He was once the firmament standing above all creation. To break a plot of cleansing by higher-dimensional forces, he cast himself into nine cycles of reincarnation.
Ten thousand years later, he clawed his way out of a mass grave, his burial place. A red mark on his arm burned like fire, devouring the deathly aura of the ages.
The world revered Pangu's divine axe as a national treasure, bound by an ancient seal that let anyone wield it only three times a year.
In his hands, however, it was like meeting its former master again: one swing could shatter every art.
The Eight Continents appeared prosperous and thriving, but were really a blood-soaked farm where living beings were raised like livestock.
Every ten thousand years, the Heavenly Dao reaped its harvest. Billions of living beings were nothing but prey waiting to be slaughtered.
He would seek the seven divine artifacts, reunite with old friends from seven lifetimes, and trample the worlds beyond the heavens.
This time, he would bury the man-eating Heavenly Dao and replace it with a world where all living beings held the power.
Thus began the New World.
