Night had wrapped the capital in a velvet hush.
The city slept beneath a sky riddled with stars—cold, glittering things that blinked like ancient gods too tired to care anymore. But not all slumbered. Not everyone surrendered to the warm embrace of forgetful dreams.
In the furthest corner of the Divine Merchant Manor, beyond the gardens perfumed with moon-kissed lotuses and through the silent bamboo groves swaying like whispers, a man sat cross-legged under an ancient, crooked tree.
The Limitless Sage.
He wasn't meditating. Not really. No mantra escaped his lips. No spiritual chants. No runes danced around his fingers.
He was simply… still.
So still the dew refused to settle on his robe. So still the wind bent around him like a reverent servant. So still that even time seemed reluctant to move forward in his presence.
And then…
He opened his eyes.
Two pools of bottomless light, more vast than galaxies. The moment he blinked, the world shifted.
Somewhere far above the world—above cloud, heaven, and even the karmic scrolls that recorded destinies—a gaze was cast downward. Not through divine right. Not through spiritual technique.
But through… Will.
Someone—or something—was watching him.
The gaze wasn't hostile. No divine blade waited to strike. But it was ancient. Pure. And entirely… unblinking. It watched as if watching was all it had ever done. A gaze beyond good and evil. One that did not care whether the world burned or bloomed.
And yet… it had chosen to fixate on him.
The Sage didn't flinch. His lips curled into a faint, amused smile—barely there, like a secret the universe hadn't earned.
He moved.
One finger rose—slender, precise, impossibly graceful. He drew a slow, deliberate circle in the air. Not a spell. Not a seal.
A mirror.
In that circle, the veil between planes parted. And behind it… eyes.
Unblinking, violet, fathomless. The kind of eyes that had never closed. That had witnessed stars being born… and devoured.
They floated there—like moons, watching.
And then…
They smiled.
Lian'er stirred in her sleep, not far from the garden where he sat.
Her breath caught.
In her dreams, a temple rose from ash, tall and eternal. Its pillars were made of dragon bones, and its floor… was missing. Only an endless descent remained.
She saw the Sage's silhouette standing at the edge of that abyss—watching, always watching.And something was watching him back.
She woke with a start.
"S-Senior…"
But he was already walking. Barefoot. Bare-chested. His robe hung loose, sleeves trailing like the clouds that follow a storm's path. The way he moved was not fast. But the ground itself seemed to anticipate his steps. As if reality shifted for him rather than the other way around.
He walked through the garden. Past the pond that reflected the heavens. Past trees that bowed slightly, sensing his presence. He didn't need light. He was light.
Lian'er followed quietly, not daring to speak. Her heart pounded like thunder in her chest. She didn't know why, but she felt it too.
Something… was coming.
They reached the edge of the city. A ruined shrine stood there—forgotten by gods, abandoned by pilgrims. Moss climbed its cracked walls. Silence hung like a shroud.
But he remembered this place.
Long ago, it had been a temple of the Watchers.
And now… it called again.
The air cracked like shattered glass.
A voice seeped through the veil—ancient, emotionless, powerful.
"Why do you still resist, Sleepless One?"
The Sage closed his eyes, as if the question amused him.
"I never resisted," he replied softly. "I simply watch… as you do."
The void shimmered.
The violet eyes blinked—for the first time in a thousand years.
Lightning danced in the sky, but no storm followed. Only pressure.A pressure that made even the air tremble.
The voice returned.
"Your path leads to ruin. Your existence bends reality. You devour fate."
"I do," the Sage admitted with a lazy smile, as if confessing he liked his tea a bit too bitter.
"And yet, you walk this world alone."
"I prefer silence over worship."
There was a pause.
And then, the sky… laughed.
But it wasn't cruel.
It was tired.
Ancient.
Understanding.
Lian'er trembled.
Even though she couldn't see what the Sage saw, her instincts screamed. Her soul tried to retreat into itself. She didn't know what they were talking about. But she knew the entire city would vanish in a blink if the conversation turned hostile.
She clutched her chest, trying to breathe.
The Sage glanced back at her.
Just once.
And her trembling stopped.
In that one glance… he returned her to safety.
To warmth.
To light.
That was all it took.
The eyes above the shrine stared deeper.
"You carry a soul older than stars."
"I borrowed it," the Sage whispered. "I promised I'd return it… after I finished watching everything end."
"You won't live long enough."
"I will."
"Why?"
The Sage looked up.
His eyes shone with something fierce, something lonely, something eternal.
"Because I refuse to sleep."
And with that, he smiled.
Not the smile of a man.
Not even the smile of a god.
But the smile of a being who had seen everything fall… and still chose to rise.
And in the heavens above, for the first time in eons…
The eyes closed.
The gaze was gone.
The world sighed in relief.
The stars twinkled a little brighter.
But the Sage remained still, under the forgotten temple's broken roof, gazing at the moon as if it were a friend he hadn't seen in a thousand years.
And behind him, Lian'er whispered softly—
"…He who watches, never sleeps."