Shen Yaoran was losing to a basket of beans.
Ji Xuanyue had been watching for several minutes before deciding the defeat was undeniable.
Shen split another pod.
Two beans landed in the bowl.
One struck the rim.
The fourth escaped entirely.
Ji caught it before it reached the floor.
She held it between two fingers.
Shen looked at her.
Ji looked at the bean.
Then at Shen.
"You're getting worse."
"I am adjusting technique."
"You are shelling beans."
"Everything has technique."
From beneath the veranda, Gao Fen turned a page.
"That is usually what people say immediately before making a simple task unnecessarily complicated."
Shen looked toward him.
"You have been listening."
"I am reading."
"You answered very quickly."
"I read efficiently."
Ji placed the escaped bean into the bowl.
"You two are becoming a problem."
Gao did not look up.
Shen selected another pod.
The morning was bright after several days of rain.
Across the courtyard, Gao Lihua had set baskets beneath the veranda and informed both Ji and Shen that ancient inheritances did not excuse unfinished work.
Shen had accepted this without protest.
Ji had accepted it with considerably more amusement.
Yesterday, Shen had crossed Realms to find her.
Yesterday, Ji had learned that the thing inside her had a name.
Taihua's Dragon Royal Gate.
Yesterday, Shen had told her that sixteen previous bearers remained within it as soul remnants.
Today, Ji was shelling beans.
She found that comforting.
Taotie still existed.
The Twin Seals still existed.
A dead Primordial Dragon Empress was apparently somewhere inside Ji's mind.
The beans still needed to be shelled.
The world had not abandoned ordinary things simply because Ji's understanding of it had become larger.
Shen slowed deliberately.
Her next pod opened cleanly.
All four beans landed in the bowl.
Ji nodded.
"Improvement."
Shen stared at her.
"Do not sound so pleased."
"I'm proud of you."
"You met me yesterday."
"And already you've grown."
Gao's page stopped turning for half a breath.
Ji looked at him.
"You laughed."
"No."
"You did."
"I did not."
Shen's mouth twitched.
Ji pointed at her.
"You too."
The exchange should have felt strange.
It did not.
That was strange in itself.
Ji had known Shen for less than a day.
Yet the familiar warmth between their Gates still lingered beneath everything else, no longer mysterious in origin even if Ji did not fully understand the feeling itself.
Some part of Taihua's Gate remembered Shen's.
Or remembered what had created it.
Ji still had difficulty thinking about that.
The founders.
Thirteen Gates.
People who had once known one another before becoming figures preserved in ancient histories.
Shen had spoken of Feng Qingyu with the weary affection of someone discussing a teacher who had spent years talking too much.
Ji had spent most of the night wondering what Taihua would sound like.
The question had become irritating by morning.
She cracked another pod.
"When?"
Shen did not look up.
"Tonight."
"You knew what I meant."
"Yes."
"That is irritating."
"I have been trained by experts."
"Sixteen of them."
"Exactly."
Ji looked down at the bowl.
"What if I hear them before then?"
"You probably will not."
"Probably."
Shen nodded.
"Probably."
Ji waited.
Shen looked up.
"What?"
"You said probably."
"I did."
"You don't know."
"No."
The answer came comfortably.
Ji liked that.
Shen knew far more than Ji.
She did not pretend that meant knowing everything.
"What happened to you the first time?"
"I forced my way in."
Ji smiled immediately.
"Of course you did."
"It seemed efficient."
"And Feng Qingyu?"
"Was waiting."
"That sounds convenient."
"It was not."
"How long did she lecture you?"
Shen considered.
"The first lecture?"
Ji stared.
"There were several."
"Yes."
"How long was the first?"
"About two hours."
Gao turned another page.
"Remarkable restraint."
Shen looked offended.
"She would agree with you."
Ji laughed.
Then the laughter faded.
"What does forcing it actually mean?"
Shen set down the pod in her hand.
This time Gao stopped pretending the conversation was incidental.
He closed the ledger.
Shen noticed.
She did not object.
"The mental scape is not a second physical location," she said.
Ji nodded.
"But your mind gives it structure."
"A place."
"Something like one."
"And the Gate is inside it."
"Yes."
"So why can't I just go there?"
"Because you are still imagining it as somewhere you need to reach."
Ji frowned.
"That seems reasonable."
"It did to me too."
"And Feng Qingyu disagreed."
"Repeatedly."
Ji rested her hands on her knees.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Stop trying to reach it."
"That sounds useless."
"It sounded useless when she said it."
"And?"
"She was right."
Ji sighed.
Ancient experts had an irritating tendency to survive disagreements by being correct.
Shen continued.
"The Gate is already part of you."
"I know."
"No. You know the sentence."
Ji looked at her.
Shen touched her own chest.
"You still think of it as an object you obtained."
Ji went quiet.
That was true.
Something had opened.
Something had entered her life.
Something had given her power.
The language always placed the Gate somewhere outside herself, even when she knew physically that was not how it worked.
Shen watched understanding form.
"You do not travel toward it," she said. "You stop holding yourself away from it."
"That still sounds like mountain-hermit nonsense."
"It is."
"And useful."
"Unfortunately."
Ji cracked another pod.
"What if I find a barrier?"
"Do not break it."
"You are very committed to this."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the Gate is not resisting you."
Ji looked at her.
"If something feels closed, there may be a reason."
"Such as?"
"Your mind protecting itself. An inheritance layer not yet integrated. A predecessor choosing not to overwhelm you. A memory you are not ready to process."
Ji thought of the march.
Of Cangyuan.
Of everything she had drawn upon without understanding.
"Can the Gate stop me?"
"Yes."
"Can I force it anyway?"
Shen's expression sharpened.
"Probably."
Ji looked at her.
"You did."
"I forced an entrance. I did not attempt to destroy anything."
"That is different."
"Very."
Ji absorbed that.
Shen picked up another pod.
"There is almost nothing outside Taotie that poses a meaningful threat to a Gate itself."
Ji's attention snapped back.
"Nothing?"
"I said almost."
"What could?"
"Taotie."
"That is one."
"Controlled training circumstances can expose vulnerabilities because we suppress ourselves deliberately."
"That is not the same thing."
"No."
"Could I break mine?"
Shen looked at her for a long moment.
"If you dedicated yourself to doing something catastrophically stupid with enough knowledge and enough time, I refuse to say anything is impossible."
Ji almost smiled.
"But?"
"But a Royal Gate is not some artifact you accidentally crack because you mishandled one technique."
Gao nodded once.
"That seems sensible."
Shen continued.
"No predecessor ever shattered one for a power increase. No one burned one out to win a desperate battle. That would defeat the entire purpose of the inheritance."
Ji looked down.
"Then forcing Divine Ascendant—"
"Is a different question."
"We're still technically Perfected Supremes."
"Yes."
"And the Gate keeps us there because true advancement would cost its finite Origin Essence foundation."
"Correct."
"Has anyone tested it?"
Shen smiled faintly.
"You should ask Taihua."
Ji stared.
"That means yes."
"It means I know what Feng Qingyu told me about one attempt involving another Gate."
"What happened?"
"They stopped."
Ji blinked.
"That's all?"
"They were testing a theory, not trying to kill themselves."
"What theory?"
Shen looked at her.
Ji understood before she answered.
"If a Gatebearer at Perfected Supreme can fight most Empyreans…"
Shen nodded.
"Then raising the actual baseline to Divine Ascendant might push the entire effective range upward."
"Sovereigns."
"In theory."
Ji's pulse quickened.
"That would be worth testing."
"Yes."
Shen answered too quickly for moralizing.
That mattered.
"The idea was not foolish," she continued. "The risk was."
"How far did they get?"
