The Shattered Heaven Realm hung in the void like a wound that refused to heal.
Once, it had been the crowning jewel of the Qingxuan Universe—a celestial paradise where Dao Ancestors gathered to contemplate the mysteries of existence. Now it was little more than fragments, held together by the desperate will of those who had nowhere else to go. The grand pavilions had crumbled. The immortal gardens had withered. Even the laws of space and time themselves stuttered and flickered like dying flames.
Chen Tianlong stood at the edge of the largest remaining platform, gazing out at what remained of his universe.
Ninety percent gone.
Ten thousand years of fighting, and they had lost ninety percent of everything.
He could see it even now—the encroaching darkness at the edges of reality. Not the peaceful darkness of space, but something far worse. An absence. A hungry void where matter, energy, and even the fundamental laws of existence simply... ceased.
The entities were out there, beyond the failing barriers. Feeding.
"Still brooding, Chen?" A voice broke through his thoughts—rough, tired, but carrying the weight of eons.
Chen turned to see the others arriving. Nine figures materialized from the fractured space, each one radiating power that would have shattered lesser realms just by existing. But here, in this place, they were just... people. Exhausted. Desperate. Doomed.
Yun Zhantian arrived first—the War Saint of the Broken Sky Sect, his body wrapped in ethereal armor that flickered with dying starlight. He had been fighting longer than any of them, and it showed. His cultivation base, once unshakeable, now wavered like a candle in a storm.
Shen Meihua followed—the Plum Blossom Immortal, her elegant robes stained with the blood of a thousand battles. She cultivated life itself, but even she couldn't create life where the laws of existence had been devoured.
Gu Pojun - materialized with a sound like shattering glass—the Army-Breaking Ancient, whose fists had once split galaxies. Now those same fists trembled with exhaustion.
One by one, they came.
Mo Qianjue - the Ink Sage who commanded reality through written words.
Feng Wujian - the Seamless Wind, who could slip through any barrier.
Xiao Wuhen - the Traceless Wanderer, master of space and void.
Lei Zhenhan - the Thunder-Shocking Cold, who wielded lightning and ice in equal measure.
Bai Wuxian - the Immortal-less White, who had rejected ascension to stay and fight.
Hei Yuanshi - the Black Primordial, eldest among them, who remembered the universe's youth.
Ten transcendent cultivators.
The last of their kind.
Ten thousand years ago, there had been hundreds. Thousands, perhaps, across the entire universe. Now, only ten remained.
"Is everyone here?" Shen Meihua's voice was soft, but it carried the weight of extinction. They all heard it clearly.
"The last council," Yun Zhantian said, settling onto a conjured stone seat. His armor clinked—a sound that once heralded the fall of star systems. Now it just sounded tired. "Ten remain. Just as the divination said."
"When ninety parts are lost and ten remain," Bai Wuxian quoted softly. Her white robes, once pristine, were stained with the dust of dead worlds. "We thought it was metaphorical. Poetic."
"It was literal," Hei Yuanshi said, his ancient voice like grinding stones. "Ninety percent of our universe. Gone. Ten of us. Left."
"We have one thing left to discuss," Feng Wujian said, his formless body coalescing into something humanoid. "The divination."
All eyes turned to Chen Tianlong.
He'd known this was coming. Had known for ten thousand years, in fact. Ever since that day at the very beginning of the Great Cataclysm.
"You all know the story," Chen said quietly. "The Sect of Ten Thousand Futures. Their final divination."
"Tell it again," Mo Qianjue said, producing a scroll and brush from nothing. The Ink Sage never stopped recording. Even now, facing the end of everything, he documented. "For posterity. In case... in case any of this survives."
Chen took a breath—unnecessary for one at his cultivation, but old habits died hard. Or perhaps they were all that remained of humanity when you'd lived for thirty thousand years.
"Ten thousand years ago, when the first colossal entity breached the outer barriers, the Sect of Ten Thousand Futures performed their ultimate divination. They paid the price—all but their youngest disciple burned their souls to peer through the river of time itself."
"Diviner Qing," Shen Meihua whispered. "I remember her. A child. She couldn't have been more than three hundred years old."
