Wu Meng's heart raced with anticipation as he ascended the final step. His eyes, bright with curiosity, darted around the room, eagerly seeking the promised treasure trove of knowledge. But instead of the bustling haven of wisdom he'd imagined, an eerie stillness greeted him.

The vast chamber stretched before him, barren and hushed. No towering shelves lined the walls, no rustling scrolls filled the air with the whisper of ancient secrets. The emptiness was so profound it seemed to swallow sound itself.

At the far end of the room, a solitary figure hunched over a desk. An old man, his back slightly curved with age, sat motionless as a statue. His simple white robes, devoid of any rank or insignia, seemed to blend into the colorless surroundings.

Wu Meng's brow furrowed in confusion. Where were the venerable elders? The countless tomes of lore? Had he somehow stumbled into the wrong place?

As if in answer to his unspoken questions, the old man's head slowly rose from the manuscript before him. His movement was deliberate, almost painful to watch. When his gaze met Wu Meng's, the young cultivator felt a jolt of recognition, though he couldn't explain why.

"Your badge." The old man's voice rasped like dry leaves, each syllable seemingly extracted with great effort.

Wu Meng's hand moved to his waist, fingers closing around the cool metal of his sect badge. As he approached the desk, his footsteps echoed unnaturally in the cavernous space.

"Here, venerable elder," Wu Meng said, extending the badge with both hands in a gesture of respect.

The old man's fingers, gnarled as ancient tree roots, closed around the badge. His eyes, sharp despite their rheumy appearance, flicked over the insignia. To Wu Meng's surprise, not a flicker of emotion crossed the weathered face. It was as if the old man had expected this very badge, at this very moment.

Wu Meng shifted uneasily, a chill running down his spine despite the warmth of the room. "Elder, I was told this floor held great knowledge, but I see no books, no scrolls. Have I perhaps come to the wrong place?"

The old man's lips curved in what might have been a smile, or merely a grimace. "You are exactly where you are meant to be, young man."

Wu Meng's brow furrowed, confusion mingling with curiosity. He glanced around the barren room once more, as if expecting shelves of tomes to materialize from thin air. "But... where are the other elders? The manuscripts? Surely, there must be some mistake."

The old man's eyes glimmered with an inscrutable light. "Tell me, young one, what knowledge do you seek?"

Wu Meng hesitated, caught off guard by the question. He had come seeking answers about his past, but something in the old man's gaze made him cautious. "I... I simply wondered about the absence of books and elders on this floor," he repeated, his voice steady despite the uncertainty churning in his gut.

A dry chuckle escaped the old man's lips. "Ah, but knowledge is not confined to paper and ink, is it?" He tapped his temple with a gnarled finger. "The elders you speak of are occupied with their duties and personal cultivation. As for the books..." A hint of pride crept into his voice. "I keep them all here, in my memory."

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Wu Meng's eyes widened in astonishment. The sheer volume of knowledge that must entail was staggering. Yet a troubling thought nagged at him, slipping past his lips before he could stop it. "But venerable elder, what will happen to all that knowledge when you... when you're gone?"

The old man's face split into a cryptic smile, his eyes twinkling with secret mirth. "Ah, young Wu Meng, your concern is touching, but unnecessary." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The books exist in a hidden realm, you see. A realm that opens only for my successor."

Wu Meng leaned in, captivated. "A hidden realm?"

The old man nodded sagely. "Indeed. When the time comes, my successor must enter this realm and memorize its contents before it closes once more. Thus, the knowledge passes from one guardian to the next, preserved for eternity."

Wu Meng's mind raced with possibilities. If this old man held the key to such vast knowledge, perhaps he could shed light on Wu Meng's mysterious past. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

"Venerable elder," Wu Meng began, his voice tinged with hope, "might I ask for a summary of our continent's history? I seek to understand my place in it, to see if I might recognize myself in its tales."

The old man's eyes sparkled with interest. "Ah, a seeker of history, are you?" He settled back in his chair, his gaze distant as if peering through the mists of time. "Very well. I shall recount the tale as written by an anonymous ancient author."

Wu Meng leaned forward, hanging on every word as the old man's voice took on a rhythmic cadence.

"Our history is divided by the eras of the Heavenly Emperors – seven in total. These were not mere mortals, but the mightiest of immortals, each controlling the fate of all other cultivators in their time."

The old man's hands moved as he spoke, as if weaving the very fabric of history before Wu Meng's eyes. Wu Meng could almost see the majestic figures rising from the mists of legend.

"Seven eras?" Wu Meng breathed, his mind reeling. "And these Heavenly Emperors, what were they like?"

The old man's eyes gleamed. "Each was a cultivator of unparalleled power. Their influence was so vast, they could decide the lives of others with but a thought. And each," he raised a gnarled finger, "possessed unique strengths that set them apart from all others."

Wu Meng's heart raced. Could he have seen one of these legendary figures? He dared not voice the thought, but his imagination ran wild with possibilities.

"It is said," the old man continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "that collecting fragments and techniques from previous Heavenly Emperors is the key to attaining such a lofty position oneself."

Wu Meng's eyes widened. "Is that how one becomes a Heavenly Emperor?"

The old man's lips curved in a enigmatic smile. "Perhaps. But remember, young man, true power often comes at a great cost."

Wu Meng shook his head, his long hair swaying gently. "I have no interest in becoming a Heavenly Emperor," he said, his voice tinged with innocence. "I'm simply searching for clues about my past."

The old man's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Wu Meng like a blade. "Regardless of your intentions, young cultivator," he responded dryly, "only one Heavenly Emperor can exist at a time."

Wu Meng’s curiosity was gnawing at him, so he leaned forward a bit. “What about the current emperor?” he asked, keeping his voice casual but just loud enough to be heard.

The old man’s face shifted—barely. It was subtle, but Wu Meng caught it, like the flicker of a candle in the wind. The elder looked up slowly, as if weighing his words carefully. “The last emperor… he disappeared,” he said, almost too quietly.

“Disappeared?” Wu Meng repeated, blinking. “Just like that? How does someone like that just… vanish?”

The old man raised a hand, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Some things are better left… as they are. Talking about the Heavenly Emperor has become a sensitive matter in these times,” he said, his tone making it clear that was the end of the line.