308: Chapter 306 The Broken Pulse

After leaving that staircase, Shen Nian did not immediately return to the Heart of Tiangong.

He continued forward along the stream of light for a distance, as if wanting to clearly see what else might have been missed in this Land of Origin before returning.

The light of The Artisan followed beside him without urging, quietly guiding the direction.

The stream of light meandered through the Chaos, passing through patch after patch of churning grayish-white mist, bypassing several scattered wrecks, and finally stopping at an edge zone.

There was a faint pulsation there.

Shen Nian stopped in his tracks and gazed intently.

In the Chaos ahead appeared an area different from the surrounding scenery—the grayish-white mist there was much thinner, as if something had slowly sucked it away to reveal an extremely faint cyan color.

Deep within that cyan area, a slender line of light slowly flickered, resembling the slightly opening and closing eyes of some creature in deep sleep.

When he drew closer, he realized that it was not a line.

That was a broken "pulse"—an energy node about three feet thick, suspended in the Chaos like a severed blood vessel.

Both ends of it extended into the distance; one end connected to the deeper Chaos, while the other disappeared into the boundary of the cyan mist, as if its connection had been severed by some force.

On the surface of the node was an extremely slow pulsation, occurring about once every three breaths, beating like a leisurely heart.

But that pulsation was extremely faint, so faint it was almost imperceptible, resembling more a dying Life unwillingly extending its final rhythm.

Shen Nian hovered before it, not touching it immediately, but observing it for a moment first.

He discovered that the surface of the node possessed a layer of extremely fine patterns, different from the dried-up patterns of the Tiangong Clan—these patterns were "alive." Although extremely slow, they indeed shifted slightly with each pulsation, as if some energy were still struggling to traverse through them.

"Is this a creation of the Tiangong Clan?" Shen Nian asked.

The light of The Artisan dimmed slightly: "No.

We have never created this form.

It is more like... a structure produced by the Land of Origin itself.

We once discovered similar nodes in multiple regions, but most of them have completely stopped.

This place is one of the very few still pulsating."

Shen Nian's hand paused slightly: "Produced by the Land of Origin itself?"

"Chaos is not entirely disordered.

In certain regions, energy will naturally condense into fixed flow routes, resembling riverbeds carved out by rivers upon the land.

These nodes are like whirlpools formed within riverbeds—they generate by themselves, and they will also vanish by themselves."

Shen Nian extended a hand, hovering his palm above the node without direct contact.

He could feel the rhythm of that pulsation—extremely slow, extremely even, resembling the breathing of some creature in hibernation.

At the foundation of that pulsation, there seemed to be something even deeper.

"Is it conveying something?" Shen Nian asked.

The Artisan fell silent for a moment: "We once attempted to decipher it.

But those pulsations were far too slow and far too faint, resembling someone speaking from a very, very distant place, whose voice was reduced to mere breath by the time it traveled here."

Shen Nian condensed his Sixteen-Color Power into an extremely fine thread of silk, slowly probing toward the surface of the node, preparing to capture the underlying information of that pulsation.

The instant the silk thread made contact with the pulsation, an extremely vague stream of information surged into his Sea of Consciousness—not language, not images, but rather an extremely faint thought. It was as if that thought had originally been clear, but because it had been diluted too many times, by the time it reached him, only a slight warmth and a nearly inaudible sentence remained.

That thought felt like something "currently echoing."

Shen Nian frowned, attempting to capture more, but after being touched, the pulsation accelerated slightly before returning to its original rhythm—as if startled, yet unwilling to fully awaken.

He withdrew his power and hovered quietly beside the node for a moment.

"It is incomplete." Shen Nian's voice was very soft. "Its other end has been severed.

It should have originally connected to something much further away, but now that part is gone."

"Severed?" The Artisan's voice carried a hint of confusion. "We always believed it was a naturally formed terminus rather than something being cut off.

Are you certain it didn't simply grow to this point and stop?"

