Other cultivators risk their lives to decipher the nine iron laws governing how the world works.
But when I awakened, I discovered I was the one who got to “write the rules.”
When Causality Walkers deduce the inevitability of fate, I make a light stroke of my pen and add an absurd footnote: “His nemesis suddenly dies of a heart attack.”
When Existence Judges rule on what is real and what is not, I whisper, turning “something that does not exist” into a legend everyone believes in.
The Law of Entropy says the universe will eventually suffer heat death? I open a new chapter and write a temporary rule for this domain: “Hope will never go out.”
They call me a thief of laws, a virus in logic, a walking paradox.
But they have no idea that I wield the ultimate authority above all laws: [Narrative].
I interpret the story. I give it meaning. From an ignorant “reader” to a tormented “editor,” and finally the “author” who writes meaning and possibility into a cold universe.
But be careful. When I put pen to paper… your life, your power, even the truth of this world may be nothing more than a plot point in my next chapter, waiting to be revised.
