CHAPTER 1291: CHAPTER 318: THE TRUE PERSON TRANSCENDS GOOD AND EVIL

In truth, this was also the first time Annan had encountered the physical embodiment of the Sixth Aspect of the Book of Past Lives.

If Annan had tried to find it on his own, he definitely wouldn’t have succeeded. Though it was called the "Book of Past Lives," it wasn’t actually a book in the literal sense, like the Fourth Historical Treatise... It wasn’t parchment, stone tablet, or clay tablet either.

Annan actually knew what the so-called "Book of Past Lives" was—

The original definition of the Book of Past Lives was an ancient Sanskrit religious scripture from Earth’s India.

These texts were traditionally dedicated to particular gods, typically Vishnu, Brahma, or Shiva. The Book of Past Lives contained "Five Aspects," respectively: the initial creation of the cosmos, the destruction and renewal of the cosmos, the genealogy of gods, accounts of human origins and history, and the lineages of the Solar Dynasty built by Surya’s descendants and the Lunar Dynasty established by Somas’ descendants.

In this world, there exists similar arcane knowledge—though it originates from Lady Haoyun’s creation.

She categorized the most enigmatic knowledge into five types, corresponding to "Primordial Genesis," "the potentiality of world destruction," "the secrets of the living pillars," "the genesis of diverse races," and "the conflicts and annihilation of various races during their earliest creations."

And what’s known as the Sixth Aspect of the Book of Past Lives, is "the indescribable, ineffable, absolute secret knowledge beyond these five categories." It’s a power personally sealed by Lady Haoyun... akin to the Sirens of the Third Aspect.

Such knowledge is absolutely hidden—even the Twelve True Gods have long forgotten it. It requires its own set of linguistic constructs because it’s knowledge that can’t even be "diluted" into apocrypha.

Currently, human language cannot articulate its contents, and even hearing it would render it incomprehensible.

Aside from deliberate inheritance, killing its possessor would cause this knowledge to flood into one’s own mind. If there is no identifiable and traceable perpetrator, it would flow automatically into the mind of the closest individual.

This knowledge persists in an almost eternal form.

Unless humanity were to be entirely extinguished, it would never completely disappear... Yet, at the same time, it won’t multiply on its own. It exists like a parasitic organism within the collective consciousness of mankind.

In a certain sense, it could also be considered "The Worm."

However, this parasite isn’t harmful. It continuously exhibits a desire and posture of coexistence... Hence, once it’s sealed and stripped of its most fundamental dangers, it ceases to be a "great enemy."

Annan isn’t one to delay action, nor would he ever retreat or evade in the face of peril. With all precautions clarified, he didn’t even rest for one night before following Saint Peter to the ritual site that had been prepared beforehand.

This wasn’t some sacred, extraordinary location.

Nor were there highly complex preparatory rituals... On the contrary, it was utterly simple. Saint Peter, the "Silent Unspeakable," prepared to use this Great Calamity Curio at an unadorned, desolately vast plaza.

The only significant distinction from other plazas was its emptiness—completely devoid of people. Days ago, the vicinity had been encircled by layers of security measures, with barriers sealing off all sound from within and outside.

The Twelve True Gods stood aligned with the twelve directions of the clock face, vigilantly guarding the perimeter to ensure no one approached.

In the square itself stood only Annan and Saint Peter.

The perpetually silent Guardian fully unveiled his gaze to meet Annan’s.

—It was a brilliance so dazzling, ablaze like the sun.

After bestowing his blessing upon Annan earlier, his appearance had aged visibly, reaching the outer limits of his forties or fifties. Now, as he vocalized for the first time, his features visibly aged further, slowly diminishing with every moment.

It was a voice as vast and resonant as tidal waves, akin to the roaring might of a tsunami.

At the instant Saint Peter began speaking, the skies darkened deeply. The once-afternoon heavens became enshrouded by storm clouds within mere seconds.

In an instant, torrential rain began to pour down in a deafening deluge.

