Far away, in another part of the star system, two aristocratic female insects stepped into the laboratory Caesar had fled.
Before them stretched a scene of carnage: corpses piled high, rivers of blood running through the facility, nearly all soldiers at the experimental communications station brutally slaughtered, their deaths grotesque and pitiful.
One female coldly remarked, “Weren’t we supposed to make him our puppet, obedient under our command? How does he still have free will?”
The lead female laughed softly. “Seems his obsession runs deep. He truly is a founding emperor. I doubt we can easily bend his soul. We’ll need another way to make him serve willingly.”
The subordinate muttered in disbelief, “Impossible… That’s Caesar the Great—ruthless, cunning, and intelligent!”
The leader’s gaze hardened. Slowly, she said, “Relax. That esteemed one has already taught me a method.”
Leaning closer, the subordinate’s voice carried urgency: “What method? Tell me!”
The leader only smiled faintly, offering no further explanation.
A few days later, Liyou suddenly reported, “Little Master, traces of a search for you have appeared on the neural network. The party is of aristocratic status and has arrived in this sector.”
Caesar narrowed his eyes, coldly amused: “Ha. I haven’t even gone after them yet, and they come knocking on my door first?”
Liyou continued, “They have sent a communication request.”
Caesar snorted disdainfully. “Good. Let’s see how many words of insect tongue they can spit out.”
A massive virtual projection rose, displaying a female aristocrat in opulent attire, her expression proud. She spoke with formal respect, though thinly veiled in insincerity: “Your Majesty, I offer my greetings.”
Caesar looked up, voice icy. “Get to the point. If not, leave.”
Her smile didn’t waver, voice soft but carrying weight: “I heard… Your Majesty has been searching for His Excellency, the Immortal?”
Caesar’s eyes darkened, murderous intent flashing: “Who told you that?”
She remained composed: “The source matters not. What matters is—I know where the Immortal resides.”
Leaning back, Caesar’s tone was casual yet lethal. “Dare to joke like that, and you won’t leave this star alive.”
She replied calmly:
“All these years you couldn’t find him because he had already vanished… but he never truly died.”
“He left a seal, constructing a barrier with his residual soul, suppressing a certain… extremely ancient power.”
“Now, his will remains deeply buried within that seal, dormant, unawakened.”
Caesar’s expression stiffened, voice sharp as a blade: “You mean… he’s still alive?”
“Not dead yet, if anything,” she said, voice laced with temptation, as if provoking an obsession.
Caesar retorted coldly, “Someone so proud… would he allow himself to exist in such abasement?”
“Precisely because of his pride, he chose slumber,” the female leaned slightly, voice nearly a whisper. “Not for you, but because it was his choice.”
Caesar’s voice cut through the air: “Enough riddles. Where is he?”
“We do not know,” she said calmly, though her words hid deep scheming. “The seal has been moved, made almost impossible to detect. No insect can touch it, none can approach.”
“But you are different. You once shared a bond of understanding with him. That seal might loosen, just a fraction, for you.”
Caesar’s tone hardened. “What is it you want?”
“We do not need him. What we desire is the power he restrains.”
The female’s lips curved slowly, eyes icy:
“As long as he sleeps there, we cannot reach it. Unless you—open that gate for us.”
“The only clue is the existence that resonates with the seal—the ‘Key.’”
She smiled as though feeding poison into Caesar’s heart:
“That Key has already appeared, though we have yet to pinpoint it. You… might be able to sense him.”
“If you find the Key, you will find the seal. If you break the seal, he will awaken.”
“—He will appear before you again, belonging only to you, one insect alone.”
The projection slowly faded, but her words lingered, winding through the air:
“This time, you need not lose him again.”
Caesar rose, gaze like a blade, murderous intent radiating:
“If you are playing me… I will see your entire clan burn in hell as recompense.”
The communication ended. Silence fell over the chamber.
Caesar sank back into his seat, fingers tapping lightly on the cold armrest.
He had always known: the Immortal never left a trace—
No name in history, no record in the scrolls.
Even Liyou, the neural construct they had built together, only responded coldly when he asked about cultivation circles or the Immortal Palace:
“The Great Master never granted me that information.”
