Long ago there existed two children, Fang Yuan and Fang Zheng, originally from the same womb, born beneath the same trembling sky and nourished by the same mother's blood.
Before their first cries had even echoed across the mortal world, the heavens had already passed their judgment.
In the silent darkness of night, fate whispered its cruel decree: One shall bear righteousness, the other shall carry sin.
Thus, when the twin souls stirred within the same fragile body, all the world's resentment, hatred, jealousy, greed, and despair seeped like black ink toward one child. The negative energy of countless living beings, the grudges of ten thousand lifetimes, the cold indifference of heaven itself—all gathered and coiled around Fang Yuan.
He did not resist.
He absorbed it.
Like a bottomless abyss, he accepted every drop.
All so Fang Zheng could be born beneath gentle light, his spirit clear as spring water.
The heavens praised him, whispering: "This child will carry the will of heaven." Fang Yuan, however, opened his eyes to a world already cold. Where his brother saw warmth, he saw hypocrisy. Where his brother saw justice, he saw chains.
But still, for years, they walked as brothers.
Fang Zheng cultivated virtue and honor, guided by unseen providence. The elders admired him. Comrades trusted him. Destiny favored him.
He was the boy who had thousands of flowers piling up.
Fang Yuan cultivated power.
He did not believe in fairness — he believed in results.
And so the heavens grew puzzled.
"How," they murmured across the boundless sky, "has Fang Zheng been righteous for two lives, yet his brother is evil beyond redemption?"
The heavenly will could not accept contradiction.
Thus it descended.
On a night when stars dimmed and winds ceased, fate itself intervened. The karmic thread that bound the two souls — spun from the same womb, from shared origin — was severed.
The heavens declared:
"From this moment forward, you are no longer brothers."
The invisible strings snapped.