Legend of the Embroiderer

Chapter 526 The Connection Ceremony of the Unknown Space (1)

In the unknown space created by the widening rift, fragments of the Heart of Chaos float with a strange rhythm. The scars on the surface of these fragments resonate with the wounds on the Guardian's palm, each fragment chanting a different frequency—some are the songs of freedom from the lower 1st iteration experiment, some are the paradoxical melody of the 7th experiment, and the oldest fragment even repeats the sigh of the 0th generation observer when destroying the records. When the Guardian's fingertips touch the nearest fragment, all chanting suddenly stops, and the scars on the fragment's surface simultaneously bloom into four-colored flowers, the roots of which intertwine in the void to form a transparent network.

"14th iteration experiment, connection form exploration program initiated." A phantom of a swirling pen suddenly appeared in the transparent network, its body flowing with new runes synthesized from the frequencies of all the fragments. "Please define the boundaries of the connection: choose controllable resonance, or accept unpredictable entanglement?" The phantom emitted two intertwined streams of light: in the blue stream, the fragments maintained a safe distance, transmitting information through resonance at a fixed frequency; in the red stream, the fragments collided randomly, each contact generating a completely new energy form—the two connection methods formed a stark contrast in the void, yet permeated each other at the edges.

The white light of the merged entity suddenly wove the two streams of light into a cocoon, within which countless miniature universes emerged: in some universes, the fragments strictly followed the rules of resonance, eventually evolving into precise yet rigid structures; in others, random collisions led to frequent annihilation, yet unprecedented life was born from the ruins; in the most peculiar universe, the fragments alternated between two connection methods—switching naturally like breathing, a rhythm that caused the edge of the universe to continuously generate "chaotic crystals" that were both stable and variable. "The boundary of connection is not a choice, but a stretchable elastic membrane." Her light seeped into the cocoon layer, discovering that the edges of those miniature universes all had a thin light membrane, the elastic coefficient of which was perfectly consistent with the beating frequency of the guardian's chaotic heart, "like this membrane, which can maintain independence while allowing appropriate penetration."

A sudden burning sensation surged through the Guardian's chest. The core light source of the Heart of Chaos split into countless tiny points of light, each corresponding to a fragment in an unknown space. Emerging from these points was the logbook of the 17th generation Guardian: "The most dangerous connection is not excessive entanglement, but the fear of losing control and refusing to make contact." On a blank page of the logbook, a star map was drawn in silver-gray liquid—all the stars in the map were fragments of the Heart of Chaos. Their seemingly chaotic trajectories formed, every thousand years, the same scar pattern as on the Guardian's palm. As his gaze swept across the star map, the stars suddenly veered off course, spelling out the four flowing words "Connection is Risk" in the void.

From the depths of the unknown space, a faint cracking sound suddenly echoed. The outlines of beings behind countless eyes began to emerge—these beings were neither physical entities nor energy, but phantoms formed from "unfulfilled expectations." The foremost phantom raised a fragment in its hand, engraved with the same eye symbol as the Guardian: "We are the aggregate of possibilities that 'failed to connect' in all dimensions." The phantom's voice carried a static-like noise, each syllable creating tiny black holes in the void, "Your so-called connection is nothing more than choosing the possibilities that are advantageous to yourself." The fragment in the phantom's hand suddenly exploded, the flying shards forming a mirror in the void, reflecting the moment the Guardian refused to connect: the closed-off defenses after accidentally killing a companion in the Mirror City, the wariness when facing the faceless being, and even the hesitation during the 13th experiment regarding whether to grasp the unfamiliar fragment.