"This Disciple is uncertain what it originally connected to." Shen Nian pointed to the boundary of the cyan mist at the terminus of the node. "However, the structure at its terminus does not naturally taper off.

It looks much more like a sudden interruption, as if it was chopped off right there by some force."

The light of The Artisan moved a bit closer to that cyan mist, as if observing carefully.

"We never noticed this point.

In our view, it was merely a natural terminus, like a river disappearing into a desert.

But if you are correct, then its other end might still be connected to something."

Shen Nian's gaze fell upon the boundary of that cyan mist.

That boundary looked very calm, appearing merely as another color of Chaos.

But he could sense that the faint pulsation at the terminus of the node seemed to be "facing" that direction.

"This Disciple wishes to walk along the direction of this pulse." Shen Nian's voice carried a hint of probing. "It might still extend outward, only being obscured by something."

The Artisan fell silent for a moment, as if evaluating the risks of this idea.

But ultimately, it did not stop him, merely brightening slightly: "This seat shall accompany you."

Shen Nian slowly moved forward along the direction indicated by the node.

He flew very slowly, all the while perceiving the subtle energy changes within the surrounding Chaos.

The cyan mist gradually grew thicker before him, as if something were slowly compressing the energy of this region.

After flying for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, that pulsation of the node grew even fainter, as if gradually moving further away from the source.

Then, at a certain moment, Shen Nian's perception brushed against an extremely faint barrier.

That was not a wall of matter, but rather a slow-flowing "boundary," as if some kind of energy field had formed an enclosure right here.

He stopped in his tracks and reached out to touch that boundary.

His fingertips brushed against an extremely faint vibration—congenital with the pulsation on the node, but far fainter, resembling someone speaking toward this direction from a very far place, their voice almost completely pulverized by distance.

Shen Nian stood before that barrier, quietly perceiving for a moment.

That boundary was not hollow.

On the opposite side of the boundary, something truly existed, still slowly maintaining a certain faint presence.

It was as if an extremely faint pulse, after being severed for many years, was still using its final strength to transmit a trace of lingering echo in this direction.

He withdrew his hand, not attempting to force his way through.

"This Disciple believes that this node once connected to a certain larger structure.

It is simply because it was blocked by some force in the middle that it has become what it is now, like a severed river still flowing with residual strength."

The light of The Artisan remained silent beside him, as if re-examining this node that it had observed for countless years.

"If we can find its other end, perhaps we can know what it once connected to." Shen Nian turned to that ball of light. "Senior, within the records of the Tiangong Clan, are there any earlier accounts regarding this kind of node?

Before they were severed?"

The Artisan did not answer immediately.

It paused in place for a moment, as if rummaging through those memory fragments that had been sealed in dust for countless years: "There are.

Extremely ancient records.

Within the earliest archives of the Tiangong Clan, this type of node was once marked as a 'River Junction.'

They once connected several parallel energy flow routes."

The light of The Artisan dimmed for another fraction of a moment: "Those records did not mention the reason for them being severed.

They merely 'one day' became standalone termini."

Shen Nian cast one final glance at that barrier; that vibration, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, was still slowly transmitting outward.

"This Disciple wishes to record the location of this node.

If in the future something can be found on the other side of that barrier, perhaps we will know what kind of meridian it once belonged to.

Much like receiving a letter—though the handwriting is blurred, at least one knows it was once earnestly written."

A recording talisman emerged from within the light of The Artisan, floating toward Shen Nian.

He received the talisman, gently pressing it against the edge of the node.

Threads of light slowly spread along the surface of the node, capturing every single detail—the frequency of the pulsation, the direction of the patterns, the traces of the severed terminus.

After finishing the recording, Shen Nian withdrew the talisman and turned to return along the original path.

That vibration, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, continued.

It was as if someone in a very distant place was still speaking a sentence toward this direction that could never finish traveling, while Shen Nian copied that broken voice into his own pocket, waiting for the day he would find the hand that wrote it out once again.