"Far enough to confirm that the Origin Essence foundation would begin paying the cost."
"And then?"
"They stopped before the damage became irreversible."
Ji looked toward the bowl.
"So nobody broke anything."
"No."
"Nobody won some battle by crippling their Gate."
"No."
"Good."
Shen smiled.
"You sound relieved."
"I am."
"Why?"
Ji considered.
"Because it would be stupid."
Gao reopened his ledger.
"A persuasive historical judgment."
Ji looked at him.
"You agree."
"I do."
The rest of the beans were finished before midday.
Shen improved enough that Lihua inspected the bowls without criticism.
Ji found herself absurdly satisfied.
Then Gao disappeared with a cousin to settle an argument over irrigation markers older than several living members of the branch household.
Ji asked why everyone kept finding work for him.
Gao replied that this was what happened when people knew where you lived.
Ji decided that was probably the real reason he had spent so much of his life travelling.
She and Shen walked toward the river.
The path passed beneath cedar trees and descended between terraces.
Ji had left the wooden toy horse in her room.
Halfway down the path, she thought about it.
Shen noticed her glance back.
"What did you forget?"
"Nothing."
"You looked back."
"That does not mean I forgot something."
"It usually does."
Ji sighed.
"The horse."
Shen stopped.
Ji continued.
Shen caught up.
"The toy horse."
"Yes."
"You considered bringing it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Shen smiled.
"That sounds important."
"It is a badly carved toy with uneven wheels."
"So you care about it."
Ji looked at her.
"That was aggressive."
"I learned from Feng Qingyu."
"Stop using her as an excuse."
"I am using her as attribution."
Ji almost laughed.
They reached the river.
The water ran clear between dark stones.
Ji sat near the bank.
Shen sat beside her.
Neither spoke immediately.
Ji had discovered that Shen was comfortable with silence.
That helped.
Eventually Ji asked, "How long can a Gate remain without a bearer?"
Shen turned.
"Indefinitely, as far as I know."
Ji frowned.
"Indefinitely."
"Yes."
"No timer."
"No."
"No selection cycle."
"No."
Ji looked at the river.
"My Sixteenth Generation bearer died around one hundred and fifty years ago."
"Yes."
"You know that?"
"Feng Qingyu knew approximately when the Dragon Royal Gate lost its last bearer."
Ji absorbed that.
"So it just sat there."
"Without a bearer."
"For a century and a half."
"Yes."
"Waiting for me."
Shen's expression changed immediately.
"No."
Ji looked at her.
"Not for you."
Shen's voice was gentle.
"That distinction matters."
Ji said nothing.
"The Gate did not choose you at birth."
"I know."
"It did not know your name a century ago."
Ji looked toward the water.
"It wasn't steering me."
"No."
"Didn't arrange Cangyuan."
"No."
"Didn't wait until enough people died."
"No."
Each answer came without hesitation.
That mattered more than Ji wanted to admit.
"Then what happened?"
"You qualified."
Ji frowned.
"That sounds administrative."
Shen smiled.
"It probably would sound worse if Gao said it."
"It would."
"The Gate remained without a bearer because no one met everything it required."
"For one hundred and fifty years."
"Yes."
"That seems absurd."
"It is rare."
Ji looked at her.
"What does it require?"
"That part is better answered by Taihua."
"You know some of it."
"Yes."
"Tell me."
Shen considered.
"All Gatebearers share several broad requirements."
Ji waited.
"A genuine desire for power."
"That one I understand."
"Do you?"
Ji's eyes narrowed.
Shen continued.
"Not merely wanting the benefits of power."
"Status."
"Or safety. Wealth. fear. authority."
"Revenge?"
"That can still be genuine desire for power."
Ji looked at her.
"You wanted revenge."
"Yes."
"And power."
"Yes."
"Separately."
Shen smiled faintly.
"Yes."
Ji understood.
Shen had not wanted power only as a tool she planned to discard when revenge ended.
She had wanted strength itself.
"So every Gatebearer wants to become stronger."
"Yes."
"Deeply."
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Talent."
Ji nodded.
That seemed obvious.
Shen sharpened it.
"Not ordinary talent."
"How much?"
"Enough that giving the person sixteen generations of inheritance is not wasting sixteen generations of inheritance."
Ji looked at her.
"That is severe."
"It needs to be."
"Because Taotie."
"Yes."
Shen picked up a small stone and rolled it between her fingers.
"The Gate can provide impossible advantages."
"But the bearer still has to use them."
"Exactly."
"And every generation is supposed to go farther."
Shen looked at her.
"Yes."
Ji caught the emphasis.
"Supposed to."
"From the Second Generation onward, the accumulation pushes the next bearer higher."
"Power."
"Power. Knowledge. techniques. memories. combat experience. refinements. mistakes already learned from."
Ji looked at the river.
"So the Third starts above where the Second started."
"Yes."
"And the Fourth above the Third."
"Overall, yes."
"Always?"
"The founders complicate the comparison."
"Because Taihua and Feng Qingyu were already Peak Sovereigns."
"Yes."
"Origin bloodlines."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Cores."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Talents."
"Yes."
Ji breathed out.
"So First Generation is its own thing."
"Very much."
"Second establishes the post-founder baseline."
"Yes."
"And then it climbs."
"Generation by generation."
Ji was quiet.
"Then why did all sixteen fail?"
Shen's fingers stopped around the stone.
"Because Taotie is Taotie."
The answer carried no drama.
That made it worse.
"Every one."
"Yes."
"Died fighting it."
"Yes."
"No exceptions."
"No."
Ji looked at Shen.
"No one died peacefully before the fight."
"No."
"No one simply got old."
"Some got old."
Ji blinked.
Shen continued.
"They just still eventually faced Taotie."
"How old?"
"That depends on how long that generation had before the Seal weakened enough for another confrontation."
Ji stared.
"So some had decades."
"Yes."
"Maybe much longer."
"Yes."
"And some had less."
"Yes."
Ji looked back at the river.
"They could have whole lives."
"Some did."
"Families."
"Yes."
"Students."
"Yes."
"Friends."
"Yes."
"Then Taotie came."
"Yes."
"And they died."
"Yes."
The cruelty of it settled slowly.
Not sixteen lives spent continuously waiting for death.
Something worse.
Sixteen people permitted to live.
Then asked to end those lives in the same war.
"What happens when they die?"
"Their deaths become part of the continuation."
Ji looked at her.
"They reinforce the Seal."
"Yes."
"And the Gate."
"Yes."
"And leave the remnant."
"Yes."
"Power too."
"Yes."
Ji thought about accumulation.
Every loss becoming strength for the next.
Every dead bearer becoming another teacher.
Another fragment.
Another layer.
"None won."
"No."
"Then the Seventeenth Generation exists because sixteen generations lost."
Shen looked at her.
"And because they lost well enough for there to be another generation."
Ji felt something move in her chest.
Not comfort.
Something harder.
Foundation.
She looked at Shen.
"So the Gates are built from failures."
Shen shook her head.
"No."
Ji frowned.
"Then what?"
"Continuations."
Ji looked away.
She did not answer.
After a while she asked, "What else qualifies someone?"
Shen knew what she was doing.
Moving away because Ji had reached enough.
She followed.
"Character."
"Moral character."
"Yes."
Ji looked at her.
"Then the Gates are judging good and evil."
"Not simplistically."
"That sounds vague."
"It is complicated."
"Try."
Shen thought for a moment.
"A bearer does not need to be gentle."
Ji almost laughed.
"Good."
"They do not need to be universally selfless."
"Also good."
"They can be angry. difficult. arrogant. vindictive. stubborn."
"Feng Qingyu?"
"Several of those."
