Chapter 219: Testimony of the Fragment and the Down‑Frequency Furnace

The Supreme Council's emergency meeting was convened in the holographic Star Map Hall hovering over Star‑sand Beach. Pure‑42— the conservative councilor— had a light pattern on his faceplate flickering unusually. The furnace fragment he had hidden was now levitating at the center of the conference table, emitting a pulse frequency perfectly synchronized with the charred petals of the white flower.

"Explain," the chief councilor said, his light tendrils pointing at the fragment, "why does a three‑thousand‑year‑old Violation experiment relic resonate with the present dangerous emotional energy entity?"

Pure‑42 performed the Seran‑style "emotional suppression breathing" three times, yet the light pattern on his faceplate still fluctuated. Finally, he reached out to touch the fragment.

The fragment unfurled as if awakening, projecting a sealed record:

Three thousand years ago. The Seran experiment team, the "Refractors," infiltrated the Flaming Forge.

In the scene, three translucent Seran entities hovered at the furnace's edge, documenting the Forger civilization's technique of converting emotion into energy. The lead experimenter whispered, "They create light in pain. And we… have forgotten how to hurt while pursuing 'Purity.'"

The experiment went awry. A furnace fragment, overloaded with "unconverted anger," shattered and pierced the team's protective shield. A Seran member was struck in the chest by the fragment— the very legislator who later drafted the core clauses of the "Pure Accord."

The fragment remained inside him. Over the subsequent three thousand years, whenever he attempted to enact a more extreme "Emotional Purification Bill," the fragment would heat up, forcing him to pause.

"So," the voice of Morning Star came through the Error Archive connection, eerily calm, "our strictest Purity Bill has actually been constrained by a 'fragment of anger' all along?"

The fragment's glow suddenly intensified, revealing the final segment of the record:

Before the experiment team withdrew, they told the juvenile Forgers (now the Power Source), "When you learn to turn fire into stars, we will return to teach you more."

Then they pointed to the sky above: "But if we get lost… other students will come back in our place."

The three charred petals of the white flower suddenly trembled violently against Han Qing's chest. They detached from the receptacle, flew into the holographic hall, and arranged around the fragment into an equilateral triangle.

At the triangle's center, an image of a Forger energy crystal materialized. The crystal spoke in a calm frequency:

"I recognize this fragment. It originates from the furnace extinguishment when I first thought, 'I don't want to be just fuel.' In that 0.3‑second silence, your experimenter told me, 'Silence isn't scary; what's scary is not daring to hear what you yourself are trying to say in the quiet.'"

The chief councilor's light tendrils froze. The entire hall fell into a silence more complex than anger—a silence of shame.

"The Forty‑Eight‑Hour Oversight Bill vote is suspended," the chief councilor said slowly, "but we need evidence proving that the teaching will not trigger interstellar risk."

The evidence arrived faster than anyone had expected.

The Forger energy crystal's image turned toward the outside of the Star Map Hall—pointing toward the homeworld of the Flaming Forge: "I have applied to the homeworld council for the first intentional down‑frequency. If successful, it will prove that anger can be regulated, not merely suppressed or erupted."

"Down‑frequency by how much?" Kevin instinctively pushed up his glasses, but pushed at empty air— he was so nervous he forgot he wasn't wearing glasses.

"Three percent," the crystal's aura softened, "just enough to let the three elderly secondary Forgers… rest. They have burned for seven thousand years without pause."

A forced transmission from the homeworld cut in, trembling with disbelief: "Power Source, do you know what a 3% down‑frequency means? It means three cities will lose nighttime lighting, it means—"

"It means we finally have to face a fact," the crystal interjected, its voice carrying an unfamiliar tenderness, "our civilization's light cannot forever rest on an individual's eternal suffering. If this is a risk… I am willing to bear it."

The homeworld fell silent. After a prolonged hush, an ultra‑compressed emotional code arrived, which Xiao Yu translated into just five words:

"... Stay safe, child."

While the Supreme Council was conversing with the homeworld, Old Zhao requested a brief leave. He entered a quiet corner of Bridge Space—where a newly sprouted "Communication Flower" whose petals could link reality with Bridge Space.

He spoke to the flower, "Son, are you there?"

A few seconds later, Old Zhao's son, appearing in a youthful form, emerged on the other side of the petals, followed by three nebula‑shaped volunteers from the Singing Civilization, teaching him a new method to maintain memory light points.

