Above the mortal realm, where no wind stirred and no star dared to shine too near, the Court of Clouds floated in eternal stillness. A sea of white mist stretched without end, and upon it stood palaces of translucent jade — weightless, flawless, suspended in the glow of dawn that never faded nor advanced.
Here, time itself obeyed no law but Heaven's.
The Celestial Envoy knelt on one knee at the center of the Hall of Ascendant Judgment. His armor, once radiant, was now dulled with cracks of light where Lin Feng's runes had struck him. The faint hum of divine energy around him trembled — as though the heavens themselves questioned his failure.
On the dais before him stood twelve figures — veiled in light so intense that their faces could not be seen. Only their eyes glowed, cold and endless.
At their center sat one who needed no veil at all. The Heavenly Marshal, robed in gold, his presence vast and absolute.
"Envoy Tian Lian," the Marshal said, his voice carrying the weight of the firmament. "You were sent to reclaim the Record of Fallen Names. Instead, you return empty-handed — and wounded. Explain."
Tian Lian lowered his head, his voice steady though shadowed with tension. "The bearer resisted. The Record awoke of its own accord. It repelled divine judgment."
Whispers rippled through the chamber like distant thunder.
"Impossible."No mortal can awaken it."Only the fallen gods' blood could—"
"Silence," the Marshal commanded, and all voices fell.
Tian Lian raised his gaze slightly. "The mortal's name is Lin Feng. He was struck by Heaven's lightning, yet survived. His soul bears traces of divine resonance — though no record of such a spirit exists in our archives."
The Marshal's expression did not change, but his fingers drummed once upon the armrest — a sound like the toll of a celestial bell.
"And the Record itself?"
Tian Lian hesitated. "It responded not as an artifact… but as a living will. The runes it released were ancient — predating even the earliest Divine Orders. They spoke the names of those long erased from existence."
"Names erased?" repeated one of the veiled elders. "Then the prophecy may be true."
Another hissed, "Do not utter heresy."
Yet a third voice murmured, "The parchment records those whom Heaven has cast out — gods who rebelled, gods who fell. If it awakens, it means the balance is breaking."
The Marshal stood, his golden robes rippling like molten sunlight. "Enough."
He descended the dais, each step shaking the clouds beneath his feet. When he reached Tian Lian, his gaze was heavy with contained fury.
"You claim the Record resisted Heaven itself. Tell me, Envoy — what do you believe it seeks?"
Tian Lian hesitated. "I… do not know, my Lord. But when it awoke, I saw something."
"Speak."
He closed his eyes, recalling that terrible moment — the light, the runes, the sky splitting open."There was an eye — vast and ancient. It did not belong to Heaven. It looked upon me… and I felt as if Heaven itself were being watched."
The hall grew utterly still.
One of the veiled elders rose from his seat. "Blasphemy! No gaze may pierce the Veil of Heaven!"
But the Marshal raised a hand to silence him. "Continue."
Tian Lian's voice dropped lower. "If what I saw was true, then the Record is not a relic — it is a remnant. A vessel that holds the will of those erased by divine decree. And it has chosen its bearer."
The Marshal's eyes narrowed. "You mean to say… the heavens have been defied from within their own law."
Tian Lian bowed deeply. "Yes, my Lord."
A hush swept the chamber, vast and heavy. Even the mist around them seemed to draw back, as though unwilling to touch what had just been spoken.
Then, from the shadowed edge of the hall, another voice spoke — softer, colder, and infinitely calm.
"If the Record has chosen, then so too will Heaven."
The figure stepped forward. Unlike the others, this one wore no armor nor crown — only a plain robe of gray silk. But wherever he walked, the mist parted, and the sound of faint bells followed in his wake.
The envoys bowed deeply. "Lord Arbiter."
The Marshal inclined his head respectfully. "You descend from the Upper Vault? The matter must be grave indeed."
The Arbiter's gaze was unreadable. "The matter concerns the fate of Heaven itself."
He turned his eyes toward Tian Lian. "Summon the Heavenly Flames. Seal every record of this incident. As for the bearer… Lin Feng must not ascend, must not live, and must not die."
Tian Lian frowned. "Not die?"
The Arbiter's tone did not change. "As long as he breathes, the Record remains dormant. If he perishes, it will awaken fully. Until we find a way to destroy it, his life is our prison key."
The hall erupted in murmurs.
The Marshal spoke quietly. "And if the Record has already begun to merge with his soul?"
The Arbiter's gaze darkened, and the faint bells around him fell silent.
"Then Heaven will burn," he said. "And we will start again."
Outside, the clouds roiled like a living sea. Lightning flared in silence, and somewhere deep within the mist, a single lotus bloomed — pale blue, faintly luminous, as if remembering a name Heaven had long forgotten.
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The gates of the Heavenly Court opened in silence. From beyond the shimmering veil, light cascaded like falling rivers, each drop carrying echoes of forgotten prayers. Beneath that endless brilliance, the Celestial Envoy knelt.
His robes were still dusted with the scent of mortal earth. The journey below had been brief, but its weight clung to his spirit.
At the center of the jade dais sat the Heavenly Registrar, an ancient immortal whose quill recorded the rise and fall of every star. Around him, lesser envoys and divine attendants stood motionless, their faces hidden behind veils of mist.
The Envoy lifted his head.
"The decree has been delivered. The mortal boy survived the heavenly trial and received Heaven's parchment."
A ripple of ethereal murmurs swept through the chamber. The Registrar lowered his gaze, voice like the turning of celestial gears.
"Then it is done. Another cycle complete. Leave the decree for record and return to your post."
But the Envoy hesitated. "My lord… There is something else."
He raised a hand — and from it unfolded the copy of the parchment. Golden threads of divine essence uncoiled, illuminating the chamber in soft radiance. For a moment, every immortal present felt their own essence tremble.
The Registrar's quill froze midair.
The parchment was not bound by Heaven's runes. Instead, its script shimmered in patterns older than the current heavens themselves — runes that whispered, breathed, remembered.
A hush fell. Even the celestial light dimmed, as though the sky itself dared not intrude.
From among the ranks stepped a woman in silver-and-cyan robes, her presence quiet but commanding. Her long hair shimmered faintly with starlight, and her eyes reflected constellations unseen by mortal sight.
She bowed lightly.
"Forgive my interruption, Lord Registrar. But this script… it is not the handwriting of Heaven."
The Registrar's gaze turned cold.
"Mind your place, Envoy Arannis."
But she did not lower her eyes. Her voice was soft, deliberate — like the sound of wind passing through hollow jade.
"This parchment carries the mark of the Forgotten Era… before the Heavenly Order was rewritten. If it has found its way into mortal hands, then—"
"Enough!"
The Registrar's palm struck the table, sending ripples of divine light across the floor. "You speak of forbidden things. That era is no more."
Arannis lowered her gaze at last, the faintest shadow of thought behind her calm expression. "As you command."
But as she stepped back into the mist, her fingers brushed against the glow of the parchment. For an instant, it pulsed — a single heartbeat of living light.
And in that pulse, she saw him: a young man standing beneath a storm-torn sky, holding the decree against the wind — eyes fierce, calm, and strangely… familiar.
Her breath caught.
When the vision faded, she turned silently away, her thoughts a quiet storm.
"A mortal who carries Heaven's forgotten mark…? Then fate itself is trembling."
Far above the mortal realm, amidst the endless expanse of the Ninth Heaven, a single unseen thread of destiny shimmered — linking a boy of the earth to a woman of the stars.
And the heavens, for the first time in an age, shivered.