Ji smiled.
"But eventually," Shen continued, "the Gate needs someone capable of standing before Taotie knowing what the previous sixteen outcomes were."
Ji's smile faded.
"And still fighting."
"Yes."
"So cowardice disqualifies them."
"Not fear."
Ji looked at her.
"Important difference."
Shen nodded.
"A Gatebearer can be terrified."
"But must still be capable of choosing the fight."
"Yes."
Ji thought of herself.
She did not know whether she could do that.
The idea was too large.
Shen seemed to read enough from her face.
"You do not have to prove that today."
"But the Gate already thinks I can."
"It thinks you possess the character necessary to become someone who can."
Ji looked at her.
"That is not the same thing."
"No."
Good.
Another distinction.
"And then each Gate has its own requirements," Shen said.
"The founder."
"Yes."
"Taihua's."
"Responsibility is one."
Ji went still.
Shen looked toward the river.
"I know that from Feng Qingyu."
"Of course she knew."
"They were childhood friends."
Ji turned.
The phrase landed strangely.
Not ancient allies.
Not fellow Sovereigns.
Childhood friends.
"She knew Taihua as a child."
"Yes."
"And her brothers."
"Yes."
"And the others."
"The founders grew up together."
Ji tried to picture it.
Peak Sovereigns as children.
Taihua before Empress.
Feng Qingyu before Queen.
Impossible figures existing before history turned them into titles.
"They created the Gates together."
"Yes."
"While sealing Taotie's soul."
"Yes."
"All thirteen."
"Yes."
"So Taihua didn't make mine alone."
"No."
Shen's expression softened.
"Each Gate carries its founder most strongly. But the thirteen-Gate system was theirs together."
Ji looked at her.
"They knew they were going to die."
"Yes."
"And still did it."
"Yes."
Moral qualification.
Ji suddenly understood why the Gates would care.
Not purity in the sense of innocence.
Purity in the sense of being capable of ultimately giving everything to something larger.
"And responsibility."
Shen nodded.
"Feng Qingyu said Taihua always had too much of it."
"That sounds like criticism."
"With childhood friends, it usually is."
Ji smiled faintly.
"What about the desire for power?"
"That is universal."
"Has every bearer wanted it for some noble reason?"
"No."
The answer came quickly enough to surprise her.
Ji looked over.
Shen smiled.
"One apparently just thought strength was wonderful."
Ji blinked.
"What?"
"One of the previous bearers."
"Which Gate?"
"I'll let the relevant predecessor tell you someday."
Ji stared.
"That sounds suspiciously like mystery."
"It is avoiding telling someone else's story badly."
Ji accepted that.
Barely.
"What was his reason?"
"That was the reason."
"No revenge?"
"No."
"No family to save?"
"No."
"No ambition to rule?"
"No."
"No great responsibility?"
"Not as the cause of the desire."
Ji frowned.
"He just wanted power."
"Yes."
"Because being powerful sounded good."
"Yes."
Shen smiled.
"Apparently with such uncomplicated sincerity that the Gate answered."
Ji laughed.
"That might be the healthiest one."
"Possibly."
"But he still had the rest."
"Talent. character. compatibility. founder-specific traits."
"And eventually fought Taotie."
"Yes."
"And died."
"Yes."
The humor softened.
Still, Ji liked the story.
Not every Gatebearer began with bodies.
That mattered.
She had not realized she needed that either.
By evening, Ji's anticipation had become almost intolerable.
She ate dinner.
She answered Gao when he asked whether Shen had successfully learned to shell beans.
She listened while Lihua complained that an eastern branch household had once again borrowed tools without returning them.
She helped clear bowls.
Nothing terrible happened because Taihua had to wait another hour.
Ji kept reminding herself of that.
When the household quieted, Shen met her outside the guest room.
Gao was already there.
He carried a kettle.
Ji looked at him.
"You're staying."
"For the beginning."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Ji smiled faintly.
The answer still mattered.
Inside, they sat around the low table.
Three cups.
Warm lamplight.
Ji looked around deliberately.
Bed.
Window.
Folded robe.
The small wooden horse on the shelf.
She let herself notice all of it.
Shen watched.
"Good."
Ji looked at her.
"You are going to praise everything I do, aren't you?"
"No."
"That sounded threatening."
"It was reassurance."
Gao poured tea.
Shen moved her cushion slightly closer.
"Sit comfortably."
Ji crossed her legs.
"No seals?"
"No."
"No mantra."
"No."
"No circulation pattern."
"Not for entering."
Ji looked disappointed.
Shen smiled.
"You wanted ceremony."
"I wanted instructions."
"You have them."
"This is barely anything."
"That is the point."
Ji closed her eyes.
Shen's voice softened.
"Notice the room."
Ji frowned without opening her eyes.
"You said mental scape."
"Notice the room first."
Ji did.
The cushion beneath her.
The faint heat of the lamp.
Gao's breathing.
Shen's.
The smell of tea.
The small pressure of her sleeves against her wrists.
"Now your body."
Heartbeat.
Breath.
Hands resting on her knees.
No reaching.
No spreading awareness.
The valley remained outside herself.
"Do not search for the Gate."
Ji exhaled.
"I remember."
"Good."
"Stop."
Shen almost laughed.
Then quiet returned.
Ji waited.
Nothing happened.
She resisted the urge to make something happen.
More nothing.
Her jaw tightened.
Then she noticed the mistake.
She was waiting.
Waiting was still doing something.
Expecting a door.
Expecting a sensation.
Expecting Taihua.
Ji let the expectation go.
The room remained.
Then something beneath it became obvious.
It had been there the entire time.
Not pressure.
Not energy.
Familiarity.
Older than the feeling Shen's Gate had awakened in her.
Deeper.
Ji's breath slowed.
She did not turn toward it.
Did not follow.
Did not reach.
She simply stopped pretending it was separate.
The room faded.
Not vanished.
Released.
For one impossible instant, Ji had no sense of direction.
Then stars appeared.
She opened her eyes.
A black stone path stretched beneath her feet.
Still water lay on either side.
Above, a sky unfolded with more stars than Ji had ever seen from Yunluo.
Some were vast.
Some distant.
Some surrounded by colors she had no names for.
A pale river of light crossed the darkness.
Ji stared.
"This is inside me."
Her voice travelled across the water strangely.
Not echoing.
Remembered.
Ahead stood the Gate.
Taihua's Dragon Royal Gate.
Ji knew it before thought named it.
Enormous.
Dark metal covered in structures that resembled dragons only until she looked too closely.
Then they became something deeper.
Lines.
Authorities.
History written into shape.
Ji took one step.
Stopped.
No chasing.
She breathed.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Ji immediately felt foolish.
Then a woman behind her said, "The Sixteenth said exactly the same thing."
Ji turned.
A woman stood several paces away.
No arrival.
No movement.
She was simply there.
Ji stared.
Dark hair fell behind her shoulders.
Her robes belonged to no period Ji recognized.
Elegant.
Severe only in the way old things often looked severe because the people copying them had forgotten the person beneath them.
No crown.
No weapon.
No visible pressure.
Still, Ji knew.
Not because of appearance.
Because the Gate knew itself.
"Taihua."
The woman smiled.
"Xuanyue."
Ji's throat tightened.
Taihua stepped closer.
Stopped before entering Ji's reach.
Respectful.
That surprised her.
For a moment, every question disappeared.
Then all of them returned together.
Taihua watched her face.
"You expected something else."
Ji blinked.
"What?"
"Horns."
Ji stared.
Taihua touched the side of her own head.
"People usually do."
Ji nearly laughed.
"Shen said Feng Qingyu talks too much."
Taihua became very still.
Then slowly smiled.
"Did she."
