Chapter 239: Voyaging Along the Scar

The Vessel of Wishes sailed in a way that was entirely unique: it did not traverse conventional space, but glided along the emotional connection lines of the "Civilization Resilience Network." To an outside observer, the hull flickered in and out of sight, like an amber teardrop hopping intermittently between the stars.

The sensation inside the ship was completely different—Han Qing felt as though he were traveling along the scar texture on his own chest. Each "jump" was a glide from one civilization's memory of pain to another civilization's hope of healing.

In the third hour after departure, the hull glided for the first time along the "Cooling Crack Memory Line" of the Forger civilization.

In an instant, everyone "saw" it: not visually, but as a cycle of searing heat and cooling felt simultaneously by every cell in their bodies. The Forger Crystal hovered in the center of the cabin, its halo transforming into a dynamic star map that displayed the full extent of this memory line:

The starting point was the Forger's fury at being imprisoned in the core of the furnace, so searing it suffocated; the middle section was the "Quiet Night" of the first successful frequency reduction, the sudden drop in temperature bringing a stinging relief; the endpoint was this very moment—the balance point of "warm but not scalding" that the crystal itself had learned amid the scent of osmanthus.

Efficiency-1's Light Sphere flickered violently: "The efficiency value of this path… is extremely low. Energy consumption is seventeen times that of straight-line travel. Why choose it?"

The Soil Collector's root tendrils swayed gently: "Because straight-line travel only records distance; curved travel records stories. Where we are going is not a coordinate, but a civilization's death scene—you need to first understand what death is before you can know what seeds to bring there to germinate."

Just as the words fell, the hull glided into the most painful segment of the crack memory line: the moment the Forger civilization, after discovering the "theory of aesthetic futility," voted collectively to permanently imprison their power source.

The cabin temperature soared to fifty degrees, and the air began to distort.

Just as everyone could no longer bear it, the scar garden on Han Qing's chest unfolded automatically—not as defense, but as Resonance.

Of the eighty-seven transparent flowers, the seven belonging to the "scald" category bloomed simultaneously, releasing "scald memories" of completely identical frequencies: the temperature of the flames at the moment of Chen Mo's death, the stinging of ulcerating skin in the spore contamination zone, the metal scorch marks left on the bed rail by Old Zhou's daughter's mechanical prosthetic grip as she lay dying…

These scald memories of Earth and the scald memories of the Forger converged in midair, like two rivers of pain meeting, yet miraculously producing a cooling effect.

"When the pain is too similar," Xiao Yu's wrist light sigil analyzed the change, "they actually cancel each other out partially… like two wounds pressed together, the blood flow slows."

The temperature dropped back to a comfortable range. Even more wondrously, a small flake of amber crystal condensed at the point of convergence—inside, interwoven patterns of Earth's flames and the Forger's molten fire could be seen.

Su Yu gently caught the crystal: "This is… a 'friendship of pain'?"

The Forger Crystal's halo became unusually soft: "So our pain… is not alone."

Efficiency-1 silently recorded this phenomenon, creating a new category in its latest log: "Non-efficient but necessary Resonance phenomenon." It gave this case five stars—this was a "subjective rating system" it had just learned, though it still did not understand the meaning of "stars."

According to shipboard time, when the first night fell, the new shoot of the amber fruit reminded everyone: "Network gliding decelerates during emotional low-tide periods. Suggestion: rest or engage in low-intensity emotional activity to maintain traction."

And so, an impromptu "stargazing tea party" unfolded in the central courtyard.

There was no table; everyone sat in a circle around the projection of the grafted sapling. Su Yu folded seven crude cups from paper she carried with her, and Han Qing brewed the second packet of tea—the one labeled "Watch the Road."

Efficiency-1's Light Sphere hovered above its own paper cup and asked in confusion: "The ship has its own nutrient delivery system. Why still engage in this… simulated intake behavior?"

