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Prologue Hymn of the Realm
In the hush before time drew breath,
A realm emerged from silence and death.
The First Epoch roared—gods yet unmet—
Where primal wars the stars beset.
Titans clashed, and the heavens bled,
Reality cracked where chaos spread.
Only the World Tree, torn yet whole,
Rooted herself through time and soul.
From ash and bone, she kindled flame,
And birthed the First with none to name.
Thus dawned the Second's sacred light—
An epoch swathed in bloom and blight.
Through trillion years of tears and thread,
She mended laws the fallen shed.
The Dao awakened, breath took form,
And races stirred in morning's storm.
But harmony is never still—
For want will rise and clash with will.
The Third Epoch surged with pride and strife,
As mortals climbed the heights of life.
From dust to god, from spark to flame,
They chased the stars, they carved their name.
Sects were born and empires spread,
While suns were forged and heroes bled.
Yet in the depths of the realm's desire,
The Four Pillars set the sky on fire.
Their shadows long, their roots held tight—
The world was subdued by ancient might.
A war was waged, a dream undone,
The Thirty-Three stood, then were none.
But even chains of golden grace
Cannot still the seeker's pace.
So ends the Third, with order crowned,
Yet under calm, revolt is found.
For empires fall and thrones decay—
And even Pillars turn to clay.
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A child could be seen entering a wooden house—one that looked like it was barely holding together, as if it could be broken by the softest touch of the wind or the slightest movement of the ground. Yet, it stood, offering shelter to the child who stepped inside.
Inside the house, the child slowly placed the fruits he had been carrying in his shirt onto the small, makeshift table he had crafted from wood. A bright smile spread across his face as he looked at the food he had managed to gather. The reason for that smile was simple: he wouldn't have to go hungry today, unlike yesterday.
He looked to be around twelve years old. Though he wore old, torn clothes, his cuteness—and the promise of future good looks—couldn't be hidden.
The boy began eating the fruits with pure joy and hunger. He ate so fast that anyone watching might wonder, "Why is this child eating so quickly?" Yet only the child knew the effort and struggle behind finding that food.
After finishing, he let out a small sigh of satisfaction and contentment.
Suddenly, a loud noise came from outside.
He rushed out of his house and saw all the villagers standing in the open, staring at the sky. And there it was—for the first time, the boy saw cultivators fighting above the clouds. While the villagers screamed in fear and began running, the boy stood still, eyes locked on the sky. His heart raced, not with fear, but with excitement—as if he had finally found something he had been searching for his entire life.
But that moment didn't last long.
As the two unknown beings in the sky drew closer to the ground, the boy began running for his life. Yet, he wasn't fast enough. The shockwave reached him, and in an instant, all the houses in the village were destroyed. The boy was thrown through the air, crashing roughly to the ground over thirty meters away, barely clinging to life.
When the dust finally settled, the boy slowly opened his eyes.
What he saw shattered his heart—the lifeless bodies of the villagers were scattered all around. Everyone was dead. He alone had survived.
Tears began to flow from his eyes.
Then he looked toward the cause of the destruction. One of the two unknown beings had survived.
The being, covered in wounds, turned to look at the boy. Their eyes met.
In a soft voice filled with pure shock, the being spoke:
"A mortal child survived such a shockwave... Impossible. Unless..."
And this is how Yun Shuyi's cultivation journey began.