Honghuang: The Book of Reincarnation

I transmigrated into a prehistoric spirit bamboo, with mediocre aptitude and no distinguished origins.

When the blood of the Witch-Demon War stained Buzhou Mountain red, I had only just become a True Immortal. When the baleful aura of the Investiture of the Gods calamity filled Golden Turtle Island, I was merely a Golden Immortal.

Everyone said that Pangu had created the primordial world, and all things struggled within the script of the Heavenly Dao.

So I trod carefully, step by step, hoping to rely on my meager “foresight” to survive in this world that devoured the weak, and attain immortality.

Only when I had endured countless hardships and struggled to prove the Great Luo Dao, transcending the river of time, did I finally see the “truth.”

There was no Pangu in chaos.

Only a grand phenomenon called “Creation” was unfolding.

The Three Pure Ones, the Ancestral Witches, and even those legendary beings stood silently in the void, observing the manifestation of this “phenomenon,” as if contemplating the ultimate truths of the Great Dao.

And every act of creation, every Witch-Demon Tribulation, every contest between sages… was nothing more than another round of “cultivation” in their endless cycles of epochs, as they sought transcendence.

It turned out that my transmigration, the myths I knew, and the calamities I foresaw were all just an insignificant, naturally evolving corner of this epoch.

It turned out that beyond the Great Luo, all was a struggle for the Dao.

And I, a mere acquired spirit bamboo who had been lucky enough to glimpse the truth,

would I remain a pawn, anxiously struggling to survive in the game,

or step into this endless cycle,

and become a player who moves the pieces in pursuit of the Dao?