"She delivered the message," Chen continued. "Before she, too, faded away. She said..." He closed his eyes, reciting words burned into his memory. "'In the final days, when ninety parts are lost and ten remain, one soul shall walk the river backwards. Not to change the past, but to become it. The one called Chen Tianlong, Heaven Dragon of Morning Star, shall be the thread that unravels the tapestry, the seed that grows before the tree. Nine shall give all so that one may carry all. And in a young universe, the ten shall become one, and the one shall remember ten.'"
Silence fell over the shattered platform.
"Cryptic bullshit," Gu Pojun muttered. "As always with divination."
"It was specific about one thing," Xiao Wuhen pointed out. "Your name. We've spent ten thousand years searching for you, Chen Tianlong. And we found you."
"Found me leading refugees from the Shattered Star Cluster," Chen said bitterly. "All three hundred million of them, dead within a week when a planetary-class entity found us. I was so well-hidden the divination could barely find me."
"You were young then," Yun Zhantian said. "Only twenty thousand years old. Barely ascended past the stellar realms. How could you have known?"
"I should have done something," Chen said. The old wound, never healed. "I should have—"
"Stop." Lei Zhenhan's voice crackled with residual thunder. "We've all lost everyone. Your guilt is no greater than ours."
Chen wanted to argue, but he knew it was pointless. They had all lost everything. Disciples. Loved ones. Entire civilizations they'd sworn to protect.
His mind drifted to faces long gone. Ming'er, who had laughed at his terrible jokes. Old Master Shen, who had taught him the basics of cultivation when he was just a mortal boy. The Azure Sky Sect, his home for fifteen thousand years, devoured in a single afternoon when a galaxy-class entity decided to feed.
Gone. All gone.
"The divination also gave us the method," Feng Wujian said, bringing them back to the present. "The Reincarnation River. Normally impossible to traverse backward, but with the right sacrifice..."
"My cultivation," Chen said flatly. "My soul. Everything I am, thrown into the river to be carried upstream against the current of time."
"The risk is complete erasure," Mo Qianjue said, his brush never stopping. "The Reincarnation Cycle doesn't tolerate violations. You won't just die, Chen Tianlong. You'll cease to have ever existed. No afterlife. No next life. Just... nothing."
"And if I succeed?" Chen asked, though he already knew the answer.
"The divination wasn't clear," Shen Meihua admitted. "Only that you would 'become the seed that grows before the tree.' We believe it means you'll be reborn in a younger universe. One where the rifts are still small. Where the entities haven't yet noticed."
"Where we could have fought them off," Yun Zhantian said, his voice heavy with ancient regret. "If only we'd acted ten thousand years ago, when the first breaches appeared. If we'd mended the rifts immediately instead of arguing about jurisdiction and resources..."
"We didn't know," Gu Pojun said quietly. "How could we have known?"
"We should have," Lei Zhenhan said. "The signs were there. Small anomalies. Minor incursions. We thought we were strong enough to handle them. We thought..." He trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging in the air.
They had been arrogant. Complacent. They had ruled the universe for so long that they'd forgotten it could end.
"The smaller entities," Xiao Wuhen said. "The ones we can kill. If only those had been the problem, we might have survived. Planetary-class, even stellar-class entities—difficult, but killable with enough force."
"But the colossal ones," Feng Wujian whispered. "The galaxy-devourers..."
Everyone fell silent. They'd all seen them. Entities so vast they could wrap around an entire spiral galaxy and consume it over the course of centuries. Ancient things that had been alive since the beginning of time, drifting through the void between universes, eternally hungry.
"Unkillable," Chen said. "We've thrown everything at them. I watched Patriarch Wu detonate his entire cultivation base inside one's gullet. It didn't even notice."
"They're not truly alive," Shen Meihua said. "Not in any way we understand. They just... are. And they consume. That's all they do."
"Which is why I have to do this," Chen said, standing straighter. "Because if there's even a chance—even the smallest possibility—that I can reach a younger universe and warn them, prepare them, help them seal the rifts before it's too late..."
He looked around at the nine others. Friends. Comrades. The last witnesses to the death of their universe.
"Then I have to try."
Yun Zhantian stood, and the others followed. One by one, they came forward, placing their hands on Chen's shoulders. Ancient warriors, offering what little comfort remained in a dying universe.
"We've prepared the formation," Mo Qianjue said. "It will open the path to the Reincarnation River and give you the push you need to travel upstream. But once you enter..."
"I know," Chen said. "No coming back. No guarantees. Just faith in a divination from a dead sect."
