The Promise: The Divine Power Across Different Worlds

Wake up... you've slept for too long... awaken... A misty, dreamlike voice echoed across the vast sea of consciousness. Who… who is calling me? In the endless darkness, he finally opened his eyes. But all he saw was still darkness. His head throbbed in pain. Instinctively, he clutched his temples and gave a sharp shake, then began to scan his surroundings. The figure appeared to be a young man of about seventeen or eighteen. Tall and slender, he wore robes as white as freshly fallen snow. His face was pale but striking, with a delicate, almost androgynous beauty. His eyes, though dazed and unfocused, held a hidden gleam—sharp and cold as blades slicing through the night. His skin was unnaturally pale, and long black hair fell naturally across his frail shoulders, glimmering faintly in the dim light. His fingers were slender, his wrists thin, the hands of a scholar rather than a warrior. On the continent of Wuji, where power and strength reign supreme, just his appearance alone would mark him as weak—someone to be dismissed. Where… is this? He had no idea how long he’d been lying there. His entire body felt as rigid as stone. It took great effort just to stand. Though the world around him was pitch black, to his eyes it appeared as bright as day. He was inside a humble little thatched hut, the scent of straw lingering faintly in the fresh air. From outside came the voice of an old man. The boy furrowed his brow slightly, stretched his stiff limbs, and with cautious steps, made his way outside. "...The invasion from the Demon Realm brought ruin across the entire continent. Death and destruction spread like wildfire. The four great nations, once locked in bitter rivalry, were forced to unite to resist the demonic forces. But how could mere humans hope to stand against such overwhelming might? In humanity's darkest hour, their desperate prayers reached the heavens—and the divine realm finally sent help. Not just any help, but the two daughters of the Divine Emperor himself. One was clad in white, with snow-white hair and enormous white wings—she became known as the Angel of the White Wings. The other, cloaked in black, with raven-black hair, eyes like obsidian, and wings as dark as night—she was called the Angel of the Black Wings." "Together, the twin goddesses wielded their divine powers and drove the demons back in just one month. In the final battle, they confronted the Demon King in the far north. The battle raged for three days and nights. What happened afterward, no one knows. The demon horde was banished, but the twin angels and the Demon King vanished without a trace. Some say they perished together. Others claim the goddesses triumphed and returned to the heavens. Whatever the truth, the demons never returned—and the names of the twin angels have been etched into the memory of the world ever since.” As the old man spoke, he cast a brief glance—intentional or not—in the boy’s direction. The youth's heart skipped a beat. Though the old man appeared to be a kindly elder well past seventy, his eyes just now had glinted like cold steel, sharp and piercing even in the night. The sky was shrouded in clouds, the stars and moon hidden from view. Beneath the dark canopy of night, seven or eight children sat in a circle around the old man, listening in rapt attention to a tale they’d likely heard countless times before. "Grandpa Hu, if they came from the heavens, they must’ve been really beautiful, right?" one child asked dreamily. His question immediately sparked curiosity among the others, who all turned eagerly to look at the old man. "Heh… maybe they were," the old man chuckled. "But no one ever got a good look at their faces. The visage of a divine being is not something mere mortals can behold." A collective sigh of disappointment swept over the group. "Alright, little ones, that's enough for today," the old man said with a warm smile. "Go on, now. When your Brother Dali comes back, I’ll call you all again." The children scattered instantly, not even bothering to say goodbye. The old man stood slowly, leaning on a wooden cane as he walked toward the youth. But his movements were steady and strong—the cane clearly just for show. "You're awake," the old man said, eyeing him from head to toe. His voice was gentle but aged. The boy nodded and asked, "Where… am I?" The old man squinted slightly but didn't answer the question directly. “I found you ten years ago, lying unconscious in a ravine to the west. You