Legend has it that in the intervals between the turning of eras and the cycles of all things, there exists a being revered as the “Eternal Night Emperor.” He was not born in this age. Since the distant, untraceable Primordial Era, he has walked the river of time, looking down upon the reincarnations of all living things. The road he traveled is a bloodstained dirge from the Age of Fallen Emperors; the place where he sleeps holds the supreme secrets of the forbidden lands of immortals and demons. Even an ordinary person he casually guided could become a giant in their own domain, and a little bird he once fed could burn the stars of the nine heavens to ashes.
Over countless eons, he has witnessed too many geniuses rise, too many sacred lands flourish, and too many divine dynasties endure. He has also personally buried countless enemies who thought they could shake the heavens. His name is a taboo, a legend, and the shadow looming over the greatest prodigies of every age: Eternal Night!
In this life, the golden age returns. Prodigies rise across the heavens, myriad races vie for supremacy, and ancient traditions emerge to compete for the elusive chance to become an immortal. A “mortal heart” that has lain dormant for ages quietly awakens in a remote backwater. A mere shepherd boy rises from humble beginnings, yet his eyes hold the indifference and world-weariness of someone who can see through the ages.
“This life looks a little interesting.” He smiles, takes a cow by the lead, and steps into the surging tide of this magnificent age. Prodigies? Crush them. Sacred lands? Level them. Ancestors? Wake up. Even your founding patriarch has to kneel when he sees me. Immortal maidens and saintesses? Hmm, perhaps you can serve me tea and water.
This literary style is real, the same routine has been used since childhood ~ 🤦 🤦