The old man, who went by the name of Elder Hùn, did not die that night. To Han Zhao's surprise, the man possessed a type of resilience that was entirely untethered from Qi. It was the resilience of a cockroach or a particularly stubborn mountain weed.
As the Stone-Humped Camel plodded deeper into the "Eye of the Wastes"—the only patch of desert where Han Zhao's mirage was were so thick they formed a literal wall of distorted light—Hùn sat in the corner of the library cabin, meticulously mending a pair of straw sandals.
"You're watching me again, Record-Keeper," Hùn said without looking up.
Han Zhao didn't deny it. He was currently organizing a shelf of Herbal Recipes for Minor Ailments, but his mental focus was entirely on the System's readout of the old man.
[Target: Elder Hùn.]
[Status: 'The Mortal Anchor'.]
[Feature: Immune to 'Social Invisibility' due to 'Historical Weight'.]
[Note: He is not a cultivator. He is a 'Living Record'.]
"You said something about a 'Heavenly Purge'," Han Zhao said, his voice level. "In my experience, anyone who uses words like 'Purge' or 'Heavenly' is usually about to make my life very loud and very short. I've worked quite hard to keep it quiet and long."
Hùn smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. "The Heavens are like a farmer, Han Zhao. Every few thousand years, the weeds—the Nascent Souls, the Soul Transformations, the arrogant 'Immortals'—get too tall. They start to drain the soil of its essence. So, the farmer brings out the scythe."
Han Zhao paused, a dusty scroll in hand. "A reset."
"A reset," Hùn nodded. "The 'Great Calamity' that the sects think is a war with the Cloud-Devouring Sect? That's just the wind before the storm. The Purge doesn't care about factions. It wipes the slate clean. It turns Qi back into dust, and memories back into silence."
[System Warning: Environmental 'Qi Density' is beginning to fluctuate across the Azure Province.]
[Analysis: The 'Farmer' has picked up the scythe.]
Han Zhao felt a cold shiver. If the very energy of the world was about to be harvested, his 'Nameless Longevity Script'—which relied on hiding his energy in the shadows—might not be enough. If the farmer is tilling the soil, even the worms get turned over.
"And you?" Han Zhao asked. "What are you?"
"I am the one who carries the seeds," Hùn said, gesturing to the small, tattered bag at his side. It didn't contain gold or jade. it contained hundreds of small, wooden slips with names carved into them. Not the names of Sect Leaders, but the names of bakers, tailors, and librarians. "When the Purge ends, someone has to tell the new world that the old one existed. Otherwise, the cycle just repeats in the dark."
The next morning, the sky didn't turn blue. It turned a flat, bruised silver.
Han Zhao stood on the platform of the camel, looking out at his mirages. Usually, they flickered with the vibrant colors of imaginary palaces. Now, they were breaking apart, the illusory Qi being sucked upward into the silver sky like smoke into a vacuum.
[Current Life Expectancy: 93 Years, 212 Days.]
[Warning: Global Qi Recession in progress. Your 'Stored Longevity' is being targeted by the 'Environmental Siphon'.]
"Oh, no you don't," Han Zhao hissed. "I worked for those years. I scrubbed floors for those years!"
He retreated into the library and slammed the ironwood door.
"Su Lian! Hùn! Sit in a triangle. Now!"
Su Lian didn't ask questions. She had learned that when Han Zhao looked truly annoyed, the world was ending. They sat on the floor of the library, surrounded by thousands of scrolls.
Han Zhao reached into his shadow and pulled out every scrap of power he had hidden. He didn't use it to fight the sky. Instead, he channeled it into the Azure Dragon Core, which was still nestled in its "Boring Tax Records" box.
"System," Han Zhao commanded, his face pale with effort. "Inverse the 'Social Invisibility' field. Don't hide us from people. Hide us from the World."
[Warning: This requires the 'Absolute Zero' state. You will lose 5 years of Longevity to initiate the seal.]
"Do it!"
[Initiating: 'The Unwritten Chapter' Protocol.]
The library cabin didn't just become quiet; it became absent. To the "Heavenly Purge" sweeping across the Ghost-Sands, the Stone-Humped Camel and its passengers simply no longer occupied a space in reality.
Outside, the silver sky began to scream.
It wasn't a sound of wind, but the sound of millions of cultivators' Dantians being forcibly emptied. Across the Azure Province, the "Geniuses" who had fought for glory were being turned into husks in seconds. Ancestor Yun, the Core Disciples, the arrogant Lin Chen—all of them were currently being "harvested" by a celestial force that viewed them as nothing more than overripe fruit.
Inside the library, Han Zhao sat in total darkness. The only light was the faint, flickering green of the Dragon Core.
"Hold your breath," Han Zhao whispered. "If you think, the world might find you. If you feel, the sky might see you. Become a record. Become a page."
He closed his eyes and entered the deepest state of the 'Nameless Longevity Script'.
[Current Life Expectancy: 88 Years, 212 Days.]
The loss of five years felt like a physical wound, but as he felt the "Great Scythe" pass mere inches above the roof of the cabin, he knew it was a bargain.
Hours passed. Or perhaps it was centuries. In the 'Absolute Zero' state, time had no meaning. Han Zhao watched the System logs flicker in the dark.
[Detected: Fall of the Blue Cloud Sect.]
[Detected: Erasure of the Cloud-Devouring Province.]
[Detected: 99.9% reduction in global Qi levels.]
The world was being hollowed out. The "Heroic Age" was ending in a silent, silver flash.
When Han Zhao finally opened the door of the library cabin, the Ghost-Sands were gone.
They were still in a desert, but the sand was no longer gold. It was a pale, crystalline white, like salt. The sun was gone, replaced by a soft, dim luminescence that seemed to come from the ground itself.
The air was thin, cold, and completely devoid of Qi.
Han Zhao stepped out onto the camel's head. The Stone-Humped Camel was still alive, though its granite skin now looked like polished marble.
[Status: Post-Purge Era (Year 0).]
[Current Life Expectancy: 88 Years, 215 Days.]
[Note: You are one of the only 'Cultivators' remaining in the world.]
Hùn stepped out behind him, clutching his bag of wooden slips. He looked at the white wasteland and let out a long, shaky breath. "The soil is fresh. The weeds are gone."
Su Lian followed, her hand trembling as she felt the empty air. "My cultivation... it's gone. I can't feel the mist anymore."
Han Zhao checked his own shadow. It was still there. It was small, tight, and incredibly dense. Because he had never "grown tall" like the others, because he had kept his energy "low" and "hidden," the scythe had missed his roots.
He was still at the Peak of Qi Condensation. In the old world, that made him a nobody.
In this new, empty world?
Han Zhao looked at his hands. He was likely the most powerful being left on the planet.
"Well," Han Zhao said, a dry, tired smile touching his lips. "The library is still intact. The books are safe. And best of all..."
He looked at the silent, empty horizon.
"...no more Young Masters."
He sat down on the camel's head and tapped its side. "Move on, old friend. We have a lot of new names to write, and I'd like to find a spot with a little more shade before the next era starts."
[New Objective: The First Sage of the New Age (Passive).]
[Target: Survive for 1,000 Years without being noticed.]
Han Zhao leaned back. "One thousand years? Now that sounds like a record worth keeping."