Ren sat within his domain. Flames licked the horizon—an endless circle of heat and silence. Beside him, Emperor Shadow rested upon a throne carved from the blaze itself. His presence etched into every flicker of fire. The inferno crowned them both, unyielding and divine, as much a symbol of authority as of entrapment.
Ren cultivated at the heart of the flame. It did not scorch; it refined. Each flicker taught, each roar carried whispers from the heavens. He had reached the early tier of Step 200—a realm few touched, fewer understood. Yet he did not yearn for Step 1000 or the distant Divine Realm with haste. He was patient.
When he stepped beyond the inferno, the flames receded like breath drawn inward. At the riverside, where water thundered down the mountainside, he found Mianmian and Gao Yun. Power shimmered around them—delicate and new—as if the river itself acknowledged their ascent.
Later, beneath the hum of daily life, they walked the marketplace once more. Past lacquered trinkets and fragrant stalls, past merchants shouting stories into the dusk. They browsed without urgency, drawn not by gold or glory, but by the quiet pull of possibility. Memory, maybe. Or a beginning in disguise.
"This place is… remarkable, Master," said Gao Yun, his gaze lingering on a stall of wind-chimes and calligraphy scrolls. "Even though it's filled with mortal trinkets and little cultivation worth, it's… still wonderful. I had forgotten what it's like to be simply mortal—just walking. Browsing. Doing something—not for power or progress, but for the quiet ache of living."
"It is, isn't it…" Ren said softly, hands folded behind his back as he watched a child haggle for plum candy. "Not long ago, I walked as a mortal. On my homeworld. Earth. The year was 102,502. I posed as a student at Kulun's university—the greatest of its kind. I've seen the world change countless times. Beautiful… but also not so beautiful."
"I must admit, Master… your homeworld sounds strange. No cultivation? It's difficult to imagine. I can't fathom a place without cultivation."
Ren said, voice low beneath the market's hum. "But my world did have the supernatural—because of me. Most humans never knew. The vast majority walked through their lives untouched by it. Only a handful saw beyond the veil. Fewer still understood. And those who did… kept their silence. Sometimes out of awe. Sometimes out of fear."
Gao Yun leaned in, curiosity steady. "I see. Then… the supernatural—what was that, Master?"
Ren glanced up, half-smiling. "The supernatural? Well… where do I start then?"
Ren's voice dropped into something older than memory.
"The supernatural… It's not supposed to exist. It's unnatural. Something that shouldn't be—but it does. My world was filled with animals, humans, machines… Nothing beyond the veil. At least, not until I died. And came back—a true immortal. I created the supernatural with my own hands. Werewolves, vampires, hybrids. Ghosts, wraiths, gods, devils. Countless things. All were born from me. Because I am the beginning, and I am the end. I remember returning even before my birth, before the Big Bang. I was there. I did many things then—things the universe still echoes in silence. What mortals call legend or history."
Ren let out a quiet breath, watching the river coil like memory.
"I made this place, too. Shaped it with my own hands, eternity ago. The ancient clans... yes, I remember them. I can know everything—every thread, every outcome, every origin. But I can also forget. Wipe something clean from my mind like it never existed. And honestly... I kind of like that. It makes it easier to let go of things I'm not ready to carry. I forget for a while. Then I bring it back—when I'm ready to remember."
Gao Yun's eyes widened, voice trembling with quiet reverence. "Then that means… You are the Emperor of all gods. You even told me once—those Christians from your homeworld, the ones who worshipped a being they called 'God'—you created him."
Ren's gaze didn't falter, but his tone carried no pride. "He was like all the others. I created gods, devils, legends, and myths. Not for worship. Just… because I could. Because I had returned from beyond what existed. I didn't plan any of it. I was just there, before things began. Before light. Before the stars had names. And sometimes, I wonder if I remember too much… or not nearly enough."
"You already know—I intend to conquer this place for the Eternal Empire. I forged that empire with flame and decree, ruled it beyond mortal memory. But in the end, I gave it to Bai—Eternal Empress. My wife. She held the kind of grace the throne demanded, and I knew she'd shape it better than I ever could. My people, my Eternal Empire, have worn many different faces and names through our immortal lives. We could've wiped the memories of humanity clean and left them in blissful ignorance. Or we could've spoken the truth and unstitched the illusion. We chose silence. In my homeland, they knew me only as Prince Ren—the descendant of the Black Dragon, general. But they were all my masks. The emperor they revered was me, just wearing different titles. My 'parents' were a performance—blood-born relatives, descendants of my siblings. Close enough to mimic truth, distant enough to avoid it."
Ren's quiet revelation rippled through dimensions.
"Master… you're telling me so much. I understand it—at least I think I do—but something feels strange. It's like my cultivation is growing on its own just from hearing you. I need to lie down. My head… It's spinning. There's too much. Too deep. I feel like something inside me is shifting."
Ren chuckled, soft and weathered like thunder in retreat. "Forgive me… I wasn't trying to boast. You asked, and I answered. But I can stop now. I don't want to sound arrogant." He lowered his gaze, the weight of centuries simmering in silence. "I've seen too much to mistake storytelling for pride. Sometimes truth just... spills out."
Ren turned his head slightly, feeling the light weight of Mianmian on his shoulder. She looked unconscious, breathing slowly, qi rippling faintly through her frame. He chuckled under his breath, then reached up and gently stirred her awake.
She blinked, slowly rising to her feet, though still leaning on him like the world hadn't quite stopped spinning. Her brows furrowed as invisible streams of knowledge coiled behind her eyes. Her cultivation—like his moments ago—had risen again.
Ren watched her quietly, then exhaled a soft thought aloud. "I need to be careful not to improve too quickly. I've always preferred taking my time with things… even if it doesn't always look like I do."
Ren still finds it amusing how this empire is perceived as merely a mortal one. In reality, it is inhabited by countless immortals, cultivators, gods, and other mystical beings who disguise themselves as humans. Even the emperor and empress are not entirely human; while they appear to be so, their lineage is tied to the ancient clans. Their bloodline descends from the ancient gods.
These clans tested the cultivators of this world to determine if they had the strength to advance in their cultivation. There exists a sort of heaven in this world that further tests them. Interestingly, many people no longer believe in the ancient clans, despite their myth being very real.
"I wonder how everyone is doing since I left."
They kept walking. Ren didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The world had already heard him—it just hadn't remembered yet.
"I wasn't just the first," he said. "I was the beginning. The breath before breath. The silence that shaped sound. Everything that came after—every star, every soul, every story—it all unfolded from me." He paused—not for effect, but because the truth didn't need embellishment. "I didn't arrive into existence. Existence arrived into me."
He spoke as if others were listening. Not beside him, but somewhere—distant, unseen. Not to convince them. Just to let a little of it out. The rest stayed buried, for now.