When Ji Gui was twelve, humanity offered him to the myriad races as a “sacrifice for peace.”
Ten years later, he crawled out of the crucible of the myriad races.
His right eye had become a different color, letting him see the fatal weaknesses of the myriad races. His body was embedded with experimental fragments, and a chain locked deep in his bones could detonate at any moment.
The price: no race would ever consider him one of their own.
On the wasteland, he built walls from the remains of the myriad races and gathered refugees abandoned by humanity.
Gray moss could be boiled for drinking water, and dyed into cloth for flags.
A woman named A Zhi had ground her father’s severed left hand into a bone ring and worn it for ten years.
A mute woman carved the names of all the forgotten onto a stone tablet.
He had only one obsession: finding the other nine children who had been sacrificed alongside him.
From an abandoned outpost in the wasteland to the Tianheng Institute inland,
from the crucible at the Confluence of the Myriad Races to the origin point at the edge of the universe,
he found seven of them.
Two remained lost in the darkness forever.
The first sacrifice had been a seven-year-old girl.
Her obsession had slept for a thousand years in the depths of her complete form,
waiting for someone to say: I remember your name.
A thousand years ago, Tianheng collapsed.
Humanity forgot that Tianheng had never been a force for ruling the myriad races. It was a promise to remember everyone.
The gray flag fluttered over the wasteland.
It was inconspicuous, but it was truly fluttering.
He remembered everyone’s name, all by himself.
That was his Tianheng.
And it was the Tianheng of all the forgotten.
