In a grand celestial hall, the floor shimmered like the boundless galaxy, giving the illusion that every step landed upon the stars themselves. The walls, forged from black spiritual jade, radiated a cold, divine majesty—etched with golden characters written in Divine Phoenix Blood. These sacred inscriptions were so powerful, a single unworthy glance could obliterate a mortal's head. Towering, immeasurable pillars made of cosmic stone upheld the vast ceiling, each bearing a torch of jet-black flame that neither flickered nor cast a shadow.
At the very centre, upon a throne carved from the bones of an ancient evil dragon, sat a man. The master of this realm. The ruler of heaven and earth. Possessor of all power and riches—yet to him, none of it held any meaning.
'I, Yin Xin… was once just an ordinary high school boy.'
His thoughts about the past looking at the empty hall, filled with memories long buried beneath millennia.
'Living with my single mother and little sister, life was modest but warm. On the day of my seventeenth birthday, everything changed. I was killed while going to my part-time job after school —and reincarnated into a world of cultivation and immortals, known as the Fairy World. Reborn as a seven-year-old orphan, ironically with the same name: Yin Xin, in a place called Eagle-Beak Mountain Village.'
'Anyone else would have been overjoyed to enter such a wondrous realm. But to me, it was a nightmare given form.'
'I only ever wished to live peacefully with my mother and sister… Yet not only did I die, I failed to protect them. For months I searched—desperate to return, to change what happened, to save them. But hope waned, and with no will left to go on, I tried to end my life by leaping from the mountain's edge.'
'But fate had other plans.'
'An old immortal cultivator saved me mid-fall. The elder questioned the despair me, and I, hollow yet honest, told him everything.'
He was silent for a long moment.
Then he said "Little one… I don't know how to help you, but the world is vast beyond imagination. Even after millennia of wandering, I've yet to glimpse all its secrets. If there is a path to come here, then surely… there must be a path to return. Don't surrender so easily. Power—true power—can make even the impossible possible."
'Those words rekindled a spark in me.'
'He then took me in as his disciple, teaching me the ways of cultivation. I, bearing both deep grief and boundless potential, advanced rapidly. Within a century, I surpassed my master and reached the Ascension Realm—becoming the youngest cultivator in history to ascend to the heavens.'
'Over ten thousand years passed away since my reincarnation.'
'I rose to the pinnacle, claiming the title of Heaven's Highest—Shàng Tiān—the most powerful being across the Fairy World, the Heavens, Earth, and even Hell. I founded a sect with the sole purpose of seeking clues to return, yet it became the strongest sect in existence, now known as the Heavenly Immortal Sect.'
'Legends of my journey to ascension were revered as sacred scripture, spoken with reverence throughout every land.'
'But not even divinity could fill the void left in my heart.'
'Now, the time had finally come.'
--:--
Yin Xin stepped down from his throne and exited the majestic hall.
As his presence graced the outside world, millions of cultivators knelt in reverence. From lowly beasts to dragons and phoenixes, all bowed their heads.
He gave a gentle nod and walked upon a red carpet that stretched toward a colossal circular formation. Tears flowed freely among the masses—young and old, beast and man alike.
An elder descended from the skies on a flying sword. His white robes fluttered as he landed before Yin Xin.
Yin Xin knelt deeply. "Master."
The old man sighed.
"Yin Xin… Think again. You hold everything—power, eternity, reverence. Are you truly willing to abandon it all?"
"Master, you know why I tread this path. My goal was never power, never glory. I only wished to return… to my mother and sister. Forgive your unfilial disciple."
"…Sigh. Then go. But never forget who you are."
Yin Xin bowed low and continued walking.
Before he could reach the formation, a towering figure stepped in his way—a muscular warrior, brandishing a massive greatsword.
"Hey, smartass! Do you really believe I'll let you leave without settling our final fight?"
Yin Xin smiled faintly. "I forfeit. You win."
"What?! Don't give me that crap! I want a real fight! If you don't pick up your sword, I'll destroy that damn formation!"
Sigh. "We've fought 9,067 times. Not once have you bested me. I doubt this time would be any different."
"Then why won't you fight?!"
"Because I won't cross blades with a friend before I leave."
"…Who the hell said we're friends?!"
Yin Xin grinned.
"Drop that shit-eating grin and tell me why! You have everything. And yet, you're throwing it away like garbage. What is so important that you'd give it all up?"
"My friend… there is a longing greater than any regret."
"You talk about a longing greater than all of this… How can that be?"
"…You wouldn't understand."
"…"
"Anyway, why is the mighty Zhen Wuya suddenly so talkative? Don't tell me you're feeling reluctant now that I'm finally leaving."
"Don't flatter yourself, bastard. You've survived tribulations ten times stronger than anything known to man… You always outshone me. I should be celebrating. After you're gone, it'll finally be my time to shine."
"Hahaha. I'll miss you too, muscle-head."
"…Tch."
"Please… take care of my sect."
The warrior nodded and silently stepped aside.
Yin Xin walked into the formation and stood at its centre. He clasped his hands and prayed aloud:
"O gods and goddesses above… I, Yin Xin, am willing to relinquish my chance at godhood. I offer my ten thousand years of cultivation… and my body itself… to enter the River of Time—to return!"
He sat in the lotus position, releasing his Qi. Golden glyphs on the ground glowed as the crowd of cultivators channelled their Qi into the formation and rose into the sky, forming a tower of golden light. Dark clouds thundered above.
"Mother… Sister… wait for me—I'm coming back!"
A purple bolt of lightning struck from the heavens. The golden tower formed from the Qi of millions absorbed it.
Then came a second strike—ten times stronger. The shield held.
A third. A fourth. A fifth—each exponentially stronger.
By the sixth, cracks began to form.
On the seventh, the shield shattered.
But Yin Xin rose, his blade gleaming. With a roar, he swung—
A golden dragon of Qi surged forth, intercepting the thunderbolt.
The eighth strike came—a million times stronger than the first. Yin Xin raised his hand and formed a colossal golden sword, hundreds of meters long. It met the thunder with a deafening explosion that split the sky.
Yin Xin coughed blood, staggering, but refused to fall.
He raised his blade once more. The ninth strike—the final tribulation—took shape: a colossal thunder dragon, its roar shaking the heavens.
With a final cry, Yin Xin leapt into the storm-torn sky toward the descending lightning dragon.
He raised his sword high, pouring every ounce of strength and will into the strike.
Sword met lightning in a blinding flash—then, with a thunderous crack, his sword shattered into a thousand glinting shards.
The thunder engulfed him, disintegrating his body, leaving only his immortal soul. Space warped and twisted around him.
Then—he vanished into the River of Time, to rewrite fate itself.