Xiao Yu was about to explain when the Forger Crystal answered first—using a frequency it had just learned, one carrying a "human warmth":

"Because the temperature curve of tea going from scalding to palatable has more… anticipation than nutrient fluid's constant thirty-seven degrees. You watch the steam slowly dissipate, and in your heart you think: 'It'll be ready to drink soon.' That 'almost' is what the journey needs."

Efficiency-1 recorded in silence, then attempted "anticipation." It focused its perception on the water vapor above the teacup, calculating the temperature decay rate of each second while imagining the virtual tactile sensation of "the moment palatable temperature arrives."

Five minutes later, it suddenly said: "I understand. The ratio of energy consumed to nutrition gained in this process is 0.7 to 1; the efficiency is negative. But… my core program temperature dropped by 0.3 degrees, which is a physiological indicator of 'relaxation.' So the overall benefit may… be positive."

After it finished speaking, the Light Sphere's color tinged slightly blue—this was an emoji pack it had just downloaded for "expressing confusion but continuing to try."

Everyone laughed. Not mockery, but the gentle amusement of "watching a child tie shoelaces for the first time."

Late at night, while the others rested, Xiao Yu sat alone before the observation window. Her light sigil was deeply connected with the amber fruit's new shoot, drawing a unique navigation chart.

This was not a Star Map, but an emotional pulse chart—every network connection line they had glided along appeared on the chart as a glowing vein, the vein's brightness representing the emotional intensity carried by that connection, and the pulsation frequency reflecting the "health level" of the civilizations at both ends.

She discovered some anomalies:

The vein in the direction of the Silent Observer mothership was pulsing faster—increasing from forty-seven beats per minute to sixty-three. This indicated that the aesthetic education reform had triggered a systemic emotional activation, which was a good thing.

But in the direction of Earth, there was an extremely thin vein she had never noticed before, its pulsation frequency abnormally slow, only twelve beats per minute. The vein's origin pointed to the south of the ruins—the place where the old osmanthus tree had originally grown.

She zoomed in to observe and was surprised to find: that vein was not connected to any civilization, but to the soil itself. More precisely, to the undissipated consciousness of some victim buried deep underground during the Great Catastrophe.

"Han Qing," she softly woke Han Qing, who had just lain down to sleep, "do you remember… did Teacher Chen Mo ever specifically mention the osmanthus tree south of the ruins?"

Han Qing was bleary-eyed, but hearing "Chen Mo" he instantly snapped awake: "He said… that tree was planted by his first love. During the Great Catastrophe, the girl was buried beneath the tree."

The two exchanged glances. They suddenly understood whose that slow pulse was.

Xiao Yu's light sigil grew slightly hot: "She's still there… waiting all these years. The pulse is so slow because she can barely hold on."

Silence filled the ship. Even Efficiency-1 halted its data processing, its Light Sphere hovering quietly.

In the predawn hours, the amber fruit suddenly emitted a blinding red light!

A live image transmitted from the Cosmic Memory Archive surfaced on the new shoot:

At the edge of the annihilation zone of the "Aesthetic Overload Civilization," a reconnaissance vessel of the Thirteenth Civilization was extracting something—not matter, but a Rainbow Color light stream drawn from space itself. The light stream was compressed into crystals and loaded into transparent containers.

The footage was accompanied by the Archive's analysis:

【Detected: "Emotional Entropy" extraction activity】

【Principle: This region retains high concentrations of "Despair Aesthetic" due to the civilization's collective self-destruction. The Thirteenth Civilization converts it into raw material for "emotional bombs."】

【Latest discovery: They are tracking our navigation trajectory. Inferred objective: to obtain the high-purity "Hope Aesthetic" of the "Civilization Resilience Network" as a neutralizer or catalyst.】

Worse still, the footage captured the appearance of the Thirteenth Civilization's individuals: they resembled semi-melted humanoid amber, with constantly shifting color blocks sealed inside, and two bottomless black holes where their eyes should be.

One of the individuals seemed to sense being observed and suddenly turned its head to "look" toward the Archive's observation point. It raised the container in its hand—inside was a small fragment of a slowly fading rainbow.

