Within the fractured vault of Heaven Court, a ripple passed through one of the ancient starlight mechanisms. No Gu had activated it. No Venerable had given command.
And yet, it moved.
The echo, drifting in its chamber of stories-not-yet-written, turned its attention to the absence.
A figure had diverged—not in rebellion, but in unwitnessed silence.
The Threadless Clone.
A trace formed, then collapsed. Formations designed to map all causality failed not from resistance, but from lack of participation.
"He cannot be traced," the echo said. "Even by belief."
The Vault blinked. A starlight script dissolved mid-sentence. Even the story refused to be told.
Fang Yuan, sitting cross-legged within the depths of his aperture, felt a pressure shift. Not outside. Inside.
One of his clones had walked beyond design.
He did not frown. He did not react.
Instead, he sent no message. No Gu.
Only silence.
"Let him continue," he thought. "Let the world learn what it means to follow no thread."
Above, the starlight echo wavered.
For the first time since it had awakened, it began to fear it was no longer the one imagining the future.
It was being imagined by it.