Ji realized she had opened badly.
"Yes."
"Her exact wording?"
"Yaps."
Taihua closed her eyes.
Ji waited.
When the Empress opened them again, she looked delighted.
"I like Shen Yaoran."
"You've never met her."
"I like her already."
Ji laughed.
The tension broke.
Not completely.
Enough.
"You knew Feng Qingyu."
Taihua's expression softened.
"Since we were children."
Ji stared.
"Actually children."
"Yes."
"Before Peak Sovereign."
"Long before."
"Before Empress."
Taihua smiled faintly.
"Before she learned how difficult she was."
Ji almost laughed again.
"Shen says she still hasn't."
"I am unsurprised."
Ji looked at the woman in front of her.
Peak Sovereign.
Primordial Dragon Empress.
Childhood friend.
The combination made Taihua feel more real, not less impossible.
"Your brothers too."
"Yes."
"And the other founders."
"Yes."
"We grew up together."
Taihua's gaze shifted briefly toward the stars.
"Not all in one household. Not all in one place every year. But together enough that none of us ever managed to escape knowing the others too well."
"You created the Gates together."
"Yes."
"While sealing Taotie's soul."
"Yes."
"Not thirteen separate projects."
"No."
Taihua looked toward the immense Gate.
"The Gates differ because we differed."
Then back to Ji.
"But the system was ours together."
Ji thought of Shen's Phoenix Royal Gate.
The familiar warmth.
Friend.
Not because Ji knew Shen.
Because their foundations remembered people who had.
"You sacrificed yourself."
"Yes."
"So did Feng Qingyu."
"Yes."
"Your brothers."
"Yes."
"The others."
"Yes."
Taihua said it without ceremony.
Ji hated how easy the word sounded.
"You all knew."
"That we would die?"
"Yes."
"We knew enough."
"Why?"
Taihua looked at her.
"Because Taotie's soul could not be left unsealed."
Ji waited.
"And because sealing it once would not end the problem."
"The Gates."
"Yes."
"You built continuation."
A slight smile.
"Shen explained that well."
Ji looked toward the Gate.
"Sixteen people after you."
"Before you."
"Yes."
"All dead."
"Yes."
"Fighting Taotie."
"Yes."
"No exceptions."
"No."
The answer came clearly.
Ji appreciated that.
"Some lived long lives."
"Yes."
"Shen said some generations had more time."
"The Seal did not weaken on a convenient schedule."
Taihua's expression darkened slightly.
"Some bearers had years enough to build lives around the burden."
"Families."
"Yes."
"Students."
"Yes."
"Careers."
"Sometimes."
"Love."
Taihua smiled faintly.
"Frequently enough."
"And then?"
"Taotie."
Ji looked down.
"Every time."
"Every time."
"And they lost."
"Yes."
Taihua did not soften it.
"None defeated Taotie. None survived their final confrontation."
Ji looked toward the distant Gate.
"Then they reinforced the Seal."
"Yes."
"The Gate."
"Yes."
"And left themselves behind."
"Yes."
"Another brick."
Taihua's expression changed.
"Is that how Shen described it?"
"No."
"My wording."
Taihua considered.
"Crude."
"Accurate?"
"Yes."
Ji looked past her.
At first she saw nothing beyond the Gate.
Then her perception shifted.
Presences.
Fifteen.
Different.
One quiet.
One restless.
One somehow amused.
Another distant enough that Ji could barely distinguish anything at all.
"They're there."
"Yes."
"All fifteen."
"Yes."
"They can hear us."
"Some can."
Ji immediately became aware of herself.
Taihua laughed.
"Relax."
"That is easy for you."
"Most are not listening."
"How do you know?"
"I have spent generations with them."
Ji looked again.
One presence felt distinctly amused.
"Someone is."
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Later."
Ji frowned.
Taihua's smile widened.
"That one enjoys first meetings."
Ji looked away.
The feeling of being observed should have been uncomfortable.
It was.
Not entirely.
There was something else beneath it.
Continuity.
Sixteen people who had all stood where Ji would eventually stand.
Not literally.
Nothing about this place was literal enough for that.
But they had all been the newest voice once.
Ji turned back to Taihua.
"Were they stronger every generation?"
Taihua's expression sharpened approvingly.
"Good."
"That was not an answer."
"It was recognition of the right question."
"Answer it."
Taihua smiled.
"The First Generation is a poor comparison."
"Because you were already Peak Sovereigns."
"Yes."
"Origin bloodlines."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Cores."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Talents."
"Yes."
"Authorities."
"Yes."
Ji stared.
"You say that like it was normal."
"It was not normal."
"Even then."
"No."
Taihua's smile became dry.
"We were exceptional even in an age where exceptional meant something much less forgiving than it does now."
Ji absorbed that.
"Then the Second Generation."
"Began the actual inherited progression."
"How strong?"
"That varies by Gate."
"Because the founders left different foundations."
"And because the Second bearers themselves differed."
Ji nodded.
"But after that?"
"Accumulation."
Taihua looked toward the Gate.
"Every death left power."
A pause.
"Every life left knowledge."
Another.
"Every battle left experience."
Another.
"Every mistake left warning."
Ji listened.
"The next bearer began with more than the previous bearer had begun with."
"So Third above Second."
"Overall."
"Fourth above Third."
"Overall."
"And so on."
"Yes."
"No weak generations."
Taihua's gaze sharpened.
"Do not confuse personality with capability."
Ji nodded.
"One bearer may have hated combat."
"But still stronger."
"Than the generation before, once developed."
"One might have had less time before Taotie."
"Yes."
"But inherited more."
"Yes."
"One might specialize differently."
"Yes."
"But the foundation keeps climbing."
"Exactly."
Ji looked toward the fifteen presences.
Sixteen generations.
Each stronger than the last.
Each still dead.
"That makes Taotie worse."
Taihua did not deny it.
"Yes."
Ji looked away.
For several breaths, she watched stars reflected in still water.
Then she asked, "Why me?"
Taihua's face changed.
Not because she did not understand.
Because she did.
Ji continued before the answer could become too easy.
"Shen said the Gate had no bearer for around one hundred and fifty years."
"Yes."
"The Sixteenth died."
"Yes."
"And then nothing."
"No bearer."
"For all that time."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because no one qualified."
Ji looked at her.
"That simple."
"That difficult."
Ji waited.
Taihua folded her hands loosely behind her back.
"The Gate did not choose you at birth, Xuanyue."
Ji's chest tightened.
"I know."
"It did not know your name before you existed."
"I know."
"It did not arrange your bloodline."
Ji said nothing.
"It did not create Cangyuan."
Still nothing.
"It did not kill the people you loved to make you suitable."
Ji looked away sharply.
Taihua let the silence remain.
After several breaths Ji asked, "Then what did it see?"
"Someone who met everything."
"That sounds vague."
"It is not."
Taihua stepped closer.
"Talent."
Ji looked at her.
"Enough that the inheritance would not be wasted."
"More than enough."
Ji swallowed.
"Compatibility."
"Yes."
"Bloodline."
"Helpful."
"Not required?"
"Not universally."
"For this Gate?"
"It strengthened your resonance enormously."
Ji thought of the bloodline she barely understood.
The old dormant Origin grade.
Shen had told her they would return to that later.
Taihua continued.
"Desire."
"For power."
"Yes."
Ji almost laughed.
"That part was not subtle."
"No."
"Everyone wants power."
"No."
Ji frowned.
"Most cultivators do."
"Most want what power gives them."
Ji went quiet.
Taihua's eyes remained on hers.
"Status."
"Yes."
"Safety."
"Yes."
"Freedom."
"Yes."
"Revenge."
"Sometimes."
"Protection."
