What kind of world lies behind a black hole?

Lines weave into a meshwork earth; the sky wears the same lattice. Beyond the grid, space thins to pure void. Ouyang knows this place—his void art once opened a Primordial Chaos that felt like this.

A world of black and white interlaced, the mesh of first chaos. No rules. No order. Just a breathless hush.

Too much theory makes mud. Simply put, this is beyond the Supreme Law’s reach. Independent worlds sit outside its grasp too, but not the same way.

They’re darkness under the lamp—still within the Supreme Law’s domain. Their sealed shells keep the Law from seeping in.

But here, in this black‑and‑white lattice, rules don’t exist at all. This isn’t inside the Supreme Law’s jurisdiction.

Sky or ground—it’s habit more than truth. Ouyang calls what’s underfoot the earth and what’s overhead the sky. In this uncanny chamber, it’s like space: no east or west, no up or down.

He follows the heavy‑armored warrior. Time loses its pulse. A century stretches and snaps, and it feels like only a minute.

At some point, wind chimes ripple through the void.

Ding‑ling. Ding‑ling.

Snow falls with the chimes. Six‑petaled flakes drift, white with a blue vein. They spill from above, so Ouyang calls that the sky, and what crunches under his boots the ground.

The snow doesn’t tire. It quilts the mesh in a thick, pale layer. They aren’t ordinary beings, yet they still leave one clear footprint at a time.

Melancholy rises first, like breath on glass. An old chant slips back.

That winter, sunlight slid through my fingers. Snow fell to the ring of bells. Forgotten hours, oh, how lonely you were…

Unthinking, his eyes turn to the earliest age. He pulls back, lets out a long sigh that skims heaven and earth. A kingdom of cloud. Floating isles. A rainbow bridge. A garden where angels skim by.

“The so‑called First Era should’ve been called the Fairy‑Tale Era.” He murmurs. In memory, everything felt like a fable, until the Night King invaded in those last years.

The armored guide ignores him, dutiful as stone, and keeps leading.

Snow keeps sifting down. His chest tightens. Will that girl, a sprite of frost, find another world after death, one he never learned? Will that boy, stubborn and ragged in the void, who waited era after era, meet her when he’s gone?

His mind blurs at the edges. The once‑Ouyang. The once‑Lian. When they dispersed, he failed to see them off. That’s his deepest regret. Bless you, both of you, in that unknown realm, in the deep of the Ether Sea…

In that haze, Ouyang and the armored warrior reach a palace. It’s battered and torn, yet the ruin breathes vast power.

It stands with eternity, glows with the years.

The warrior stops outside, as the others do, and keeps watch. Ouyang sweeps his gaze—the guardians in armor are all Great Gods.

Great Gods sit at the top among gods. Tiered Beings aren’t counted there; they’re gods above gods. So Great Gods are the peak beneath them.

He draws a steady breath and steps inside. No dazzling miracles, just a palace like any other. Wooden chairs. Stone‑laid walls. A deep‑blue carpet across the floor.

Inside, he doesn’t know what to do. The palace yawns enormous. He can’t sense the First Emperor. The armored guide doesn’t come in to lead.

He closes his eyes, thinks, picks a direction. There’s a door there, and a purple wind chime hangs upon it.

He steps through. The purple chime trembles, and the sound rings in the soul. Clear. Indelible. If he could, he’d drown in that music for a lifetime.

He wrestles his heart down and leaves the door.

A room like a lounge opens ahead. A young man in a deep‑blue robe lounges on a sofa, smiling at Ouyang.

“You’re… the First Emperor of the Eternal Empire—Yi Ye?”

Yi Ye wasn’t a clan name at the start. It was a given name. The one behind that name was the First Emperor, Yi Ye.

“Welcome to this fallen palace. As you said, unless there’s another Yi Ye, the First Emperor you mean is me.” Yi Ye smiles without the weight a Tiered Being usually wears. Maybe with Ouyang, there’s no need. Gravitas before an equal smells like a challenge. Ouyang’s current power hasn’t reached a Tiered Being’s crown, but his former self, the Void Watcher, truly was one.

Ouyang eyes the tech‑heavy furniture, hesitates, then sinks into a soft sofa.

He spots a big LCD screen. He nabs the remote off the glass table and flicks the TV on.

“Little Yi Ye, answer me. What really happened back then? The Empire fell. You’re alive. Did you just watch it burn?”

He grabs a fruit from the table, bites in, and treats the room like his own living room.

He’s firing questions when he notices the TV actually has a feed. No captions. The language in the show is alien to him.

Yi Ye doesn’t bristle at “Little Yi Ye.” He just gives a wry smile. “Uncle Ouyang, I do know about the Empire’s dissolution…”

Yi Ye takes the remote, taps through channels. A scene blooms: a world governed by the Empire. Its realm‑king meets his people, plotting how to break away.

Yi Ye flips again. A group in deep‑blue uniforms appears.

Ouyang sees at once—royal attire, unmistakable. Imperial royals. Then a hand descends out of the stars, vast and woven from starlight. It closes and dissolves the planet to particles.

The feed shifts. Ouyang knows this place—the Origin World. A man and a woman. The woman sleeps in bed. The man stands at the window, staring at the stars.

A meteor drops from the sky and smacks the man right on the head.

“What the—”

He knows that scene. He’s the man. The woman in bed is Xi. It happened in the Empire era, just after Xi released him. The meteor hits, and the entire hotel collapses into rubble.

Snap. Ouyang yanks the remote from Yi Ye and kills the TV.

Good grief. So Yi Ye’s a voyeur? Sure, seeing your own past brings a soft ache. But with someone watching, it’s just mortifying. Off. Definitely off.

His face twitches. He stares at Yi Ye with killing intent simmering.

Yi Ye’s a Tiered Being. Ouyang can’t beat him right now. But did you catch that? Yi Ye called him “uncle.”

It tracks. Yi Ye was made by that person, which makes him that person’s child. Ouyang’s that person’s peer. “Uncle” fits. What shocks Ouyang is how easily Yi Ye accepts it.

Tiered Beings carry pride like a blade. Ouyang hasn’t climbed back to the god‑above‑gods height of the Void Watcher. And Yi Ye’s “father” has left this starfield. If Yi Ye refused the uncle, Ouyang couldn’t force it.

Yet Yi Ye gives him the title without fuss.

Having a Tiered Being for a nephew is prime bragging fuel. But watching Ouyang’s life through a TV? That’s infuriating. Did he peek at the post‑wedding stuff too?

Yi Ye reads his mood and coughs. “Ahem… Uncle Ouyang, don’t get heated. I didn’t see everything. With the East Heavenly King, Aurora Her Grace, and the Moon Goddess Her Majesty around, I can’t peek.”

Peeking. You said it yourself.

Ouyang exhales and lets it go. The TV can see a lot, but the Origin World has many blind spots. Besides, his wife was once a third‑rank Tiered Being.

Whew. That helps.

“So, this peeping—cough—this wicked device, as your elder I’ll keep it safe. When your father comes back, I’ll return it.”

Peeping tool secured. Ouyang shamelessly slips the TV into the pocket space in his black glove.

Yi Ye only manages a bitter smile. He still lets Ouyang take it, and even explains its principles and how to operate it.

“Uncle Ouyang, it isn’t hard to make. You could mass‑produce them when you go back. But could you return this one to me? I can’t leave this place. It’s my only pastime.”

“Can’t leave? What’s going on?”