were just a child then, barely eight years old. I tried every method I knew to wake you, but nothing worked. So you remained asleep—for ten years. Ten years without food or water… yet your body remained unharmed. You even grew while in that sleep. I’ve seen many strange things in my life, but you’ve left me speechless.” “Ten… years?” A shiver ran down his spine. But he quickly regained his composure, suppressing the waves of shock inside him. He focused his mind, searching desperately through his memories. What’s my name? Who am I…? I was born in Huaxia… in the capital, Jinghua… My father was… my mother was… and I… Fragments of memory drifted before his eyes, yet none bore any trace of his past—no familiar faces, no personal moments. He remembered his homeland, its language, its knowledge—but not a single person, not even himself. Selective amnesia? Why? What happened to me before all this? He fell into a long silence. Then he sighed softly, lowering his hands and gazing up into the starless sky. Perhaps only the gods knew the answer. The old man observed him quietly, deep in thought. A breeze stirred the air, carrying with it a refreshing chill. A lone leaf fluttered down from a nearby tree. The boy instinctively raised his fingers and caught it mid-air, eyes still gazing into the dustless sky. The old man’s eyes narrowed at the gesture, a glint of surprise flickering across his expression. No memories meant no past—like that falling leaf, drifting aimlessly without a place to land. The boy gave a wistful sigh and flicked the leaf away. “My name is Lin Wuchen,” he said softly. “Is that your true name?” the old man asked with a smile. Lin Wuchen returned the smile. “Until I remember my real one, this will do.” “I see. That’s a shame—but somehow, I doubt you're just an ordinary boy. I suspect it won’t be long before you start recovering your past.” The old man spoke calmly, though his eyes hinted at a weariness born of years. In his younger days, he might’ve exhausted every method to uncover the youth’s secrets. But now, after decades trapped in this isolated realm, even curiosity had begun to fade. “And you, elder—how should I address you?” Lin Wuchen asked. “Name?” The old man chuckled. “I’ve lived so long I can hardly remember it myself. Just call me Grandpa Hu, like the others do. Or simply ‘old man’—I won’t mind.” Lin Wuchen smiled. He understood the old man was avoiding the question, but he didn’t press. “Very well then, Grandpa Hu. I owe you my life. One day, I’ll repay that debt.” The old man shook his head and sat down on the grass beside him. “Bah, all I did was give you a place to sleep. You didn’t eat or drink for ten years—any normal man would’ve died a hundred times over. I hardly did anything.” Lin Wuchen sat down beside him. Though his body was still somewhat stiff, he could now move freely. “Regardless, I owe you a great debt. Grandpa Hu, where are we exactly? How far is it from Jinghua City?” “Jinghua?” The old man gave him a puzzled look. “What place is that?” Lin Wuchen frowned. “Jinghua, capital of Huaxia… Don’t tell me this isn’t Huaxia?” But they were clearly speaking Huaxia’s language. The old man shook his head. “I’ve traveled across every corner of this continent in my time, but I’ve never heard of a place called Huaxia. Young man, when one loses their memory, the fragments that remain are often illusions. Perhaps what you remember… is nothing more than a dream.” “Is that so…” Lin Wuchen closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he asked, “Then what is this place? Where are we?” “The land we stand on is called the Wuji Continent. Beyond it lies the Sea of Wuji. The world is divided—half land, half ocean. The continent is split into four great nations: Stormhaven, Aetheria Drakon, Marelis, and Thalassor—each claiming one direction of the compass. Of the four, Stormhaven is the strongest. Only the combined strength of the other three keeps the balance of power in check, maintaining peace to this day.” As he spoke, the old man’s gaze seemed to stretch far into the distance, lost in memories of a world he hadn’t walked in many years. Wuji Continent? Lin Wuchen’s mind reeled. Then what of Huaxia… of Earth? Were those just dreams? Or had he truly crossed over from another world? One word rose from the depths of his memory: transmigration. “Is the language here universal?” Lin Wuchen asked quietly. “Yes,” the old man replied. “Then where exactly are we now?” The old man fell silent for a moment. Then he let out a long sigh.