Across the endless stretch of emerald plains, time itself seemed to hold its breath. The turning of the world faltered, the heavens stilled, and the boundless expanse unfolded in such radiance that even a thousand skies might bow in reverence.
Here lay beauty absolute—beyond comparison, beyond description. No mortal tongue, no brush of heaven, could capture it.
The sky above shimmered a flawless azure, crystalline in its purity. Clouds drifted like gentle hymns, rolling softly upon the horizon, weaving songs of eternal serenity, of untouched sanctity.
And amidst their tender embrace…
the sun unveiled itself, not as a mere blaze of light, but as a motherly sovereign—her warmth enfolding, her rays dissolving the tremors of all creation. Valleys and mountains bowed beneath her tender glow, bathed in the balm of her eternal compassion.
Below, the earth endured—silent, unyielding.
It carried heaven and horizon without complaint, an ancient monarch that never asked for tribute. It did not speak, yet its stillness roared louder than legions of thunder.
It was true, the earth did not speak as mortals did.
But should it awaken in wrath, there would be no ground left to stand upon, no world remaining for man to tread.
Earth, sky, sun, and cloud—woven in harmony eternal, bound by a sacred union that not even time could unravel.
And yet… In that very stillness, while creation watched in its unbroken grandeur—
Upon the green expanse—
*Swoosh!.
The wind came.
It carved through silence, a wild dancer, reckless, shaking leaf and bough as if to prove its might to all beneath heaven. Trees bent, grass trembled in awe, yet—
It could not topple the sky.
It could not scatter the clouds.
It could not smother the sun.
It could not fracture the earth.
They were too eternal, too vast, too immovable.
And still… the wind bore something with it.
As its fury softened…
as the storm surrendered to quietude…
A voice stirred.
"Ah… Heavens and again... Heaven… how much longer must I soil my hands with such wretched tasks? How endlessly wearisome…"
A young woman's voice—
gentle, but edged with exhaustion, each syllable weighed down by unseen chains. It carried both clarity and despair, as if the very marrow of her spirit had been worn to dust.
She stood amidst the sea of green, surrounded by the breeze's softening sighs.
"What else can I do? I cannot resist them. They bestowed me a name… Taught me to step upon the Dao… Even to glimpse the path of Immortality. My debt to them… Is one I can never repay."
Her tone trembled—caught between gratitude and suffocating sorrow, as if every word threatened to tear her in two.
Then—
*Wussh…
The wind shifted again, no longer wild but tender.
It caressed her cheek like the palm of a mother, as though heaven and earth themselves sought to comfort her.
Her eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to that embrace. Within the fractures of her heart, something fragile stirred—an echo of healing.
Slowly, she stretched her slender frame.
Then, with grace unbroken, she sank into the grass, crossing her legs upon a carpet woven of dawn's light. She drew in a long breath, released it in silence—and the weight of the world seemed lighter.
"This place… It is so peaceful. I never thought such beauty could exist…"
A faint smile graced her weary lips.
Peace enshrouded her, melting the burdens that had suffocated her spirit. This silent world gave her what no hand, no soul, could offer, an embrace without judgment.
"Yes… I will return here, whenever I seek solace…"
But instead of ease, something deeper stirred.
An ache, spectral and untouchable, haunting the marrow of her being.
Her eyes lifted toward the endless sky.
"I… I miss them. So dearly…"
Her voice was fragile, scarcely louder than the breath of the wind.
"My companions… I, Xiao Lingshi, once walked with Shanzhu An, Ju Nana, and Tian Wuanqi. Together we endured so much. Yet now… Only memories remain."
Her gaze faltered, sinking to the earth.
Why?.
Why were they torn apart?.
The memories lingered, etched into her very blood. Each moment carved deep into her soul, as if eternity itself had chiseled them into stone.
She remembered when—
"I… I was forced to cast them down into the mortal realm…"
Her voice cracked, trembling with anguish.
"How vile I am! They—who should have stood at creation's peak, who deserved to rule heaven and earth—yet I… by Heaven's decree… destroyed everything!!"
Her cry ruptured the stillness.
It was not a voice, but a storm unleashed. Rage, grief, despair—all collided into a tempest unbound.
Her eyes, once gentle and luminous, burned scarlet, aflame with a hatred too deep for history to inscribe.
