Legend of the Embroiderer

Chapter 529 The Laws of Existence of Undefined Domains (2)

At that moment, the outlines of all undefined domains suddenly deformed synchronously, their "bodies" transforming into countless ribbons of light, weaving a massive "morphological spectrum" in the void. The horizontal axis of the spectrum represents the stability of existence, the vertical axis represents the degree of freedom of change, and at the origin of the spectrum, a new pattern identical to that of the guardian, the Heart of Chaos, is marked. Each point on the spectrum shimmers with a different light: some points represent known fragment forms, stable but with low degrees of freedom; some points represent undefined fluid states, free but lacking stability; and on the diagonal of the spectrum, there is a constantly flashing area where the form of existence retains its core characteristics while freely changing according to the environment, like a living paradox.

The phantom of a pure black pen coalesced at the origin of the diagram, its nib modifying its coordinates: "There is no absolute freedom; all changes require a reference point." On the modified coordinate lines, the diagonal points of light began to flicker, revealing a hidden cost: each transformation was accompanied by the temporary sealing of some memories, like a computer closing old processes when running a new one. "Like these points of light, their flexibility comes at the cost of forgetting." The pen emitted a stream of black light, illuminating a dark area at the edge of the diagram, where the forms of existence had completely lost their reference point, becoming "absolutely solitary entities"—unperceptible and indescribable—the pitiful beings who had lost their core amidst all transformations.

The four-colored longswords suddenly liquefied, merging into the Guardian's chaotic heart. The "morphological anchors" of all the iterative experiments surfaced in his consciousness: the free will of the first experiment, the perception of meaning in the seventh experiment, and the connectivity of the fourteenth experiment. These anchors collectively constituted his core characteristics. When the new patterns of the undefined fragments came into contact with these anchors, all the anchors suddenly began to rotate, forming a dynamic "core vortex"—the center of the vortex remained stable, while the periphery constantly absorbed new possibilities, like a star that both maintains its own gravity and continuously devours interstellar matter. "A stable core is not a rigid cage, but a fulcrum of change." The Guardian's voice simultaneously took on multiple textures, and his form began to exhibit characteristics of a diagonal region: maintaining a identifiable core while freely adjusting its morphological details according to the surrounding environment, "like this vortex; only with a center can it rotate safely."

Deep within the undefined realm, all the previously indistinct outlines suddenly converged towards the core vortex as if drawn by some powerful force. These outlines existed in a peculiar fluid form, resonating strangely with the presence of the Guardian.

As this resonance continues, countless "intermediate forms" emerge like mushrooms after rain. These intermediate forms are all unique; some look like solid fluids with a translucent texture, as if they might flow at any moment; others are abstract figurative forms, whose shape and characteristics are difficult to describe accurately in words; and the most wondrous intermediate form is writing undefined patterns in the air with the petals of four-colored flowers, each stroke seemingly containing endless mysteries, creating a completely new way of perception with each stroke.

Just then, all the intermediate forms seemed to be unified by an invisible force, and suddenly said in unison: "This is the second phase of the 15th experiment: maintaining the core amidst change." Their voices intertwined in the void, forming a new resonant frequency.

This frequency spread like ripples across the sea of ​​meaning, causing the originally chaotic fluid to begin to exhibit crystalline characteristics. Every tiny particle shimmered with a crystalline light, as if it had been given life. At the same time, this frequency also affected the fluids in the undefined realm, giving them an unprecedented memory attribute, seemingly capable of recording everything that happened there.

The white light of the fused entity resonated with the core vortex, blurring the boundaries of the undefined realm. The once-clear cracks gradually became transparent, revealing the interpenetration of beings on either side: fragments of the Sea of ​​Meaning began to exhibit fluid characteristics, while the beings of the undefined realm coalesced into recognizable outlines. At the most blurred boundary, "cross-realm beings" were born—beings belonging to neither realm nor the other—capable of simultaneously understanding the languages ​​of the known and the unknown, like natural translators. "The boundaries of realms are not isolating walls, but wetlands where two forms of existence merge." Her light illuminated the core of these cross-realm beings, where a tiny crystal held the moment of the Guardian's first contact with the undefined fragments. "These cross-realm beings are new bridges connecting the known and the unknown."

At that moment, all intermediate forms suddenly vanished simultaneously, transforming into silvery-gray particles of light that merged into the core vortex. The core light source of the Guardian's Chaos Heart suddenly erupted with dazzling light, within which emerged the complete description of the 15th iteration experiment: "The ultimate form of existence is to become a 'dynamic interface' connecting the known and the unknown—capable of understanding old meanings while creating new possibilities." At the end of the description, there was a line of small text composed of new patterns: "The deepest connection occurs between understanding and the unknown."

