《When the Heavens Turned Away (天道无归)》 Prologue ÐǺÓǧÔØÀ䣬 ³¾ÊÀÒ»»¨Éú¡£ ÌìÉϹ¹âÔ¶£¬ È˼äÓÐÃγɡ£ The stars stretch cold across a thousand years, While in the dust, a fragile flower blooms. The heavens remain distant, untouched, alone, Yet on the earth, dreams rise and fall like tides. 000 Prologue "There is nothing more treacherous than the human heart." Ä«‰m (M¨° Ch¨¦n) had seen it too many times to count. Mortals wept with hollow sorrow, grief vanishing like morning mist the moment ambition took its place. They whispered sweet oaths beneath moonlit skies, only to sever them with cold steel at dawn. Once, he thought he understood the heavens, the earth, the balance between light and shadow. But humanity was a puzzle without end, too fragile to endure eternity, too greedy to accept oblivion. They clawed at the fabric of existence, desperate to carve their names into a world that would forget them before the next season¡¯s bloom. And so, he left it all behind. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. For centuries, M¨° Ch¨¦n had dwelled in the quiet ruin of a forgotten temple, where the wind carried only the echoes of his solitude. Time passed like a dream, weightless, unmeasured. Below, mortals lived and died, rising and falling like waves against the shore. He did not care. But the stars, The stars endured. Even as empires crumbled and the heavens shifted, they remained untouched, cold and indifferent to the rot of the mortal world. He envied them, these silent witnesses of eternity. If only he could be as they were. Without sorrow. Without regret. But the universe was cruel. On the night when the clouds broke and the stars shone brightest, fate intervened. A mortal stumbled into his domain. Bloodied. Desperate. Breathing as if she had defied death itself. A human. His fingers curled around the hilt of Beidou, his sword, silent, patient, long since untouched by battle. The woman, no, the girl, collapsed at the temple¡¯s threshold. Her breath was shallow, but her will unbroken. She did not intend to die, even when the world willed it. M¨° Ch¨¦n watched in silence. A single droplet of blood traced its way across the cold stone floor, an offering to a god who no longer listened. Foolish. How foolish it was for mortals to believe they could outrun fate. 002 Fading Stars of the North Mo Chen listened. The wind howled like a restless spirit, pressing against the broken temple, whispering through the cracks in the stone like a long-forgotten prayer. It was cold, relentless, weaving through the decaying corridors of the Temple of the Northern Sky as if searching for something. Someone. It was a sound he had long grown used to. A voice from the past, persistent and unyielding, filling the empty spaces where memories still lingered, like the faintest hum beneath a song long silenced. A world lost in its own sorrow. He stood at the temple¡¯s edge, his gaze lost in the bitter expanse of the Northern Sky, where the jagged spires of the ¹éÐæɽÂö (Mountains of the Returning Void) clawed at the heavens. The mountains were as ancient as the earth itself, their peaks shrouded in mist and clouds, their forms unforgiving, sharp, endless. Below, a chasm of shifting clouds churned like the bruises of a fading sunset, blue-grey, ink-dark, restless. A reflection of the path he had once walked. For centuries, this temple had stood defiant against time, a lone sentinel on the highest peak. Once, the Northern Sky had been a place of enlightenment, where cultivators sought wisdom beneath the stars. The wind had carried the whispers of the gods, and the temple¡¯s halls had been filled with prayer, the scent of incense, the glow of celestial fire. Now, the wind was only a cold herald of an ending world. Even stone, however stubborn, could not withstand eternity. The once-glorious pillars, carved with stories of the heavens, now lay cracked, their intricate designs half-swallowed by decay. The golden murals that had once adorned the walls, depictions of celestial deities and forgotten legends, had faded into ghostly remnants, their colors no more than echoes of what had been. What remained was a hollow shell. A ruin. Just like him. The Temple of the Northern Sky had not always been a place of silence. Long ago, it had been a sanctuary, a resting ground for sages who studied the celestial arts, a bridge between heaven and earth. Here, beneath the luminous sky, scholars had traced the movements of the stars, seeking answers to questions the world had long forgotten to ask. Mo Chen had once stood among them. His name had been known, whispered in awe across the lands. He had been one of the temple¡¯s greatest disciples, a cultivator whose path had nearly touched the heavens. Power, wisdom, he had possessed both in boundless measure. He had stood at the threshold of immortality, destined for greatness. That had been another lifetime ago. Before time itself had become his enemy. Before the weight of eternity had eroded his soul. Now, nothing remained. The centuries had stripped him of his purpose, piece by piece, until all that was left was a shadow. He had outlived everything, his sect, his friends, even his enemies. Everything except the aching weight of existence itself. