The world remembered heroes, emperors, and immortals.
But it forgot Xu Shiye.
In the vast Eastern Wasteland, at the edge of the Fallen Star Ridge, a young man opened his eyes beneath a sky stained crimson by sunset. His clothes were torn, his body covered in scars both old and new.
Yet his gaze was calm—too calm for someone who had just awakened from the brink of death.
"My name…" he murmured.
Fragments of memories surfaced like broken mirrors. A great sect. A betrayal. A trial meant to erase him from existence.
Xu Shiye slowly clenched his fist.
"I am still alive."
And that alone was enough.