"Congratulations, Heavenly Lord! Congratulations, Heavenly Empress!" the attendants echoed, kneeling.
The newborn's cry split through the heavens once more, sharp, pure, commanding.
At that moment, the skies of the Celestial Realm split open.
From the highest layer of the firmament, a phoenix of pure radiance burst forth, its wings blazing in molten gold and crimson fire. Its cry, older than creation itself, shook the heavens. Mountains bowed, rivers stilled, and even the stars seemed to listen.
"Is that… the Phoenix of Rebirth?" an ancient immortal gasped, falling to his knees.
"In my three hundred thousand years, I've never seen it appear. They say it descends only when a child destined to shake Heaven and Earth is born."
The Celestial Palace trembled.
From the east, clouds coiled like oceans, and a dragon vast enough to eclipse the sun rose from the storm. Its scales shimmered with constellations that had long vanished from the heavens. With one thunderous roar, lightning split the sky.
The Azure Emperor Dragon soared beside the phoenix, their cries intertwining in divine harmony.
But the heavens were not done yet.
The Nine Divine Celestial Gates opened of their own accord, each one blazing with power.
The Gate of Heavenly Authority thundered with gold and stormlight.
The Gate of Crown Radiance, sealed for millennia, awakened with bells that sang like dawn.
From the Gate of Moon Serenity, where the Empress cradled her newborn, silver light poured like a waterfall of stars.
The Gate of Jade and Gold chimed with pure spirit.
The Gate of Imperial Flame roared crimson as divine generals knelt in salute.
The Gate of Peace flung open, scattering petals like rain as heavenly fairies bowed.
From the Gate of Soaring Clouds, beasts of legend lowered their heads.
The Gate of Ascending Lights flared with brilliance so pure it blinded lesser gods.
And at last, the Gate of Purple Haze unfurled its scrolls, writing his name in eternal light.
All Heaven fell silent.
Every immortal, every beast, every heavenly fairy, every star spirit pressed their foreheads to the luminous ground.
"The Dragon and Phoenix descend together… a sign unseen since the First Emperor's birth. The Heavens themselves bow."
A chorus of divine voices rose, shaking the sky.
"Congratulations to the Heavenly King! Congratulations to the Celestial Empress!
A Heaven-sent Prince is born!"
High above, the dragon and phoenix circled one another, fire and lightning twining into a spiral of divine brilliance that descended upon the Moon Serenity Palace.
At that moment, Lin Zeyan, now the newborn Celestial Prince, cried again.
The sound was sharp, piercing, and strangely majestic.
The phoenix's flames flared.
The dragon coiled higher.
The Nine Gates blazed in unison.
And all of Heaven bowed again, for a mighty Celestial Prince had been born.
Far beyond the heavens, the Four Sacred Beasts of the First Heavenly Father, unseen for nine hundred thousand years, awoke from their slumber. Their ancient eyes turned toward the Celestial Palace, and even they bowed.
The winds stilled.
The world held its breath.
And in that divine silence, Lin Zeyan's cry echoed again, not weak, not mortal, but uncontrollably majestic, filled with divine aura.
It was not the cry of an infant.
It was the cry of destiny itself.
At that moment, far beyond the Celestial Realm, deep within the Ruins of the Nine Heavens Battlefield, where mountains still bled with the scars of divine war and the air reeked of long-dead gods, something stirred.
The Mysterious Heavenly Sword trembled where it had slept for seventy thousand years.
Once, it had belonged to the Celestial God of War, the only blade said to be powerful enough to cut both fate and time.
One swing could shatter armies.
Another could summon rains heavy enough to drown the world.
Or fire fierce enough to burn thousands.
Its name was Xuan Tian Jian (玄天剑), the Mysterious Heavenly Sword.
For seventy thousand years, it slept.
After its master, the last God of War, perished in the Great Celestial-Demon War, the sword plunged itself into the ancient battlefield, where gods fell and skies bled. There, surrounded by the bones of legends, it lay unmoved, unbroken, and unrusted.
Immortals sought it.
Demons bled for it.
Gods yearned for it.
Cultivators trained their whole lives to see its hilt.
For seventy thousand years, everyone tried to pull it out and claim it.
But no one succeeded.
Some lost their minds in obsession.
Others were corrupted, twisted into monsters by the very sword they desired.
But today, at the birth of the newborn, the earth cracked.
The sword moved.
The long-abandoned battlefield screamed to life. Light poured from the heavens like liquid starlight. The ground trembled, burning like newborn suns.
