303: Chapter 301 The Forgotten Creator

Shen Nian sat cross-legged in front of the crystal core in the core space of the Heart of Tiangong, having not moved for a full two days.

He repeatedly perceived the information flooding into his Sea of Consciousness, attempting to sort out a more complete context from it.

The attempt at Source Creation two days ago made him vaguely perceive one thing—the creation techniques of the Tiangong Clan did not come from nothing.

It must have some source, some older Foundation of Legacy.

Just as the sword techniques of the Guardian Academy originated from Bai Yunzhou, and the Formations originated from Lin Ruoxue, every technique had its initial starting point.

Where was the starting point of the Tiangong Clan?

He continuously penetrated deep into that information, passing through layer after layer of forgotten memory fragments.

Some of those fragments were complete, some broken, some bright, and some dim.

Late in the night of the second day, he finally encountered a boundary—a barrier blocking him from deeper memories.

That was not an energy barrier, nor any Restriction, but something stranger.

It was as if someone had deliberately cut off the memories of the Tiangong Clan at a certain point in time, making subsequent consciousnesses unable to touch the earlier past ever again.

Shen Nian withdrew his hand, opened his eyes, and turned to look at the light and shadow that had been hovering beside him: "Senior, there is a blank space in your history."

"When this Junior was perceiving those memories, I encountered a boundary."

"As for things further back, you yourselves have forgotten them."

The light of The Artisan was silent for a moment: "You are right."

"We have also perceived that blank space."

"Before a certain point in time, our memories are a blank void."

"We know that we once existed, but we do not know how we were born."

"We only know that we are the Tiangong Clan, but we do not know where we came from."

"That blank space has always existed, like a wall of impossible Transmigration."

Shen Nian stood up, his gaze falling on the circulating light spots deep within the crystal core: "This Junior wants to find the source of that wall."

"This Junior feels that the Tiangong Clan was not naturally born from Chaos."

"There must be some power that created you earlier, or rather, created your predecessors."

"Just as the Creation God Clan created humans, just as the ancestor Bai Yunzhou established the Guardian Academy."

"Every existence has its Origin."

The light of The Artisan brightened slightly: "You want to go deep into that wall?"

"I do."

"This Junior feels that behind that wall, there may be the answers that Seniors lost."

The Artisan was silent for a long time.

Then a path emerged from within its light—a winding path passing through countless metal structures, leading to the deepest part of the Heart of Tiangong.

That was a direction Shen Nian had never set foot in before.

"Walking down this path, you will see a door."

"That door has never been opened since we came into existence."

"We have tried many times, but every time we stopped in front of the door."

"It is not because it cannot be opened, but because all members of the Tiangong Clan who approach it will develop a strong fear—as if there is something behind the door rejecting us from approaching."

Shen Nian's gaze fell on that path: "Do Seniors also want to open that door?"

"I do."

"But we cannot get close."

"Perhaps because of fear, or perhaps because something behind the door is repelling us."

"But you are different; you are not of the Tiangong Clan."

"You might be able to do what we cannot do."

Shen Nian did not hesitate, turning around and walking toward that path.

The light of The Artisan did not follow, only quietly hovering in place, watching his back disappear at the corner of the passage.

The passage was very long. The deeper they went, the more rugged and primitive those metal structures became, no longer possessing the precise patterns and smooth lines of the outer layer, looking more like ruins left behind by the early Tiangong Clan.

Rough carvings began to appear on the walls, some resembling certain texts, some resembling certain patterns, and some being mere casual scratches.

Those marks were like left-behind notes, recording the traces of some explorer stopping here.

Shen Nian paused in front of those carvings for a moment, reaching out to gently stroke them.

The carvings were deep, and when his fingertips brushed along the grooves, he could feel the sharpness of the edges.

It was as if a long, long time ago, someone had used all their strength to carve them onto these metal walls, as if trying to leave some evidence to prove that they had once existed.

He withdrew his hand and continued walking forward.

After walking for another incense stick's time, a door finally appeared at the end of the passage.

That door was different from any door he had ever seen—it was not cast from metal, but condensed from a material he had never seen before.

That material looked like solidified light itself, with flowing threads of light faintly visible within its translucent texture.

There were no runes on the door, no decorations, only an extremely pure texture close to the Origin.