"Sometimes."
"But Gatebearers…"
"Want strength itself."
Ji understood.
Not necessarily without reason.
But not reluctantly.
Not as something they would discard once the immediate problem disappeared.
She had wanted power when Cangyuan began slaughtering people because power had become the only language left that might stop them.
She still wanted it now.
That realization felt uncomfortable.
True.
"And moral character," Ji said.
"Yes."
"You judge us."
"We assess you."
"That sounds like a nicer word."
"It is more accurate."
Ji waited.
Taihua looked toward the Gate.
"A bearer must eventually stand before Taotie."
"Yes."
"Knowing sixteen generations died."
"Yes."
"And still choose to fight."
"Yes."
Ji's mouth went dry.
"What if I'm afraid?"
"Then you are alive."
Ji looked at her.
"Fear does not disqualify you."
"Running does."
Taihua considered.
"Choosing never to return would."
Ji absorbed that distinction.
"You think I can do it."
"The Gate thinks you possess the capacity to become someone who can."
"That is not certainty."
"No."
Good.
Ji had become suspicious of certainty.
"What makes yours different?"
"My Gate?"
"Yes."
"Founder-specific traits."
"Responsibility."
Taihua smiled faintly.
"Feng told Shen."
"Yes."
"She would."
"Is she wrong?"
"No."
Ji looked at the water.
"Why responsibility?"
Taihua's expression grew quieter.
"Because power without responsibility becomes appetite."
Ji looked up.
"Taotie."
Taihua smiled without humor.
"Among other things."
Ji thought of Cangyuan.
The Dragon-Crowned Emperor.
Authority without understanding.
Violence inherited as entitlement.
"You wanted someone who would act when others wouldn't."
"Yes."
"Even if they didn't want authority."
"Especially then."
Ji frowned.
"That sounds inconvenient."
"It often is."
Taihua's gaze held hers.
"You wanted power because Cangyuan's slaughter had become unreasonable and the people responsible for stopping it were failing, dying, or trapped inside systems that could no longer answer quickly enough."
Ji's breath tightened.
"You wanted someone to be able to stop it."
"Yes."
"And eventually you wanted that someone to be you."
Ji said nothing.
Taihua continued.
"That mattered."
"More than the bloodline."
"In selection?"
"Yes."
Ji looked at her.
"Then someone without tragedy could qualify."
"Of course."
"Shen told me about one."
Taihua's eyebrows rose.
"Which story did she steal from someone else's Gate?"
"She didn't say."
"Wise."
"He just wanted to be strong."
Taihua smiled.
"I know the one."
Ji brightened despite herself.
"He really had no grand reason."
"No."
"No murdered family."
"No."
"No Realm to save."
"No."
"No tyrant."
"No."
"No hidden ambition."
Taihua's smile widened.
"He thought strength was magnificent."
Ji laughed.
"That was it."
"That was it."
"And the Gate accepted him."
"He was extraordinarily talented."
"Of course."
"Morally sound."
"Of course."
"Compatible."
"Yes."
"And he possessed the founder-specific traits required."
"Yes."
"But the desire itself was just—"
"Being strong is wonderful."
Taihua's eyes held old amusement.
"He said something very close to that."
Ji laughed harder.
The distant amused presence beyond the Gate seemed to react.
Ji stopped.
"Was that him?"
Taihua looked toward the Gate.
"No."
"That is somehow worse."
"You will meet them."
"All of them?"
"If you want."
Ji looked at her.
"You say that like I can choose."
"You can."
That landed differently.
Ji looked around.
The Gate.
The stars.
The fifteen presences.
"Inheritance."
"Yes."
"Not command."
"Yes."
Something in her chest loosened.
Then another question returned.
"Why did I awaken when I did?"
Taihua's expression changed.
Ji saw it immediately.
"Don't tell me fate."
"I was not going to."
"Good."
"The Gate had been without a bearer for roughly one hundred and fifty years."
"Yes."
"You were the first person in that time to resonate strongly enough with every requirement."
Ji frowned.
"But why that exact moment?"
"Because before that moment, you had not crossed the threshold."
"What changed?"
Taihua considered.
"Several things."
"Talent didn't suddenly appear."
"No."
"Bloodline?"
"Your dormant bloodline had begun stirring."
Ji went still.
"The Gate caused that."
"The Origin Essence involved in the awakening accelerated it."
"Before awakening?"
"The resonance can begin before full acceptance."
Ji looked at her.
"So it noticed me."
"Yes."
"When?"
"I cannot give you a precise day."
Ji waited.
Taihua continued.
"Not at birth."
"Good."
"Not as a child."
"Good."
"Not because some prophecy marked you."
"Good."
Taihua smiled faintly.
"Your relief is becoming repetitive."
"I have had enough things happen without my permission."
Taihua's smile disappeared.
"I know."
Ji looked away.
"What else changed?"
"Your desire for power deepened."
"Because Cangyuan."
"Yes."
"And responsibility."
"Yes."
"The willingness to act."
"Yes."
"And circumstance."
Ji's eyes narrowed.
"Circumstance sounds dangerous."
"Not suffering as a test."
Taihua answered immediately.
"The Gate did not require your losses."
Ji looked at her.
"It required the person who existed when the resonance completed."
Ji was quiet.
"Could I have qualified without everyone dying?"
"Yes."
Immediate.
The answer struck harder than anything else.
Ji closed her eyes.
For one heartbeat, the mental scape vanished beneath memories.
Meiyu.
Jianyu.
Suyin.
Wen.
Mingyuan.
Lanyin.
Names.
Faces.
Gone.
And none of it had been required.
Good.
Terrible.
Good.
Ji opened her eyes.
"The Gate came too late."
Taihua did not contradict her.
"Yes."
Ji's throat tightened.
"You could have awakened me earlier."
"No."
"You don't know that."
"I know the Gate had not accepted you earlier."
"That's different."
"Yes."
Ji hated the precision.
"Could it have?"
Taihua looked at her for a long time.
"I do not know."
Ji's anger rose.
"You made it."
"With twelve other founders."
"You know how it works."
"I know more than you."
"That is not enough."
"No."
The answer stopped her.
Taihua did not defend herself.
Did not invent certainty.
"The Gate is older than sixteen bearers and built from more than my intent alone."
She looked toward the enormous structure.
"We created mechanisms whose full behavior became richer through every generation that followed."
Ji stared.
"You don't control it."
"No."
"You never did."
"Not completely."
"And you didn't choose me."
"No."
Ji breathed.
There.
The answer beneath the answer.
Taihua had not watched Lanyue die while deciding whether Ji deserved power.
The Gate had not been waiting for the correct amount of grief.
No one had chosen the timing for cruelty.
It had simply happened when Ji finally met everything required.
Chance.
Qualification.
Timing.
Too late for some people.
Not destiny.
Ji looked away.
"I was lucky."
Taihua's expression softened.
"Very."
"That sounds wrong."
"Why?"
"Look what happened."
"You are confusing being fortunate to receive the Gate with being fortunate in everything else."
Ji almost laughed.
"That sounds like Gao."
"I dislike him already."
"You haven't met him."
"You keep comparing me to him."
"Fair."
Taihua gestured down the path.
"Walk."
Ji followed.
The Gate did not appear farther away no matter how long they moved.
Ji eventually stopped trying to understand that.
"Tell me about the Sixteenth."
Taihua looked at her.
"Not tonight."
Ji frowned.
"That sounded like Shen before I corrected her."
Taihua smiled.
"Then let me be precise."
Ji waited.
"You have just met me."
"Yes."
"You have fifteen other predecessors."
"Yes."
"You have learned how selection works, how generational accumulation works, and why every predecessor died."