"Dad, I see it," the son said, his eyes shining, "that Forger… is learning how to make itself less hot. Just like you taught me, when it hurts you can change posture and stand."

Old Zhao's throat tightened: "Where's your mother?"

"She's still in the kitchen. But today's dough is a bit different—" the son stepped aside; Old Zhao saw in the kitchen, on the table before his wife, besides the eternally "about to start" dough, three tiny, crooked origami stars. They were folded for her by the Singing Civilization volunteers.

"They say the dough doesn't need to rush to start," the son whispered, "you can sit with it for a while, like keeping a bud that hasn't bloomed."

Old Zhao wiped his face, nodded, "Tell the Forger… say that a child who has spent seven years in Bridge Space said the moment you change posture is the most painful, but once the pain passes, you can see scenery previously unseen."

The down‑frequency began precisely at midnight.

The three charred petals of the white flower flew back to Han Qing's chest, linking with the eighty‑seven flowers of the Scar Garden to form an energy network, providing the Forger with a "down‑frequency anchor"—preventing angry energy from spiraling out of control.

The first ten minutes proceeded smoothly. The homeworld of the Flaming Forge dimmed its visible light by 3%, and indeed three cities lost nighttime lighting, yet the citizens did not panic— the homeworld council had pre‑announced the truth: "Our Power Source is learning how to care for itself."

In the eleventh minute, an accident occurred.

The Memory Devourer's observation signal suddenly materialized! Nine dark‑purple energy tendrils shot down from the starry sky, directly stabbing at the white flower— they aimed to seize the three charred petals bearing the "anger transmutation technique."

"They're not trying to devour the 'forgotten anger'!" Xiao Yu's wrist light imprint throbbed, "They're stealing the 'possibility of anger transmutation'! That way every civilization would be forever trapped in anger, becoming their eternal food!"

Aili's medical kit sprang open, all seven injectors lighting up—but she rushed toward Han Qing, not to inject, but to clasp the spot where the white flower hovered, using her healer's "life‑stabilizing frequency" to construct a second layer of protection for the flower.

"You cannot take this," she said to the unseen Memory Devourer, her voice light yet as sharp as a scalpel, "some lessons, once taught, cannot have the textbook ripped out midway."

The Memory Devourer's tendril halted three centimeters from the flower.

It wasn't blocked by the protection; it was interfered with by another frequency.

It was the Folded Civilization.

The three volunteer light points of the Folded Civilization, still learning "how to plant a memory garden," forcibly projected their images from Bridge Space— they unfolded the temporal folds they were dismantling, aligning the "bleeding time cracks" with the Memory Devourer's tendril.

"We are still hurting," the Folded Civilization's light points formed into text, "but our pain is becoming a garden. What you seek to devour are future seed‑flowers—this violates the universe's most fundamental right to growth."

The Memory Devourer froze. Its logic contained no concept of "right to growth," only "absorption" and "storage."

That moment of hesitation prompted the Supreme Council's starship to arrive—not to attack, but to deploy a "time‑slow field" around the Memory Devourer, slowing its movements three thousandfold.

The chief councilor's voice rang across the battlefield: "According to the newly revised 'Inter‑Civilization Teaching Protection Interim Act,' any act that interferes with formal teaching processes will face the maximum 'time‑suspended' penalty. You have the right to remain silent, but each second you steal will be extended into an hour for reflection."

The down‑frequency completed successfully. The homeworld of the Flaming Forge stabilized at 97% intensity; within that 3% "darkness," the three elderly secondary Forgers entered sleep for the first time, their halos in the dream becoming like soft clouds.

The Forger energy crystal flew back beside the white flower, gently touching the three charred petals. The scorch marks on the petals began to flake off, revealing underneath a newly formed, semi‑transparent, glass‑like texture.

On each new petal, a star map naturally emerged: the orbits of Seran, Earth, and the Flaming Forge interlaced, forming a stable triangle.

"Lesson Two concluded," the crystal's aura warmed like morning light, "I've learned: down‑frequency is not weakness; it's space for light to breathe."

In the distance, the Memory Devourer trapped by the time‑slow field, one of its nine tendrils began to sprout tiny, faint green specks at its tip— as if forced to "experience" growth.

Meanwhile in Bridge Space, on the table before Old Zhao's wife, the eternally "about to start" dough showed a tiny, almost invisible crack at its edge.

From the crack, a faint scent of flour drifted out.