I. Omen After the Trial
After overcoming the trial of the "Chamber of Memories," Lang Tieu's figure trembled slightly in the center of the Remembrance Tribe's plaza. The glow from the tribal sigil just engraved on his hand slowly faded, leaving behind a faint radiance that seemed to smolder in his veins.
Yet in the eyes of others, Lang Tieu merely stood still—motionless, stone-like. Little An called out in concern:
"Senior brother? Are you alright?"
There was no answer.
At that moment, an omen appeared.
From above Lang Tieu's head, threads of golden light flowed upward like silk, weaving into an ancient luminous halo. Behind him emerged the faint silhouette of golden armor—no modern design, but a battle-worn regalia from a lost age, exuding the aura of a long-extinct divine sovereign.
The ground beneath Lang Tieu cracked. Spiritual energy was drawn in like a vortex. The elders of the Remembrance Tribe paled.
"That... that's a resonance with the Emperor Bone!" exclaimed Liu Tich, his face more solemn than ever.
"He's being drawn into a deeper layer of memory—one we ourselves have never accessed," whispered another elder.
Lang Tieu had no idea what was happening. In his mind echoed a strange sound—not a human voice, but the tolling of an ancient bell, ringing through the sea of time.
"These are not merely your memories...but those etched into your bloodline."
The world around him warped. Color, sound, gravity—everything unraveled.
And then… he fell.
Not from height, but into an unseen abyss—void of light, filled only with a flood of memories roaring like a river breaking its banks.
Screams, clashing weapons, cries of sorrow—all wove together into a requiem of war.
Lang Tieu awoke in a suffocating trance—and before him was a different world.
A world where he was no longer himself… but the Emperor Lord.
II. The Memory of War
Lang Tieu opened his eyes into a haze of dream and reality. The serene plaza of the Remembrance Tribe was gone. Before him unfolded a world drowning in fire and blood.
He now wore pitch-black armor edged with gold. Divine might surged from him. His cold gaze could cut through illusions. Beneath him strode a colossal battle beast with a dragon's head and tiger's body. Each step fractured the earth. Above him, the imperial war banner fluttered—the Emperor Seal—commanding heaven and earth.
He was the Emperor Lord, a sovereign from an age buried by time.
All around, legions surged from every direction—sky clans with radiant relics, human riders stretching miles, beastfolk atop massive spirit creatures, and demonkind cloaked in endless darkness. All species plunged into the most catastrophic war the cultivation realm had ever seen.
The sky was torn asunder. The earth bathed in blood. Crimson clouds blanketed the heavens, smothering the last hope of all beings.
The roar of battle shook the firmament.
At the eye of this storm stood the Emperor Lord—Lang Tieu in a previous life—unwavering. A single sword strike severed thousands. One incantation collapsed ten thousand demon soldiers. And when betrayal struck among his own ranks, he unleashed the Imperial Thunder Curse, summoning heavenly wrath to smite his allies in full view.
There was no good. No evil. Only victory or defeat.
And in that memory, the Emperor Lord once said—words that still echoed in Lang Tieu's soul:
"To end chaos, one must stand above all.On this battlefield, there is no such thing as justice."
He bore the mission of restoring order. But the price—was blood. Enemy blood. Comrade blood. His own.
Lang Tieu shivered.
Not from fear—but from a chilling realization: he had once been a sovereign with no heart.
And the memory… was not over yet.
A betrayal.A tear.A blade through trust.
It was all still waiting ahead…
III. Betrayal and Collapse
Amidst the chaos, where each step spelled death and every breath wagered life, the Emperor Lord stood like an immortal peak—unshaken.
But destruction did not come from his enemies.It came from faith.
Just as victory seemed near, when his legions had the upper hand, betrayal struck—from within the Five Celestial Kings, his most trusted generals.
None expected it to be Crimson Star King, his right hand, who had once sworn undying loyalty. At the climax of the battle, Crimson Star broke the formation and handed the Demon Alliance the secrets of the Emperor's defenses.
"What you truly seek is not order—but absolute power!"Crimson Star's roar blazed with hatred.
The Emperor Lord froze. The man who had never faltered, not even under heavenly tribulation, hesitated—unable to raise his sword against the one who had called him brother.
In that instant, a demonic halberd pierced his heart. From behind, blades of betrayal rained down. Blood poured like a crimson river.
The Emperor Lord collapsed, his body crashing into the battlefield. Hair soaked in blood. Breath slowing, each one as long as an eon.
Above, the Divine Tribe's banner was torn to shreds. Beneath him, his battle beast cried out in anguish—then fell silent forever.
In the distance, warfires consumed the sky. Allies perished. Fortresses fell. The divine race… annihilated.
In his dimming vision, the Emperor Lord saw it all crumble—not just the world, but the ideals he once held.
And in his final breath, before darkness claimed everything, a whisper rose from the depths of his soul:
"If there is another life…I don't want to be an Emperor.I want… to be human."
IV. Awakening and Questions
A chill pierced his spine.
Lang Tieu awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. He gasped, as if he had fled a nightmare lasting a thousand years. His hand clenched so tightly it bled—still echoing with the agony of that crimson battlefield and its tragic betrayal.
Beside him, a soft voice broke the silence:
"Brother… what did you just see?"
Lang Tieu turned. Little An stood nearby, worry in her eyes. In the quiet chamber of the Remembrance Tribe, only the cold wind rustled fallen leaves.
He remained silent for a long time, then finally spoke in a low, distant voice:
"A past that wasn't mine…But runs through my very blood."
His words fell like a stone into a deep lake—its bottom unseen, its ripples unknowable.
Far away, at the highest step, stood Liu Tich, chieftain of the Remembrance Tribe. He watched Lang Tieu—not as a mere elder, but as one who glimpsed the threads of ancient fate.
After a pause, Liu Tich's voice rang out—calm, but heavy with meaning:
"How far…will you awaken,bearer of the Emperor Bone?"
The wind grew stronger. A yellowed leaf spiraled through the air and landed at Lang Tieu's feet.
Seasons change. People change.Or perhaps… fate has just begun to turn.