"In a world woven by fate, every soul is bound at birth—every soul, except mine."
—Li Xuanji
1 · The Loomheart Sky
The morning sky above Loomheart Sect was a living tapestry. Tens of thousands of silvery, golden, and crimson threads shimmered overhead, each pulsing like a heartbeat. They stretched from the heavens down to every living being, binding minds to destiny. Young disciples craned their necks, waiting for their thread—proof that the Loom of Heaven had claimed them. But I stood apart, breath catching on the edge of emptiness. No thread. No promise. Just the hush of something vast, unmoved by me.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Every syllable of the elders' chant felt like a call to a world I had no part in. And yet I wore my white robes, stood on the marble courtyard, and forced my shoulders square. They might deny me fate, but they would not see me tremble.
2 · Whispers in the Crowd
The disciples formed neat rows, their faces radiant with hope. Threadlight danced across their robes. Parents and siblings whispered blessings. The air tasted of incense and expectation. Behind me, a ripple of hushed voices rose:
"He shouldn't be here."
"Threadless freak."
"What mistake brought him?"
I tuned them out, though their words stung sharper than any blade. If fate was a chain, I was its missing link—unbound, unclaimed, unworthy. The shame twisted my stomach, but I clenched my fists. I would endure this. I had to.
3 · Lian Xue's Gift
A hand slipped into mine—slender, warm. I glanced down: Lian Xue, her dark hair braided like a waterfall over her shoulder. Her eyes held concern and something more: regret, perhaps, for me. She pressed a rice bun into my palm. The bread's steam curled between us.
"You haven't eaten," she whispered. "You'll need strength." Her voice quivered only a little. I wanted to ask why she cared. But I just nodded and took the bun, fingers brushing hers. A spark of human kindness flared in my chest—something I had almost forgotten.
4 · Invocation of Thread
The Grand Loom pulsed at the courtyard's center—an altar of living silk and moonstone. An elder raised his staff in solemn grace.
"By the will of the Loom, let each soul find its thread. Let destiny claim its own."
One by one, names rose on the air. Threads descended like raindrops of light. First a glimmer of silver for a Seer, then bronze for a Weaver, crimson for a Flamebearer, and on it went until the courtyard echoed with the sound of souls becoming bound.
All but one.
5 · The Naming That Never Came
The moment my name echoed—Li Xuanji—threads paused overhead. I stepped onto the dais, heart hammering. I searched the sky, willing a single strand to warm me. Nothing moved. The hush deepened, so loud it burned in my ears.
An elder's lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head, voice bare of compassion: "Threadless. No bond. No destiny." His words landed like stones.
The world peeled away from me.
6 · The Blade of Betrayal
Pain exploded in my side. I gasped, vision blurring. A dagger, black steel etched with Loomheart's ten-spoked wheel, jutted from my ribs. Shock froze me. Then I saw her—Lian Xue. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Her hand shook as she held the hilt.
"They said if I didn't do it," she sobbed, voice cracking, "they'd kill my brother." Her apology was a blade sharper than any steel. The rice bun slipped from my hand and landed in a pool of my blood.
7 · The Chant of Erasure
I fell backward, vision tinged red. The elders began the chant—cold, ritualistic.
"Threadless must be unmade. Return him to the Abyss. Let fate's flaw be severed."
Hands reached out to drag me from the dais. My legs buckled. Lian Xue knelt beside me, tears soaking her robes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again. I stared at her, hate and sorrow colliding. She had saved me once—and now she condemned me. My world fractured.
8 · Descent into the Void
There was no ground beneath me. Just black nothing, stretching beyond memory. I drifted through echoes of shattered threads—screams of the erased, promises unspoken. No light, no breath, only the weight of being unwritten.
Then a voice, distant and metallic, crackled in my mind.
_System initializing…
User status: Threadless anomaly detected.
Protocol: Loombreaker.
Objective: Sever the Loom. Rewrite causality._
The words burned themselves into my thoughts—Thread Analysis, Severance Strike, Narrative Override, Echo Archive. I didn't understand them. But I felt… something ignite.
9 · The Temple of Chains
I stumbled through void until I found a temple half-buried in obsidian and chains woven from broken thread. It pulsed with suppressed fury. At its center, a colossal serpent lay coiled, eyes closed. The chains that bound her hissed with static.
