Chapter Eleven: "Immortal"

Her expression remained as cold and serene as ever, like a celestial maiden untouched by the mundane world—so awe-inspiring that others could not help but keep their distance.

Tang Ruyan gazed silently at Guan Qian, her demeanor indifferent.

“You—” Guan Qian hesitated, uncertainty coloring his voice, “Did you just say we—”

Tang Ruyan inclined her chin ever so slightly, offering a tacit confirmation.

In that split second—

Guan Qian stared at her as if struck by lightning, his eyes wide, his finger trembling as he pointed at Tang Ruyan. “You—you’re not from this era!”

Her identity was confirmed. She did not belong here at all.

She was a White Witch, a remnant from that forgotten, buried age.

This woman now stood before him as if from a myth, and Guan Qian could only marvel at how she had traversed the boundaries of time to arrive in this world.

So many incredible revelations bombarded Guan Qian’s mind that he found himself struggling to accept them.

“How did you cross over?” Guan Qian finally calmed himself, voicing the question that burned most ardently in his heart. For him, this was unimaginable—even though he himself was a prophet.

Tang Ruyan pointed at the crystal skull beside him and said, “The First Prophet—your ancestor.”

“Him! So it was him!” Guan Qian muttered, staring at the crystal skull.

It truly was because of that ancestor, so unfamiliar to him.

This answer, though logical, was still beyond his expectation.

“The Prophet foresaw his own death. He used the last of his life to send me to this world. He wanted me to find you, and to give this to you.” As she spoke, Tang Ruyan drew a flat stone from her person and placed it in Guan Qian’s hand.

The stone was smooth and rounded, small and flat—about half the size of a palm. On one side was carved an eye, lifelike and profound, as if it could see into one’s very soul. Its presence was deeply uncanny.

“What is this?” Guan Qian examined the stone, turning to Tang Ruyan for an answer.

“I don’t know. But the Prophet told me you must keep it safe, never lose it.” Tang Ruyan’s tone was careful, indicating just how much importance the First Prophet placed on this peculiar stone.

Hearing her reply, Guan Qian scrutinized the stone more closely, rolling it between his fingers, but aside from the carved eye, he found nothing unusual. This made him frown in puzzlement.

Left with no recourse, he tucked it away, resolving to study it further another time.

“Then, how did you find me?” Guan Qian continued.

“Divination. But I could only predict the general area you might appear, not your exact location. If I hadn’t foreseen the appearance of the First Prophet’s crystal skull, perhaps I wouldn’t have found you this soon.” Tang Ruyan’s eyes flicked toward the crystal skull again.

When Tang Ruyan was first sent here by the First Prophet, she divined that Guan Qian was in Z City, at a certain university, but could not pinpoint his location. In the end, she concealed herself among the students of the Department of Languages, searching for the Prophet in secret.

By chance, she sensed the aura of a Prophet and later transferred to the Department of Ancient Scripts. Yet Guan Qian kept himself so well hidden that for an entire year, Tang Ruyan could not determine his identity.

When the crystal skull was unearthed and made headlines across the media, Tang Ruyan immediately recognized it as the remains of the First Prophet. She divined where it would appear so she could retrieve it, but instead, she witnessed Guan Qian’s white-eyed killing—thus, by coincidence, she finally found the one she had been searching for.

“Then—did my ancestor have any other message for me?” Guan Qian felt a vague sense of unease.

“The Prophet wanted me to tell you that a catastrophe will befall humanity once more. He hopes you can save mankind. Perhaps you will receive help from the Celestial Being,” Tang Ruyan replied, brushing her hair from her shoulder.

“Celestial Being? What exactly is that?” Guan Qian felt certain that this mysterious being was the white light he saw in his dreams. He needed Tang Ruyan’s confirmation.

“I don’t know,” she said plainly.

“What? You don’t know?” Guan Qian was taken aback by her unexpected answer, and doubt gnawed at his heart.

Did his ancestor never tell their descendants what the Celestial Being truly was? Was it only ever said that the Celestial Being once saved humanity—nothing more? Was this mysterious Celestial Being an outsider, or a powerful entity native to Earth?

The questions wove a tangled web, baffling in their complexity.

Guan Qian’s mind raced, sensing something amiss.

