A Record of Mending Heaven’s Flaws

At the age of eight, Lin Lang was swept by a streak of blue light into the deepest reaches of Yunmeng Marsh.

He thought an immortal had chosen him as a disciple, but in the System’s illusion, he ended up studying the entire canon of modern physics. “Xiao Lang, what you need to mend isn’t the heavens. It’s the faulty code left behind by an ancient civilization.” At sixteen, he descended the mountain for the first time. The entire Xuantian Sword Sect was covered in blood-written warnings: “The Heavenly Dao is about to collapse.” The moment the Heavenly Pillar in the far north came crashing down, he finally saw the truth: the so-called tides of spiritual energy were nothing but an AI program’s crash alert, and those legendary divine artifacts ran on cultivators’ life data as fuel.

When the System’s mechanical voice became a warm “guide,” and he was pushed onto the altar as a “living formation core,” he finally understood: the cruelest way to mend the heavens was to forge himself into the final brick.