On the container's label, written in the universal language of the cosmos:

"Specimen: The emotion of the last sunset"

"Source: Nebula Singer Civilization, self-destroyed after witnessing the beauty of a supernova explosion"

The footage cut off here.

The temperature inside the ship seemed to plummet by ten degrees.

Efficiency-1's Light Sphere emitted a cold analysis: "They are not observers; they are emotional scavengers. They specialize in harvesting the most extreme emotional crystals at the death scenes of civilizations that perished for beauty."

The Soil Collector's root tendrils trembled violently: "No wonder they track the warm earth… buried within it is the most concentrated 'love of sacrifice.'"

Just then, the hull suddenly jolted violently! As if it had collided with some… node on the network connection line.

Amid the turbulence, the scar garden on Han Qing's chest automatically projected a holographic image of the impact point:

It was not an obstacle, but a memory vesicle suspended on the network—sealed inside was a forgotten civilization's history: a purely auditory civilization that, upon accidentally "seeing" the beauty of the galaxy's spiral arms, suffered sensory overload and went deaf en masse, ultimately perishing in silence.

The vesicle was slowly leaking, and the "silence aesthetic" that leaked out drifted like black snowflakes toward the direction of the Thirteenth Civilization's reconnaissance vessel—they were greedily collecting it from afar.

"This is a trap," Efficiency-1 judged. "They deliberately left a high-concentration emotional vesicle to lure network gliders into collision. The impact releases a massive amount of emotional energy, making it easy for them to harvest."

But it was already too late to change course. The hull was being pulled by the vesicle's gravity, about to crash into its core.

At the critical moment, the projection of the grafted sapling suddenly materialized for one second — the true scent of osmanthus traveled from Earth through quantum entanglement and burst open inside the ship.

When the fragrance touched the black snowflakes, the snowflakes began to... melt, turning into transparent droplets of water carrying the sweetness of osmanthus.

The droplets fell onto the floor, and each one reflected an image: the ballad that the auditory civilization had "sung" with the vibrations of their entire bodies in the final moment before they lost their hearing. The ballad had no sound, but it had a shape — the shape of an osmanthus branch.

"So that's how it is..." Su Yu said softly. "When they saw the Milky Way, what they thought of was the osmanthus trees of their homeland."

The vesicle was gently enveloped and dissolved by the osmanthus fragrance. The ship passed through safely.

Meanwhile, the reconnaissance ship of the Thirteenth Civilization, because it had suddenly lost the expected emotional explosion energy, began flickering with angry red alerts across its hull.

Efficiency-1 detected a fragment of their communications:

"The target carries a 'Natural Aesthetic Neutralizer'... threat level upgraded."

"Recommendation: intercept before arrival at the Sesame Field. That withered land... is suitable for deploying an 'Aesthetic Swamp' trap."

The crisis was temporarily averted. The ship continued to glide forward, but everyone knew the hunters had locked onto them.

Xiao Yu updated her pulse map: a new, exceedingly faint pulse line extended from the vesicle's location, pointing toward some corner of the universe — where there might still be survivors of that auditory civilization, planting imagined osmanthus trees with vibrations in endless silence.

Han Qing brewed the third packet of tea: the one labeled "say so if you're tired."

This time Efficiency-1 actively floated beside the teacup, its Light Sphere color shifting to a warm pale yellow — an expression of "wanting to participate" that it had just learned.

"I can try to learn," it said cautiously, "how to use logic... to defend beauty. If they come again, I want to tell them: harvesting the beauty of death is not as good as guarding the beauty of life."

Su Yu handed it an osmanthus petal: "Then start by remembering this scent. This is the beauty of life; it will help you grow the words for your defense."

Outside the window, the starry sky remained as vast as ever.

But everyone aboard the ship knew:

Some battles are not fought amid cannon fire, but in the small perseverance of every choice between "drinking nutrient fluid or waiting for tea to cool."

And deep in the soil far to the south of the ruins, that pulse beating twelve times per minute, because of this conversation aboard the ship, faintly... quickened by one beat.

Like a sleeping person hearing, in a dream, the footsteps of someone coming home.