In the divine realm of Tianhua, where gods, goddesses, and immortals dwell in celestial balance, a sacred order had always been preserved. The Tianhua Realms was no ordinary world—it was a kingdom above kingdoms, where mortals could not tread. Here, the divine walked among stars, and the immortals trained endlessly under the heavens.
While gods and goddesses were revered as beings of ultimate stability and divine radiance, the immortals lived differently. They were not born divine but rose through mastery—masters of swordsmanship, disciples of celestial arts, and wielders of spiritual energy. Each immortal trained at sacred sword academies that floated on islands of clouds. Though not as honored as the gods, immortals formed the silent backbone of Tianhua.
It was during one of Tianhua's rare celestial phenomena—a rain of sacred light—that something extraordinary happened.
From the violet-hued sky, droplets of divine qi began to descend like falling stars. The air shimmered with grace, and even the winds carried whispers of old prophecies. All immortals halted their practice. All gods turned their eyes toward the capital.
In the heart of Tianhua stood the Capital of Clouds, where the sacred Tree of Heaven's Bloom grew. This tree, it was said, had roots that reached the heart of the world and branches that touched the stars. From its blossoms, beings of power had been born—gods, goddesses, guardians.
As the holy rain touched one particular blossom at the crown of the tree, something began to stir. A single drop fell gently onto a delicate, unopened flower. And then, it bloomed.
From within its glowing petals emerged a newborn—a baby girl wrapped in golden silk, radiating an aura so pure and serene that all who saw her fell silent. Her skin shimmered like moonlight, and a soft cry escaped her lips, as if greeting the world.
"The prophecy… has been fulfilled," whispered the High Celestial Priestess, her voice barely above a breath.
She turned to the gathered gods and announced, "Behold! The child born from Heaven's Bloom during the sacred rain—the Sword Goddess of Heaven! The stars have spoken. She shall be known as Ying Luo."
There was thunderous applause. Bells rang across every mountain peak. Divine birds soared through the skies. The gods bowed in respect, believing that this was the child spoken of in ancient scrolls—a being who would one day protect all realms with unmatched strength.
But beyond the songs and praises… a different truth remained hidden.
For Ying Luo was not the one the heavens truly sent.
The divine energy around her was borrowed—from the rain, from the tree, from chance. She was not born from prophecy, but from coincidence. A powerful child, no doubt, but not the destined goddess.
Far from the capital, beyond the clouds and sacred halls, a different flower bloomed in secret.
High upon Mount Yuling, where waterfalls crashed into crystal rivers and the air was thick with qi, an old man was making his way toward the riverbank. His robes were simple, yet his presence held weight. He was known as Ziyan, a reclusive sword immortal whose name once echoed across the realms.
Carrying a small bamboo gourd, he kneeled by the river to collect fresh water. But as he filled it, he paused.
A sound. Gentle, muffled... a baby's cry?
His brows furrowed. "A child? Here?"
Following the sound, he ventured deeper into the forested edge, and there—beneath a strange, glowing flower unlike any he'd ever seen—lay a crying infant, her body wrapped in a cocoon of starlight. The flower pulsed gently before withering into light and disappearing.
The old man stood still for a moment, stunned.
"By the heavens…" he whispered, lifting the child carefully.
She stopped crying the moment she touched his skin. Her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and in that moment, something shifted. Ziyan felt a surge of energy, not overwhelming—but ancient. Untamed. Hidden.
Looking into her eyes, he murmured, "You're no ordinary child."
His instincts as an immortal were rarely wrong. This girl, found not in the capital, not under the eyes of the gods—but here, in the quiet of nature—was special.
She did not glow with divine energy. She didn't bear the blessings of the High Heavens. And yet... something about her felt real. Her presence didn't demand reverence—it called out with longing, with fate.
"I don't care what the gods have chosen," Ziyan said, standing tall with the child in his arms. "This child... is the one I will raise."
The skies above thundered softly, as if in answer.
He looked up at the drifting clouds. "I will name you Yueqing. You shall bear no false crown, no empty titles. You will earn your power. You will master your own destiny. And when the day comes that the world cries out again... you will be its sword."
The baby smiled faintly, her tiny hand reaching toward the sunbeam breaking through the clouds.
Ziyan chuckled. "Hmph. You've got spirit already."
He wrapped her tightly in his cloak. "From this day forward, you are my granddaughter. My disciple. My heir. And one day, Yueqing… the world will remember your name—not because of a prophecy, but because you made it impossible to forget."
And so, while the realm celebrated a lie born of light, the truth—the real Sword Goddess—was cradled in the arms of an old immortal by a river of stars.
Her journey had just begun.