A man in a coarse linen robe, barefoot and leaning on a staff, walked along the edge of the celebrating crowd.

Some passersby cast him curious glances, but such a figure was hardly a rare sight; most simply made way for him.

“It’s here… “

The gaunt-faced man, who seemed to have walked alone through countless journeys, gazed at the old stone shrine before him, which was far from bustling.

The shrine stood like a quiet, secluded stone fortress tucked away in an inconspicuous corner, surrounded by hemp ropes for drying laundry, heaps of construction waste and garbage, and yet on a high platform, a candle flame still flickered, lit by nearby villagers.

The barefoot man, supporting himself on his wooden staff, knelt on one knee before the door.

“Oh, shrine… I have come here today not only to save the fragile fate of this world, but also to tell you of the sorrows that lie herein… Perhaps this is really one and the same task. “

His expression turning pained, he looked back toward the distant blue sky and white clouds, and beyond, to a layer of gloom heralding rain in the distance.

“It has changed too much, ” the man said, turning his head again. “The fate of the world was never meant to be like this. “

A child passed by behind him, casting the murmuring man a strange glance.

“The people here should not be erupting into such protests. Fate, heed my tale of the future, and the deviations that lie within… “

As his cadenced narrative flowed like winding water, the candle flames on the high altar within the stone hall flickered left and right. A wind had risen, bringing a hint of chill.

The man opened his eyes and continued:

“‘The Sage’s Log’ states: ‘June 18, 428. The creeping ‘Iron Vine’ now blankets land and sea. Men and fish alike have perished, and the birds are soon to follow; the continent is drawing to its end.’ Of course, this is not the ultimate destination of fate. “

“The Sage also said: ‘Even until my departure, I could not reverse the suffering here. Nor could I accomplish this feat. Even if I were to journey to the next continent, I would not be counted among those with the greatest potential or as one of the foremost pioneers… much less so at this hour.’ “

“The Sage said: ‘Yet still, I long to do something.’ “

His tone paused, his eyes filled with sorrow, as if reciting a verse:

“‘…They call me Holyman, and though some say I am a god, that word— “god “—still feels far too remote. I did not possess my current power from the very beginning.’ “

“‘The Sage says: “So I sat on the stone steps at the continent’s edge, watching flocks of birds, gazing at the stars beyond the sea’s horizon, and thought through the entire night. Let me stop here. While I still remember everyone, let me leave this memory behind. “‘ “

“June 20, 428, at 12:31:20, the Sage Sjoernúhiminn burned his soulfire, offered up the Ring of Life to the lunar realm, bestowed the Ring of Wealth upon the Publisher, and ceded the Ring of Power to the Central Royal Court. “

A cold wind swept across the land and sky, sending flocks of birds rising into the air on spread wings. A few scattered fragments of leaves drifted beneath the clear, bright sky and the azure sun.

The man radiated a subdued brilliance, his gaze fixed on the stone hall for a long, long time.

“Can you feel it… Can you feel the Sage’s bloodline Halo? Mend it, please—guide the world’s fate back to its righteous course. “

His hand pressed back against his own chest.

“Only by walking the path left by those before can one reach the end without harm or loss. That is the circuit of destiny, the vow to save every soul who strays from the road. “

The man, now kneeling low in reverence, slowly straightened his chest.

“So that this world shall not crumble and perish halfway… Allow me, then, to inform the world of one man’s future. “

From within his robes, he withdrew a sheaf of documents, scrawled with different notes, different scripts, different pigments. Even the materials bearing them varied: rough paper, white parchment, cloth, leather, and even palm leaf.

“The new master of the Cuckoo, ” he said, lifting one page. “Holder of the Sun Needle, behind-the-curtain master of the Sonorous Lyre Bazaar, the would-be claimant to the legendary Divine Hotel, the true mind behind the Cuckoo Brothers’ Guild—the man who utterly shattered the fate of the lost-frequency lands… the ‘Tracker of Oracles,’ Yang Buchen… “

He picked up a newspaper issued by the “former 41st City. ” “The true name… Yang Zicang! “

Candle flame flickered.

The man picked up another copy of Mira Spears’s True Emotions Weekly.

“I am anchoring the future of the Trajectory Master, Yang Zicang. Here is a testament to his recent prophecy, which states: ‘A man will lead tens of thousands of trapped people beyond the White Violet Mountains to escape from the jaws of death,’ and, ‘He will also go to White Violet City, altering the trajectory of the world.’ There is no doubt that this man is him. “

The man then picked up two pages torn from an official document.

