"Some spend their whole lives hunting one man...But there exists one man—reborn only to defy the entire Celestial Realm."
Celestial Realm – Ancient Heavenly Altar
Within a forgotten corner of the heavens, veiled in silken clouds, twelve figures clad in imperial robes sat in meditation, forming a circle around an immense bronze bell—the Heaven's Fate Bell.
A voice echoed from the void:
"The Primordial has risen again. The heavenly laws have been pierced.""Commence the Fate-Seizing Rite."
BOOM!!
The bell tolled. Its resonance spread across the skies, and with it, the divine command echoed through all realms—Eradicate all who dare walk the defiant path born from ashes.
After leaving the ancient tomb where the Empress slumbered, Lâm Mạc journeyed to a quiet village nestled by the forest's edge.He rested there a single night, sipping tea beneath a wooden awning, leafing through a worn scroll—like a scholar untouched by war.
But then...
The sky trembled. Air thinned.
Dark figures in the armor of the Divine Temple descended—No words.No warnings.Only death.
Lâm Mạc did not flee.
He led them into the Ashen Forest, where terrain twisted and weather shifted like madness.
"You wish to seize my fate?""Very well. Let us see… if fate can withstand being taken."
He summoned no relics, no Spirit Forms.
Only his body—rebuilt from shattered meridians,forged anew through the scriptures of ash.
In the crucible of battle, his flesh began to crumble—like ash returning to void.
And from that very void… a new form emerged—The Primordial Dao Body,inscribed with ancient glyphs, untethered from bloodline, fate, or celestial root.
"Dao is not something bestowed.""It is carved by one's own hand, from ruin and silence."
BOOM!!
With a single blow, the formation "Ten Thousand Spirits, No Shadow" shattered.
Sixteen assassins from the Divine Temple—gone.
High above, an ancient soul-image emerged—One of the Seven Soul Lords of the Upper Temple—A being capable of erasing kingdoms with but a thought.
"You are not worthy to oppose us.""The Primordial must die before it fully awakens."
Lâm Mạc raised his gaze:
"I am not opposing you.""I simply do not believe… that you are worthy to stand above me."
He stepped into the crushing Dao pressure of the Soul Lord—His body nearing collapse—But he did not kneel.
"If my Dao is to die as it is born,Then let it erupt in defiance across the heavens!"
At the instant the Soul Lord unleashed his finishing strike—A pale, snow-like hand emerged from the void.
It blocked the blow.
From behind a veil of drifting ash,a woman in white robes stepped forth, calm as the moon.
Lâm Mạc froze.
"It's her... she has awakened?"
She said nothing.
Only turned toward the Soul Lord, her gaze sharp and unwavering:
"You… have no right to touch him."