Tianmen Eclipse

[Oriental Machiavellian Fantasy·No CP·Pure Group Portraits] The gate of heaven was split for three thousand years. The Immortal Way abides by the rules set by monuments, the Human Way weaves a web to control the secular world, the polar souls are refined to collect the remaining souls, and the three parties have been competing for hundreds of years. They all use "The Way of Mending the Sky" as an excuse to seize power and profit, and no one takes the lives of the unknown people at the bottom seriously. The Tianmen roll call is held every three hundred years, directly erasing the traces of the existence of tens of thousands of nameless and homeless people - they have lived, loved, and fought, and in the end not even their names are left. No one remembers who they are, and no one cares whether they have lived or not. This group of marginalized people who have been treated as rubbish by the world have no name, no magic weapon, and no backing. With half their lives and a rusty knife in hand, they twist their three souls and seven souls into thread, and stitch the cracks in the Tianmen stitch by stitch. No one calls them heroes, no one gives them biographies. On the day the Tianmen closed, they only carved two words on the tallest unnamed monument: Here. No one needs to remember, heaven and earth know, they themselves know - they have lived.