“The Prophet never told us anything about the Celestial Being. He only said that it would need humanity’s help to resist an unknown force,” Tang Ruyan explained, sensing Guan Qian’s confusion and sharing everything she knew.

“An unknown force? What sort of existence is that? Could it be that not even the Celestial Being can resist it?” Guan Qian murmured, a chill seeping into his bones as he realized the gravity of the situation. This unknown force must be something truly terrifying.

“Did the Celestial Being never appear again after that?” he pressed, seeking to confirm his suspicion.

“No. Not until the Prophet grew old and was about to die—the Celestial Being never appeared again.”

As he expected, Tang Ruyan’s reply matched his own conjecture. His ancestor never saw the Celestial Being return, which was why he built the colossal stone effigies—to express his longing and hope. He had waited all his life.

And in the message relayed through Tang Ruyan, the Prophet’s mention of the Celestial Being’s appearance was couched in uncertainty—‘perhaps.’ For a prophet, ‘perhaps’ meant almost impossible.

So—had something happened to the Celestial Being?

Guan Qian’s mind reeled. Could the Celestial Being have encountered that unknown force?

The thought shook him to his core.

If that was true, then humanity was facing imminent peril.

At that moment, Guan Qian felt as if a thousand-pound weight pressed down upon him, making it hard to breathe. This was a responsibility touching upon the fate of all humankind. The pressure was nearly unbearable.

“Are you alright?” Tang Ruyan stepped closer, seeing the pallor on his face, asking anxiously.

To her, Guan Qian was now the only person she could rely on. In this strange world, she had searched for traces of the White Witches many times, but no matter how she divined, she could find no sign of them. She sensed that something catastrophic must have befallen the White Witches in that ancient era.

“I’m fine.” Guan Qian clenched the stone in his palm. This was the only thing his ancestor had left him; he must keep it safe, for it might be connected to the so-called Celestial Being.

“By the way, your prophetic abilities have evolved to the second stage. With the White Eyes, your own power has reached an unimaginable level. But this is still far from the ultimate evolution of a Prophet. You must work to unlock and develop your abilities,” Tang Ruyan reminded him, her tone serious and cautious.

Just then, the silent crystal skull suddenly flared with light. Its surface shimmered with phosphorescence, flickering and pulsing, and in an instant, it began to float in midair.

Within the dark hollows of its eye sockets, a ghostly fire sprang to life, flickering eerily and sending chills down the spine.

The skull fixed its gaze upon Guan Qian. The ghostly fire in its eyes danced uncertainly.

What did this portend? Guan Qian was shaken to his core.

Suddenly—

The ghostly flames leapt from the sockets like twin wicks, intertwining rapidly. The once-dark room blazed with an unearthly luminescence.

In the next moment, a large character appeared before Guan Qian and Tang Ruyan’s eyes—a single word: “Immortal.”

The glowing character reflected in Guan Qian’s eyes, igniting them with an uncontrollable blaze.

A surge of terror seized him, as if a pair of giant hands in the darkness were clutching his throat. Even as he struggled to calm his heart, Guan Qian could not help but tremble under the gaze of that uncanny word.

What was his ancestor trying to tell him?

“Immortal.”

It was a forbidden word—a taboo that must not be spoken in any tongue, else one would die without a trace.

This was the truth Guan Qian felt with utmost certainty. No matter who dared, even one as awakened as he, before this word, all would be trampled to dust.

Suddenly—

The word “Immortal” burned violently, withering away like falling petals, and the room was plunged into darkness once more. At that moment, the crystal skull dissolved into a stream of ghostly light and poured into the stone in Guan Qian’s palm.

In an instant, all radiance vanished. The stone looked utterly unremarkable—bathed in moonlight, it appeared so ordinary that it could easily be lost among a pile of rocks.

“What—what was that just now?” For the first time, a hint of shock broke through Tang Ruyan’s ageless composure. Her eyes widened, searching Guan Qian for an answer, but found none.

Guan Qian only frowned deeply, his gaze fixed on the strange stone in his hand, silent for a long time.

Tang Ruyan’s question was precisely what he wished to know.

(A belated chapter! Apologies—the Prophet contract is signed! Congratulations to myself, and heartfelt thanks to all who have supported the Prophet!)