"Yes."
"You are emotionally exhausted despite pretending otherwise."
Ji opened her mouth.
Taihua raised one eyebrow.
Ji closed it.
"The Sixteenth deserves to be more than the next piece of information I throw at you."
Ji considered.
That was fair.
Annoying.
Fair.
"Fine."
"Good."
"Don't sound pleased."
"I am pleased."
They continued.
Ji looked toward the stars.
"Shen showed me nothing yesterday."
Taihua glanced at her.
"That sounds unlike Feng Qingyu's student."
"She explained."
"Ah."
"Peak Sovereigns."
Taihua's expression sharpened.
"What did she tell you?"
"That Feng Qingyu showed her a memory."
"Of herself."
"Yes."
"Peak Sovereign."
"Yes."
"Origin bloodline."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Core."
"Yes."
"Transcendent Talent."
"Yes."
Taihua nodded slowly.
"And what did Shen understand?"
"That she could kill most Empyreans once properly developed and still be nowhere near Feng Qingyu."
Taihua smiled.
"Good."
Ji frowned.
"That was your reaction?"
"It means Qingyu showed her correctly."
"You could show me."
"Yes."
Ji stopped walking.
Taihua stopped too.
"That easy?"
"No."
Ji waited.
"The answer is easy."
"And doing it?"
"Also easy."
Ji stared.
Taihua's smile widened.
"Understanding it will be harder."
"That sounds like a challenge."
"It is a warning."
Ji looked at the stars.
"I want to see."
"Why?"
"Because I want a real scale."
"Why?"
Ji frowned.
"You already know."
"Say it."
Ji sighed.
"Because I spent years thinking Sovereign meant something I could not understand."
"Yes."
"Then Cangyuan turned the word into an imperial title."
"Yes."
"I awakened."
"Yes."
"I killed the Dragon Emperor."
"Yes."
"The Dragon God stood down."
"Yes."
"And suddenly everything I had ever used as a measure became useless."
Taihua waited.
"I need to know where I actually am."
"Closer."
Ji looked at her.
"That was not an answer."
"It is the reason."
Ji understood.
She was not asking from curiosity.
She wanted the world to have proportions again.
"Show me."
Taihua lifted one hand.
The mental scape changed.
No explosion.
No transition.
Ji simply stood somewhere else.
The black path vanished.
The still water vanished.
Around her—
Realms.
Not diagrams.
Not distant lights.
Immense spheres of existence suspended across an expanse saturated with currents Ji could barely perceive.
Energy moved between them.
Not the thin spiritual currents she knew from Yunluo.
Vast rivers.
Origin-rich structures.
Living networks extending farther than her mind could hold.
Ji forgot to breathe.
"This is a memory."
Taihua stood beside her.
She looked unchanged.
The memory did not.
It knew what she had been.
Ji felt only an echo.
A deliberately reduced impression.
Still, her instincts recoiled.
Not from danger.
From scale.
Taihua did not feel like a powerful person standing inside the Expanse.
The Expanse seemed to treat her presence as a fact it had to account for.
Distance curved around intention.
Energy moved without resisting her.
Space itself felt less like a boundary and more like a material she had learned to handle.
Far away, something crossed between Realms.
Ji knew without being told.
Empyrean.
The presence was enormous.
Old Ji would have understood it as divine.
Even current Ji felt its power.
Then she compared it to Taihua.
The comparison collapsed.
Not because Taihua merely possessed more.
The relationship between them felt categorical.
Ji swallowed.
"Shen said most Empyreans."
"For a mature seventeenth-generation Gatebearer?"
"Yes."
"Reasonable."
Taihua looked toward the distant presence.
"You will not understand how large that statement is until your own foundation stabilizes."
Ji stared.
"And you?"
"I was Peak Sovereign."
"That doesn't answer it."
"It does."
Ji looked at her.
Taihua smiled faintly.
The memory shifted.
Taihua raised one hand.
A current linking two distant Realms changed direction.
Ji saw no strain.
No violence.
No great release.
The current simply obeyed a different path.
Space folded.
Distance became negotiable.
Ji's stomach turned.
The memory ended.
Black stone returned.
Stars overhead.
Still water.
Ji staggered once.
Taihua caught her elbow.
Ji pulled free.
"I'm fine."
"You nearly fell."
"I remain fine."
Taihua watched her.
Ji breathed until the world stopped feeling wrong.
"What was that?"
"A minor correction."
Ji stared.
"No."
"Yes."
"You altered a path between Realms."
"Yes."
"As a minor correction."
"Yes."
Ji laughed once.
Not amused.
"Then what was Cangyuan?"
Taihua's expression softened.
"A crisis to Cangyuan."
"That is not what I mean."
"I know."
Ji looked at her hands.
The hands that had killed the Dragon Emperor.
The hands that could have turned cities into absence.
The hands that had once seemed impossible.
"Could I fight you?"
"A living me?"
"Yes."
"No."
Immediate.
Ji swallowed.
"Shen?"
"No."
"Both of us."
"No."
"All thirteen seventeenth-generation bearers."
Taihua paused.
Ji waited.
"At full maturity?"
"Yes."
"With every Gate."
"Yes."
"With the Myriad Realms Core properly cultivated."
"Yes."
"With all the accumulated inheritance."
"Yes."
Taihua considered.
"You could threaten a Peak Sovereign under sufficiently favorable circumstances."
Ji's pulse jumped.
"But?"
"Do not confuse threat with likely victory."
Ji exhaled.
"Good."
Taihua raised an eyebrow.
"Good?"
"That makes sense."
"It should."
"What about an average Sovereign?"
Taihua smiled.
"Now you are asking a better question."
Ji felt irrationally pleased.
"Peak Sovereign has enormous internal variance."
"Yes."
"Bloodline."
"Yes."
"Core."
"Yes."
"Talent."
"Yes."
"Authority."
"Yes."
"Experience."
"Yes."
"Combat specialization."
"Very much."
Ji looked at her.
"You were built for war."
"Yes."
No modesty.
No need for it.
"Feng Qingyu."
Taihua laughed.
"Extremely."
"Your brothers."
Taihua's expression warmed.
"You will hear enough about them."
"That sounded threatening."
"It is."
Ji smiled.
"Then current Gatebearers at Perfected Supreme can kill most Empyreans."
"Once sufficiently developed."
"But not because their cultivation realm is Empyrean."
"No."
"Because everything layered on top of Perfected Supreme is absurd."
Taihua considered.
"Crude."
"Accurate."
"Yes."
"The Myriad Realms Core."
"Yes."
Ji looked inward instinctively.
The structure was there.
She had felt pieces of it since awakening.
Not understood them.
"You have the beginning," Taihua said.
Ji looked at her.
"Beginning."
"Yes."
"Shen said it becomes an internal cosmos."
"That is a useful simplification."
Ji sighed.
"You people keep saying that."
"You will too."
"No."
"Yes."
Ji ignored her.
"What does mine look like?"
"Incomplete."
"That sounds insulting."
"It is observation."
"How incomplete?"
Taihua considered.
"Enough that Feng Qingyu would talk for several hours."
Ji groaned.
"That is not measurement."
"It is culturally meaningful."
Ji laughed despite herself.
Taihua continued.
"You awakened enough of the structure to survive what you demanded from yourself."
"Cangyuan."
"And everything immediately around it."
"But it needs rebuilding."
"Not rebuilding."
"Then?"
"Ordering."
"Architecture."
"Better."
Ji nodded.
"And Divine Ascendant?"
Taihua's expression sharpened.
"Shen told you."
"She told me someone tested it."
"Yes."
"Another Gate."
"Yes."
"Were you there?"
"As a remnant?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"The Gates preserved the lesson."