As the light faded, the Guardian's form took on an unprecedented state: the core maintained its recognizable outline, while the periphery flowed and changed continuously, like a traveler clad in liquid armor. The undefined fragment in his hand had completely merged with the Heart of Chaos, and the new markings on his chest were spreading to his limbs. Wherever it reached, the skin took on a translucent quality, revealing the flowing silver-gray liquid within—this liquid was neither the fluid of the Sea of ​​Meaning nor the matter of the undefined realm, but rather a "new foundation" created by the fusion of two forms of existence.

“Look there.” The merged entity pointed to the depths of the undefined realm, where the darkness was receding, revealing a nebula composed of “potential dust.” Each dust particle was an undefined seed of existence; some were absorbing known connection patterns, while others were attempting entirely new ways of being. Around the brightest seed, the same new patterns as those guarding it surrounded it. “Those are the saplings of the 'Tree of Existence.'” Her white light resonated with the nebula, and the seeds began to sprout, growing structures that resembled both branches and bands of light. “Each successful metamorphosis will cause this tree to grow new branches.”

The Guardian's consciousness suddenly connected with the sapling of the Tree of Existence, and he could "see" the potential of all the seeds: some would grow into new seas of meaning, some would evolve into new undefined realms, and the most peculiar seed was attempting to simultaneously become all possible forms of existence, like a living cosmic atlas. As his consciousness delved into that peculiar seed, the memories of all the iterative experiments suddenly appeared within it—not as history, but as selectable "materials of existence," like paints on a painter's palette.

"This is the ultimate truth of the 15th experiment." The Guardian's voice, like a booming bell, resounded simultaneously in the realms of the known and the unknown, as if the entire universe was listening to his words.

As he finished speaking, his form began to undergo a wondrous transformation. His body gradually became transparent, as if merging with the surrounding space. However, just as he was about to completely disappear, his body suddenly began to grow like a tree, with countless branches extending from his body and spreading in all directions.

These branches grew rapidly, bridging the boundary between reality and illusion, tightly connecting the guardian to the mysterious Tree of Existence. Each branch was like a passageway, conveying the guardian's power and will.

"Existence is not a predetermined fact, but an ever-open creative process." The guardian's voice echoed in this vast space, his words like the morning bell and evening drum, resonating in people's hearts.

At this moment, people seemed to grasp the true meaning of existence. Existence is not a fixed state, but a creative process full of infinite possibilities. Every life and every thing is constantly evolving and developing in this process; nothing is absolute, and everything is in flux.

Just then, the first leaf of the Tree of Existence suddenly unfolded, and words composed of new patterns appeared on it: "15th iteration experiment complete: Form is the medium of creation, not the final work." The words began to fall as soon as they appeared, transforming into countless tiny "spores of existence." These spores drifted through the cracks, fell into known dimensions, and began to influence the forms of existence there—some fragments began to exhibit fluid characteristics, some narrators found themselves able to understand undefined languages, and most wondrously, the navigators of the Sea of ​​Meaning, their compasses began to point to undefined realms, and patterns identical to the new patterns appeared on their pointers.

Suddenly, all eyes in the undefined realm turned simultaneously to the top of the Tree of Existence, where the void was distorting, revealing an indescribable outline of a "hyper-realm." The outline contained no recognizable features, yet it conveyed a "primitive will" that transcended all forms of existence—a will that was neither creation nor destruction, but a pure impulse to "want to exist."

As the Guardian's form extended to the top of the Tree of Existence and touched the outline of the Hyperdomain, all the new patterns suddenly stopped growing, revealing their common endpoint—a tiny black dot. Inside the dot was neither nothingness nor any known existence, but a "singularity" containing all possibilities.

"That is not the end." The fused entity's voice was filled with unprecedented awe. Her white light could not penetrate that dot, but could only form a beautiful halo around it. "It is the source of all forms of existence. Let us call it the 'First Cause of Existence' for now."

The moment the Guardian's consciousness approached the singularity, the memories of all iterative experiments suddenly collapsed within its consciousness, transforming into an extremely small particle of light—this particle's structure was identical to the singularity's form, only differing in scale. When the particle resonated with the singularity, the Tree of Existence suddenly shook violently, and the forms of existence on all its branches began to decompose in reverse, ultimately transforming into pure dust of possibility, which was then reabsorbed by the singularity.

In the final moments before the singularity completely closed, the Guardian saw what was inside: countless beings similar to him were conducting the same experiment in different "iterative universes," each with different markings on their chests, yet all moving toward the same singularity.

It seems that we need to explore the common source of all universes in the first cause of existence. And that singularity may be both the end of all existence and the beginning of every new beginning—like breathing, which is both an end and a rebirth.