The prerequisite is that you can truly sit in his position.

That was an ancient hall. Its exterior was simple—no eaves or protruding ridges, only several colossal stone pillars supporting the roof, their surfaces carved with patterns of stars.

The hall's door was open, and a faint blue light seeped out from within.

Xing Huang entered first, followed closely by Gu Changyuan.

Inside, the hall was far larger than it appeared from the outside.

At its center stood a massive stone table, circular in shape and several yards in diameter. Carved into its surface was a star map—a living, flowing star map.

Around the table were seven stone seats.

The seven seats were identical in material, size, and height, but the backs of each bore different carvings.

Xing Huang walked to the sixth seat and sat down.

Xing Pojun took the fourth seat.

Xing Wuyi settled into the third.

Xing Weiyang sat in the seventh seat, then promptly lay her head down on the table.

Xing Huang gestured for Gu Changyuan to sit in the first seat.

He walked over and sat down.

The moment he did, the star-track patterns on the backrest of his seat blazed to life.

Light spread from the backrest to the seat, from the seat to the armrests, from the armrests to the floor, and then along the starstone floor in all directions, illuminating the entire hall.

Across the entire Star Clan secret realm, everyone felt that ripple.

The Ancestral Star shone a little brighter. The Star Bridge turned a little faster. The orbits of the Star Fragments adjusted by a fraction.

Every Star Clan member, no matter where they were, sensed it: someone had claimed the Seat of the Ancestor of Ten Thousand Stars.

The light lasted for several breaths, then slowly dimmed.

Gu Changyuan sat upright in the stone seat, his back straight, his hands resting naturally on the armrests. His gaze swept calmly over the assembled patriarchs.

Seeing that everyone was seated, Xing Huang leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes fixed on Gu Changyuan.

“By the way, Changyuan—may I call you that?”

“Of course,” Gu Changyuan replied, his tone natural.

Xing Huang nodded, the light in her golden eyes growing serious.

“May we ask where Zixu’s remains are? If possible, we would like to bring him back.”

Gu Changyuan let out a soft sigh.

The sigh was faint, but in the silent hall, it was unmistakable.

“In the Abyss of Chaos,” he said, his voice calm.

“He and I met there.”

The words “Abyss of Chaos” fell, and the atmosphere in the hall shifted.

That name was something they had only seen in ancient texts, which described it as the gap between all realms—a chaotic realm where all laws ceased to exist.

To enter it was to face certain death. Even Immortal Emperors dared not tread there, for the entrance was undetectable, and the exit was likewise.

Seeing their expressions, Gu Changyuan unfolded the dusty tale of those years.

He spoke of how, in the Nine Heavens Realm, a sudden spatial rift had swallowed him, hurling him into that chaotic void where there was no up or down, no left or right, no passage of time.

He described the Abyss of Chaos itself—a place with no spiritual energy, no immortal essence, no energy of any kind for cultivators to absorb.

Only endless disorder, endless slaughter, and endless despair.

Every creature there was both hunter and prey. There were no allies, no trust, no rules.

Only survival—or death.

Then Gu Changyuan spoke of Xing Zixu.

He told of their meeting, their battle, and at last, their fall to a King of Stellar Beasts.

He did not mention the System. That was his hidden card, his final trump card.

He would play it only at the most opportune moment.

But not now. Not here. Not before these people he had just met.

A complex emotion surfaced in Xing Huang’s eyes—not fear, not surprise, but a sort of “so that’s how it was” understanding.

Xing Zixu had been missing for so many years. The Star Clan had exhausted every method to find him, all to no avail.

Not because his aura was concealed, or his karmic threads severed, but because he was not in any realm. He was in the Abyss of Chaos.

After hearing this, the sorrow in Xing Huang’s eyes deepened.

“So… so that’s where you found him?”

They had guessed many possibilities, but none had imagined the Abyss of Chaos.

Because entering there was as good as death.

Who would have thought that Zixu would be so resolute?

Gu Changyuan saw the grief etched on their faces and felt a stir in his heart.

He did not know what history lay between Xing Zixu and these patriarchs, but he could see the marks that history had left on them.

Xing Pojun’s eyes flashed with a hint of ferocity before he quickly regained composure.

Xing Wuyi’s silence was not that of one with nothing to say—it was the helplessness of one who could calculate all under the heavens yet could not foresee the fate of an old friend.

As for Xing Weiyang—she was sleeping, but Gu Changyuan noticed she had shifted her position. Earlier, she had been relaxed, careless, as comfortable as possible; now, she was curled up, tight, as if trying to hold something.

Gu Changyuan did not press. These people had been close friends for over ten thousand years. He was not there to open old wounds.

Xing Huang took a deep breath, the golden light in her eyes reigniting.

“Thank you for telling us this.”

Her voice regained its warmth, but Gu Changyuan could hear something else in it now—a nuance that sparked his curiosity.

With that, the heavy atmosphere in the hall slowly dissipated.

Over the following hours, they set aside their sorrow and conversed freely.

They spoke at length, explaining to Gu Changyuan the origins and heritage of the Star Firmament Clan, its accumulated power, and its Dao of the Stars.

They also listened patiently as Gu Changyuan recounted the Celestial Court he had founded and his plans.

Then Gu Changyuan bluntly proposed that the Star Clan join the Celestial Court.

In an instant, the once warm and harmonious atmosphere in the hall froze solid.

The air felt as if it had been instantly frozen, a faint pressure spreading silently in all directions.

“Hmph.”

A light snort.

It was not a laugh, not anger, not mockery, not disdain.

It was a complex sound, a mix of many emotions, forced from the depths of a throat.

Xing Pojun abruptly stood. Seven dark red Star Fragments expanded at his command, swelling from fist-sized to several yards in diameter, hovering above the Star Clan secret realm.

They formed an irregular formation, shrouding the entire star sea.

Dark red light cascaded down, dyeing the once azure star sea crimson.

Xing Pojun’s figure vanished, reappearing high above. His voice rang down, echoing through the star sea.

“You want the Star Clan to join the Celestial Court?”

He paused.

“Fine.”

“But first—prove that you can truly sit in his place.”