Space was quiet in a way that felt unnatural.
Not peaceful. Not calming. Quiet like a sealed tomb.
Li Xiao Bai floated beside the broken remnant of Heavenly Court, letting distance grow between himself and the jagged ruins. The fragment looked smaller every time he glanced at it. Not because it moved away, but because his mind refused to treat it as important.
Dead things did not deserve attention.
What mattered was the chain.
He could feel it even when he stopped thinking about it. A tight coil around his soul, cold and absolute, as if his existence had been measured, judged, and then approved for a temporary delay.
He raised his hand and pressed two fingers against his own chest.
There was no physical chain there.
The restraint existed deeper, where ordinary touch could not reach.
Li Xiao Bai closed his eyes.
Information Path was not a path of brute force. It was a path of clarity. It turned vague impressions into confirmed facts. In the Gu world, he could look at an immortal formation and read the story of its creation from the scars left behind. He could stare at a battlefield and smell lies the way others smelled blood.
Now, he would do the same.
He reached into his immortal aperture and drew out a cluster of mortal Gu. They were small, pale, and unimpressive. In another setting, anyone would have called them useless.
Here, they were tools.
He placed them in a circle around his palm, then fed them a thread of immortal essence. The Gu trembled, their tiny bodies lighting up with faint patterns like ink spreading across paper.
A simple killer move.
Not for combat. Not for deception.
For reading.
The moment the move activated, Li Xiao Bai felt a thin layer of sensation slide over the chain around his soul. As if a blindfold had been loosened by a fraction.
He inhaled once, steady.
Then he began to examine.
The first thing he noticed was structure.
Not random. Not improvised.
The chain had segments, each link engraved with patterns so fine that even an ordinary Immortal would miss them. Lines curved and intersected, then folded into symbols that did not belong to any single Path. They were a language written in dao marks.
Li Xiao Bai focused deeper.
A faint pressure pushed back against his perception, like a warning.
Do not pry.
He ignored it.
Warnings were not commands.
His killer move shifted, the Gu in his palm rearranging their light. He sacrificed one of them without hesitation, letting it burn out in exchange for a sharper read.
The chain did not change.
But his understanding did.
Beneath the outer layer, he found a second layer.
Not concealment. Not protection.
A verdict.
The dao marks there carried a cold, rigid meaning. They were not the stars, not the rivers, not the winds. They were not Heaven Path either.
They felt like rules carved into reality by an indifferent hand.
Judgment.
He tasted the concept the way a cultivator tasted primeval essence.
These marks did not heal. They did not strengthen. They did not nurture.
They decided.
They condemned.
They allowed.
Li Xiao Bai opened his eyes, expression calm.
Judgment Path dao marks were rare. Not because the Path was weak, but because those who touched it tended to attract calamity. Judgment was too close to the nature of Heaven, too close to the idea of deciding who deserved to live.
Heavenly Court would never leave such traces on a tool they did not fully control. Star Constellation would not. Her style was calculation and fate, not direct judgment carved into the soul.
Then who?
Li Xiao Bai continued.
He fed more essence into the killer move. The remaining Gu began to crack, their bodies unable to endure the pressure of analyzing something this high level.
He did not care.
Mortal Gu were cheap. Information was priceless.
The chain responded with a faint echo.
Not a sound.
A resonance.
A signature left behind by its creator.
Li Xiao Bai froze for a heartbeat, then tightened his focus and followed the resonance like a hunter following a scent.
The signature was not a name. Not a voice.
It was a feeling, sharp enough to cut.
Boundary.
Limit.
An obsession with defining the edge of things.
An old memory surfaced in Li Xiao Bai's mind. A rumor from the era of Venerables. A shadow that refused to fade even after death.
A man who measured the world, not with emotion, but with pure will.
A demon who challenged the idea that anything should be beyond reach.
Limitless Demon Venerable.
Li Xiao Bai's gaze lowered slightly.
So it was him.
The conclusion did not come from romance or instinct. It came from the chain itself. The Judgment Path dao marks were not alone. They were layered with an intent, a style, a direction that only one existence could match.
Limitless.
Even dead, his traces still reached into places that should have been unreachable.
Li Xiao Bai let the killer move collapse. The last Gu in his palm turned to ash. The faint light faded, leaving only the silence of space and the steady pressure of the chain around his soul.
He stared at his empty hand.
Why?
That was the only question worth asking.
Limitless had saved him from Chaos. Not fully. Not kindly. Only enough to buy seconds. Enough to prevent immediate dissolution. Enough to push him out of the lawless void and into lawful space again.
A rescue measured with a ruler, not with mercy.
Li Xiao Bai did not pretend he understood the goal.
A Venerable did not act without purpose. Especially not Limitless.
Was this a leftover arrangement? A delayed mechanism? A trap that required a living piece?
Or something worse.
A test.
Li Xiao Bai remained motionless for a long time.
He did not panic.
Panic was an emotional indulgence, and indulgence was weakness.
He reviewed the facts.
First, the chain had Judgment Path dao marks.
Second, the signature pointed to Limitless.
Third, the chain had already proven its function, it held him together, it dragged him through the closing seam, and it stayed after crossing.
Fourth, it did not answer him.
Fifth, he was alive.
Therefore, the chain was not an immediate execution device. If it were meant to kill him, it had every opportunity inside Chaos.
That meant the danger was delayed.
Delayed danger was still danger.
Li Xiao Bai lifted his head and looked toward the distant star system again.
A small sun. Several faint orbits. One world that held the weight of gravity in a way that felt familiar.
The solar system.
His instincts did not call it home. His memories did.
He did not trust feelings. He trusted patterns.
A place with breathable air. A place with life. A place where information could be gathered, resources could be taken, and the state of his soul could be repaired.
If the chain was a plan, then he needed to grow strong enough to read the plan without being crushed by it.
If the chain was a trap, then he needed to enter the trap with open eyes and prepare an exit.
Either way, standing still achieved nothing.
Li Xiao Bai adjusted his posture in space, then released a controlled burst of immortal essence. His body shifted, aligning with the solar system's pull.
He did not rush. He did not waste.
He moved like a man counting each breath.
Before leaving, he glanced once at the Heavenly Court remnant behind him.
A broken tooth in the mouth of the universe.
He felt no attachment.
Then he turned away completely.
As he drifted forward, Li Xiao Bai spoke softly, not for comfort, but as a declaration.
"Immortality first."
Wealth, reputation, status, love, hatred, belonging.
All of it could be used.
All of it could be discarded.
A true person was true to his nature. Not to someone else's expectations.
The chain tightened slightly, as if acknowledging the statement.
Li Xiao Bai's expression did not change.
Let it watch.
Let it judge.
Let it measure him.
In the end, measurements could be broken, verdicts could be overturned, and even the laws of Heaven could be exploited.
He continued toward the solar system, carrying the chain like a silent question.
And behind him, the ruins of Heavenly Court drifted in emptiness, forgotten.