The stars pulsed in silence.
Ziwei did not descend. He did not speak. He did not act.
He simply waited.
Time passed—not in seconds, but in cosmic heartbeats.
And within the stillness between those pulses,
he felt it—
a breath.
The first breath of a new era.
The Eighth Era.
A ripple through the soul of the Great Dao.
The faintest tremor of change.
Yet even now, Ziwei remained still.
Had he not already awakened?
Had he not taken form, seen the cosmos, stood in the halls of starlight?
But form is not life.
Awakening is not birth.
Birth means fate has turned.
A seal has broken.
Destiny has begun to move.
The Honghuang Realm was vast, but frozen in divine silence.
Time flowed, but it was like a river beneath ice—
destiny had not yet stirred.
The ancients—those who would shape the future—remained unborn.
Hongjun still floated as a fragment of law, his soul dimmed by lingering Chaos.
Luohu simmered as an ember of hatred, sealed and waiting.
Yin and Yang, Heaven and Earth, Space—fragmented forces, still formless.
Zulong, Fenghuang, and Lin Zu—gestating within the remnants of Pangu's body and breath.
Even those who were forged by divine will still bore the taint of Chaos.
Still carried karmic chains.
Still belonged to the past.
But Ziwei was different.
He was not born of war.
Not born of wrath.
Not born of rebellion.
He was born pure.
The first true soul since Pangu.
His essence was forged from Pangu's final heartbeat—
a single drop of divine blood.
Molded with the tri-colored waters of creation.
Tempered in the nine-colored earth from shattered Chaos stars.
Fired in the primordial flame of Pangu's soul.
Nourished under the gaze of the Great Dao, deep within the Purple Star.
He was not tainted by Chaos.
He was not bound by karma.
He was not shaped by violence.
He was the son of Pangu.
The grandson of the Great Dao.
Before fate existed, he existed.
And he would reshape the very nature of fate itself.
The first to be born in the new world… would carry boundless Luck.
And that would be him.
Under the Stellar Spirit Tree, where leaves shimmered like flowing constellations,
he stood—alone.
Above him, the Star Chart pulsed.
Within him, the Ziwei Palace stirred.
He had waited longer than eternity.
He would wait no more.
A crack split across the firmament.
The seal that bound destiny shattered.
Thunder roared.
Lightning carved the void.
Mount Buzhou trembled—Pangu's spine groaning in response.
Birth had arrived.
And with it, the right to exist.
Ziwei's voice rang across the cosmos.
It was not loud.
It did not need to be.
It was inevitable.
"Above all dwells the Great Dao.
The Will beyond Form.
The Source of all Things.
But now, the Dao is silent.
And my Father sleeps."
"My Father—Pangu, the Primordial One—
who faced 2,999 Chaos Demon Gods alone.
Whose body became this world.
Whose soul became the Law, Time, and Spirit.
Whose final breath gave birth to Destiny."
"And now I rise—Ziwei, his son.
With Heaven on my back, and stars beneath my feet."
"The Chaos sings my name.
The Martial Dao answers my call."
"I am the son of Pangu, creator of the Honghuang.
I am the grandson of the Great Dao, ruler of Chaos.
I am the Supreme Emperor of Heaven and Earth."
"First under Heaven.
Reforger of Fate.
The Dawn of the Eighth Era."
His words did not echo through space.
They echoed through time.
And the sleeping titans of the old world began to stir.
In the distant reaches of Mount Wuji, a man opened his eyes.
A flowing beard. A calm gaze that had witnessed countless cycles.
"Ziwei… son of Pangu."
"I could not slay the father. But you… are not him."
His soul still bore the corruption of Chaos.
His Law was vast, but impure.
This was Hongjun.
One day, he would be called Dao Ancestor.
But not yet.
On shattered Mount Sumeru, a cavern erupted with maniacal laughter.
"The stars move first? Good. Let the game begin."
He had not been sealed by the Dao.
Only by the hatred of the gods who birthed him.
This was Luohu—the Demon Ancestor.
The spirit of destruction itself.
At the Northern Pole, two lights exploded into motion.
Yin and Yang.
Heaven and Earth.
Male and Female.
Not born of love, but built to divide.
Weapons forged by Chaos to prevent balance.
"Harmony is death."
"Let us begin again."
They moved with no compassion.
Only entropy.
From the wound of a Dimensional Rift, a single eye opened.
"Even death could not bury me.
Now the son rises… and the father still sleeps."
This was Kongjian—the Space Demon God.
Once slain by Pangu.
Now returning, fueled by vengeance.
Beneath the East Sea, a titan shifted.
"My elder brother… walks the land."
This was Zulong—born of Pangu's breath.
Half-brother to Ziwei.
His soul was clean.
A child of creation, not chaos.
He could call Ziwei "brother."
From a burning crater in the south, a woman stepped forth, formed of flame and light.
"He has awakened."
Yuan Feng, the Phoenix Ancestor.
Born of Pangu's final exhale.
Pure in soul.
Sacred in blood.
And at the base of Mount Buzhou, a golden Qilin stirred.
He did not speak.
He simply looked up, toward the Ziwei Star.
This was Lin Zu—born of Pangu's bone and blood.
The eldest of the Sacred Beasts.
Soul untainted.
But deep in the roots of rot, something else awoke.
Not a being.
Not a god.
Not a beast.
A curse made flesh.
"I will erase the name of Pangu.
Ziwei, I will devour your soul."
Born from the hatred of 2,999 slain Demon Gods—
this was Shou Zhu, the Ferocious Emperor.
A being with no karma. No destiny. No mercy.
Only Chaos.
And thus, the Era began.
The ancient powers rose—
Some in awe.
Some in fury.
Some in silence.
But none were pure.
None but one.
Ziwei did not simply awaken.
He declared.
He claimed.
Supreme Emperor.
Son of the Primordial One.
Bearer of the First Soul of the Eighth Era.
While others opened their eyes,
he had already spoken.
While others took their first breath,
he had already taken command.
This was not just the beginning of life.
This was the beginning of resistance.
Of reconstruction.
Of a realm reborn from the ashes of Chaos.
The Eighth Era had dawned.
And at its center—
The One Without Chaos.
The One Born of Pangu.
Ziwei.