Before mortals ever took their first breath, before stars learned to shine and rivers learned to flow, two forces reigned supreme—Light and Darkness.
They clashed without pause. Endless, merciless, eternal.
Every strike of their collision shattered realms unseen, tore apart skies unknown, and gave birth to storms that devoured all who stood near. Countless worlds crumbled into dust beneath their struggle, while countless lives, yet unborn, were smothered before they could glimpse existence.
The heavens shook. The void wept.
Yet, no victor appeared.
Light could not erase Darkness. Darkness could not swallow Light. Their endless conflict became the foundation of creation itself, the rhythm upon which existence danced.
And amidst the chaos, questions lingered, unanswered.
Why must there be light?
Why must there be darkness?
Why must the strong crush the weak, and the weak yearn to be strong?
The heavens gave no reply. The stars remained silent.
But fate—or perhaps chance—planted a fragile seed in the aftermath of that eternal war.
A child was born.
Not of destiny. Not of divine will.
A mere boy.
His name was Ming.
He carried no heavenly blessing, no grand prophecy, no immortal bloodline. The heavens did not split upon his cry, nor did the earth tremble at his birth.
Yet, within the depths of his small, fragile heart, an ember flickered—an ember called curiosity.
Ming was not one who sought glory, nor one who dreamed of thrones. He simply… wanted to understand.
What was light? What was darkness? Why did the strong stand above? Why did the weak crawl below? Why must all beings be bound to the endless cycle of struggle?
The boy's questions carried no weight in the vastness of the cosmos, and yet… perhaps that very insignificance was what made them dangerous.
For questions, once asked, cannot be silenced forever.
Beneath the boundless sky, amidst the whispers of mountains and rivers, Ming's journey began.
He was unaware of the shadows curled quietly within his soul. Unaware of the storm biding its time beyond the stars.
He did not know that his small ember of curiosity would one day ignite into a flame capable of burning the heavens.
But all things begin humbly. Even legends start with fragile steps.
And so it was with Ming.
The world did not greet him with drums and banners. It did not kneel in reverence to his name. He lived as any other child, breathing the same air, walking the same soil.
Yet in the tapestry of existence, a single thread can unravel the whole.
That thread was him.
This is the tale of Ming.
The boy who would walk between Light and Darkness.
The boy who sought no throne, no fate, no crown—only truth.
A truth that would one day shake the balance of all existence.
--