LEGACY OF THE SHATTERED HEAVEN
The battlefield was soaked in blood—a crimson river pooling beneath fractured stone.
At its center knelt a man, one knee pressed to the ground, a divine sword glowing faintly, buried halfway into the earth. Blood drenched his robes, yet his gaze remained steady. This was Xian Wu, a name that once shook the heavens.
Behind him, a blade pierced clean through his back. Not just any blade—it came from the hands of his sworn brother, Ren Kai. Not blood, but closer than kin.
Beside him stood Lian'er—Xian Wu's wife—her pink-aura robes fluttering, lips curled into a cruel smile. She stepped forward as Ren Kai pressed his boot onto Xian Wu's head.
She reached for the sword lodged in her husband's back and pulled it free with a wet sound.
Xian Wu didn't flinch.
She bent low—not to save him, but to savor his fall. Her hand cupped his bloodied jaw, lifting it. Then, with a whisper of silk, she wiped the blood from his lips… and licked them clean.
Deliberate. Cruel. Intimate.
Only then did she walk to Ren Kai—and kissed him.
A kiss that shattered what remained of Xian Wu's heart.
His breath caught—not from the wound, but from the truth unraveling inside him. His fate had been sealed long ago.
Ren Kai's laughter cracked the air, sharp and cold.
> "You thought we stood by you out of loyalty? Love? Hah. It was always your power. Your sword. Your legacy. All of it—ours from the start."
He gestured toward the ruins behind them.
> "That artifact—you retrieved it from the forbidden realm, but kept it hidden. Never trusted us with it. And now? Its new master stands right next to you. More powerful. More worthy."
Xian Wu's fingers curled beneath his blood-soaked robes.
He still held it.
A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.
A memory surged like lightning—
A dark altar buried deep beneath the earth. The air thick with forgotten qi. The ruins reeked of decay and fate.
His steps faltered, blood trailing behind him. His hand reached forward, inches from a floating artifact—a coiled star of violet light, edged in divine runes.
Then—light exploded.
A projection ignited above the altar, burning like a flame made of will. Its voice rumbled:
> "You made it through. This isn't a treasure. It's a trial. A will sleeps within. It chooses its master. It devours the unworthy."
Xian Wu didn't retreat.
> "You're not the first to reach this far," it continued. "But perhaps… the first I hesitate to dismiss."
A long silence.
> "If you believe your mind will never fracture… if you believe you can carry this without begging fate to undo it—then take it."
The altar quieted. The light dimmed. And Xian Wu, without a word, reached out—and claimed it.
That moment burned in him now, as blood spilled freely.
The artifact core pulsed faintly in his palm—not with light, but rhythm. As if breathing. As if waiting.
Recognition. Pressure. A presence brushing against his fading soul—like the memory of thunder.
His grip tightened.
Ren Kai drove the blade deeper. Xian Wu collapsed to both knees.
Lian'er turned away, stepping into Ren Kai's arms.
> "That's why," Ren Kai said coldly, "you never trust blindly."
But that wasn't the only reason they had succeeded.
Even now, poison burned in Xian Wu's veins—a slow-killing elixir, given by Lian'er herself. Sweetened wine on the eve of battle.
He had shared it with a smile. Trusted her, even in silence.
It hadn't dulled his mind, but it weakened his core. Slowed his meridians. Made his sword heavier than it had ever been.
They hadn't killed him with strength.
They had turned his love into a weapon.
His trust into a curse.
Xian Wu's fingers moved.
The voice from long ago echoed in his fading mind—
> "This isn't a gift. It devours the unworthy. It chooses its master."
He smiled, bloody and bitter.
> "Then let it devour the heavens."
And crushed the artifact core.
A blinding light surged from his palm—tearing open the sky.
Its unleashed power ruptured the realms, shattering cosmic balance.
The Grand Cosmos, once whole, fragmented into countless realms—each a broken echo of the divine world before.
Where Xian Wu knelt became one of many: Tianxu Realm —the lowest of all, a hollow echo of its former divinity. Once revered, now sealed and forgotten at the base of the cosmic order.
Within that explosion, a single divine fragment sealed itself into Xian Wu's soul.
He felt it as his consciousness faded: pure, unyielding light anchoring a sliver of him to existence.
The skies cracked.
Thunder roared.
The heavens trembled.
This was not the end.
This was the beginning.
---
Eras passed.
The stars dimmed.
The divine skies became illusion.
Clans clung to faded legacies.
The heavens flickered with ghostly stars—half memory, half warning.
Under the fractured heavens of Tianxu, something stirred.
That night, in the depths of a silent forest, a boy fled through shadow. His breath ragged. Blood dripping from his hands.
Behind him, a fire-serpent burst through the trees, twenty feet long. Flames licked the bark. Its shriek echoed like burning metal.
This was Lin Feng.
And he had stolen its egg.
His legs screamed. His lungs burned.
Cultivation had never come easy. Talent, yes—but no clan. No pills. No resources. No backing.
A sect elder had once smirked over his wine:
> "Bring me that beast's egg, and I'll grant you entry."
Mockery dressed as kindness. Lin Feng knew.
They never expected him to survive.
But he had nothing else.
He also had something even more fragile—a promise carved into him long before the world turned cruel.
The serpent hissed. Flames struck him head-on.
Pain exploded across his chest. Blood pooled beneath him. Venom surged. Limbs numbed. Darkness pressed in.
