Before the first light, before time had a name, there was only one thing.
Not a god. Not a thought.
Only the Great Dao.
It had no beginning.
No breath.
No shape.
Only stillness.
But stillness cannot last.
From that stillness came a tremor.
From that tremor—a spark.
And from that spark, the Great Dao wept the first truths into being.
Thus were born the 2,999 Chaos Demon Gods—
Each forged from a single strand of the Dao's truth.
They were Time, Space, Fire, Ice, Creation, Destruction, Fate, Karma, Dreams, and more…
Each Demon God was a Law wrapped in will.
They danced across the Sea of Chaos like flames without fuel.
They ruled without mercy, for there was no one to oppose them.
But then came the 3,000th.
He was not born like the others.
He was not one thing, but all things—
Not a shard, but the whole.
His name was Pangu.
He opened his eyes, and Chaos flinched.
The wind began with his breath.
The void echoed with his steps.
He did not claim power. He was Power—
The fusion of all Daos, the destined axe-bearer.
He came not to reign,
but to separate.
To end the storm.
The Great Dao gave him three treasures:
—The Pangu Axe, to cleave what should not be one.
—The Green Lotus of Creation, to nurture what must survive.
—And the Creation Butterfly, a spirit of endings that lead to beginnings.
The Demon Gods saw him rise—
and trembled.
In fear, they united.
Thus began the first war—
The Chaos War.
Pangu stood alone.
One against 2,999.
He did not speak.
He did not plead.
He swung.
Each strike shattered a god.
Each death left behind a spark—
Not of destruction, but of Order.
From these remnants, something began to form.
The concept of balance.
The rhythm of life.
And then…
With one final, heaven-shaking swing—
Pangu split Chaos in two.
The light rose—Heaven.
The heavy sank—Earth.
And between them hung the Veil of Void.
Thus was born the Honghuang Realm—
A world of three layers:
—Heaven, for spirits and gods
—Earth, for mortals and life
—Nether, for souls, judgment, and return
And to maintain this fragile beauty, a mechanism formed—
The Heavenly Dao, born of remnants, made to balance all things.
It watched. It ruled.
It became… everything.
Pangu did not rest.
He held up the Heavens, body stretched across eternity,
lest the world fall back into chaos.
But even titans have limits.
And one day… everything shattered.
The Heavenly Dao, once pure, became corrupt.
Not by time.
Not by gods.
But by something older than Chaos—
A poison from beyond comprehension.
Bound by its own laws, the Great Dao could not intervene.
And so, it watched its own son be betrayed.
Pangu rose in fury.
He broke the corrupted Dao.
And in doing so, he tore apart the very realm he had made.
To save it, he did the unthinkable.
He gave… everything.
His breath became wind.
His voice became thunder.
His eyes—the sun and moon.
His bones—the mountains.
His blood—the rivers.
His soul—
The new Heavenly Dao, pure once more.
The world was saved.
But as Pangu's essence faded, he saw one last horror:
A presence beyond even the Demon Gods—
A thing that watched fate like a puppeteer watches string.
In his last act, Pangu created a child.
He used:
—His Heart-Essence Blood
—The Nine-Colored Divine Earth
—The Three-Light Holy Waters
From them, he formed an infant—
Not a god.
Not a mortal.
A seed.
A legacy.
A warning.
But before the child could be named, Pangu vanished forever.
The Great Dao, mourning its son, took the infant and sealed him in the sky—
Within the Ziwei Star—the Emperor Star, hidden even from fate.
There, he slept.
Unseen. Unnamed.
Forgotten.
Until something else… awoke.
From beyond even Chaos came a shadow—
The Chaos Demon Emperor.
He was not born of Dao.
He had no law, no truth, no shape.
Only hunger.
He tried to invade the child—
To corrupt, to consume.
The Great Dao struck back, chasing his origin across existence.
But the Demon Emperor erased himself—completely.
Even the Great Dao could not follow.
Afraid the child was tainted, the Dao prepared to unmake him.
And then…
Something impossible happened.
A treasure equal to the Dao responded—
The Hongmeng Chaos Pearl.
It shattered time.
Reached across futures.
And pulled a soul from Earth—
A mortal boy from the 21st century.
Not chosen.
Not mighty.
Just… a boy with regrets.
But he did not fear gods.
He accepted them.
The Pearl fused his soul with the divine child.
Now, within one being lay:
—The Blood of Pangu
—The Will of the Great Dao
—The Shadow of the Demon Emperor
—And the Soul of a Mortal
A contradiction.
A paradox.
A child Heaven could not measure.
The Pearl vanished.
The child slept.
Not god.
Not human.
Not past.
Not future.
Only a name, etched in silence:
Ziwei.
And one day…
He would awaken.
To break the gates of Heaven.
To burn the chains of destiny.
To become the Emperor of a world that once ignored him.
But for now, he dreams.
And the stars hold their breath.