Deep in the boundless sea of stars, the myriad celestial domains are no free territory. They are prisons, meticulously enclosed by a vast web known as "Heaven's Mandate." Since the end of the Primordial Era, the immortals who wield authority have laid down inviolable celestial laws. Perched high above the clouds in the "Hall of Heaven's Mandate," they use the stars as chess pieces and all living beings as their canvas, tracing the predetermined course of every life. Here, a person's birth, talents, encounters, and even death are often no coincidence. They are chapters already marked in vermilion in the Book of Heaven's Mandate. Rather than defying heaven and struggling against fate, cultivation is more like a permitted race, a climb along a predetermined path. Stars that try to leave their orbits are quietly erased by an unseen force. They may die in an "accident" or suffer "cultivation deviation," and in the end become distant legends meant to warn those who come after them.
The society of this world bears the deep imprint of the cruelty and hypocrisy of this "order." Great sects and ancient clans are often the most loyal guardians and enforcers of Heaven's Mandate. They monopolize ascension places and control the interpretation of ancient god ruins, enjoying the generous rewards bestowed by the order. If a child from a humble family displays extraordinary talent, they are either absorbed and tamed, becoming part of the system, or their fortunes take a sharp turn for the worse, bringing calamities too terrible to speak of. Thus, a philosophy of "accepting one's fate" seeps deep into people's bones. Cultivators seek power, yet few dare ask whether the end of power is still a cage. They revere the Heavenly Dao, yet gradually forget that the original yearning to reach the heavens was itself an act of defiance against "Heaven." The will to resist is like a faint glimmer in the dark of night, flickering here and there before quickly