Ji nodded.
"Someone thought the obvious thing."
Taihua smiled.
"That a Gatebearer capable of contending with most Empyreans while technically a Perfected Supreme might become dramatically more dangerous if the baseline itself rose to Divine Ascendant."
"In theory enough for Sovereigns."
"In theory."
"They tried."
"Carefully."
"Why carefully?"
Taihua looked almost offended.
"Because they were not idiots."
Ji laughed.
"How far?"
"Far enough to confirm the finite Origin Essence foundation would begin paying the cost."
"And they stopped."
"Yes."
"No permanent damage."
"No."
"No broken Gate."
"No."
"Could they have continued?"
"Probably."
"What would have happened?"
"Eventually?"
"Yes."
"The foundation would have begun sacrificing what future generations require in exchange for present advancement."
Ji's expression hardened.
"So they could become stronger and leave less behind."
"Yes."
"That defeats the system."
"Exactly."
Ji looked toward the Gate.
"Tempting."
Taihua studied her.
"Yes."
Ji looked back.
"You agree."
"The theory was intelligent."
"That is what Shen said."
"Then Shen was correct."
"Feng Qingyu probably told her."
Taihua sighed.
"Almost certainly."
Ji smiled.
"Could it really have been enough?"
"For Sovereigns?"
"Yes."
Taihua considered.
"A Divine Ascendant baseline beneath a mature Gatebearer's accumulated advantages would be extremely dangerous."
"To normal Sovereigns."
"Yes."
"Peak Sovereigns."
"Do not become greedy."
Ji laughed.
"That means no."
"That means the comparison becomes too dependent on the Sovereign."
"Fair."
Taihua began walking again.
Ji followed.
"Why not build the Gates with enough Origin Essence to ascend normally?"
Taihua looked at her.
"Because we were sealing Taotie's soul while dying."
Ji stopped.
The bluntness struck harder than explanation.
Taihua continued.
"We did not possess unlimited time."
"No."
"Unlimited Origin Essence."
"No."
"Unlimited bodies."
"No."
"We created something that could survive us."
Her gaze shifted toward the Gate.
"Then every generation made it better."
Ji looked at the ancient structure.
"Collectively."
"Yes."
"You and your friends started it."
"Yes."
"And every bearer since added something."
"Yes."
"Then died."
"Yes."
The pattern was unbearable.
Beautiful.
Horrible.
Ji did not know which word mattered more.
"Did you ever think one generation would win?"
Taihua was silent.
Ji waited.
"Yes."
"Which?"
"Several."
Ji looked at her.
"You believed it."
"Yes."
"And they still died."
"Yes."
Taihua did not hide from that either.
"What did you tell the next one?"
"The truth."
"That the last failed."
"Yes."
"And then?"
"That they inherited more."
Ji looked toward the fifteen presences.
"Always one more brick."
"Yes."
"One more chance."
"Yes."
"One stronger bearer."
"Yes."
Ji breathed.
"What if we fail too?"
Taihua looked at her.
"Then, if enough remains, there will be an Eighteenth."
Ji's chest tightened.
She had not thought beyond herself.
Of course there could be another.
Another person born somewhere later.
Another life beginning without knowing what waited.
"No."
Taihua did not react.
Ji's voice hardened.
"No."
The Empress watched her.
"I don't want an Eighteenth."
Taihua's expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"Neither did the Sixteenth."
Ji went still.
Taihua continued.
"Nor the Fifteenth."
A pause.
"Nor the Second."
Ji swallowed.
"You all wanted to be the last."
"Yes."
"None were."
"No."
Ji looked down.
"That is depressing."
"Yes."
No reassurance.
Ji appreciated it.
They walked in silence.
Eventually Ji asked, "Did you choose the Second?"
Taihua looked over.
"No."
"The Gate did."
"Yes."
"Using the requirements."
"Yes."
"Then you met them after."
"Yes."
"What did that feel like?"
Taihua smiled faintly.
"Strange."
Ji stared.
"That's all?"
"I had helped create the Gate and still found its first choice strange."
"Why?"
"Because choice becomes different once something you built can evaluate beyond your immediate preference."
Ji considered.
"You might not have personally picked them."
"I might have."
"That sounded evasive."
"I genuinely do not know."
Ji smiled.
"And me?"
Taihua looked at her.
"Would you have picked me?"
The question escaped before Ji decided whether she wanted the answer.
Taihua stopped.
Ji stopped too.
The Empress studied her for a long time.
Not measuring power.
Not bloodline.
Her.
Then Taihua smiled.
"Yes."
Ji's throat tightened.
"But that is irrelevant."
Ji blinked.
Taihua's smile widened.
"The Gate did not ask me."
Ji laughed.
"That ruined the moment."
"Accuracy matters."
"You definitely would like Gao."
"I am beginning to fear that."
The laughter faded slowly.
Ji looked toward the Gate.
"Why didn't you speak before?"
Taihua's expression changed.
"We could not reach you clearly."
"Because I used too much."
"Partly."
Ji waited.
"Your awakening was violent."
"Yes."
"You drew upon accumulated power and inheritance almost immediately."
"Yes."
"Your bloodline awakened alongside it."
Ji's attention sharpened.
"We will discuss that later."
Ji frowned.
Taihua continued before she could object.
"Your internal structure needed time to settle."
"So you were there."
"Yes."
"Watching."
"Not continuously."
"What did you see?"
Taihua's eyes softened.
"Enough."
Ji hated the answer.
Taihua saw it.
"Ask specifically."
Ji swallowed.
"The march."
"Yes."
"You saw it."
"Fragments."
"The Dragon Emperor."
"Yes."
"The Dragon God."
"Yes."
"The Cangyuan Emperor."
"Pieces."
Ji looked away.
"And before?"
"Less."
"Lanyue."
Taihua was silent.
Ji's throat closed.
"Did you see them die?"
"Not all."
"Who?"
Taihua studied her.
Ji forced herself not to look away.
"Tell me."
Taihua nodded.
"I saw pieces."
"That is not enough."
"I saw King Mingyuan after the castle had already begun collapsing."
Ji's breath tightened.
"Queen Lanyin."
A pause.
"Wen."
Ji closed her eyes.
"Meiyu?"
"Not clearly."
"Jianyu?"
"No."
"Suyin?"
"No."
"Chancellor Qiao?"
"No."
"Han?"
"No."
Ji opened her eyes.
Taihua stood where she had been.
No pity.
Good.
"I didn't save any of them."
"No."
The answer hurt.
Because it was true.
Taihua did not cover it with another truth.
Ji looked at the water.
"Why give me power that late?"
Taihua was quiet.
Ji turned.
"Why?"
"I did not choose the hour."
"I know."
"The Gate did not require their deaths."
"I know."
"It did not use them as a test."
"I know."
"Then what are you asking?"
Ji's hands closed.
"Why couldn't I have been enough earlier?"
Taihua's expression broke.
Only slightly.
Enough.
"I do not know."
Ji stared.
Taihua continued.
"And I will not insult you by inventing an answer because I helped create the Gate."
The anger had nowhere to go.
Ji looked away.
"That is not fair."
"No."
The word was immediate.
Ji laughed bitterly.
"You agree very quickly."
"Because it was not fair."
Silence.
Ji's eyes burned.
She blinked.
The stars blurred anyway.
"I wanted power."
"Yes."
"I wanted it before the capital fell."
"Yes."
"I wanted to stop them."
"Yes."
"And still…"
Taihua waited.
Ji could not finish.
The Empress stepped closer.
Not touching.
Near.
"The Gate did not reward your suffering."
Ji swallowed.
"It answered when you became the first person in roughly one hundred and fifty years to satisfy everything it required."
