316: Chapter 314 The Hollow Center

Early morning, the warm light of the Heart of Tiangong had not yet fully lit up.

Shen Nian stood up from in front of the edge wall, and the leaves of that plant swayed gently in the dim light, as if saying goodbye to him.

He did not linger, turning to walk through the passage and heading toward the core space.

Lu Qing had already packed the things she needed to take with her.

That stack of rubbings was carefully rolled up by her and stored in her storage ring.

At her waist hung a thin sword she commonly used, its scabbard wrapped with a dark knot—an old item she had found in some ruins on the edge of Heluo.

Because the pattern of the knot had a direction similar to the scratches on the inside of the arch, she had casually tied it on.

The two did not say much, walking side by side toward the exit of the silver-white passage.

The light of The Artisan hovered at the entrance of the passage, the threads of light denser than usual, like a door reinforced to the point where it would not easily close.

"The route marked for you by this seat has already been laid out."

The Artisan's voice was a bit lighter than usual. "It will extend to a journey of about one day beyond the northeast edge of Heluo."

Shen Nian bowed slightly toward The Artisan. "Thank you, Senior."

Lu Qing also bowed in salute.

The two stepped into the silver-white passage and walked in the direction of Heluo.

The journey was quieter than the previous two times.

Lu Qing walked one step behind Shen Nian with a very steady pace, occasionally stopping to observe the remaining old marks on both sides before catching up.

The end of the silver-white passage was about several miles beyond the northeast edge of Heluo.

The light of the passage completely vanished there, like a river losing its color before merging into the sea.

The color of the Chaos ahead became extremely uniform, like a surface of water that had been repeatedly stirred and then left to settle for a long time, without any undulations or any referenceable traces.

Shen Nian stopped and squatted down at the edge, touching the space beneath his feet with his hand.

The texture was smooth, with no texture at all and no recognizable residual energy, like directly facing an unwritten expanse of emptiness.

"This area is different from the regions we passed through before."

Lu Qing also squatted down and checked carefully. "There are no fragments, no fractured cross-sections, not even gravel."

"It is as if it has been carefully cleaned by someone, cleaned to the point not even a single grain of dust is left."

Shen Nian stood up and looked straight ahead. "If there used to be something at the center, it must have been removed in an extremely thorough state—more thorough than demolition, as if even the foundations were uprooted, filled back in, and finally all traces of connection were erased."

The two continued walking forward.

The surrounding space maintained the exact same state—no markers, no undulations, as if they had walked into a completely flattened region.

The sense of direction became subtle in this environment; the distance of every step could not be verified by reference points and could only be calibrated by the subtle perceptual anchors within Shen Nian's body.

After walking for more than half an hour, Shen Nian slowed his pace.

He perceived an extremely faint depression—not of the ground, but of space itself, like walking on a very thin carpet where the sensation underfoot changed subtly when a step landed in a certain spot.

He stopped and looked down at the location of that depression.

There were no visible markers there, but he could feel that he was standing in a place that had once been deeply carved into.

He squatted down, condensing the Sixteen-Color Power into extremely fine threads, and probed into that depressed space.

The threads wove through it for about a foot before touching some extremely faint residue—not energy, but more like a deeply compressed memory, as if the indentation itself had dragged down the surrounding outlines.

The outline of that depression was similar to the one he had touched earlier at the edge of the dark zone—only larger and deeper, like a completely compacted imprint.

Lu Qing also walked over and squatted down beside him. "This imprint is very deep."

"It is as if something stood here for a very long time, so long that after it was removed, even the air has not yet had time to fill it."

Shen Nian withdrew his power and sat down on the spot.

He did not rush to move forward, just sitting on the edge of that depression and feeling the faint aura it emitted, as if silently confirming something to the path he had traveled.

That depression was deeper than any place he had touched before—the split of the ring was like a torn envelope, the twist of the nest like a frozen sigh amidst struggle, and the broken notes of the stairs like a stanza sung halfway through.

And the depression here was like a person sitting in the same place for a long time, pressing a palm into the sand and leaving an imprint.

He sat there for a long time.

Then he stood up and slowly walked a circle along the edge of the depression.

The outline of that depression roughly formed a circle with a diameter of about ten zhang.

The boundary line of the edge was very uniform, as if carved with an extremely precise tool, without any deformation or deviation.

After walking a full circle, Shen Nian stopped at the edge of the depression.

At the center, it was indeed empty.

But the texture of that emptiness was different from what he had previously imagined—it was not dismantled, emptied, or shaved off, but rather felt more like it had been "taken away."

Those old marks maintained their original outlines, as if they had just bid farewell to something and had not yet had time to retract their shape.

He squatted down again and pressed his hand onto the space at the center.

This time, he did not feel any residual energy or consciousness, but he felt an extremely faint temperature.

It was not the temperature of the ground, nor the temperature of the air, but the temperature of space itself—like a shady spot that, after a long period without sunlight, retained a quiet chill.

That chill lingered briefly under his fingertips for a moment before slowly dissipating.

Shen Nian withdrew his hand, sat on the edge of the depression, and looked toward that empty center.

Lu Qing sat down beside him, and neither of them spoke.

The Chaos in the distance remained calm, and the direction of the silver-white passage was completely invisible.

They were like being in a forgotten plaza, sitting beside a pedestal where something once stood.

Shen Nian lowered his head to look at his palm. The fine crystal was still in the pocket on the inside of his lapel, transmitting a faint warmth through the fabric, like a belated syllable slowly crossing a long distance and rushing toward this direction.