" Mo!"
A clear call, sharp as a blade of light, sliced through the remnants of chaos in his mind.
Mo Bai's eyes snapped open, his vision focusing on a pair of honey-colored eyes very close to his, brimming with anxiety. Starlaine's warm breath, carrying the sweet scent of larkspur, brushed against his skin.
"How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked rapidly. Golden light glowed from her palm as she hovered it near his forehead and chest.
Her anxious expression slowly shifted to one of confusion. She blinked, the light at her fingertips flickering as she probed more carefully.
"You seem… not only unharmed," she lifted her head, eyes widening slightly, "but your mnemonic power feels… even stronger than before?"
She shook her head, setting the doubt aside for the moment. Her small face tightened with the solemnity of "absolute safety first." "I can't just rely on a feeling! We still must see Master Cai. Only after she personally examines you can I truly relax!"
"Alright." He nodded, his voice slightly hoarse from the inner struggle. "I should also thank Master Cai for saving me."
This was no mere politeness. The master of the Hall of Spiritual Healing, the Grand Master whom Starlaine called "capable of raising the dead"—perhaps she could unveil a fragment of the truth.
"Great!" Starlaine's face lit up instantly, as if dark clouds had scattered. "Then… Brother Mo, will you come with me to submit my final assessment? This is a historic moment! And as thanks—"
She patted the larkspur-embroidered pouch at her waist, her eyes curving into cheerful crescents.
"I'll treat you to a meal!"
The bright expectation in her eyes made refusal difficult.
By the time they left the Serenity Courtyard, twilight had embraced the Sacred Imperial Palace.
Daylight had withdrawn its final glory, etching the massive silhouette of the city in dark gold. On the main thoroughfare, Tranquility Avenue, the crowd still flowed—but the overlapping, intersecting Phases seemed denser, more isolated than before.
Mo Bai silently channeled his mnemonic power.
The Twelve Celestial Mechanism Arts - Second Form: Reflective Insight.
His renewed control allowed him to filter out the irrelevant "layers" of visual and auditory noise.
" Mo, how about this 'Morning Star Canticle'? I composed it myself."
"Passable."
The outline of the Sacred Imperial Palace solidified in the deepening twilight ahead.
It did not pierce the clouds but stood as three profound halls constructed from colossal black stone—calm as mountains, awe-inspiring in their solemnity. The vermilion palace gates stood open. Above the lintel, the three golden characters for Sacred Imperial Palace gleamed with a heavy luster in the light of newly lit palace lamps.
Mo Bai's gaze sharpened. He pushed the Reflective Insightfurther, shifting his observational Phase.
The serene scene before him was instantly torn apart.
Through the open gates, a torrent of tens of thousands of figures—in all manner of attire, all moving with terrifying efficiency—streamed in and out! Their faces were taut with duty and the press of time. Within this power core, across countless Phases, a silent, mighty "operation" of unimaginable scale churned.
This scene overlapped perfectly yet never intersected with the "peaceful visitor Phase" in which Mo Bai and Starlaine stood, creating a stark contrast filled with the precise, inhuman pressure of a colossal, well-oiled machine.
"Let's go in, Mo." Starlaine's voice pulled him back. Her lively smile had faded, replaced by a respectful solemnity. She straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and stepped over the high threshold.
Mo Bai followed closely.
The moment they crossed the porch, it felt like passing through an invisible membrane of water. The noise from outside and the "thundering" scenes of the other Phase faded at once, replaced by an all-encompassing, deep silence—scented with ancient sandalwood, aged parchment, and pure spiritual energy. Only a few plainly-robed attendants moved quietly in the distance, eyes lowered.
Starlaine knew the way, leading Mo Bai through several serene courtyards towards the true core of the Sacred Imperial Palace—
The Hall of the Pivot of Metaphysics.
The view opened up dramatically.
This was a magnificent space that defied description as a mere "hall" or "shrine." The dome soared as high as the night sky, flowing with shifting starlight that mirrored the true heavens. Underfoot was a single, seamless expanse of black jade, glowing with an inner light, smooth as a dark mirror.