"It's all we have left," Shen Meihua said, and her eyes—which had witnessed the rise and fall of billions of years—shimmered with something that might have been tears.
"Then let's begin," Chen said. "Before I lose my nerve."
"Wait." Yun Zhantian's voice stopped him. "There's one more thing. Something we decided while you were... preparing."
Chen turned back. The others had risen from their seats, forming a circle around him.
"The Reincarnation River will attack you," Shen Meihua said. "We know this. The divination was clear—you will be torn apart, scattered, nearly erased."
"I know the risks—" Chen started.
"You don't," Gu Pojun interrupted. "Not all of them. The River isn't just a current. It's a force of universal law. One person, even you, won't survive intact. The divination showed that too."
Chen's heart sank. "Then what's the point? If I can't survive—"
"You will survive," Mo Qianjue said firmly. "Because you won't be alone."
"We've made our decision," Feng Wujian added. "All nine of us."
Chen looked around the circle, seeing determination in their eyes. "What decision?"
Hei Yuanshi stepped forward, the eldest among them, his voice carrying the weight of ages. "We will give you everything, Chen Tianlong. Our cultivation. Our experiences. Our memories. Our very souls."
"No," Chen said immediately. "Absolutely not. I won't—"
"It's already done," Xiao Wuhen said. "The formation we've prepared isn't just to send you into the River. It's to send us with you. As protection. As fuel. As... legacy."
Lei Zhenhan's expression was grim. "When you enter the River, we enter it too. But we won't be trying to survive. We'll be shields. Anchors. Guardians."
"As the River tears at you," Bai Wuxian explained, "we'll pour everything we are into protecting your core. Your consciousness. Your purpose. And when we've given all we can give, when there's nothing left of us..."
"We'll merge with you," Mo Qianjue finished. "Our knowledge will become yours. Our cultivation insights. Our understanding of the Dao. Everything we've learned in our combined two hundred thousand years of existence."
"You can't," Chen whispered, horror and hope warring in his chest. "Complete erasure. True death. No reincarnation. Nothing."
"We know," Shen Meihua said gently. "It's the only way. The divination showed one soul walking the river backward. But it didn't say that the soul would be alone in the journey. 'Nine shall give all so that one may carry all.'"
Yun Zhantian placed a hand on Chen's shoulder. "You carry the hopes of our universe, Chen Tianlong. It's only fitting that you carry us as well. In memory. In knowledge. In spirit."
Chen looked at each of them in turn. These titans. These legends. These friends.
"I don't want to be the only one who survives," he said quietly.
"You won't be," Gu Pojun said with a fierce grin. "We'll be right there with you. Just... in a different form."
"When you wake in that new universe," Hei Yuanshi said, "you'll have access to more than just your own thirty thousand years. You'll have our lifetimes too. Different paths. Different techniques. Different insights into the Dao."
"It will take time to integrate," Mo Qianjue added. "The knowledge will be locked deep, waiting for you to grow strong enough to access it. But it will be there. A gift from the last guardians of the Qingxuan Universe."
Chen felt tears—impossible for one at his cultivation, but they came anyway—streaming down his face. "This is too much. I don't deserve—"
"No one deserves it," Feng Wujian interrupted. "That's the point. We're not giving you this because you deserve it. We're giving it because you're the only chance we have left."
"So stop arguing," Lei Zhenhan said with mock gruffness, though his eyes were soft. "And let us die with purpose instead of waiting for the entities to find us here."
Chen wanted to refuse. Wanted to argue. Wanted to find another way.
But there was no other way. There had never been another way.
"Thank you," he finally said. It was inadequate. Pathetic. But it was all he had.
"Don't thank us," Shen Meihua said. "Succeed. Save a universe we'll never see. That will be thanks enough."
They moved to the center of the platform, where a massive formation had been carved into reality itself. But Chen saw it differently now. Not just a portal. A sacrifice. Nine lives woven into protective Dao patterns, ready to burn themselves to ash to give him one chance.
Chen stepped into the center.
The nine others took positions around the formation's edge, each one at a critical node. Their cultivations began to resonate, harmonizing in ways that made reality itself shudder.
"Any last words?" Gu Pojun asked, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Chen looked at each of them one final time. "If I succeed," he said quietly, "I'll make sure the new universe remembers. Somehow. That ten transcendent cultivators gave everything to save a world they would never see."
"Poetic," Mo Qianjue said, already beginning to glow as he prepared to pour his very essence into the formation. "I approve."
