Three thousand years ago, Chen Yan was chosen by the Primordial Source.
The Primordial Source grants no power. It does only one thing: record. From the creation of the world to the present, it has recorded the complete lives of 17,342 masters: their cultivation, insights, battles, joys and sorrows, life and death, all sealed within it. The Three Realms believed him to be the chosen one.
When the Great Ascension cultivators surrounded and attacked him, the Primordial Source shattered, and the memories of ten thousand lifetimes flooded his soul. He went mad, and he died. After three thousand years drifting through chaos, he opened his eyes to find himself a good-for-nothing alchemy apprentice at the third Qi Refinement stage in a dilapidated sect. His dantian was damaged, his meridians weak, and he couldn't even beat a stray dog.
But he wasn't without a trump card.
The Primordial Source may have shattered, but the memories of ten thousand lifetimes remained. The fragments simply refused to stay quiet. When he wanted the compassion of a Buddhist cultivator, the great power of a demonic cultivator would rage within his dantian. When he wanted a sword technique, a swordsman's resentment would turn on him. Every fragment was watching and waiting for him to show a weakness. And his deepest secret was this: something was about to awaken inside the Primordial True Seed, slowly recovering within him.
The 17,342 people he once knew were coming back.
They shared a single name.
"Primordial."
Looks good, everyone comes to see it