Before Heaven learned order, before laws learned obedience, Tian Xuán already existed.
He was not born of a world.
Worlds were born of him.
From his will emerged creation itself—countless realms layered upon realms. To each world, he appointed a Heavenly Dao, fragments of authority entrusted to govern fate, karma, and balance. Those Daos believed themselves supreme.
None of them knew the truth.
That all Daos had a creator.
And that creator was known as the Supreme Heavenly Dao.
Yet within the Origin Expanse, where even Daos dared not intrude, Tian Xuán was not seated upon a throne.
He stood beside a woman.
The palace floated in silence, untouched by time. Jade pillars reflected endless galaxies, but the atmosphere was warm—almost mortal.
Ling Yuè, the Supreme Heavenly Empress, poured tea with unhurried grace.
"You adjusted the laws of three thousand worlds today," she said calmly. "The appointed Heavenly Daos are unsettled."
Tian Xuán accepted the cup.
"They exist to maintain what I created. Unease is irrelevant."
Ling Yuè glanced at him, amused.
"And yet you came back early."
He paused.
"In all creation," Tian Xuán said evenly, "only you may question me."
She smiled—not proudly, but naturally—as though such authority had never been in doubt.
Laughter suddenly echoed through the void.
Two figures ran across forming constellations, their footsteps leaving ripples in reality itself.
"Brother, you're cheating!" a clear voice complained.
"I am not," came the calm reply. "You altered causality first."
Ling Yuè turned. "Tian Rán, Tian Hào—stop arguing before you rewrite the stars again."
The girl—Tian Rán, eyes bright as dawn—pouted but obeyed.
The boy—Tian Hào, composed far beyond his years—walked over respectfully.
"Father," Tian Hào said, "you were observing the mortal realms again."
Tian Xuán did not deny it.
"I saw a couple today," Tian Rán said curiously. "They quarreled, reconciled, and promised nothing eternal. Why do mortals love like that?"
Tian Xuán looked at his children—beings born of Dao and Empress, inheritors of authority and balance.
"Because," he answered, "they love without certainty."
Ling Yuè's gaze softened.
"That," she added, "is what makes it precious."
A silence followed—deep and contemplative.
"I created worlds," Tian Xuán said at last. "I set laws so existence could function without my constant presence. I believed perfection lay in distance."
He turned to Ling Yuè.
"But I have ruled eternity without ever living inside it."
Her eyes met his—steady, fearless.
"Then live," Ling Yuè said. "Not as Supreme Heavenly Dao and Empress—but as mortals."
Tian Rán inhaled sharply. "Reincarnation?"
Tian Hào frowned. "With sealed memories?"
Ling Yuè shook her head.
"No. With everything intact."
Tian Xuán nodded.
"Our power will not diminish," he declared. "It will only be concealed. The Heavenly Daos will continue governing, unaware that their creator walks beneath their skies."
"And us?" Tian Rán asked quietly.
"You will follow later," Tian Xuán said, his voice gentler than any law. "As our children once more. This time—born of flesh and blood."
Tian Hào lowered his head in acceptance.
Tian Rán smiled through misting eyes.
Ling Yuè stood and extended her hand toward Tian Xuán.
"Above all Daos," she said softly, "you reign supreme."
He took her hand.
"But before you," he replied, "I willingly kneel."
The Origin trembled—not in fear, but in acknowledgment.
Tian Xuán divided his presence across eternity, anchoring existence as he stepped into destiny.
The Supreme Heavenly Empress followed without hesitation.
And somewhere, in a humble mortal world shaped long ago by his own hands,
a man named Xu Chen and a woman named Yue Ning were about to be born—
unaware to all heavens,
yet already bound by a love older than creation itself.