The Book of the Dragon-Han Calamity

When the River of Heaven flowed backward and washed out half a jade scroll, what slipped through Xuan Ming’s fingers was not starlight, but a future unfolding in the present. Blood droplets from the severed horn of the Ancestral Dragon froze into jade. The dying cry of the Primordial Phoenix scorched the jade slip, leaving burn marks. The collapsing body of the Primordial Qilin became flowing basalt. These three scenes of death, unfolding at the same time, made this lowly guard of the River of Heaven the greatest variable in the primordial world.

For the first time, the gaze of the Chaos Observers wavered. In the scripts they had woven across 129,600 cycles, there had never been an eye capable of seeing three different outcomes at once. When Xuan Ming trembled as he used the jade scroll to foresee the battle of the next day, the entire River of Heaven suddenly boiled. Every drop of water reflected a different vision of destruction, and at the center of every scene stood Xuan Ming himself, a Chaos sigil emerging between his brows.

“Choose your side.” The Primordial Phoenix’s flames wrote a pact in the clouds, its nine tail feathers corresponding to nine different worldlines.

“Surrender your power of foresight.” The Ancestral Dragon’s breath froze space and time, while countless dragon shadows acted out schemes to imprison eternity within the ice crystals.

Only the latest scarlet words to appear on the jade scroll burned across Xuan Ming’s retinas: “Every option is a trap. The future seen by the bearer is the sustenance the Observers need.”

When Xuan Ming realized that each prediction tore a rift in space and time across the primordial continent, he did something even Chaos could not calculate: he plunged the jade scroll into his heart, letting billions of possibilities surge through his veins at once. In this reckless gamble, with heaven and earth as his altar, his goal was not to foresee the calamity...