"That doesn't make the timing better."
"No."
"Doesn't make them less dead."
"No."
"Doesn't make me grateful."
"You are not required to be grateful."
Ji looked at her.
Taihua's eyes were steady.
"You are allowed to hate that it came too late for them."
Something inside Ji fractured quietly.
Not breaking.
Making room.
She looked down.
"I do."
"I know."
"I hate it."
"Yes."
"I hate that I can do all of this now."
"Yes."
"I hate that none of it mattered when I needed it."
Taihua's voice softened.
"Yes."
Ji breathed.
The mental scape remained.
No collapse.
No cosmic lesson arriving to transform grief into purpose.
Just Taihua standing beside her.
Eventually Ji looked up.
"Did the others hate it too?"
"The Gate?"
"Their timing."
Taihua smiled sadly.
"Some."
"Even after years."
"Yes."
"Even after understanding everything."
"Yes."
That helped more than wisdom would have.
Ji wiped at one eye.
Nothing remained on her hand.
Mental scape.
Of course.
She almost laughed.
Instead she asked, "Do you know their names?"
Taihua understood.
"Yours?"
Ji nodded.
Taihua did not pretend she needed clarification.
"Meiyu."
Ji's throat tightened.
"Jianyu."
"Yes."
"Suyin."
"Yes."
"King Mingyuan."
"Yes."
"Queen Lanyin."
"Yes."
"Chancellor Qiao."
"Yes."
"Wen."
A faint smile.
"Yes."
"Han."
"Yes."
Ji stopped.
Taihua waited.
"You know them because I do."
"Yes."
"Not because the Gate recorded all of them."
"Correct."
Ji closed her eyes.
That distinction mattered.
They remained hers.
Not trophies in an inheritance.
Not sacrifices demanded by some ancient system.
People she remembered.
When Ji opened her eyes again, Taihua was still there.
"You're not very Empress-like."
Taihua blinked.
"What did you expect?"
"More declarations."
"I spent enough centuries listening to declarations."
"More dignity."
Taihua looked offended.
"I am extremely dignified."
Ji laughed.
A distant voice beyond the Gate said, "Debatable."
Ji froze.
Taihua closed her eyes.
"Do not encourage him."
Ji turned toward the Gate.
"Who was that?"
"The tea problem."
Ji stared.
"The one who became opinionated about tea."
"Yes."
"He lived long enough to become old."
"Very."
"And still died to Taotie."
Taihua's amusement faded.
"Yes."
Ji looked toward the unseen speaker.
Long life.
Then the same ending.
"How old?"
"Later."
Ji turned back.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Delaying."
Taihua's expression sharpened.
"I am not withholding an answer to manufacture mystery."
"Then?"
"You have been here long enough."
Ji opened her mouth.
Taihua continued.
"You have learned enough for one visit."
"I can handle more."
"I know."
"Then why stop?"
"Because being able to endure more is not the same as benefiting from more."
Ji stared.
"That sounds like something Shen would say."
"Feng Qingyu probably taught her."
Ji sighed.
"Fine."
Taihua smiled.
"That was easier than expected."
"Don't ruin it."
Ji looked toward the Gate.
"How do I leave?"
"Stop holding the scape."
"Shen said that."
"Then she listened."
"That sounded surprised."
"It was."
Ji laughed.
Before leaving, another question came.
"Will you be here tomorrow?"
Taihua looked at her.
"Yes."
"Even if I don't come."
"Yes."
"All fifteen too."
"Yes."
Ji looked toward the Gate.
"Seventeen generations."
"Seventeen bearers."
"Sixteen dead."
"Yes."
"One alive."
Taihua smiled.
"For now."
Ji frowned.
"That sounded ominous."
"It was factual."
"Worse."
Taihua stepped closer.
This time she touched two fingers lightly to Ji's forehead.
The gesture felt strangely familiar.
Not because Ji remembered it.
Because someone before her had received it.
Perhaps many.
"The Gate is inheritance," Taihua said.
Ji looked at her.
"Not destiny."
A pause.
"Not reward."
Another.
"Not debt."
Ji's throat tightened.
"And not permission to waste what sixteen people died leaving behind."
Ji stared.
Taihua's mouth curved.
"There. A little responsibility, so you know it is still my Gate."
Ji laughed.
The mental scape began to soften.
Taihua stepped back.
"Tomorrow?"
Ji asked.
"If you want."
"I do."
"Then tomorrow."
The stars dimmed.
The Gate blurred.
Taihua remained visible longest.
Then the room returned.
Ji opened her eyes.
Lamplight.
Table.
Tea.
Gao.
Shen.
Her body had not moved.
Ji inhaled sharply.
Shen leaned forward.
"Easy."
"I'm fine."
Gao looked at her.
"You say that often."
Ji blinked several times.
"How long?"
"About an hour," Shen said.
"It felt longer."
"It usually does."
Ji looked toward the shelf.
The wooden horse was still there.
Bed.
Window.
Folded robe.
Same room.
She exhaled.
Shen was watching her with barely contained curiosity.
Ji noticed.
"You want to ask."
"Yes."
"Ask."
"Taihua?"
Ji looked down.
"Yes."
Shen smiled.
Something genuine and almost relieved.
"What was she like?"
Ji thought.
Peak Sovereign.
Primordial Dragon Empress.
Childhood friend of Feng Qingyu.
One of thirteen founders who had built the Gates together while sealing Taotie's soul.
A woman who had watched fifteen later bearers become progressively stronger and still die in the same war.
A remnant who could explain why Ji had been chosen without pretending Ji had been destined.
Someone powerful enough to alter the path between Realms as a minor act.
Someone who had admitted she did not know why Ji could not have awakened early enough to save everyone.
Ji picked up her cold tea.
"She hates Feng Qingyu's yapping."
Shen stared.
Then laughed.
Gao looked between them.
"I assume that means the meeting went well."
Ji looked at him.
"She says she dislikes you."
Gao raised an eyebrow.
"You mentioned me."
"Several times."
"Then she has insufficient evidence."
"That is almost exactly why."
Shen laughed harder.
Ji drank the cold tea.
It was terrible.
Gao silently poured a fresh cup and pushed it toward her.
Ji accepted it.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
No demand to hear more.
No question she had not invited.
Ji wrapped both hands around the warm cup.
Shen's laughter faded.
"She showed you Peak Sovereign."
Ji looked up.
"How do you know?"
"Your face."
Ji sighed.
"Yes."
Shen nodded slowly.
"Feng Qingyu did that to me."
"Did you feel very small afterward?"
"For days."
"Good."
Shen smiled.
Ji looked toward the window.
Night covered the Gao valley.
The house around them remained quiet.
Taihua's Dragon Royal Gate no longer felt like an unknowable chamber filled with borrowed power.
It contained people.
Sixteen lives.
Sixteen deaths.
Sixteen defeats.
Sixteen foundations.
And Ji.
Not chosen from birth.
Not promised.
Not destined.
Simply the first person in one hundred and fifty years who had somehow become talented enough, hungry enough, compatible enough, responsible enough, and human enough for the Gate to answer.
Lucky.
Too late.
Both could be true.
She looked at Shen.
"I have more questions tomorrow."
"I assumed."
"For Taihua."
Shen placed one hand over her chest with exaggerated injury.
"I crossed several Realms."
"And she waited seventeen generations."
Gao took a drink.
"That is difficult to compete with."
Shen looked at him.
"I liked you better yesterday."
"You barely knew me yesterday."
"Exactly."
Ji smiled into her tea.
Far below thought, beyond the surface of awareness, the Dragon Royal Gate was no longer silent.
And somewhere behind it, sixteen predecessors waited for the Seventeenth to come back.