But the most stunning sight: within the vast hall, there were no walls, no pillars.
Only seven gates.
Seven colossal Gates of Light, their edges rippling with distinct energies, hovered in a ring above the black jade floor. Each stood thirty feet tall and ten feet wide. They were not solid, but condensed from pure, dense mnemonic power—like seven hanging, living portals leading to different realms.
Scarlet, churning like lava, with faint echoes of forging—The Forge of Wills.
Dim as a midnight abyss, with shadows gliding at its edges—The Sect of Shadow Traces.
Blazing gold like the midday sun, solemn and unyielding—The Sanctuary of Sacred Radiance.
Ash-blue like mountain peaks under a cold sky, radiating extreme focus—The Pavilion of the Piercing Sun.
Illusory purple, shimmering like the edge of a dream—The Myriad Phenomena Archive.
Dark ink, deep as an ancient inkstone, with ink-patterns slowly turning—The Celestial Mechanism Pavilion.
And the seventh gate, the one they approached—
A Gate of Light as green as new spring leaves, as warm as glowing jade. Its soft radiance exuded a peaceful, vital energy, carrying faint sounds of babbling water and clear birdsong.
The Hall of Spiritual Healing.
The green light gate flowed quietly. Above its arch, the characters Hall of Spiritual Healing glowed in an ancient, serene script.
"This way, Brother Mo," Starlaine whispered, leading him straight toward the gate.
As they neared, a wave of warmth, carrying the scent of herbs and vitality, washed over them. Starlaine stepped into the green light; Mo Bai followed without hesitation.
The crossing felt strange—like being immersed in warm water for a heartbeat, or brushed by the softest spring breeze.
The light shifted. They stood on solid ground once more.
Mo Bai lifted his eyes, and a flicker of surprise crossed his gaze.
What lay before him was nothing like the Hall of Spiritual Healing he had imagined.
Dozens of massive, gray stone pillars, so wide several people could not encircle them, held up a vaulted ceiling. The floor was paved with smooth, blue-grey stone slabs, moss growing in the seams. In the corners stood simple bronze medicine furnaces and stone mortars, their surfaces worn smooth by ages of use—an ancient, heavy foundation.
Yet upon this primordial base bloomed wild, living color.
The old pillars were wrapped in flowering green vines, from which hung hand-sewn cloth birds. The stone floor was inlaid with colorful pebbles forming patterns of playful beasts. Beside the heavy furnaces leaned cushions of pink and blue, painted with clouds and stars. Against walls carved with medical texts, a small swing decorated with silk bows and tiny silver bells swayed gently.
At the space's heart was no divine throne—only a gigantic "nest" piled high with soft fabrics of every hue, scattered with plush dolls and glowing crystal orbs. Leaning against the edge of this nest was a staff of white jade, crowned with a pulsating emerald.
It felt like a study and playroom shared by an ancient sage and a newborn child—where wisdom accumulated over eons intertwined with innocent whimsy, creating a peculiar, captivating beauty.
"The heritage of the Hall of Spiritual Healing… is unique," Starlaine explained in a hushed, reverent tone. "Each time Master completes a long 'Cycle of Spiritual Healing,' her consciousness… returns to a childlike state for a time. The furnishings here change with her. These…" She gestured to the dolls and paintings. "…Master arranged them herself during her last 'Return to Innocence.' She found them delightful, so they remained."
Reverting to childhood… Cycles repeating…
Mo Bai understood at once. This explained not only Master Cai's diminutive form but also the root of her vast knowledge, her keen insight, and her childish demeanor coexisting.
Rustle—
A sound came from deep within the soft mountain of the nest, accompanied by the delicate jingle of a tiny bell.
A small figure with messy, short teal hair struggled out from a pile of dolls. She seemed to have just woken, her pink cheeks creased from sleep, her yellow-green nightdress rumpled. She rubbed large, dark eyes with her fists, the jade bell in her hair bun tinkling softly.
It was Cai Miao, Grand Master of the Hall of Spiritual Healing.