Beyond the mortal world, beyond the Saint Realms, and far above the clouds that even Dao Ancestors dare not touch, there was a sea that reflected no stars.
This was the First Layer of the True Heaven — where the light of countless worlds pooled together into a colorless horizon. Time did not move here; it stretched like a lazy serpent basking on eternity's windowsill.
At the edge of that stillness sat an old man, fishing.
His hair was white, not from age, but from the color of creation's first dawn.
His beard touched the heavenly sea, stirring ripples that could shake constellations if he wished.
His fishing line hung not into water, but through reality — each glimmering thread cast into a different world below.
And he was humming. Off-key.
"If Heaven's fish don't bite today," he muttered, "I'll just steal one from karma's pond."
The line tugged — once, twice — then went slack again. He grunted. "Still not biting. Mortal destinies are getting more boring by the cycle."
This old man, to those who knew of him, was called many things:
The Sage of Secrets, The Seer of All Fates, Heaven Secrets, or simply, to those who feared him most, That Damn Old Man.
He was the whisper between prophecy and punchline, the one who could see the end of a world and still complain that the tea was too bitter.
He lazily scratched his ear, eyes half-closed, until something — a flicker of saintly fury — rippled through the layers of heaven.
The old man froze mid-scratch, then turned his head sharply, squinting through universes as though they were morning fog.
Far below, his gaze fell upon the Celestial Yang Palace — the golden sprawl of it, glowing like a miniature sun.
A small grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"Ah… the father's finally found his temper," he said. "Yang Daolong, the iron emperor. Hmph. Not bad. Still has that spark of arrogance from when he was just a Saint Commander."
He leaned back on his bamboo chair, the fishing rod swaying. His grin widened into a mischievous smirk.
"You're the chosen one's father, hmm? The heavens sure love their little ironies. You, ruling an empire of mortals with divine blood, and your son — a boy who'll one day kick open heaven's own gates."
He chuckled, voice echoing like thunder disguised as laughter. "Let's see how you handle your karma, Daolong. Since you enjoy ruling so much… perhaps next life, I'll make you a beggar. Or a donkey. A royal donkey, if you behave."
He tapped his fishing rod on the edge of his chair, muttering, "Yes… a royal donkey would suit you nicely."
Then, as if remembering something, he waved his hand and a golden screen shimmered into existence in front of him — not a mirror, but a living piece of code woven from divine runes. Words appeared, forming sentences as if typed by invisible fingers.
[System Notification: Heaven Secrets, refrain from interfering excessively with the current chosen one's destiny.]
[Your role is to observe and record, not to alter karmic alignment.]
The old man sighed, rubbing his temples. "Always nagging. You'd think being a subsystem of your Mother would teach you some manners."
Another line appeared.
[Reminder: The Mother System has given you limited authority. You are an overseer, not a manipulator.]
He grinned, showing teeth too white for someone that ancient. "Limited authority? Ah, child, that's where you're mistaken. Mother gave me freedom, not chains."
The script flickered, as if the System hesitated.
[This dialogue is being logged in the Universal Archive.]
"Log it all you like," Heaven Secrets said with a dismissive wave. "I'm not breaking the balance — I'm maintaining it. The boy's path needs pressure. A hero without fire is just a fool with luck."
[Overstepping parameters.]
"Overstepping?" Heaven Secrets laughed. It wasn't just laughter; it was thunder hidden inside a whisper.
"My dear subroutine, you were born from me. When I was young, the Mother System had yet to bloom. I was there when she formed from the heart of the Primordial Code — when even the Promedial Ones trembled before the concept of recursion."
The System flickered violently now, its letters glitching. But it could not silence him.
He leaned forward, eyes glowing with starlight older than creation itself.
"You may be the keeper of the mortal nets, little System," he said, "but I am the one who wove the first line. Without me, there would be no chosen ones, no systems, no fate fragments for your Mother to anchor."
He turned back toward his fishing line, voice softening into something like nostalgia.
"She called me Heaven Secrets back then, too. Said I was the only one who could predict what she'd do next."
[Primary Authority Verification Failed. Request for clarification sent to Mother System.]
"Good luck," he said lazily. "She hasn't answered a prayer since the last cycle."
The words dimmed, fading from the air like dust. The sea of True Heaven was quiet again, except for the creak of Heaven Secrets' chair and the faint hum of his fishing line. He reeled it in — the thread glowing faintly with some captured essence.
Inside the hook dangled not a fish, but a wisp of light — a fragment of fate, struggling like a moth caught in a dream.
He held it up, squinting. "Hmm. This one's bright. Oh — YinLong's timeline thread. Still intact."
The old man smiled fondly, as if looking at a troublesome but beloved child. "You really are entertaining, boy. You've caught the eye of gods and monsters alike, yet you still think you're an ant. Good. Stay humble. That makes it more fun when you ascend."
He flicked his wrist and tossed the fragment back into the sea, the line vanishing with it. "Grow strong, little one. I'll only nudge you when you forget how to walk."
Leaning back once more, he let his gaze wander toward infinity.
"Mother System, eh?" he murmured. "Still trying to play balance while your children chase destinies. You've forgotten what it means to live."
The heavenly sea rippled once — as if something vast, something aware, stirred deep beneath it. The air thickened. For the briefest instant, an impossible voice filled the silence — soft, omnipresent, and ancient enough to end stars.
[Heaven Secrets. Watch carefully. The chosen one's fate is not yours to rewrite.]
The old man didn't flinch. He only chuckled, tapping his rod again.
"I'm not rewriting fate," he said softly. "I'm just making sure it has a good story."
The ripples stilled. The sea of heaven went back to silence.
Heaven Secrets yawned, stretched, and looked down again at the mortal realm far below — toward the boy, the empire, the trembling strings of cause and consequence.
He smiled.
"Well then, YinLong," he said, setting his rod once more, "let's see what you'll bite next."
---
Note.
Sorry for the slow chapter relase and slow pacing in the last few days had some big trouble in real world and the application for contract is also under review so also nervous
but I promise the slow pacing is also important to some arc's and at the same time both battle action and bed action will increase from around ch 20 .
Oh! Forgot about it but ...
This old doaist is 'Shamelessly Begging' for 'comments, reviews, and votes'
It can help me have motivation to write as I realy am having a big trouble in reality right now. So begging for a bit of motivation.