The heavens trembled.
A golden radiance shrouded the skies as cracks spread across the firmament, like fractures in a divine mirror. Countless figures, their silhouettes towering above the mortal world, stood in silent observation.
They were not mortals.
Draped in celestial robes, their eyes reflected the flow of countless epochs, their very presence exuding an aura that could suppress entire realms. Each of them represented an extension of Heaven's Will, ancient enforcers who existed beyond time itself.
They had gathered for one purpose.
To witness the erasure of an anomaly.
Below them, a lone figure lay motionless on a ruined mountainside. His robes, once pristine, were now torn and drenched in blood. His breathing was weak, barely noticeable.
The heavens had decreed his destruction.
Lian Yu opened his eyes.
Pain surged through his body, a sensation that told him he still existed. Yet, he knew something was wrong. A formless weight pressed down on him—not just his injuries, but the very rejection of the world itself.
Then, the memories struck.
A flood of fragmented images poured into his mind. Distant places, ancient voices, incomprehensible knowledge—none of it belonged to him, yet he understood.
He should not exist.
Above, the celestial figures watched with cold detachment. The process was complete. The anomaly had been erased.
And so, one by one, they turned and vanished into the void.
Yet, below them, the one they came to erase remained.
Lian Yu's fingers curled into the dirt as he forced himself to sit up. His body protested, but he ignored it. He did not know why Heaven sought to erase him, nor did he know why he had survived.
But he knew one thing—Heaven was wrong.
His gaze lifted to the fractured sky above. He had no past, no future—only the present.
And in this moment, he made a decision.
If the heavens sought to erase him, then he would carve his own path—one that even Heaven could not touch.
The world had cast him aside, but he would rise beyond it.
No matter the cost.