With a roar that tore through the nine heavens and six realms, Xuan Tian Jian ripped itself free from the ground. Thunder sparked from within the blade as it flung out of the earth and ascended, spinning through storms like a comet of divine light.
The sword pulled itself free, no hand to guide it, only destiny.
It rose slowly from the earth, its edge glimmering with faint golden light.
It trembled once, as if remembering every battle and every oath it had ever carried.
Then it broke through the air, cutting through cloud and storm alike.
It began its journey over the six realms.
The first realm it crossed was the Spirit Realm (灵界 • Líng Jiè).
A world wrapped in light and breath, where mountains floated above seas of clouds and rivers ran with liquid crystal. Dragons coiled around sky-pillars, phoenixes soared across scarlet dawns, and the wind carried laughter that was not human yet too beautiful to be beastly.
Forests glowed with ancient qi, each tree older than mortal empires.
Here, every being wore a human form, yet their eyes reflected their true selves, a dragon's pride, a fox's charm, a tiger's fire. The weaker ones were the snake tribes, humble yet cunning.
The sword drifted past their holy peaks, its glow mirrored in the still waters below.
"Xuan Tian Jian!" Every living being in the Spirit Realm cried as the sword hovered above their sky.
Everyone knelt and bowed as the sword shimmered brightly above them, its golden light shaking the heavens.
Even the Spirit King, seated upon his throne of jade, looked up as the blade crossed the heavens above his palace.
"Finally, it is back," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "After seventy thousand years."
He bowed deeply beneath the sword, and every life in the Spirit Realm bowed after him as the blade shimmered with divine light.
For a few moments, the sky glowed with the brilliance of Xuan Tian Jian. Then the sword rose again, leaving the Spirit Realm behind.
It descended to the skies of the Illusion Realm (魅界 • Mèi Jiè) next.
Here, it was not dark or dreadful but magnificent in its stillness.
Golden palaces rose from black stone, and everywhere shimmered with riches.
Though small in size, every inch of the realm glowed with wealth and fragrance.
They were the richest of all six realms, blessed by fortune, not faith.
Their robes shimmered with gold thread, their faces too perfect to be trusted.
They had no armies, no divine might, yet their eyes could bind even the strongest heart.
One gaze, one smile, and a soul could lose its path.
Their only power was enchantment, the ability to control through beauty, charm, illusion, and cunning.
As the sword passed above their towers, countless faces turned upward, jeweled eyes glowing faintly.
"Xuan Tian Jian is here," a high-ranking immortal lady murmured, holding her cup of spirit wine.
Everyone bowed, even the King, yet none seemed truly interested in owning it.
They never cared for powerful artifacts or the struggles of the six realms.
They only lived for pleasure and wealth, for thousands of years of indulgent peace.
The sword hovered for a while, casting its brilliance over their golden palaces.
Then it rose again, leaving behind their quiet laughter and eternal luxury.
The sword crossed next into the Cultivation Realm (修界 • Xiū Jiè).
Mountains rose like spears against the sky, wrapped in storms of spiritual qi.
Floating islands carried great sects, where disciples meditated under sacred waterfalls.
Forbidden lands shimmered with ancient arrays and forgotten relics.
Swords hummed in midair. Pillars of lightning split the heavens.
Here, mortals struggled toward divinity. Some fell. Some ascended. Some gave up while others kept going.
As the sword flew over countless sects, every cultivator raised their eyes to look upon it.
Sect leaders bowed first, and their disciples followed, thousands kneeling beneath the radiant sky.
At that moment, countless cultivators began to chant its name, praising it, dreaming of owning it.
The sword hovered above them for a time, its brilliance covering the land in holy light.
Then it turned again and continued its journey.
It entered the Mortal Realm (凡界 • Fán Jiè).
Quiet, fragile, yet full of life.
The sword glided over kingdoms and forgotten temples, over golden fields and streets filled with laughter.
Here, people lived only a few years and died without knowing the stars above or the realms beyond.
To them, immortals were humans who did good, and demons were those who walked in evil.
Yet from this soil, heroes were born, men and women whose hearts burned brighter than the sun.
Countless immortals were sent among them for trials, though none knew it.
A child pointed at the sky, where a streak of light crossed the dusk.
"Mother, look," he whispered. "A falling star."
The mother smiled softly.
"Yes… a falling star."
Everyone else believed it was just a fallen star and nothing more.
But no one knew it was not a star, but a sword that carried the fate of all six realms.