The Heavenly Dao never sleeps. Hidden behind a veil, its laws govern the Immortal Realm and myriad lower realms below. Only those who stand on the pinnacle can push past it and witness the wonder of the heaven's machinations.
Among the wonders, one stands above the rest— the tapestry of fate.
In a hidden corner of the heavens, a vast loom lay. Countless yarns were stretched under high tension across its frame, woven into a mesh of shimmering stars.
The pattern was chaotic; one look at the never-ending tapestry could cast you into the river of time and space. Yet, for those who endured, figures could be seen within the weave.
Chosen ones.
Those who rose to the apex and defined entire eras. Their reigns outlasted most lower realms. If the Heavenly Dao deemed you worthy of the tapestry, none could stop your ascent.
The tapestry was the heavens. The loom was the Heavenly Dao, controlling the flow of the tapestry.
Each yarn represented a lower realm.
The threads were made of thin fibers, intricately bound together, yet never truly touching. Some stretched long...
Others fell away before they could even reach the loom.
Each fiber represented the life of a living form.
In a nameless lower realm. One such thin and short fiber was about to fall off from the thread...
He lay on his bed, surrounded by no one but the voices in his head. For eighty-something years, he had scoured the mortal world. Yet, he found no trace of immortality.
A bitter smile formed on his wrinkled face. He still had twenty years of the promised hundred, but his bruised and battered body didn't have in it to move anymore.
He had long since realised that his love for her had turned into an obsession. Along the way, he had lost his original purpose and roamed the world like a headless ghost.
If someone asked him- Do you regret anything?
I do. He'd say.
His hazy vision darkened. His breath became heavy and weak, until it stopped altogether. In a city far from home, far from family and friends, his cold body entered death's warm embrace.
The fiber that belonged to him was severed from the thread and fell into the darkness of void.
It didn't matter, for the world stops for no one. Soon, years passed.
A man and a woman stood in front of a gravestone.
"The lives of mortals, fleeting like the wind." The man sighed.
The woman's expression softened for a moment, she puckered her lips, before it returned to her usual frosty demeanour.
...
Fleeting wind— that's all the man's existence was worth to them.
In their story he was an extra.
He had a story; he had roamed the mortal world, had been earned the moniker- fool of jianghu, had met prophets, and had several fateful encounters. But to the weave, it didn't matter.
The heavens are emotionless. They continued to weave. Soon the world forgot the man, cast aside even from memories.
Eons passed.
Few people had ascended from that nameless realm. No longer was the realm nameless. The person who first ascended had named it— Realm of Liberty.
That very man now in a hidden corner of the heaven, in front of him stood a vast loom.
"HAHAHA!" His eyes shone with madness.
He closed his eyes, his finger moved gently, orchestrating the space under its rhythm.
The tapestry twisted and folded under his power.
The heavens rumbled. Cracks formed all over the immortal realm.
The experts moved to stop him, but ultimately were overpowered and killed. When the old chosen ones could not stop the man, the heavens raised another.
A newly risen Immortal Emperor clashed with the man for centuries.
The man fought the chosen one to tooth and nail.
"The loom is necessary for the world and its order."
Hearing the chosen one, the man didn't speak but snorted coldly. His eyes shone with brilliance, lips curling upwards.
Just a little more.
He would sever fate from the world, ascend higher than anyone ever had, and liberate the people from the rule of the heavens.
"No! I won't let you." The chosen one shouted.
He couldn't believe it. All his life, he had been the dominant one. He had never been forced into disadvantage. But now, this madman in front of him was gaining the upper hand on him.
I have to gamble.
A golden peach appeared in his hand.
Its glow lit the void, forcing the darkness back to the edge of the universe.
The man looked at the peach and reeled back.
The peach of heaven, same grade treasure as the Loom of Heaven.
His eyes widened, he smiled bitterly.
He was very close to completing the refinement, but now, with this peach in the picture; everything was ruined.
He exerted his control over the loom through the unfinished link.
The loom creaked, coming to a sudden stop. The yarns stretched over its frame vibrated with strength, echoing a cacophony through the myriad realms.
THUMP!
The weave reeled inwards, came undone. It split into infinite thin fibers, and drifted across the void.
BOOM!!
The river of space and time burst into fragments.
A silence loomed over the universe.
"What have you done?!"
"I just evened the playing field." The man grinned from ear to ear as his body tore itself apart.
The loom of fate broke into pieces. Darkness engulfed the world.
The universe was reset.
The loom would be built once more. But some damages can't be repaired.
'They' finally had a chance to rise.
The mortal fool would roam the world once more. But this time, his story would be heard.