In the thirty-six-thousandth spring of the New Era, two star lanterns rose above the ruins of Tianfeng City.
The woodcutters said that a bow-wielding deity and a sword-bearing immortal lived in the flames,
while the shadows beneath their feet often intertwined in the shape of a sundial,
lighting the way home for cultivators who had lost their path.
Whenever the blood moon hung in the sky, the star lanterns sent down a rain of arrows wrapped in lunar patterns,
turning the demonic aura of the Nine Netherworlds into sweet rain that nourished the spirit fields.
A young man discovered a few faded words carved into the base of a star lantern in an ancient book:
“Become no one’s supreme ruler. Just light your own path.”
