Dreamweaver of the Starry Sky

On the night the blood moon hung overhead, all three hundred disciples of the Starfall Pavilion were reduced to ashes. Ning An, the only surviving servant boy, found half of a bloodstained bronze compass in the ruins. The moment his fingertip touched its star pattern, shattered scriptures reassembled in his dreams, a fallen guardian beast opened its crimson eyes, and the bronze gates guarded for a thousand years by the Nine Great Sects let out a hungry rumble from the depths of the starry firmament.

The more people's dreams you rewrite, the more truths you can bury.

When Ling Wuyue, chief disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect, held her sword to his throat, Ning An was fishing fragments of the blood moon night's memories out of her dreams. The Twelve Earthly Branch puppets stood in formation behind him, and the Star Key beneath White Tiger Rock wailed. He smiled and crushed the dream butterfly conjured in his palm. "Senior Sister, the cracks in your Dao Heart are crying."

On the day the Starry Firmament Debate began, every cultivator on the Heavenly Firmament Continent dreamed the same dream: a young man in white stood atop the clouds, treading the river of stars. Behind him, the bronze gates slowly swung open. Chains reached through the crack and wrapped around the Nascent Souls of the Nine Great Sects' leaders. The sigh of the first Starfall Pavilion Master came from three thousand years in the past: The blood moon has never been a natural disaster... It is the starry firmament's judgment on those who steal lives.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.