud Ten Halls,” Qian Ji said. “Arranged by model and purpose. The ones that can be classified as Vanguard divine armament peaks are these.”
The illusion adjusted in size and position. Some images split apart to show partial internal structures.
It didn’t feel like classified core secrets—more like a rough demonstration. Still, from Yuan Ling’s serious expression, Yu Sheng could tell it was enough to explain a lot.
Qian Ji continued, “This is the Iron Garrison class giant divine armament peak. Its mechanism core shares the same lineage as the Tiger-Wolf class. You should be able to tell—this kind of mechanism core is different from those in other giants… yet it looks somewhat similar to what’s inside the belly of the giant we dug out of the otherworld.”
“For a long time, the original design of this mechanism core was a mystery.”
He lifted one finger, as if to stop Yuan Ling’s response before it formed. “Of course, I know how to build it. I understand its principles and every technical detail. Yuan Ling, you know my abilities—there are no mechanisms I can’t figure out.”
“But understanding the technique is one thing,” he said, voice deepening. “Tracing its origin is another.”
“Just like our Grand Void calendar being incomplete, the mechanism arts of the Reclining Cloud Ten Halls have always had a small missing part. My master, my grandmaster, and I—three generations—filled that gap.”
His gaze passed through the hovering projections and settled on the ancient giant. “But what we filled was only the technique. What we could not fill was the source of that technique, and the people who once stood at that source.”
“The Supreme Radiance Valley Cast-Gold Pavilion. Song Xing Zhi…” Qian Ji said softly.
“At last,” he finished, “we’ve filled in the first name.”