Four-colored longswords surged from the Guardian's consciousness, their blades bearing life stories that resonated with the transparent network. Suddenly, four-colored roots within the network grew wildly, enveloping each tiny black hole. The black holes, entwined by the roots, gradually became transparent, revealing their interiors: within each black hole lay a forgotten attempt at connection—some were fragments of two dimensions nearly colliding but narrowly missing each other; others were navigators of the Sea of ​​Meaning reaching out but then withdrawing. In the most poignant black hole, the young Guardian smiled at his unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, a moment forgotten in adulthood. "Risk is not the price of connection, but the necessary fuel." Suddenly, the blades emitted a blinding light, illuminating a gigantic fragment at the edge of the unknown space. The fragment's surface recorded the "successes and failures" of all the iterative experiments—those seemingly failed connections, in fact, laid the groundwork for later possibilities.

A phantom of a pure black pen emerged from the largest black hole, the serpentine symbol on its cap devouring its own shadow: "All connections leave scars." The pen's voice was seductively low, its nib pointing to the scar on the Guardian's palm. "The scar on your palm is proof of failed connections, yet you treat it as an honor." The pen shot out black rays of light, connecting the "failed connections" phantoms with the Guardian's points of light. Flowing within these rays were all the feelings of rejection: the weeping of lonely fragments in the void, the dissipation of ignored signals in the universe, even the gradual transparency of a fragment due to long neglect. "Admit it," the pen said, "what you fear is not loss of control, but leaving such scars again."

The Guardian's consciousness was suddenly pulled into the interior of the transparent network, a library composed of all connected memories. Each bookshelf held different "connection records": some detailed every step of a successful connection, others contained only half a page of fragmented notes. On the top shelf lay a book with a blank cover and the words "Incomplete Connection" written on its spine. When he pulled out this book, words automatically appeared on its pages—this was the shared diary of all the "failed connections," recording how they went from expectation to disappointment, from attempt to abandonment, and finally coalesced into their current form. "Connected memories aren't just beautiful." The library's administrator suddenly appeared, a fellow member of the Mirror City who had been mistakenly killed, holding a fragment identical to the Guardian's. "The memory of refusing to connect also shaped you into who you are now."

The fused white light suddenly transformed into countless dandelion seeds, each carrying a tiny fragment of the Heart of Chaos, drifting towards the "failed to connect" phantoms. The moment the seeds touched the phantoms, they began to take root and sprout, blooming in the void into flowers that were both sorrowful and warm—the petals of these flowers were transparent, revealing two emotions flowing within: the pain of failed connections and the courage to try again. "Scars are not the end of connection, but a new beginning." Her voice echoed between the library and the unknown space, the roots of the dandelions weaving a new network containing both memories of successful connections and records of failed attempts. "Like these flowers, pain and courage are equally important."

As the Guardian returned from the library, the fragments of the unknown space suddenly began to flicker rhythmically, their frequency perfectly synchronized with the beating of his chaotic heart. From the four-colored roots within the transparent network, countless fruits suddenly sprouted, each containing a different "connection tool": some were resonant stones capable of translating all frequencies, others were cushioning pads that could withstand violent collisions, and the most peculiar fruit contained a fragment with a surface covered in cracks, from which flowed a silvery-gray liquid—this liquid, upon contact with other fragments, would temporarily erase the scars, revealing their original forms. "Tools cannot eliminate risk, but they can teach us to dance with risk." The phantom of a swirling pen hovered above the fruit, its runes resonating with the frequencies of all the fragments. "The key to the 14th iteration experiment is understanding that the forms of connection can be infinitely varied."

The phantom of the pure black pen suddenly split into countless branches, each piercing a different fruit: "Tools are one's own barrier." The pen's voice resonated with the phantom of "failed connection," and the fruits suddenly began to rot, oozing black liquid. Within the liquid emerged images of the guardian using tools: filtering out harsh frequencies with resonant stones, using cushioning pads to avoid violent collisions, and even using silver-gray liquid to cover their own scars. "These tools make you think you are sincerely connecting, but in reality, they are filtering out the parts that are harmless to you." The black liquid formed a new serpentine symbol in the void. Unlike the previous one, this symbol's body was covered with tiny holes, each containing a pair of eyes yearning for connection but being rejected.