The ash of Black Wind Ridge fades behind Fang Yan as he walks, his father's hammer thudding against his back. For three days, he treks across Qingxuan Planet's parched plains—until the familiar mountains vanish, and the sky bleeds from blue to a star-flecked violet. The air thins, and alien flora with glowing petals twists from the soil: he's reached the Void Rift, a chaotic tear between worlds his mother once whispered of.
"Cross it, and you'll walk among stars," Su Qingxue's voice echoes in his head. "Your blood will guide you."
True to her words, the chaos in his veins hums as he steps into the rift. It wraps around him like a shield, warding off the void's icy bite and swirling asteroid debris. He walks for hours, the rift warping around him—time bends, space stretches—until he spots a glow ahead: a planet bathed in emerald light, its surface a sea of towering, vine-choked trees.
Lvyin Planet reeks of damp earth and life. The jungle's canopy blots out the sky, but Fang Yan's golden eyes cut through the darkness. He's hungry, his shoulder throbbing from a demon claw gash (a souvenir from the Blood Pond's guardian), but he doesn't stop. He needs water, answers, and a way to grow stronger—strong enough to hunt the Heavenly Dao's pawns across the cosmos.
He stumbles upon a clearing where a stream glints like liquid silver. As he cups his hands to drink, a low growl rumbles from the underbrush. Three fox spirits emerge, their fur as white as snow, their eyes glowing red. They're small, but their aura is sharp—predatory.
"Human intruder," the largest hisses, its voice like wind through leaves. "This is our territory. Leave, or die."
Fang Yan tightens his grip on the hammer. He's not here to fight, but he won't run. "I'm just passing through. I need water."
The fox spirits circle him, their claws clicking. "Humans bring death. The Heavenly Enforcers burned our clan—why should we trust you?"
Before Fang Yan can reply, a scream cuts through the jungle. A young fox spirit—no older than a child—comes crashing through the vines, blood streaming down its leg. Behind it, a group of robed figures marches: Heavenly Enforcers, their chests emblazoned with the Dao's luminous symbol.
"Capture the fox spawn!" one shouts. "The Dao demands all chaotic beasts be purged!"
The white fox spirits snarl, but they're outnumbered. The young one collapses, whimpering. Fang Yan's jaw tightens. He knows that fear—knowing your family is marked for death because of what you are.
He steps forward, placing himself between the foxes and the enforcers. "Leave them be."
The lead enforcer sneers. "Another chaotic filth. Good—we'll purge you both. For the Heavenly Dao!"
They charge, swords drawn. Fang Yan swings his hammer, the chaos in his veins flaring. The first enforcer's blade shatters on impact; his body flies back, crashing into a tree. The others hesitate—then roar, attacking in a wave. Fang Yan moves like a storm: hammer swings crack ribs, kicks snap legs, and his golden gaze freezes one enforcer mid-step, his body dissolving into ash.
In minutes, the clearing is silent. The enforcers lie dead, their robes smoldering. The fox spirits stare at him, stunned.
"You… helped us," the largest says, her voice softening.
Fang Yan shrugs, wiping blood from his cheek. "They were going to kill you. I hate bullies."
The young fox spirit limps forward, her ears drooping. "Thank you. I'm Bai Ling. This is my aunt, Hu Yue."
Hu Yue dips her head. "We owe you a debt, human. Come—our camp is hidden in the roots of the World Tree. We'll heal your wound, feed you."
That night, Fang Yan sits by a campfire, eating roasted fruit and listening to the fox spirits' tales. Lvyin Planet is a haven for "chaotic beings"—those the Heavenly Dao deems impure. The enforcers have been raiding their clans, hunting them for sport, for power, for the Dao's twisted order.
"We've heard of your kind," Hu Yue says, her eyes fixed on his golden irises. "The Chaos Origin Bloodline. Born to defy the Dao. They say you'll traverse a thousand worlds, gathering allies to burn the Heavenly Realm."
Fang Yan's chest burns. Vengeance isn't just about the Blood Slave Clan anymore. It's about every soul the Dao has crushed—every fox spirit, every outcast, every mortal who dared to be free. "I will."
Bai Ling tugs on his sleeve, her eyes bright. "Take me with you! I can track, I can heal—I'll help you fight the Enforcers!"
Hu Yue sighs. "Bai Ling, you're too young."
"I'm not!" the girl protests. "He saved me. I want to help him."
Fang Yan looks at her—small, fierce, unafraid—and sees a flicker of himself. A child forced to grow up too fast, driven by rage and hope. He nods. "You can come. But only if you promise to stay safe."
Bai Ling grins, pumping her fist. "I promise!"
The next morning, they set off. Hu Yue gives them supplies—dried meat, a healing salve, a map etched into bark that marks other Void Rifts leading to distant planets. "Stellaria is next," she says. "The Starfall Sect there studies chaotic bloodlines. They might teach you to control your power."
Fang Yan thanks her, then follows Bai Ling into the jungle. The girl moves like a shadow, leading him toward a new Void Rift hidden in a cave. As they walk, she chatters—about the stars, about her clan, about the worlds she's dreamed of seeing.
Fang Yan doesn't speak much, but he listens. For the first time since his parents died, he doesn't feel alone.
When they reach the cave, the Void Rift glows before them—swirling purple and black, a gateway to the next world. Bai Ling grabs his hand, her palm warm. "Ready?"
Fang Yan glances back at Lvyin's emerald sky, then forward at the rift. His parents' voices, Bai Ling's grin, the weight of his hammer—all of it fuels him. He nods.
They step into the void.
The path to stars is dark, chaotic, and endless. But Fang Yan doesn't care. He has a vow to keep, a companion to protect, and a multiverse to traverse.
Chaos follows where he goes.
And soon, the Heavenly Dao will learn to fear the name Fang Yan—across every planet, every universe, every corner of creation.