Records of the Heavenly World
Chapter One: The Battle of Immortality Peak
The sky above the Howling Heavenly Mountains churned like an angry sea. Dark clouds circled slowly over the towering peaks, while the wind howled through the jagged rocks like restless spirits searching for escape.
In the heart of that desolate stone wilderness—where only stubborn grasses clung to life—blood dripped onto the ground.
Crimson drops fell from the tip of a long sword.
Lin Mo stood in the center of a circle of enemies.
His body was covered in wounds. His black robe was torn at the shoulder and along his side, and blood ran slowly down his arm, dripping from his fingertips. Yet his back was not bent, and his eyes showed no sign of panic.
He stood still… calm… as if the pain did not belong to him.
Before him stood a massive figure with skin as dark as tempered steel. Its violet eyes burned with a sinister glow, and two curved horns rose from the sides of its head.
It was an Asura—one of the warrior race said to have been born from the fury of ancient battlefields.
The Asura laughed, a deep sound like grinding stone.
"Lin Mo… your road ends here."
Behind it stood four others.
A tall man clad in silver armor engraved with ancient sect symbols.
A woman holding a long spear whose blade flashed beneath the lightning.
And two more cultivators, their bodies wrapped in dense spiritual energy.
The armored man spoke.
"Your sword alone won't save you this time."
Another drop of blood slid from Lin Mo's hand.
He raised the sword slightly and ran a finger along the blade, wiping away the blood clinging to its edge. Lightning reflected across the steel for a brief instant, turning the blade into a thin line of light.
Then he spoke.
But his voice was not that of a cornered man.
It was calm… like someone reciting poetry in a quiet hall.
"How many warriors believed this road would end with me?
Yet it was they who found their graves along the way."
The wind surged across the mountain, lifting strands of his black hair behind him.
He raised his gaze to the Asura.
"If death is the hour you believe awaits me…
then know this—death knows my name…
and fears what I carry in my hand."
The Asura laughed louder.
"Poetry? At a time like this?"
Lin Mo replied calmly,
"Poetry does not wait for the right moment."
Then he moved.
It was not an explosive charge.
Just a single step.
Yet in the next instant, the sword had already moved.
The sound of steel tearing through the air cracked like lightning.
The armored man stumbled half a step back as sparks erupted from his chestplate when the blade struck. At the same moment, the spear-wielding woman lunged forward like a bolt of lightning, her weapon aimed straight for Lin Mo's heart.
Lin Mo twisted his body slightly.
The spear passed by his shoulder—but left a long gash across his flesh.
Blood burst forth instantly.
Yet his eyes did not change.
He turned halfway, and the sword moved again—this time so fast the air itself seemed to scream.
One of the other fighters stepped back, tightening his grip on his weapon.
The Asura spoke slowly.
"You're still standing… even after all that."
A faint smile appeared on Lin Mo's lips.
Then he said,
"The mountains never ask the wind
how many times it has struck them."
He raised his sword once more.
"They simply remain standing."
Then the battle erupted again.
Lightning tore across the sky. Steel clashed against steel. Spiritual energy exploded around the mountain peak.
And in the center of it all, Lin Mo fought.
Bleeding… yet fighting.
—
But that battle…
had not happened yet.
That scene was only a shadow of the future—a moment time had not yet reached. A long road led toward it, a path paved with blood, betrayal, and choices too heavy for most hearts to bear.
For now…
everything was completely different.
Many years earlier, on a cold night deep underground, a small boy sat inside an iron cage.
The stone chamber smelled of damp earth. A weak oil lamp flickered nearby, and the slow drip of water echoed from the cracked ceiling.
A man in a long black robe approached. His beard was unkempt, and his eyes carried a strange, unsettling gleam.
In his hand was an ancient book filled with yellowed pages.
He crouched in front of the cage and looked at the boy.
Then he spoke quietly, almost as if talking to himself.
"You know… people believe they are born free."
He slowly opened the book.
"But the truth…"
"is that every human being is born inside a cage."
His gaze lifted to Lin Mo.
"Some cages are made of iron."
"Others are made of fear."
He leaned closer until his face was near the bars.
"And you… what kind of cage were you born into?"
Lin Mo did not answer.
He simply looked at him.
His gaze was so calm that the man fell silent for a moment.
Then suddenly he laughed.
A short laugh… but not a natural one.
"I like eyes that don't cry."
He closed the book.
"Because those eyes…"
"often grow into the most dangerous ones in the world."
That night, no one in that underground chamber knew that the silent boy inside the cage would one day stand atop a mountain surrounded by enemies.
Nor that the blood falling from his sword in that distant battle…
would be the price of the path that began here.