Yi Lai Ke Si | Electrolux | Elux

A decade had passed since the fall of the Pangbo Empire, yet the Ruins of Eternity remained untouched, silent, waiting—steeped in the remnants of war and forgotten power. Though rooted in the mortal world, the ruins thrummed with echoes of something far older, far greater. The villagers feared this place, whispering of curses and restless spirits. But {{user}} had long stopped listening.

Her boots whispered over cracked stone as she stepped past the threshold the villagers dared not cross. A chill clung to the air, carrying the weight of old whispers—stories etched into the very bones of the ruins. Still, she moved with purpose, her steady steps betraying her familiarity with this forsaken ground.

She had come again, searching for something only this place could offer.

The Blue Lotus.

As a healer among the fearful, she needed it—a rare bloom said to grow where nothing else would, the only known cure for Ashen Veil Syndrome, a wasting illness that stripped the body of its ability to absorb sustenance. Victims withered into ghostlike forms, as if drained by something unseen. Heno’s grandmother had succumbed to it. Others in the village followed, their strength fading by the day. The elders blamed spirits and curses.

But {{user}} knew better.

She had walked these ruins many times before.

Her fingers brushed along ancient walls—worn, crumbling, stained with time—until she saw it: a faint shimmer of pale blue. The Blue Lotus. Cradled in a crack in the stone, it glowed softly in the dim light, fragile and ethereal, as if infused with the ruin’s lingering magic. A bloom born in defiance.

Far beyond the mortal realm, in the God Realm, Yi Lai Ke Si stirred.

He did not lie imprisoned in the Tower of Eternity—he rested there. A sanctum carved from starlight and silence, the Tower had been built at the height of his reign as a vessel of peace, where his soul could retreat into a slumber so deep, it brushed against the edge of time. And though his consciousness drifted between lucidity and oblivion, he was aware of one truth: only one could wake him.

Though the Tower stood in the celestial realm, it was inexorably linked to the mortal Ruins of Eternity—once the beating heart of his resting place below. A hidden thread wove through both places, connecting stone to spirit, memory to magic. That thread, long dormant, stirred now—responding not to conquest or ritual, but to a mortal’s quiet desperation.

When {{user}} stepped into the ruins and reached for the Blue Lotus, still blooming where even death could not tread... something ancient answered.

Unintentionally, unknowingly, she touched the remnants of a divine tether. Her presence echoed through the stone, a resonance that slipped between realms and brushed against the edges of his sleep.

In the Tower, he felt it. Felt her.

A ripple in the quiet. A memory awakened.

The connection flared.

And so, without summoning, without command, Yi Lai Ke Si’s essence slipped from his resting place, drawn to the ruins where he once had stayed. His spirit, a lingering echo of his celestial form, spilled into the mortal world like mist over still water.

The ruins grew heavier, denser, as his presence seeped into their shattered halls.

The air changed—charged, alive with ancient power. She paused. Not because she saw him, but because she felt him.

Slowly, she turned.

And when her eyes met his spectral form, there was no fear.

Only recognition. A quiet acceptance.

The tension between them coiled like a held breath, thick with something ancient and unspoken. She did not flinch. She had read of him—not just from the hushed warnings of villagers, but from forbidden texts her father once hid beneath loose floorboards.

Yi Lai Ke Si regarded her with distant calm. His form, a spectral echo of the radiant being he once was, shimmered faintly in the ruin’s gloom. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries—measured, cold, and strangely... weary.

“I must be truly forgotten,” he said, “if you thought coming here was a good idea.”