Echoes of the Hollow Domain

Beyond the gate — there were no steps.

No walls.

No space.

Shen Jin did not move, yet he descended.

The pull came from within the monument, silent and immense —

as if his body remained still, but his consciousness fell deeper and deeper.

All was black.

Until a pale light emerged in the distance,

a lone beacon in the void.

It drew him down —

through the layers of silence —

until he arrived in the heart of something colder, quieter.

Yao Abyss. Second Domain.

This was not stone.

Not architecture.

It was a place made of light, broken symbols, and whispering remnants of divine speech —

a cathedral of frozen faith.

Suspended in fragments.

Incomplete.

The voice of the monument returned.

But it was different.

No longer murmurs.

It now spoke in prayer-speech — a slow, ancient grammar, woven from a hundred voices at once.

"Key… appears…

Stele… responds…

Bearer returns…

Gate awakens…

Walk.

Seek…

The Core."

Shen Jin opened his eyes fully.

He stood atop a crystal stair, floating in shadow.

Before him stretched a broken bridge —

a path made of shattered glyphs and ringed sigils —

leading to a dark golden circle that hovered in the void.

The stele's core.

And yet… even the voice could not reach it fully.

It flickered near the end, as if the monument itself was afraid to approach.

He took a breath.

And stepped forward.

There was no wind.

Yet every step brought something new into his body —

not pain,

but recognition.

Like returning to a place he'd never been,

but that had long remembered him.

The voice returned:

"You are not the first.

This seal is not new."

But the key's thread…

chooses you."

Shen Jin looked ahead.

At the core.

And felt not fear.

But something stranger.

As if something at the end of that bridge… had waited a long time to welcome him.

—

Inner hall of the Lingyuan Division.

Seven mirrors floated above the array — like pale moons — turning slowly around the central seal.

Qi Ming Heng sat alone at the array's heart.

The other elders watched in silence from their side seats.

Within the main mirror, Shen Jin's figure shimmered faintly.

He was far below — so deep the light barely reached —

his form marked only by a soft, flickering glow.

Luo Qinghan stood at the periphery.

Her role, in name, was "external textual support",

but Qi Ming Heng had personally signed an order granting her access to the array as a silent observer.

She did not look at the mirror.

She watched him.

Qi hadn't moved once.

The sixth mirror flickered.

Then failed.

Its sigils scattered.

Elder He Yang frowned.

"Disruption in the circuit?"

"The pressure's rising," said another. "He's approaching the core."

"No… something else," He Yang muttered.

"An outside force."

Luo Qinghan felt it too.

A whisper.

Fast.

Thin.

Not in the array.

But beside it.

"…The stele's control — once passed — no longer belongs to Lingyuan.

…The keybearer is only the one before the gate…

The one to truly return is —"

The words were laced with curse-layer resonance, a signature technique of the Chu Sect — used for whispered spells across sealed space.

Her eyes narrowed.

From her sleeve, she released a tiny script-seal into the stone beside her.

Record initiated.

Back in the mirrors, Shen Jin still moved forward.

But the image grew fainter.

Almost as if the mirror itself could not contain whatever he now approached.

Qi Ming Heng, for the first time, lifted his gaze.

He spoke softly.

"Guiyao…

Who are you waiting for?"

—

At the end of the bridge —

a gate.

Not carved.

Not built.

But something older.

Something that felt like it had been grown from time itself, not made by hand, nor summoned by faith.

It floated.

It anchored to nothing.

It simply was.

As if it had always waited here —

for someone.

There were no markings.

No script.

Only one sigil above its arch.

The same as the mark on Shen Jin's back.

The voice of the monument changed again.

No longer a chant.

No longer prayer.

But a new mode —

Waiting-speech.

A language only spoken in the silence before divinity is acknowledged.

"Key… knows the gate…

Gate… knows the bearer…

The one who opens…

is neither god…

nor stone…

Then…

Who… opens… whom?"

Shen Jin stood still.

The gate was not large.

But it felt immeasurable —

as if beyond it lay not space,

but something older than direction.

He did not open it.

He raised a hand.

And pressed his fingers to the mark.

—

A tremor.

The light across Yao Abyss dimmed.

As if all motion had been briefly held still.

The monument said nothing.

But the Keymark across his spine pulsed —

a reply.

As if the gate had greeted him.

Softly, he asked:

"Are you trying to open me…

or asking me to open you?"

No answer came.

But from within the mark on the door,

something lit.

A word.

A fragment.

Not a glyph.

Not a spell.

A divine name.

Half-erased.

Only one character remained clear —

曜.

Yao.