> The night the Shen Clan fell, the heavens wept.
Rain pounded the crimson-robed corpses strewn across the once-sacred halls. Fires crackled against the cold stone as blood painted the earth in strokes of betrayal. Shen Liun knelt before the broken corpse of his father, the clan leader, his hands trembling.
"Why... why didn't we see it coming?"
A figure approached—tall, regal, eyes like winter. Ye Ruoxi.
"I warned you," she said coldly, "but you were always too weak, Liun."
Shen Liun looked up, face pale. "You knew?"
"I chose survival," she replied. "And you? You're just a fallen waste."
The final blow didn't come from an enemy—it came from her.
He was tossed into the Abyssal Pit, a cursed canyon where light never reached, his meridians shattered, left to rot in silence.
Until something ancient awakened in the dark.
"You, who have lost everything... shall become the vessel of my wrath."
A voice, older than time, whispered in his soul.
Thus began the legend of the Forsaken.