"So that's how it is."
Suweng tapped his forehead, marveling with a sense of disbelief: "Only today did I realize that the Hall divides Geniuses into Standard-tier, Primordial-tier, and Primeval-tier. And each tier is separated by an unbridgeable chasm, as if worlds apart."
Zhen Gu nodded, the golden pupils in his eyes still carrying an unmistakable shock.
What does it mean to be a Primeval-tier Genius?
Even Zhen Gu himself could not imagine it, much less analyze or judge.
But he had once heard a legend: A certain Star-Sky Empire inadvertently killed a Primeval Highness, provoking the Human Supreme Hall's thunderous wrath. The entire empire's Galaxis Stellar System was wiped out, and the Human Race within it was reborn from the ashes.
This, indirectly, proved the immense significance of a Primeval Highness.
Geniuses are inherently precious. But Primeval-tier—this is the utmost in honor, the pinnacle of prestige.
"It's truly unimaginable—absurd, even."
"Barely half a star-year has passed—how did Andrew Han ascend to Primeval? And how did Emperor William Verlon of the Verlon Winter Empire learn of it?" Zhen Gu was utterly perplexed, left only to mutter to himself in confusion.
A Primordial-tier Genius—he must treat with utmost respect.
A Primeval-tier Genius—he must hold in awe, speak with caution.
"I underestimated Andrew Han."
Zhen Gu's expression grew complicated, a look of shame flickering in his golden eyes.
Moments ago, he had felt disappointed in Andrew Han—regretted him, sighed for him. It was, in truth, his own humiliation. How could Zhen Gu, a mere mortal, presume to judge a true Primeval Highness?
In this moment, the wind swept by. Wei Yusu quietly departed.
At this very moment, inside the imperial palace, at the main gate.
"His Highness Andrew Han is truly low-key."
Zhen Gu and Suweng exchanged glances, speechless. What they once hoped for has come true—now, the Chenriver Empire, even the whole Galaxis Stellar System, is far too small to contain a Primeval Highness.
The other Void Rift-tier beings all fell silent.
Everyone felt a pang of regret. Andrew Han had come and gone in a flash—there hadn’t even been a chance to properly host him.
"Oh, right."
"How old is Andrew Han now, anyway?"
Zhen Gu and Suweng stood shoulder to shoulder, quietly gazing into the dark starry sky, watching in the direction Andrew Han had departed—as if glimpsing a rising beacon of hope.
——
After saying goodbye to Zhen Gu and Suweng, Andrew Han boarded his Subspace Flyer, leaving the Chenriver Empire and the dazzling Galaxis Stellar System behind, flying straight toward the Yarlowe Sector of the Cosmic Ancient Kingdom.
He didn’t stop once along the way—and in truth, there was no way to stop.
A Subspace Flyer is somewhat akin to a warp vessel.
Warp travel works by distorting space to change velocity, while subspace flight uses spatial folding to traverse the deep, theoretical dark universe. The two technologies are worlds apart.
Inside the vessel.
Andrew Han lay sprawled on a flame-red sofa, head bowed, scrolling through messages on his Primordial Gate communicator.
The flame sofa was true to its name—stretching nearly a hundred meters, its entire surface a deep crimson, encircled by swirling blossoms of living fire. Whatever the designer’s intent, it was certainly memorable.
"Mmm, nice and warm."
Andrew Han let his mind wander, body relaxing naturally into the cushions.
Interstellar travel is monotonous. Even with subspace flight, it takes months to reach the heart of the Yarlowe Sector from the Galaxis Stellar System.
Ding-dong.
A message popped up—it was from Serena Huang, currently acknowledged as the top Primordial Gate Genius.
The Gate communicator is state-of-the-art; wherever starlight shines, it can transmit in real time, far outstripping the interstellar networks of any Ancient Kingdom or Empire.
Disconnecting from it is no easy feat.
"Andrew Han, when will you be back?" Serena Huang’s message was concise. Andrew Han replied just as simply: "Three months."