In that moment, it felt as though all his efforts had shattered in the air.
The Immortal would not even allow Liyou to record his existence.
“…Seems deliberate,” Caesar had once murmured.
The Immortal never explained, only smiled faintly when questioned, as if detachment were natural.
Caesar finally understood: behind that smile lay a past too heavy to touch—a secret he could never fully reach. No matter his effort, he could only brush the surface of that heart.
Fingers brushed the ring on his necklace, eyes distant. “…Perhaps he never wanted me to remember him from the start.”
The loss and frustration pierced like a cold wind into his bones, yet it also strengthened him.
Even if the truth was shrouded in lies, even if he was merely being used—
Even with only a one-thousandth chance, he could not give up.
As Caesar immersed himself in these thoughts, Liyou suddenly spoke, calm and methodical:
“Little Master, that conversation contains multiple contradictions and logical flaws.”
Caesar’s eyes shifted. “Speak.”
Liyou explained clearly, steady in pace:
“First, they claim the Immortal’s soul remains asleep within the seal, and that he constructed it himself. But why would he do so? What exactly is this ‘ancient power’?”
“Second, if true, the Immortal has not completely perished. Why then, have they waited until now to attempt breaking the seal? Did they truly not seek any other solution over a millennium?”
“Third, they say the seal has been moved and hidden extremely well, but the details of the transfer and the operator are vague, suggesting another layer of intrigue.”
“Finally, they claim the Immortal’s soul is dormant in the seal, but opening it would effectively help them bypass the last barrier.”
Caesar sneered lowly. “In other words, if I follow their instructions to find the Key, I’m helping them open the door?”
“Exactly,” Liyou replied evenly. “They cannot break it themselves, so they are using your feelings for the Immortal as leverage. The Immortal is merely a pawn in their scheme. They never promised to spare him—this is the core flaw.”
Caesar’s eyes darkened like night. “Once the seal is broken, those female aristocrats can seize the ‘ancient power.’ As for the Immortal… even if remnants of his soul remain, he may be trapped forever, unable to rise.”
Liyou added: “These gaps were intentionally left, to make you guess, to make you imagine. In other words, they are manipulating you, using your emotions to guide you, while their true objective remains unknown. You must exercise caution.”
Caesar let out a low snort. His golden-red eyes were shadowed, voice like iron. “As expected… a bunch of liars.” He paused, voice freezing like ice. “Liyou, find out everything—identify these aristocratic females. The means capable of resurrecting me are not ordinary.”
Liyou replied calmly, “Understood. I will investigate identities and locations, and track any leads related to the seal.”
“Moreover, if you truly intend to save the Immortal, first confirm whether the seal still exists and who holds the Key. Do not act rashly; otherwise, it may all be a carefully laid trap.”
Silence fell over the cabin once more, only the soft hum of machinery echoing, like a soundless, cold laughter.
Caesar stared at the now-dark projection. After a long moment, he let out a hoarse laugh:
“Heh… using my emotions against me? Those who play politics like this dare touch anything.”
The laughter faded. His fists clenched, knuckles white, trembling slightly.
“But… if he really is in there…”
He whispered to himself, as if asking Liyou as well:
“Even if it’s only one-thousandth… I cannot make the wrong choice.”
Liyou watched silently, saying nothing.
Caesar murmured like in a dream:
“…Will he remember me? Or has he forgotten long ago? Will he still look at me… and call my name?”
He closed his eyes, trying to resist the thoughts, yet he sank fully into them, unable to escape.
“If he wakes, and finds I helped those fools… will he… hate me?”
The chamber was eerily still, only Liyou’s calm yet firm voice answered:
“You step into the trap, not because you believe he will remember or forgive you, but because you only wish for him to live.”
“Even if, upon awakening, he does not belong to you, does not recognize you, forgets the past… you would still accept it willingly.”
“Because you love him—not to possess, only to see him survive safely in this world.”
Caesar froze, shoulders trembling slightly.
After a long moment, he said nothing, turned, and his tall, heavy figure seemed to carry the weight of all past and unfinished obsessions.
“Let’s go,” he whispered hoarsely. “Find that Key.”