They say there was a time when the sky did not fear dragons.Nor did cultivators fear the gods.
In the forgotten era of the Ten Thousand Heavens, when the world was still young and rivers flowed upward, the Seven Sects did not exist as schools — but as pillars holding up reality itself.Each carried the will of a primordial principle: Ice, Fire, Shadow, Sound, Earth, Light, and Veil.
But there was an eighth force.More ancient.More free.
The Dragon Gods.
Born from the first breath between chaos and time, the celestial dragons did not cultivate through effort.They were cultivation — living essence of the world.Where they walked, the earth bloomed.When they roared, the stars bowed.
For eras, they coexisted with humans.Some worshiped them.Others learned from them in silence.But over time... mankind wanted more.They sought to surpass the heavens.To rewrite the laws.To become immortal through dominance, not harmony.
And so… fear was born.
The Seven Sects, afraid that the dragons would forever stand in the way of their heavenly dominion, united in a forbidden pact:The Judgment of the Primordial Soul.
A thousand-year war.Countless deaths.Shattered skies.Mountains turned to spiritual dust.
In the end, only one god remained.The last dragon.His name… Long Zhuan.The one who never bowed.
Even weakened, he felled three patriarchs, shattered constellations, and walked with the bones of the world on his back — until, in a desperate act, the Seven Sects tore through the very fabric of reality and created the Celestial Abyss — a void where time neither lives nor dies.
There, the last dragon was sealed.Not by chains.But by vows.By fear.And by silence.
It is said that, as he fell, he did not roar.He did not curse.He spoke only once:
— "One day, an heir will rise. Not by bloodline, but by abandonment. When all is forgotten… he will remember for me."
And so, the world forgot.The name of the dragons faded into legend.The abyss became taboo.And the sky — though whole — still carries an invisible crack to this day.