In the vast, indistinct expanse before the beginning of time—long before the Immemorial Era dawned, before the Olden Antiquity Era was even a whisper, and countless eons before the first Venerable ascended to the heavens—the world was not yet the world. There was no distinction between the sky and the earth; the nine heavens were not yet layered, and the five regions had not yet drifted apart.
There was only a swirling, silent chaos. And within the heart of this primordial turmoil lay the Blue Sea of Life.
The Blue Sea of Life was the mother of all existence, the cradle of the myriad beings. Its waters were vast and boundless, stretching into an infinity that no immortal eye could ever hope to measure. These were not waters of common rain or river; they were the condensed essence of pure, unadulterated life. The ocean did not flow; it surged. It did not splash; it pulsed. Every wave that crashed upon the chaotic shores was a symphony of creation, churning and bubbling with the terrifying and magnificent potential of birth. The surface of the sea shimmered with a profound, azure light, illuminating the darkness of the void like a solitary gem in a sea of ink.
From the deepest, darkest trenches of this mystical sea, the first stirrings of life began to manifest. They were shapeless shadows at first, coalescing into form through the will of the heavens. Some crawled onto the chaotic shores, dragging wet, heavy bodies to become the ancestors of all beasts. Others, seeking stability, drove their roots deep into the shifting mud, their leaves unfurling to drink in the chaotic air, becoming the progenitors of all vegetation. The air was filled with the first sounds of existence—the roar of the newborn dragon, the chirp of the ancient cricket, and the rustle of the first wind.
And then, a miracle occurred.
From the deepest abyss of the ocean, where the pressure of life essence was strongest, a single, crystalline bubble began to rise. It was fragile, shimmering with a brilliance that outshone the pearls of the sea. It floated upward, passing through layers of swimming monstrosities and tangles of ancient seaweed, untouched and unharmed.
It breached the surface, floating gently under the primal sun that hung low and heavy in the sky. With a sound like a soft sigh, the bubble burst.
Mist curled, and light scattered. From within this broken sphere stepped forth a creature unlike any other. He stood on two legs, his back straight, his form devoid of scales or fur.
He was the very first human. He was Ren Zu.
Ren Zu opened his eyes, and for the first time, human consciousness gazed upon the world. But what he saw was not a paradise. It was a savage, terrifying nightmare. The sky was a bruised purple, hanging so low it seemed ready to crush the earth. In many places, the horizon was torn, and the winds that blew through the cracks howled like thousands of crying ghosts, carrying with them the scent of blood and dust.
Ren Zu looked down at himself.
He was naked.
Unlike the tiger, he had no thick fur to shield him from the biting, bone-chilling wind that swept across the plains. Unlike the crocodile, he had no armor of scales to deflect the sharp, iron-like thorns of the chaotic plants that grew wild around him. Unlike the eagle, he had no talons to tear at the earth or defend himself.
He was soft. He was pale. He was excruciatingly fragile.
He shivered, his skin bumping with cold, his teeth chattering in the silence. A profound sense of isolation washed over him, heavier than the sky above. In this boundless world of monsters and harsh elements, he was utterly, devastatingly alone.
He took his first step, his bare foot sinking into the cold, wet sand of the shore. He walked along the edge of the Blue Sea of Life, leaving the very first human footprints in the sands of history. But as he walked, he realized with a sinking heart that this world did not welcome him.
The shadows in the distance shifted. Eyes glowed in the fog. Ren Zu realized the cruel truth of his birth:
He was not the master of this world.
He was not the hunter.
In this savage wilderness, he was merely the prey.