I approached, unsure if she was a guardian or a prisoner. My hand hovered over one chain link. A spark ran through me—fear, curiosity, defiance fused together. I gripped the obsidian rail.
10 · The Serpent Speaks
Her eyes opened—sapphire slits gleaming with ancient sorrow. She moved with slow grace, scales whispering against each other.
"Threadless child," she rumbled, voice both fierce and mournful. "You walk in a world not made for you."
I swallowed. "Who are you?"
"I am Zhao Lianyin," she said, coils unspooling like nightshadows. "Once guardian of the Loom. They bound me for defying command—choosing compassion over law."
Her words resonated with my pain. A connection forged in exile.
11 · Chains Shattered
I pressed my palm to her snout. Chains rattled, silver links snapping like brittle vows. She shook her head once. Flame blossomed at her scales, then coalesced into a woman—tall, barefoot, living fire under her skin.
"I walk as your flame now," she said. Compassion and power mingled in her tone. "We will break every chain they place on us."
A fierce warmth spread through me. Rage at injustice, hope at allyship, curiosity at the unknown. I nodded—our fates, for the first time, entwined.
12 · Forging Redemption
In the heart of the temple, a single severed thread floated—blackened, quivering. Zhao Lianyin's eyes glowed as she spoke.
"This belonged to a warrior who died without retribution. Forge it into your blade."
I hesitated. Pain seared in each memory: unfinished battles, betrayed comrades, silent graves. Then I gripped the thread. My Loombreaker interface flickered, reading my intent.
Threadforge: Complete.
The strand solidified into a blade of black steel, veins of molten silver pulsing like a heartbeat. It thrummed in my grip.
"Redemption," I whispered. The name felt right—justice for the fallen, purpose for the living.
13 · Knowledge in Darkness
As we walked back toward light, a voice echoed in my mind—calm, precise.
> Loombreaker System
> • Thread Analysis: scan any fate thread's story and weakness
> • Severance Strike: end conflict by cutting narrative weight
> • Echoforms: summon alternate selves from paths not taken
> • Narrative Override: rewrite reality with emotional force
> • Loom Disruption Meter: gauge divine backlash
I clenched the codex in my mind. I was no longer a student of fate; I was its living contradiction.
14 · Return to Shattered Dawn
When the temple dissolved around us, we emerged under a sky weaker than before. Threadlight above Loomheart pulsed unevenly, as though ashamed. Villagers and disciples backed away, fear and awe on their faces.
I raised Redemption. It glowed softly, drawing stares and panic. Zhao's flame curled protectively around my side.
"They call me flaw," I said quietly. "I call myself question."
Zhao nodded. "Let them fear the question they cannot answer."
15 · The First Vow
We stood at the edge of the courtyard. Lian Xue knelt in the dust, tears mixing with soot. She looked up, eyes raw with guilt.
"You spared me," she said. "I owe you everything."
I offered her the rice bun she had once given me. It was cold. I closed my fist around it. "Then do something." My voice shook less than I expected. "Follow me. Redeem yourself by choice, not by coercion."
She took the bun, nodding fiercely. "I will."
Zhao laid a hand on my shoulder—her flame a gentle pulse. "And I," she said, "will burn every thread that binds injustice."
We formed a silent pact beneath the fractured sky.
16 · Steps into Unwritten Paths
As dawn cracked into morning, we slipped through the broken gates of Loomheart. Every thread overhead quivered. No guards pursued. The world—bound by prophecy—hesitated at our departure. Ahead, Cursed Forest and uncharted roads beckoned.
I sheathed Redemption and drew a shallow cut across my palm. Blood welled. I pressed it to the broken wheel of Loomheart etched on the gatepost. The symbol glowed red, cracking the marble beneath.
"A new command," I whispered. "We are bound by our own choices now."
Lian Xue and Zhao joined me—three blood drops sealing our own covenant.
17 · Dawn of the Threadless
We looked at each other, ragged, bleeding, resolute. No threads bound us, but a stronger force held our hands together: shared purpose. Around us, the first light of an uncharted dawn painted the world. The Loom's tapestry shivered—but did not tear.
I took a breath that tasted of freedom and fear. I spoke not just to them, but to the silent sky:
> "Let the world come to meet its threadless question. Let the story begin."
And in that moment, I felt destiny bend toward something new.
Chapter 1 ends.