"Ready?" Yun Zhantian asked, his hand on the formation's primary node.
Chen Tianlong closed his eyes. Thought of everyone he'd lost. Everyone these nine had lost. Three hundred million souls in the Shattered Star Cluster alone. Billions more across ten thousand years of futile fighting.
And now, nine more would be added to that count.
But maybe—just maybe—it would mean something.
"I'm ready," he said.
The formation blazed to life.
And Chen Tianlong, wrapped in the sacrificial essence of nine transcendent cultivators, dove into the Reincarnation River.
Behind him, the nine began to fade, their very existence burning away to fuel his impossible journey.
But they did not scream. Did not cry out.
They smiled.
Because for the first time in ten thousand years, they had hope.
The Shattered Heaven Realm fractured.
Not from the formation. Not from Chen's departure.
But from something far, far worse.
The barrier—the last desperate shield the ten had maintained around their final refuge—shattered like glass. And through the breach came something that defied comprehension.
A colossal entity.
One of the galaxy-devourers. The unkillable ones. The things that had been alive since the beginning of time.
It had noticed the energy surge. Noticed the massive formation activation. Noticed ten transcendent cultivators in one place.
And it was hungry.
The thing didn't have a form in any conventional sense. It was too vast, too alien, too wrong for mortal perception to properly process. Chen, already diving into the River, caught only a glimpse—something that might have been tentacles, or veins, or cracks in reality itself, reaching through the void like fingers grasping for prey.
The nine transcendent cultivators, already fading, had just enough time to see it.
"Go!" Yun Zhantian's voice echoed, the last fragment of his existence burning away. "GO!"
But the entity was already moving. Already reaching. Already following the trail of energy into—
—the Reincarnation River itself.
The colossal entity, driven by hunger and instinct, pursued its prey into the eternal cycle.
And the River noticed.
Chen felt it as he tumbled through the timeless void. Felt the River's attention shift from him—the violation, the foreign object swimming upstream—to something far, far more intolerable.
The entity.
An actual, physical, living abomination. Not a soul. Not consciousness. Not anything that belonged in the cycle of rebirth. Just pure, hungry existence, invading the sacred flow.
The River rose up.
Not in waves this time. Not in turbulence. In something that transcended Chen's ability to comprehend. The very concept of the Reincarnation Cycle, made manifest and furious.
Chen watched—helpless, terrified, awestruck—as the River unmade the entity.
Not destroyed. Not killed. Unmade.
The colossal being that had devoured galaxies, that had been unkillable by any force the cultivators could muster, that had existed since the dawn of time itself—
—was simply erased.
Layer by layer, the River stripped it down. Not violently. Almost gently. Like a parent patiently disassembling a broken toy. The entity's form dissolved. Its essence scattered. Its very existence was reduced to component parts and then those parts were reduced to nothing at all.
It didn't even have time to struggle.
One moment, a colossal entity that inspired existential dread in beings who could split galaxies with their fists.
The next, nothing. Not even a memory.
Just... gone.
Chen stared in horror and understanding.
That's the difference, he realized. Between violating the River's flow and invading its space entirely. I'm swimming against the current—wrong, but not intolerable. That thing tried to bring its physical form into a realm of pure consciousness.
The River had turned its full attention on the entity for those few crucial moments. And in those moments, Chen—wrapped in the protective essence of nine sacrificed souls—had gained precious time.
Time to push forward. Time to find his destination. Time to—
The River's attention turned back to him.
But it was diminished now. Tired, perhaps, if such a concept could apply to something eternal. It had just unmade an entity that existed beyond normal physics. Chen, by comparison, was almost... acceptable.
A violation, yes. But a violation of flow, not existence.
The waves came again, tearing at him, stripping away his memories and power.
But not with the same totality they might have. Not with the full force of the River's wrath.
Chen pushed forward, understanding blooming even as his mind fractured.
The entities can be killed, he thought with grim certainty. Just not by us. Not by cultivation. Not by any power we can access. They can be killed by something greater. By universal law itself.
If only we could harness it. If only...
The thought scattered before it could complete, torn away by another wave.
But the seed of understanding remained, buried deep in his fragmenting consciousness. Waiting for the day when it might bloom into salvation.
Chen Tianlong swam on, and the River—having dealt with the greater violation—let him pass.
For now.
END OF CHAPTER 1