"Is no one there anymore…?"
The words echoed against the cold stone walls. For the first time in years, Su Xiaobai felt truly, utterly alone.
This was what he'd wanted.
To live as an insignificant character. To escape the gaze of the higher-ups. To slip through the cracks of the cosmic stage and avoid the world's cruel whims.
And he'd gotten it.
But why did it hurt?
Why did the thought of being insignificant, of being just another nameless figure swept away by someone else's story, make his chest ache?
He still had a family to save—his mother and sisters, if they were even alive.
Or were they, too, like insignificant characters erased from the story without so much as a mention? Killed in the background, forgotten by everyone, even the heavens?
Was he working for nothing?
Did it all even make sense anymore?
Insignificant characters weren't people of focus. They weren't the ones whose stories were written. Even someone like Sun Liang—someone adored by everyone, someone whose life was the stage—might've trampled families like his.
Would anyone even notice?
His wish to be insignificant had been fulfilled.
But did it make his life any better?
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. The bitterness of his doubts threatened to choke him.
It felt hollow now.
He could still continue. But what for?
For revenge that might never feel complete? For a family that might no longer exist?
And when he returned to White Cloud Star—if he returned—would there be anything left for him to find?
"Maybe… everyone I knew is already gone."
The thought, cold and unshakable.
For a long moment, Su Xiaobai sat in silence, the cavern's chill seeping into his bones. The glow of the embryo mocked him from above, a silent reminder of his insignificance.
And he?
He was left alone.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there.
The cavern's oppressive silence swallowed time, each second dragging on like an eternity. The faint glow of the 'Immortal Fetus' pulsed rhythmically, a cruel reminder of life feeding on death.
At first, Su Xiaobai thought it was just his exhaustion, but soon he felt it—a subtle, insidious pull.
His spiritual energy was being drained.
Much like Emperor Tian Yu, Su Xiaobai had become another source of fuel for the growing embryo.
Two faint, shimmering threads, almost imperceptible in the dim light, stretched from either side of his body toward the glowing fetus. They shimmered with an ethereal beauty, their slow undulation resembling the weaving of life and death.
The sight might have been mesmerizing… if it weren't so terrifying.
Su Xiaobai sat motionless, feeling the vitality drain from his body. It wasn't sudden or painful—it was quiet, gentle, almost serene, as if nature itself had accepted his fate.
The embryo's heartbeats grew louder, echoing through the cavern with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Thump… thump… thump…
His own heart, in contrast, felt weaker, each beat softer, slower.
The fetus had already transformed into an embryo, and now it was reaching its final stage. The last step before it hatched.
Su Xiaobai's vision blurred as his strength ebbed away.
If there's still any hope… just give me a sign.
His lips moved silently, as if praying to a entity that had long stopped listening.
Just one sign…
But nothing came.
His head tilted back, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. The sound cracked and echoed through the chamber. He was about to give in completely when something caught his attention.
"What…?"
He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The threads.
The two shimmering strings latched to his face—they'd been so faint, so silent, that he hadn't even noticed them before. Now, they horrified him.
A cold dread sank into his chest as he watched the threads pulse with life, their ends rooted in the glowing embryo. They pulsed and pulled like veins, draining him with every second.
"!!!!"
He tried to move, tried to rip them off, but his body refused to obey.
And then…
Snap!
The threads broke.
Rustle~~
The severed ends didn't retract violently or vanish—they drifted toward him, brushing against his face like the soft caress of tiny hands.
He flinched instinctively but stopped when he realized what he was feeling.
Gentle. Curious. Almost… tender.
It was as though something small, fragile, and impossibly delicate had touched him, lingering briefly before pulling back.
"!!"
Su Xiaobai's chest heaved as he shot to his feet, his blood pounding in his ears. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
"Did… did you see that?" he whispered to no one in particular, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. His voice trembled, caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder.
Was it a hand? He thought. So tiny… so delicate…
He rubbed his face, his heart starting to beat very loudly, as if it were a roaring flame.
Was it a sign?
The cavern around him seemed unchanged, the embryo still glowing faintly, but something in the air felt different. Lighter. Like a whisper of reassurance had passed through the void.
Taking a shaky breath, Su Xiaobai looked around, his gaze sweeping across the chamber with renewed focus. He couldn't afford to sit here and let himself waste away. Not now.
It was then that his eyes landed on another stone table, partially hidden in the shadows.
His breath stopped.
There was something there—a piece of parchment, weathered and brittle, lying amidst the dust.
Another note.
______
"To the one who has found this,
I have little left to offer but my gratitude. You've read my story, and for that, I thank you. Perhaps it was a selfish thing to leave behind, but even a broken man wishes to be remembered.
I can no longer speak of pride, yet I will not deny the truth: I was one of the greatest formation masters in the mortal plane. My knowledge, my legacy, I have consolidated into a single book. It contains the foundations of formation theory, mortal and immortal alike. Whether you are a novice or an adept, this knowledge will serve you well.
Take it. Use it as you will. And as a final gift, I leave you my Celestial Inscriber—a tool that has inscribed arrays that shaped history. May it guide you in crafting your own fate.
If nothing else, let this be a better inheritance than the tomb you now stand in.
—Tian Yu
_____
Su Xiaobai blinked, rereading the note. His hand brushed over the stone table, where a slim, worn book rested beside a slender, glowing brush.
The book's surface was plain and dark brown, with no symbols to suggest its significance—just an unassuming relic, like something you'd find in a dusty old library.
But the moment Su Xiaobai flipped through its pages, his heart skipped a beat.
"Astral Gateway Array…" he whispered, his grin widening with every word.
This was what he needed.
The array wasn't just a formation—it was a miracle. Theoretically, it could summon anyone from anywhere, bridging realms and distances as long as certain conditions were met.
But Su Xiaobai's initial excitement dimmed as he skimmed the requirements:
First, spatial anchor token: a personal object linked to the person being summoned; second, void fracture Stones: essential for stabilizing the spatial rift, the stronger the person being summoned, the more stones required; astral alignment: the array could only be activated under specific celestial conditions, requiring careful timing; at last, spiritual energy, the user needed at least twice the spiritual energy of the person being summoned.
Su Xiaobai frowned as he read the last part.
"Twice the spiritual energy?" he muttered, rubbing his temple. That was the real kicker. His current cultivation wouldn't even allow him to summon his little sister, let alone his mother, who might be in the Heavenly Tribulation Realm.
Still, the gloom that had weighed on him earlier began to lift. The array was possible. He just needed to grow stronger, gather the materials, and summon them one by one—starting with his little sister.
"Step by step," Su Xiaobai said, smiling despite himself.
His attention shifted to the glowing brush beside the book. It was slender, with a golden body and a small green gem embedded near its tip. The faint hum of power radiating from it told him this was no ordinary tool.
"Celestial Inscriber…"