chapter 1:
"The stars wept. The heavens cracked. And the Absolute Being fell."
The Immortal Realm was never meant to know war. Yet on the Day of Sundering, it bled.
Above the Celestial Spire, where the laws of reality bent to divine will, Veyron stood encircled by his own creations — High Lords, Archons, and Celestial Beasts. The sky fractured like glass, revealing the Void beyond. Lightning danced across the firmament, not of nature, but of judgment.
Veyron's robes, once woven from starlight, hung in tatters. His body—half spirit, half law—bled golden ichor that evaporated before touching the ground. His eyes, silver and ancient, scanned the assembly. Each face was familiar. Each blade raised against him had once bowed in reverence.
"You were meant to guide us," Lord Xian said, voice trembling beneath the weight of betrayal. "Not rule us."
"You were meant to protect me," Veyron replied, his voice quiet, but it echoed across realms.
The Forbidden Seal activated. Chains of law and fate wrapped around his limbs — conceptual bindings that no mortal could perceive. The Spire groaned. The world shuddered.
But in the final moment, Veyron whispered an incantation older than time. A sigil burned into the void. His soul scattered.
Three thousand years later...
The Eastern Wastes. A land forgotten by gods and ruled by dust.
A boy lay in a narrow alley, curled beneath a broken cart. His ribs showed through his skin. His breath came in shallow gasps. The villagers called him Jin Mu, though he had no family to confirm it. He was thirteen, maybe. No one kept track.
The slums of Yanshi were cruel. Children fought for scraps. Cultivators passed overhead on flying swords, never looking down. The sects ruled from their mountain palaces, and the poor were left to rot.
Jin Mu had been beaten again—this time for stealing a half-rotten pear. His vision blurred. The sky above was a dull gray, the kind that promised nothing but more suffering.
But then the moon turned black.
Symbols danced across the sky—ancient, geometric, alive. The air grew heavy. Time slowed.
Jin Mu's body convulsed. He saw visions: a tower that touched the stars, a man with silver eyes, a world of fire and betrayal. He screamed, but no sound came out.
When he awoke, the alley was silent. His wounds were gone. His skin glowed faintly. And his eyes shimmered silver.
That night, the heavens stirred.
In the distant Cloudveil Sect, Elder Shen dropped his teacup. "The Absolute Sigil... it's been activated."
In the Forbidden Archives, a scroll burned itself to ash.
In the Void Between Realms, something laughed.
Jin Mu didn't understand what had happened. But he felt it — power, ancient and terrifying, coiled inside him like a sleeping dragon. He could hear whispers in languages he didn't know. He could see patterns in the wind.
And he was no longer afraid.