Among the layers of dense storm clouds cracked open a singular beam of light—its distinct luminescence piercing through and falling upon Annan alone. In the roaring downpour, the few steps surrounding Annan became the sole refuge untouched by the rain.

Still, the rain rapidly pooled upon the granite slabs, splashing onto Annan’s pant legs and boots.

Basking in that singular brilliance, Annan began to experience strange visions.

He seemed to perceive the radiant light pouring from the layered storm clouds as an infinite cascade of silken veils.

As Saint Peter’s chant rose, a certain unseen force ebbed and surged around Annan like tidal waves. Those ethereal shafts of light began to take on various hues indescribable by human vision.

And yet, the essence of "light" possessed by Annan vividly relayed to him—those lights encircling him had begun to transform into a "sense of touch" belonging to something far grander. While appearing as layered polar lights, that was merely a fraction of what could be glimpsed.

Like a chopstick standing before an ant, the ant might either circumvent it or climb atop of it; yet even atop its very tip, it could never comprehend the true nature of the chopstick itself.

At last, a crushing dizziness overwhelmed Annan to the point where he lost all sensory control over his limbs. It felt as though he was adrift in a warm sea suffused with the fragrance of roses, his body passively swaying in the waves.

Paradoxically, Annan’s heightened sensitivity only tormented him further.

He perceived himself alternately as minuscule enough to stand atop a single strand of thread and as an immense entity, transcending the confines of the shell named "world" and becoming a giant, spanning across universes.

In the throes of this intense cognitive dissonance, Annan "understood" a voice.

"The Real Manifestation surpasses good and evil..."

Instinctively, Annan attempted to grasp the meaning behind the voice, to trace its origins.

But suddenly, an even more intense dizziness drowned his will. His consciousness was swept away by an invisible ocean—carried from that white strand into its vast expanse.

Before losing consciousness, Annan made one final effort to project his awareness outward.

He vaguely saw...

A pure-white sea where countless silver-white spheres were suspended.

From each sphere extended uncountable silver filaments. These weren’t straight lines but curved shapes advancing in specialized patterns. Among them, most lines neither intersected nor ran parallel, though there were instances of lines coming close to one another.

In a surge of clarity, Annan realized—these were other worlds.

Considering the point where he’d traversed forward as "positive," if he reversed direction from his original position, another sphere’s filament would remain suspended perpendicularly nearby.

And it was under some mysterious force’s pull that Annan journeyed further along the filament he currently occupied.

As he initially stood upon this filament, he was held by a sort of gravitational pull. But once the "ocean" blew him away, like a magnet losing attraction, he could theoretically fall towards any trajectory—into any direction.

If he resisted this force and precisely landed at a specific point—

He could have landed anywhere along this filament. Not just in the "future" but also in the "past," or he might’ve even moved onto another filament altogether, descending upon an arbitrary new point.

In that fleeting instant, Annan acutely realized... he could theoretically exist at any moment or place, amidst endless worlds where countless versions of himself potentially existed.

—Yet these were merely "ifs" and "possibilities."

For at the moment Annan entertained such thoughts, he’d already fallen deeper into that filament—within this untouched white ocean, the speed of thought proved far too slow. Like a magnet snapping against a refrigerator surface, Annan adhered firmly to the filament.

Soon thereafter, Annan’s consciousness began dissolving quickly. The filament grew larger and larger, morphing into what appeared to be an immense river flowing endlessly forward. Before fully dissolving, Annan left behind a mark at his origin... Or perhaps, a force of overwhelming magnitude had affixed a lifebuoy to him before he was engulfed by the river.

When Annan eventually awoke, he found himself within a brand-new realm.

A realm somewhat familiar... yet distant and alien to Annan.

—Yet Annan was no longer present in the form of a human or a Specter.

Instead, he bore the faint outline of a humanoid figure, a wispy and slender phantom silhouette.

His form shimmered with a soft, translucent silver glow, akin to rippling waves of water... as if he were an untouchable mirage.

Like a divine being, Annan drifted above ground, gazing downward upon the earth 186 years into the future.