Jiang Jin died once.
He died in a place no one knew existed, “escorted” beyond the spatial barrier and plucked like a ripe fruit.
Only as he was dying did he learn the truth: cultivation had been a farming operation from start to finish. The Golden Core wasn’t a realm. It was a **coordinate**.
And the world beneath our feet had not always been this way.
After Pangu created the world, the demons from beyond its borders could no longer enter. So they stayed on the other side of the barrier and **smashed this entire world to pieces, from the inside out**.
The smaller the fragments, the thinner the barriers, making them easier to enter, leave, and harvest one by one.
Blue Star was just one of the most insignificant fragments: **number 217**.
That was why humanity hit a ceiling at the Saint Realm. It wasn’t that they couldn’t cultivate further. **This piece of land was only that tall.**
Jiang Jin opened his eyes and found himself back three years before the spiritual qi revival.
In his hand was a bead formed from the last wisp of Pangu’s divine consciousness: **the Chaos Pearl, the core of this shattered world**.
On the first day, he saved someone who was destined to die.
On the third day, he sat in a hospital corridor, waiting for the authorities to come arrest him.
At eight o’clock on the seventh night, the lights across Blue Star all went out at once.
Billions of people stood in an endless expanse of space, looking up at a stone tablet.
There was just one number carved on it: **1,095**.
Three years later, the rifts opened. Demons stormed into the cities, then froze in confusion.
They couldn’t break through.
They really couldn’t.
And that was only the first fragment.