And then—
A voice. Soft. Familiar.
> "Idiot… you promised, remember?"
His eyes widened.
The pain didn't vanish, but something lit inside him.
Teeth gritted, body half-broken, Lin Feng rose.
> "Die here? In a beast's belly? No… If there's even one percent of a chance—"
He turned toward the ravine—and jumped.
From the shadows above, hidden in the rocks, the elder watched.
> "No one comes back from there," he muttered, turning away.
His silhouette vanished into dusk.
Lin Feng plummeted. Wind tore at his robes. Blood misted the air.
From his sleeve, a jade hairpin slipped free—weightless, spinning.
His half-closed eyes caught the glint. A memory surged—
A girl beneath the willow. Her hand pressing the hairpin into his.
> "If you ever miss me… let this be a part of me with you. Promise me… if I ever call—no matter where you are…"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
He had nodded. Once.
And then everything went dark.
A sudden crack of thunder split the sky. Bolts of lightning danced like restless spirits.
Far beyond, across the broken realms, a soul drifted—ancient, flickering.
Xian Wu.
Time had nearly erased him, but a sliver endured—clinging to the sealed fragment of divine power within.
He had searched endlessly for an anchor—not a host, but a place to remain.
Now, the last thread of his soul began to unravel.
Until he saw a boy. Broken. Bleeding. Alone.
He hesitated.
> "This body… so fragile. No clan. No bloodline. Not even a proper core… If I anchor myself here, I may never return."
But something stirred.
The sealed core inside him pulsed—not with force, but instinct.
A current nudged him forward.
> "…Is this your doing?" he asked the unseen force.
No answer.
He didn't understand. But the alternative was oblivion.
His soul unraveled—drawn toward Lin Feng's dying mind.
In the vast stillness of Lin Feng's core, a flickering blue light appeared: a fractured soul, bleeding into the void like smoke.
Xian Wu's presence hovered—dim, translucent, barely holding shape. His eyes opened, weary. Fragments of memory sparked—betrayal, blood, divine sword.
And a thought:
> "Believe others—but never blindly."
Lin Feng staggered, clutching his head.
> "Wh—who's there?! What… what are you?"
The voice was calm but weary.
> "Not your enemy."
A pause. Softer, thoughtful:
> "Your condition… and mine. Not so different. Two shattered mirrors, each reflecting what the other lost. So don't be afraid of me."
Lin Feng's breath caught. The voice wasn't cold—it felt… tired. Familiar.
> "I can see it in your eyes. You've known helplessness. Just like I have."
The presence was within him.
> "This can't be real… Then why does it feel like something's waking up inside me?"
The soul spoke again, steadier:
> "I can aid your cultivation—but I need refuge. Let me rest in your mind core. When you grow strong enough… reclaim what was stolen."
> "If I die, so will you. I can grant you what little remains of my power—not enough to elevate you, but enough to survive. And more importantly… knowledge. My techniques, my formations, my arts."
> "There's one last thing I can give—a divine flame, no more than a fading spark. If you guard it, if you keep the will to burn, that spark can ignite again."
> "Its true strength will awaken only when your cultivation does."
A long silence. Then quieter:
> "When you grow strong… remember this moment. The edge we both stood on. The silence no one else saw."
> "That's enough."
A thread of pale blue light unfurled from him—flickering, faint—and entered Lin Feng's dying form.
His wounds sealed. Breath returned. His pulse steadied.
Lin Feng clenched his fists. Then bowed.
> "If you trust me—I won't fail."
A ritual began—ancient runes, blinding light, agony.
His skin cracked. Veins glowed. Clothes burned away, replaced by flowing spiritual light.
Then—silence.
He had changed. Not in power, but in will.
As the divine light faded, something blinked faintly in the dark—
The jade hairpin. It hovered in his unconscious grip, pulsing once, like a heartbeat.
Its surface shimmered… and for an instant, a face appeared within—blurred, soft, sad.
A girl beneath a willow.
Then—gone.
Lin Feng opened his eyes. His breath flowed smooth. His body light. A faint warmth pulsed within.
Maybe it had been a dream.
But inside his mind core, the blue soul still floated. And deeper still, something else remained—
A sealed fragment of divine light. Silent. Waiting. Unknown.
Not yet.
His fingers closed tighter around the hairpin. Still here.
He stared at it, whispering:
> "Don't worry. The time's coming. Next time… I'll return with more than just a promise."
He stood.
What felt urgent now wasn't the divine soul—
It was the fire in his chest.
The injustice.
The betrayal.
The need to rise.
He turned.
The forest was behind him.
Home lay ahead.
So did destiny.
---
Elsewhere…
A grove beneath a cliffside temple.
An elder knelt beside a glowing formation, a jade talisman flickering between his fingers.
His voice was low, almost swallowed by the wind:
> "It's done. He fell. The beast covered the traces."
Silence.
Then—a reply, cold and deliberate:
> "Let the world think it was fate. I want no loose ends."
The elder bowed. The talisman's glow faded.
From the grove's entrance—soft steps.
A girl emerged, moonlight brushing her pale face. Hands clasped. Eyes lowered.
The elder froze. He straightened too quickly, closing the space between them.
Arms around her.
Her breath hitched. His… slowed.
As if the night had been holding him, and only now let go.
A flicker toward the dimming formation—then away.
His figure dissolved into the night.
The grove sank into darkness.
From that night onward, fate began to watch Lin Feng.
---