Prologue
In the vast universe, countless celestial existences roamed the endless expanse—beings that stood beyond the boundaries of good and evil, strength and weakness.
Yet among them existed an anomaly.
A bane to all life.
Its age was said to be as ancient as the universe itself, a shadow that had traversed the endless flow of time and space since the moment of creation.
The anomaly wandered endlessly through the cosmos. Whenever its energy began to wane, it would seek out worlds that were already approaching their natural end. Upon finding one, it would plant a seed, hastening the world's destruction.
That seed could take countless forms.
It might manifest as a demonic entity that plunged entire civilizations into chaos. It might appear as an otherworldly treasure, tempting mortals into a path of ruin. It could even take a form beyond the understanding of ordinary lifeforms.
Regardless of its guise, the result was always the same.
The world would perish.
When a world was destroyed, an enormous amount of energy would erupt from its collapse. The anomaly would absorb the majority of this power, leaving only scattered fragments behind. Over countless ages, those remnants would gather together, eventually becoming the foundation from which new worlds could be born.
And so, the cycle continued.
The anomaly wandered from world to world, consuming their final essence whenever its strength began to fade.
No world could escape its shadow.
Countless realms had already fallen. Some had perished naturally beneath the passage of time, while others had been pushed toward destruction by the anomaly itself.
And eventually, the Luotian World faced the same fate.
Blessed with an abundance of spiritual qi, Luotian stood among the higher planes of existence. Countless sects flourished, ancient clans rose to prominence, and generation after generation of prodigies were born beneath its heavens.
But when the world's final calamity approached, even those prodigies could sense the end.
Knowing that nothing they did could save Luotian, they chose instead to leave behind a final hope for their descendants.
They sacrificed themselves.
Their blood, cultivation, and life's brilliance were fused together, forging a single divine treasure.
Yet once the treasure was completed, another problem emerged.
No one possessed the strength to wield it.
Just as despair threatened to consume the last remnants of hope, an unprecedented phenomenon occurred.
The sun and moon split into two.
Half of each celestial body remained in the heavens, retaining their original forms. The other halves descended and fused together, becoming the source of the divine treasure.
The sun governed yang.
The moon governed yin.
When the two merged, they gave birth to a primordial energy—an essence that could only appear at the death or birth of a world.
And alongside this primordial source, two children were born. Each carried within them the bloodline of both the sun and the moon.
With the divine treasure as its foundation, the remaining inhabitants of Luotian were preserved. Their bodies were cast into a deep slumber, shielding them from the destruction that was soon to engulf the world.
When Luotian finally perished, the anomaly descended.
Yet this time, it claimed only a fragment of the world's released energy.
Having no true consciousness beyond its instinct to feed, the anomaly sensed nothing unusual. It simply absorbed what it could and drifted onward, leaving Luotian behind.
Ordinarily, the remnants of a destroyed world would require countless ages to gather enough cosmic energy for rebirth.
But Luotian was different.
Most of its essence had been preserved within the divine treasure.
Thus, rather than remaining a dead world for eternity, Luotian began to reshape itself.
Mountains emerged.
Rivers flowed once more.
Spiritual qi returned to the heavens and earth.
And before long, the world became habitable once again.
By then, the two children had grown into powerful beings, standing as guardians of the divine treasure.
When the world had fully recovered, they awakened the inhabitants from their slumber.
The fused halves of the sun and moon separated, returning once more to their original forms.
With the calamity having passed, the two descendants used their innate power to seal the divine treasure deep within the void.
It became a seal that could only be opened by the descendants of both bloodlines.
With this final safeguard in place, the two departed to establish their own clans.
They knew the truth.
What had happened once could happen again.
And if the anomaly returned, their descendants would need a means to survive.
Thus, the story of the Luotian World came to an end.
But its world was reborn.
And with its rebirth, it was given a new name...
————***————
Four million years later...
Under the tranquil night sky, moonlight spilled across a secluded pavilion. An old man sat leisurely beneath its eaves, a long smoke pipe resting between his fingers as wisps of smoke curled lazily into the night.
His gaze lingered upon the full moon.
His aura was pure and untainted, yet not the slightest fluctuation of qi could be sensed from his body. To anyone incapable of seeing beyond appearances, he seemed no different from an ordinary elderly man.
Yet no ordinary person would dare look directly at him.
Despite his age, his features remained remarkably handsome, with a face that hinted at the extraordinary appearance he must have possessed in his youth. His long silver hair was neatly tied behind his head, while beneath his brows rested a pair of calm, profound eyes.
At the center of his forehead, upon the Yintang point, was a crescent-moon mark.
It was more than half full.
Under the moonlight, it radiated a faint, dignified brilliance that seemed to complement his aged features.
For a long while, the old man simply stared at the moon.
Then, a soft and clear voice broke the silence.
“What is it called?”
The old man stirred from his thoughts.
He turned his head.
Beside him stood a little boy, no more than four or five years old.
The child stared at the moon without blinking.
His eyes were clear and bright, seemingly reflecting the moonlight itself. At the center of his forehead was a mark identical in nature to the old man's.
Except...
His was a perfect full moon.
The old man's lips curved into a gentle smile.
He reached out and lightly patted the boy's head.
Then, in a warm and gentle voice, he said,
“It is called ...."
"...'Haoming'.”