“At some point in the future, the birth of the ‘Discussion and Promotion of the Village Self-Governance Committee Plan’ will cause an even greater deviation in destiny… “

“‘Investigation into Biological Anomalies’ will bring climate issues onto the agenda of international conferences… “

“The investigation and retrospective study of the primitive industrial conditions in Gold Coast Shell, on the other hand, cause the unsolvable nightmare to continuously consume too much of people’s energy in the search for the right path in the next era… “

One sheet of paper after another was picked up and set down by the man.

“On the situation concerning the opening up of border-states’ blockades… “

“…Journals… “

By the end of the recitation, he felt deep pain in his heart.

“These are all the things he will do in the future, and I have also narrated their original fates one by one. Please understand which path is the true future. “

After saying this, he looked toward Stone’s room.

After a long pause, he stood up, took these papers, and left.

Shortly after the man left.

Bai Yuan, clad in white linen, furtively glanced left and right as he appeared before the stone house. Seeing no one was watching him, he swiftly slipped inside.

-｛Distributor February. Di’an is currently observing my present life experiences.｝

Bai Yuan first added a small vial of oil to the lamp, then gazed at the two-colored wick, cleared his throat, and said:

“O revered Temple. And wulu wulu, mmm, anyway, you get the idea. “

He pressed his palms together, a hint of indifference in his eyes, and said:

“Someone is trying to anchor a new future, using the pronouncement of others’ futures as a substitute anchor. Indeed, the prophecy about the situation in Baijin was made by me, but its content was not accurate. To be precise, the one who leads the people out is not Yang Zicang, but Senior Colonel Schneider. “

The candle flame flickered.

Bai Yuan cleared his throat and continued: “And what they call restoration of history merely turns You into a replica. Ah, I mean You as heard through the Temple, not the Temple itself. “

With that, Bai Yuan knelt on one knee, adopting this world’s most solemn ritual gesture to express his reverence.

“O revered Saint, Spirit of the Divine, Surhnul Sinmin. “

He raised his head to look at the candle flame and the faintly carved halo on the stone wall behind, then said:

“Someone wishes to walk alongside You and, at the end of Your life, continue forward. “

He placed his hand on his chest, bowed in salute, then straightened up, pulled on his cloak, and glanced outside.

A peasant woman passed by across the yard, balancing a wooden basin against her waist.

He hurried out the door, made his way from the stone fort into the city in the opposite direction from the person he had just spoken of, and entered an alley before producing a brass key. His figure was wrapped in undulating energy and vanished into the deserted, dim alleyway.

……

The man leaning on his wooden staff walked to the stone bridge outside the city. An dark-gold ring of light shimmered to life on his chest.

{Yoya… }

｛Success?｝

{Wait, I’m still observing. }

The man let out a breath and continued barefoot down the path. Before long, the ring of light glowed bright again.

{It worked, that was fast. Destiny has already begun intervening to correct his Track of Fate. }

The man had just shown joy, but hearing the next sentence suddenly made his face go rigid.

{Strange… It seems to be carrying multiple different “Radiance_” investments within it. _}

……

A luminous figure, radiating the Eidolon traits of “Trajectory Master” and “Hundred Crowns,” sped rapidly through a world that was like a phantasm.

“I thought it would be like the ‘Sub-Etheric Conduit,’ appearing at the target location in an instant,” said Yang Zicang as he ran.

His entire form now radiated a more elongated and eerily cold silhouette, his carved-like face featuring sharper, more penetrating eyes—keen as needles, appearing less human and more like a refined, ethereal being.

“The information you possess about the Ether Realm surprises me. “

-｛Distributor Loki Tata Mingqi looks forward to me continuing to write my precious life experiences.｝

-｛Distributor Tata Mingqi expresses ‘calmness.’｝

And anchoring the front and rear positions are their respective ‘calling cards.’

The ‘Hundred Crowns,’ following closely behind and also having transformed significantly in form, said:

“And your mental strength is already this strong. It even faintly exudes an aura that I can sense, commanding reverence and submission. “

“Oh? ” Yang Zicang halted abruptly, thinking that perhaps the help from ‘Xiao Wu’s’sweet potato’ was starting to manifest more profoundly.