Shen Nian walked up to the door and did not immediately reach out to push it open, instead standing in place first, carefully sensing the aura emanating from the door.

The Artisan was right; there was indeed a strong sense of repulsion behind the door—not targeting him, but targeting all existences that approached it.

That was like a certain will rejecting all outsiders, as if guarding something.

Shen Nian raised his hand and pressed his palm against the surface of the door.

The door was as cold as touching nothingness itself.

His Sixteen-Color Power circulated within his body, slowly pouring into the door, intertwining with the flowing threads of light inside it.

The door trembled slightly, and then those threads of light began to circulate at an accelerated speed, as if responding to his touch.

A stream of information surged into his Sea of Consciousness along his palm, different from those previous memory fragments—it was more complete and more ancient.

Shen Nian closed his eyes, letting that information unfold in his consciousness.

That was the era of the Creator.

An era older than the Tiangong Clan, more distant than the Tribunal, and farther than any known civilization.

The Creator was not a race, but the name of a group of individuals, the first batch of consciousnesses to emerge from Chaos.

They were not born from Chaos, but were a fragment of consciousness split from Chaos itself at a certain moment.

They inherently understood the essence of Chaos, understood the ways those energies flowed, and understood how to transform nothingness into existence.

The Creator created the predecessors of the Tiangong Clan.

Using a portion of their own will, they separated the initial light spots from Chaos, injected them with the ability of understanding and perception, and then watched those light spots begin to evolve spontaneously.

Those light spots were the earliest ancestors of the Tiangong Clan.

The purpose for which they were created was to help the Creator maintain the stability of the Land of Origin, preventing this patch of Chaos from collapsing or solidifying.

But later, the Creator disappeared.

Not death, not dissipation, but voluntarily leaving the Land of Origin.

Where they went, Shen Nian did not see.

The information stream broke at that point, as if the Creator had deliberately erased the records of their whereabouts before leaving.

They only left behind a command—letting the Tiangong Clan continue to guard the Land of Origin.

Then they disappeared and never returned again.

Shen Nian opened his eyes and withdrew his hand.

The threads of light on the door were still circulating, but that stream of information had stopped.

The door did not open, merely letting him see what was hidden behind the door.

He stood in front of the door and was silent for a long time.

The Creator did not disappear; they left.

It was just like creating a garden, handing it over to the gardener, and going somewhere else oneself.

The waiting of the Tiangong Clan all along—the people they were waiting for were perhaps those Creators.

It was just that they waited too long, so long that they forgot who they were waiting for.

Shen Nian turned around and walked back along the path he came from.

Those carvings on the walls on both sides of the passage were still clearly discernible under the dim light.

Something was hidden within those scratches, as if words that failed to be spoken were left there intact.

When he returned to the core space, the light of The Artisan was still waiting in place.

Seeing Shen Nian return, it was silent for a moment, and then spoke: "You saw it?"

Shen Nian nodded: "This Junior saw some things."

"The Creator created you, and then they left."

"What you are waiting for is not some unknown existence, but those who created you."

"You just waited too long, so long that you forgot what they looked like, and also forgot who you were waiting for."

The light of The Artisan became exceptionally bright, like a re-ignited flame.

That light trembled slightly, beating violently in the Void Realm, and returned to calmness after a few breaths.

"The Creator..."

The Artisan's voice carried an unspeakably complex emotion: "We even forgot this name."

"We only know we are waiting, but we do not know who we are waiting for."

"You... you retrieved that name for us."

Shen Nian bowed deeply: "This Disciple only saw the forgotten part for Seniors."

"The real answer still requires Seniors to search for it yourselves."

"Where the Creator went, why they left, and whether they will return—this Junior does not know."

"But this Junior feels that since Seniors have waited until now, perhaps one day, they will return."

The light of The Artisan beat slowly, like nodding: "You are right."

"Since we have already waited for your arrival, perhaps that day is not far away."

Shen Nian did not say anything more.

He turned around and looked at the Disciples comprehending beside the crystal core—they were immersed in their respective understandings, some slightly frowning, some showing looks of realization.

At the end of the passage behind him, that door still stood quietly, those threads of light slowly circulating within the door, as if waiting for a certain day to be truly opened.