Her beauty, moonlit and serene, blossoming like roses in drought—now veiled in despair. A shadow smothered her radiance, twisting it into sorrow incarnate.
Her robe, pale rose adorned with blossoms, wrapped her like a prison of beauty. Her hair, once flowing like rivers eternal, now tangled and wild, each strand shrieking with her unrest.
The meadow's wind no longer soothed; it carried whispers of grief, echoing her torment across creation.
"My life… Why must it be so wretched?"
Her words shattered, raw, bare.
And then—she wept.
Her tears fell unrestrained, a torrent breaking past walls of pride. Burdens collapsed—mountains crumbling upon her frail shoulders.
Pain etched deep, scars rooted in her soul.
No hand came to bear them.
No soul came to help her forget.
Tears carved paths down her face—beauty forged for heaven, now marred by sorrow too vast to measure.
Drop by drop, they fell into the grass, each one an inscription of fate, a symbol of loss too profound for words.
Sorrow.
Helplessness.
Rage.
A vengeance without end.
All knotted together, weaving into a force unseen—a darkness that no reality could unmake, a terror beyond measure.
"What am I to do…?"
Her voice was hollow, speaking only to the void.
Her head sank low—
then slowly rose, her eyes meeting the flawless sky.
The heavens stretched vast, unbroken, bearing down as if to crush the weight of countless worlds. The longer she stared, the deeper she sank.
That sky—once her solace—
had turned into a mirror of her torment.
Slowly, inexorably…
memories awoke.
Not the tender past she cherished, but a wound buried deep, one she had sworn never to recall.
"Stop… Stop!"
Her hands clutched her eyes shut.
But it was useless.
The memory pierced through darkness, forcing itself upon her, dragging her back to the abyss she longed to forget.
And within it—
A world in ruin.
Skies torn into emptiness.
Earth collapsing into black void, devouring mountain, sea, and star. Cosmos unraveling, stripped and swallowed.
This was annihilation absolute, so profound that even reality recoiled from it.
And amidst the ruin—
A speck.
Tiny, unseen, yet radiant—a fragment of light adrift in endless ruin. It drifted toward the black maw, calm, untouched, sovereign.
But before it could be grasped—
*Kaboom!.
A cataclysm erupted.
Heavens collapsed anew.
Worlds burned to ash, gone as if they had never been.
It was the end of days.
Then—
A voice.
"O my realms… O my life-breath… Bow before me, and I shall lift you upon my sacred path."
A voice like thunder, like law itself.
The stars bent. Dust bent. Reality bent.
It was a voice that could destroy.
It was a voice that could create.
The Alpha of every ending.
The Omega of every beginning.
Absolute.
Sovereign.
Creator.
Majestic.
Terrifying.
How could Xiao Lingshi bear such memories?.
Who was she truly?
Before she could answer, the voice resounded once more:
"From this day forth, let all heavens know—only I shall reign over the Lower Realms! None shall defy the destiny I decree! My world… I shall craft flawless. Kneel before the might of an Emperor!"
Arrogance incarnate.
Exaltation supreme.
But arrogance founded upon truth, upon power boundless and real.
How could one being remake realities, forge worlds unnumbered, with but a thought?
"Be grateful. From this moment, as new reality rises from my hand—walk upon my Dao!"
Not a command.
A decree.
Law itself.
All bowed.
Or all would perish—shattered, erased, denied even the mercy of reincarnation.
Then—
"Enough!! "
Xiao Lingshi's scream tore through all.
The vision shattered—splinters of glass crushed in storm.
Tears streamed down her face, soaking her sleeves. Her chest heaved, suffocated by sorrow unnamed.
Her arms fell limp.
Her eyes opened.
And before her stretched not ruin, not void—
but the meadow, green and serene, brushed by the hand of sunlight.
No crumbling heavens.
No voice of law.
Only silence.
Peace seeped into her, though the thorn remained buried deep.
"That memory… It lingers still… Heaven, cursed Heaven… They devised this! A false prophecy to force all beings to kneel before their Dao! I… I will never…"
Without waiting any longer, she began to move.
She's plan wasn't just a fantasy—he wanted to make it real. In her heart, it was as if all his paths had been arranged in such a way, like cosmic chess pieces ready to be dropped to overthrow Heaven.
But she knew...
A dream without action is just dust.
What she needed was strategy, not just courage.