The world of the radiant Great Sun gradually drew inward.
Heaven, earth, and all things shrank. Yet nothing was turned upside down. Everything remained steady; not even a branch snapped as the world kept shrinking, smaller and smaller.
At last, everything collapsed into a singularity.
The world's dazzling light gradually faded, faintly forming a beadlike mass of chaos that settled in a smooth forehead.
The chaotic mass vanished, revealing a young man in azure robes.
He looked about sixteen, with waist-length hair and a delicate, youthful face. A long sword in a black sheath hung at his waist. His face still held the bewilderment of someone waking from a long sleep. Only after a long while did clarity return, and a divine light appear in his eyes.
"Eleven hundred years?"
"It's already been eleven hundred years...?"
Jiang Ding could hardly believe it. It felt like pulling an all-nighter at an internet café, then sleeping until the next morning. It had not felt especially long; one closing and opening of his eyes, and it was over.
"Sword Heir."
"It has been eleven hundred years."
Moon's warm voice came over, cutting in. "It seems you slept remarkably well. You look full of energy, with none of the awful consequences common to unstable slumber—splitting headaches, hidden injuries throughout the body, or localized bodily decay. That's wonderful!"
"It must be the protection of our forebears!"
"Not necessarily."
"Moon."
Jiang Ding's mind was still muddled, but he instinctively objected. "Judging by Xi Yuan's character, our forebears only ever considered the one who survived their successor. The dead were strangers they couldn't be bothered to glance at in passing. They wouldn't go out of their way to leave instructions or offer protection."
"..."
Moon had no words.
But he did seem to have a point.
"Sword