The Primordial Record

Chapter 1601: Ancient And Timeless

The Celestial Legions had entered this realm in numbers beyond counting with great fanfare, and their first show of power was spectacular. In a single move, they had incapacitated a Primordial Beast and the Throne of a Primordial, and their momentum seemed unstoppable.

However, in the time of three short breaths, their numbers had been reduced to nearly nothing. The heavens bled golden and scarlet as it wept with the oceans of divine ichor spewed from the crushed bodies of the Celestials, and all of this happened by the act of a single man.

Now there was only the Archon with the Adjudicator on its shoulder, and the last Celestial Creator standing defeated with fear, the song lost from his heart.

Rowan could imagine the shock in the Celestial Creator’s heart. Since the moment of creation, there had never been anyone like him.

There were Chosen Children, Heavenly Fated, Heaven Defying Genuises who could come once in an Era, and then there was him.

Rowan had watched the lives and developments of countless heaven-defying geniuses in Reality. He had seen the trajectory of their growth and the height of their souls.

They could grow up to defy the heavens with a single deed and be renowned for an Era. A case in point would be Andar, whose name and feat had shaken the foundations of the Magus society.

However, no matter how talented these geniuses were, they were nothing before the abomination that was Rowan.

As a mortal, he had mastered the Supreme Circle, which was basically a collection of all the techniques and cultivation pathways in Reality.

On the surface, this would seem wild, but there were other great geniuses out there who, although it took them a longer time to do it, were all on their way to deciphering the Supreme Circle.

An example of this would be the Celestial Creators that Rowan had just butchered. As a favourite pastime, most Celestial Creators chose to decrypt the Supreme Circle to learn about other pathways of power.

Nevertheless, there was something fundamentally different about what they were doing and what Rowan had achieved even as a mortal.

Rowan did not just decipher every single pathway inside the Supreme Circles; he completely mastered them to their pinnacle. No immortal alive had the soul capacity to interpret and master at the same time, and what most did was simply brush across the surface and memorize the pathways. They could only be used as reference material for their own cultivation and not master all of it.

There is a difference between reading a course on Alchemy, knowing the text from cover to cover, and mastering the Alchemy lessons and becoming a Master Alchemist.

A great genius who would stand out once in an Era could master a hundred law pathways, but Rowan had mastered virtually an infinite number of law pathways. How could there be any competition with him?

Rowan cracked his neck. The fight had been short but incredibly brutal. He had been taken to the limits and beyond many times in these three short breaths, and although his recovery ability was unmatched, he was still suffering from multiple injuries that should kill him many times over.

Every weapon used had the potential to kill him, and even if they had simply brushed across his skin, they left marks of laws behind that were at the ninth-dimensional level, even though the intensity of their strikes was not up to par with a Primordial.

His body was still struggling to cleanse itself from the corruption imposed by these weapons, and his dimensional soul was working overtime to ensure that even though he was not at his peak, his battle capabilities would never wane. Until he perished, Rowan’s blow would never weaken; he would only grow stronger.

Pointing his Destroyer at the Archon, Rowan fixed his gaze on the Adjudicator, “Will you come down to battle or should I come to you?”

Teophiel, the Celestial Creator, snarled. He might be afraid, but he could not stand by and watch the glory of Light be defaced by an abomination, and the Adjudicator smiled and motioned him to relax, before turning to Rowan,

“I will rather stand here if you don’t mind, that blade of yours has drunk enough Celestial blood. Where did you find a weapon like this? I can see that its origin comes from Light, but along the way it has become twisted into a thing of blood and fire.”

“Is that all you want to ask?” Rowan said, “Then I shall come over to answer your question.”

“Well, before you do that,” the Adjudicator reached beside him into space and pulled out an instrument in the shape of a pedal harp, seemingly made from light and gold with ninety-nine strings, which he set beside him. Gently setting his body beside the instrument, he sat in midair with the harp between his legs and the top resting on his shoulder. He looked upon the musical instrument fondly before addressing Rowan,

“I am curious if you are familiar with the song I am about to play. I pulled the memory of it from a dead universe that had somehow vanished when I went back to look for it. Shame, and a lesson to never allow myself to believe in the stability of Reality. Now, hear me play.”

The Adjudicator began plucking the strings, his right and left hands gliding over the strings like a swallow lightly skimming over the surface of a still lake, and music like no other emerged from the harp.

Rowan became silent, and the heavens and the earth—all of creation—seemed to go still as this music filled the air.

The sound emerging from a harp was nothing short of enchanting—a delicate, celestial cascade of tones that seemed to shimmer in the air like golden light on water.

Each plucked string releases a note that blooms with crystalline purity, lingering with a warm, resonant glow before gently fading into the next. The high notes sparkle like dewdrops, while the deeper tones roll like soft, velvety waves, creating a harmonious balance that feels both ethereal and deeply soothing.

Rowan’s hand, holding the Destroyer, pointed at the Adjudicator, dropped to his side. He seemingly lost all energy in his limbs as he was dragged down into Memory.

The melody flows with a liquid grace, as if the harp itself is breathing—sometimes tender and whispering like a sigh, other times rising in a radiant, cascading arpeggio that dances like sunlight through leaves. The vibrations seem to hover in the space around him, wrapping the world in a luminous embrace, evoking emotions ranging from wistful longing to transcendent joy.

It is a sound that feels ancient yet timeless, as though the very air has been woven into something sacred and sublime.

It seemed to be a long time, but it was also just a moment, and then the music ended, taking with it Rowan’s heart.

“At the beginning, I never understood Primordial’s Life fascination for music; it is not often that I find myself denied comprehension, but this piece, taken from a forgotten universe, has shown me something that I have never understood before, and for this I thank you, Eulxhu Thyak.“

“Primordial Memory,” Rowan growled, “I was wondering when you would show up.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!