The world began to disappear.
First a street, then a building, then a person. Whatever was erased vanished along with everyone's memories of it, as if it had never existed.
Only Chu Yi remembered.
Twenty-four years old, a good-for-nothing with a miserable life. He'd figured it didn't matter if the world disappeared. That was until he found a filthy old man in the ruins, swearing nonstop.
The old man said his name was Lao Xuan, but he couldn't remember anything else.
But Chu Yi could see the shadow behind him: white robes, a long sword, and a collapsed Heavenly Gate.
This shameless old rascal, who was nearly forgetting his own name, had once been an Immortal Venerable of an entire realm.
He wasn't the only one who fell into the apocalypse. There was a Martial Saint so rigid about the rules he was practically dead set in his ways, a player who spoke entirely in gaming slang, an ancient god who might have been a person or a mist, and a female sword cultivator who carried an old sword and forgot someone every time she swung it.
They had once been gods. Now they were fallen, unable even to remember who they were.
Chu Yi wasn't good at much, but there was one thing he could do: he couldn't forget.
So he would remember for them.
“You've forgotten who you are? Doesn't matter. I remember.”
