Chapter 390: The Secret of Ascension

The world is material; at least, the vast majority of what can be perceived is material.

Electromagnetism arises and interacts, fire rises and steams—even seemingly immaterial things either cling to matter or are special forms of matter.

Even so-called spiritual entities and souls might merely be unknown types of matter, governed by natural laws beyond current understanding, awaiting some future person to integrate them into a unified system at the right time.

But “information” or “knowledge” is a far vaguer concept.

It clings to matter, manifesting as states and differences within matter.

Theoretically, wherever there is material difference, there is information—from ink on paper, to rock textures, to base sequences in genes—all objectively preserving information.

Yet as an appendage of matter, information itself has no substance; it cannot directly influence the material world nor exist independently. In a certain sense, it can be said to “not exist,” or rather, to be a “latent, unmanifest existence.”

A book unread still contains information at the material level; only when a reader’s consciousness intervenes is it endowed with thought and value.

It cannot be classified as matter, nor reduced to conscious activity. Rooted in matter, yet destined for consciousness, it lies at the boundary between the two.

It never existed, yet is everywhere.

Kraft had always been a flexible materialist and supporter of knowability, believing that only things yet undiscovered or ununderstood existed in the world.

Even the most bizarre and strange depths had failed to fundamentally shake his worldview, instead expanding his scope of understanding.

Yet now, the impact upon him was greatest: a living knowledge, overturning prior understanding, plunging him into utter confusion.

The barrier between matter and consciousness had been utterly shattered; it drifted between them, sometimes residing in consciousness, sometimes manifesting in matter—an outright refutation of materialism.

【Higher-level entities?】

True magic—a passage, a bridge.

That makes sense. What he saw were merely phenomena, just as one cannot explain to an ordinary person that there exists a world overlapping yet utterly distinct from this one, nor how one traverses between them, because spatial cognition forbids them from comprehending how two layers without a passage can communicate.

Kraft faced a similar situation; his cognition limited him from perceiving the higher essence of matter and consciousness, so he could not understand how a living entity could exist between them and shift seamlessly.

Of course, even without understanding, mortals could still severely injure or kill deep-layer beings—there was no necessary causal relationship.

Similarly, Kraft could seize this creature beyond the bounds of his understanding.

Now it was frozen within consciousness, tightly wrapped by a succession of thoughts.

Consciousness, through frequent contact, generated these thoughts—some coupled with the unknown, others comprehensible, like specific antibodies latching onto their targets.

Thus, it had not merged into consciousness; it had merely been caught.

A fascinating and dangerous state.

Kraft still could not precisely describe where it came from or where exactly it resided, but he could indirectly observe and sense its strange mode of existence.

It could be a smooth, silver or glass-like mirror, reflecting half-real memories, leaving one unable to tell which side was true.

From another angle, it resembled a scale, growing from some being’s hidden flank or back, independent yet not entirely so; when touched, one felt the distant, majestic pulse reverberating, shaking the soul.

It had no beginning or end, yet possessed inner and outer boundaries; it could extend infinitely, or be held within the palm of a hand, or contained in a single mustard seed.

At times, it appeared as a bone—the sole remaining trace of its former self, once deeply embedded at the nexus where thought and consciousness were born, now unbound by matter, open to all things.

【Sphenoid bone】

This seemed to reveal an unbelievable truth: it might have originated from a human, transformed from a being entirely grounded in matter into this current form.

“Fascinating.”

All notions of worldview collapse had been cast aside; Kraft was wholly captivated by new hypotheses.

“Human” beings could completely shed their bodies and exist in this manner.

The advantages were obvious: any bodily disease, even aging, lost meaning; for outcomes beyond medical repair, this mode of persistence might be an acceptable final solution.

The eternal life countless souls longed for lay before him—even with a thousand flaws, it surpassed the ultimate goal of curing all diseases through exhausting physiological limits.

Yet the problems were equally clear: could this truly be called life?

It was not even fully consciousness; merely a fragment of information enduring in the world.

Did it possess complete self-awareness? Did it retain memories from its human life, latent thoughts, habits of behavior?

Or had it long since discarded its past and body, existing merely as an insignificant part of some vast whole, not as an individual?

In prior interactions, only human-like cunning and self-preservation had been observed; no “humanity” had been detected.

It was a servant of the “serpent,” a scale upon its body—nothing like its former self. What was shed went beyond mere human form.

At this thought, Kraft felt a sudden weariness. This mode of existence seemed less “human” than that of a vegetative patient; at least vegetative patients still retained a human shape, with occasional reports of awakening.

Losing the body, then losing original consciousness, resembled death more than eternal life.

HeLa cells used in cancer research were immortal—but that did not mean HeLa herself was immortal.

Yet the insights were not meaningless; he noted the inspiration, perhaps some optimization method could be found to harness it.

Before that, he finally connected the known clues, piecing together the full story.

The pathological changes once incomprehensible now had explanations.

He had once puzzled over the purpose of abnormal pituitary tumors causing hollow-bone syndrome—reducing bone weight at the cost of durability made no sense for movement, as only birds required such lightweight skeletons.

Now everything became clear: they truly needed to become “birds.”

The gales brought by the cloud-dwellers were strong, yet insufficient to carry seekers the final leg from mountaintop to sky—unless they grew lighter, imitating creatures naturally suited to flight.

At this stage, bone durability no longer mattered; those who failed to be accepted or faltered at the last moment would plummet and shatter—no matter how resilient the skeleton, it meant nothing; the successful would shed their past, no longer needing mortal flesh.

They rose higher and higher, until they faced the formless, infinite thing, entering the nonexistent heights.