Turning the Fake into Reality: Born Without End, Fighting Until the Final Chapter!

[Epic scale + civilization development + golden finger] In the three thousand two hundred and seventieth Mist Season, the ruins of Hope Valley saw daylight again. Before then, generation after generation had firmly believed that Zhang Mingsheng, the founding ancestor of humanity, was born wise and holy, carried the blood of ancient sages, and was a heaven-chosen savior. So it was only natural that he created professions, advanced agriculture, brought order to the world, and shouldered the fate of his entire race alone. Then the dust was brushed from three cultivation milestones deep in the forest of steles, and every belief passed down for a thousand years came crashing down. The foundations bore records of a system of professions never mentioned in the history books. Beneath the roots of the valley trees lay breeding notes that began from scratch. The stone walls were covered with traces of battle formations, repeatedly tested and refined. Only then did later generations realize that the methods thought to be bestowed by the gods, the institutions believed to be crafted by heaven, and the traditions thought to stretch back to time immemorial had all been painstakingly developed by his own hands, through trial and error, step by step. Humanity had no innate bloodline gifts, and no path of inheritance. In a savage land where no road existed, he had carved out four paths to the heavens for the entire race. He could have left a hundred years earlier and ascended to the heavens. But he held back the chance to ascend, leading his people to build cities, cultivate the land, and train soldiers. He endured the calamity that threatened to wipe out his race, laying every road he could for humanity before finally ascending through the heavens with a completeness unmatched by anyone in all history. The final recording echoed from deep within the forest of steles. There was no solemn decree from a sage, only a calm instruction that crossed the ages and landed in every heart: “The Way is open, and the road is clear. Those who come after me, walk upward without fear.” The wind swept through the ruined stone valley. No one spoke. So there had never been a god descended from heaven by the will of fate. It was a man who should have ascended to the heavens, but turned back to catch his entire race.