An Anomaly in the Definition Sea

A voice rose from the depths, the tremor of definition itself. "Defined one. The cracks on your body exceed what the Reformation Pool can repair."

Lin Ye withdrew his hand and looked at his body, riddled with cracks. "How much can it repair?"

"Eighty-three percent. The remaining seventeen percent has no record. The Reformation Pool can only reform existences that are 'completely remembered.'"

"Fill the gaps with the stars on my cloak. Every star is the complete memory of a civilization."

The Reformation Pool's voice wavered for the first time. "You know the cost. The civilizations represented by those stars will no longer be remembered by you."

"I know."

"You aren't afraid of forgetting them?"

Lin Ye lowered his head and looked at the twenty-five million stars on his cloak. "They don't need to be remembered by me alone. Three hundred and seventy million civilizations will remember one another. The Ember Era isn't upheld by me alone."

The Reformation Pool fell silent for a long time. The first ripple appeared on the lake's surface. "You are the first existence willing to let go of memories."

Lin Ye removed his cloak and lowered it into the pool with both hands.

The moment the cloak entered the water, all twenty-five million stars lit up at once. The silver pool water boiled as liquid definitions climbed along the fibers, wrapping around every star. Lin Ye's body began to change: the transparency stopped, the cracks healed, and his right half condensed back into physical form. At the same time, the stars on the cloak began to go out—roughly three hundred thousand vanished for every one percent restored. Those civilizations were not erased. They were still remembered by other civilizations in the Ember Era. Lin Ye simply no longer remembered them alone.

He watched those