The journey to the Lost Archive of Fang Yi felt different from any previous flight. As The Echo of Wood approached the center of the multiverse—the coordinate where the First Garden had once blossomed—the space between Shards began to thin. The stars didn't look like points of light anymore; they looked like the glowing tips of pens hovering over a vast, white parchment.
The Gold Signal grew deafening. It wasn’t a sound, but a vibration that resonated with the very marrow of Han’s bones.
"Variable 81: Exploration," Han whispered, steadying the wooden yoke of his ship. "Variable 82: Friction. Let’s see what 83 looks like."
Before him, the "Gash" in reality didn't lead to another Shard. It led to a place that shouldn't exist: The Cutting Room Floor. It was a pocket dimension filled with "