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. What was the purpose of life when the world had moved on without him? When all that remained were ruins of memories, wispy and elusive at the edges of his mind? Mo Chen had tried to leave. To fade into the forgotten pages of time. But death, it seemed, had no mercy for those who had stepped beyond mortality. No peace would come. Not even in the embrace of oblivion. A distant flash of lightning split the sky, silver light flickering against the temple¡¯s crumbling walls. For the briefest moment, the faded murals seemed to awaken, their ghostly outlines trembling against the stone before vanishing once more into darkness. Mo Chen stepped through the temple doors, his movements fluid, soundless. He was a presence that did not disturb the air, a shadow that belonged to no place, no time. The hall was suspended in an uneasy limbo, caught between the golden flicker of a dying candle and the cold, pale light of the storm outside. The wind pressed against the temple¡¯s cracked walls, whispering through the stone like a lingering breath of the past. It almost sounded like it spoke the names of those long gone. Mo Chen did not flinch. There was little else to do now but wait. For the storm to pass. For the light to fade. The storm outside was familiar. It had always been there. The world had changed, its once-pristine beauty ravaged by time and forgotten promises. But the storms remained the same. They still reached this place, still howled through the ruins. Still carried echoes of what once was. Mo Chen exhaled, the mist of his breath curling in the frigid air. Though the cold no longer touched him, he could still feel it, somewhere in the remnants of his being, in the hollow space where something once lived. Something stirred within him. Not longing. That was an illusion shattered long ago. Not regret. Regret was for those foolish enough to believe the past could be changed. It was something quieter. Colder. A fragment of himself that still clung to the remnants of a life he could never reclaim. His gaze drifted over the scattered scrolls and books that lay abandoned on the temple floor. Some had been placed with care. Others left where they had fallen, their bindings faded and torn. They held the records of a long-lost knowledge, histories, philosophies, celestial theories, the writings of sages who no longer walked this earth. He had read them all, countless times. And yet, their meanings had grown distant, just like everything else. Knowledge no longer served him. Power no longer called to him. Even time itself had ceased to matter. What was left for an immortal who no longer sought the heavens, yet could not fall to the earth? What purpose was there for a man who had outlived his own reason to live? A gust of wind forced its way through the temple¡¯s fractured walls, extinguishing one of the remaining candles. The flame sputtered out, its last ember curling into the shadows. Mo Chen watched as the final flicker vanished into the darkness. There was no need to relight it. The storm was the only thing that had ever stayed constant. And in the end, even the wind would fade. As all things did. 003 The Mortal and the Abyss Xu Lian ran. The wind howled like a living beast, clawing at her robes, biting into her skin, dragging her toward the abyss below. Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body half-stumbling through the treacherous labyrinth of ¹éÐæɽÂö (Gu¨© X¨± Sh¨¡nm¨¤i), the Mountains of the Returning Void. Around her, the jagged peaks loomed, silent sentinels of stone and shadow. These mountains had swallowed empires. They were older than memory, their spires a monument to a war long since forgotten, where the heavens had clashed with the earth, and neither had won. The dead had never left this place. Their whispers rode the wind, murmuring through the valleys, pressing against Xu Lian¡¯s ears like the ghost of a half-remembered lullaby. She had entered this cursed land seeking a legend. Now, she was running for her life. Behind her, the shrieks of ÊÉÆÇÑý (Sh¨¬ P¨° Y¨¡o), the Soul-Devouring Demons, split the night. Their cries, high-pitched, ragged, echoed through the rock passages, warping and twisting, making it impossible to track their movements. She didn¡¯t need to see them to know they were closing in. Her legs burned, her chest heaved, but she wasn¡¯t fast enough. Xu Lian bit down on her lip, tasting blood as her boot slipped on loose stone. She barely caught herself against the sharp surface of a crumbling rock wall. Pain seared through her shoulder, the deep claw wound on her back pulsing with fresh agony. Still, she ran. The path was narrow, winding, treacherous. The ÊÉÆÇÑý were relentless. They flickered in and out of sight, moving with an erratic, unnatural grace. Their limbs bent at impossible angles, their forms shifting like ink dispersing in water. They did not hunger for flesh. They craved the soul. She knew what would happen if they caught her. They would tear her essence from her body, dragging it screaming into the Òõ¼ä (Y¨©n Ji¨¡n), the Shadowed Realm, leaving behind nothing but an empty husk, a hollow shell that would never rot, never decay, only stare blankly at the sky until the end of time. The thought sent a surge of panic through her veins. She had come here seeking an immortal, a man who had severed all ties to heaven and earth, who resided at the peak of this cursed mountain. A cultivator whose power defied even the will of the gods. But now, as the shadows crept closer, as the demons¡¯ whispers slithered through the darkness, she wondered, Had she chased a myth straight into the mouth of death? A deafening shriek. Too close. Xu Lian spun, fingers reaching for the talismans tucked inside her sleeve. Her hands trembled, but she managed to pull one out, a fragile ward inscribed with crimson sigils. She flung it toward the creatures. A pale golden light flared against the darkness. For a single, fragile moment, the ÊÉÆÇÑý hesitated, recoiling from the burst of spiritual energy. But it was too weak, too faint. The light faded within seconds. Her vision blurred. The loss of blood was too much. "Keep moving. Keep moving!" The path ahead twisted into darkness. The ground beneath her shifted, uneven and cruel. She could no longer hear the shrieks behind her, only the frantic pounding of her heart. Then, Her foot caught on something. A root? A jagged stone? She couldn¡¯t tell. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The ground vanished beneath her. She fell. Rubble tore at her skin as she tumbled, crashing against cold stone. Pain exploded through her ribs, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She gasped for air. Above, in the abyss of the mountains, white, glowing eyes peered down at her from the shadows. The ÊÉÆÇÑý were waiting, their twisted forms crawling over the cliffs, their movements unnatural, hungry, relentless. Xu Lian¡¯s chest heaved. The cold of the mountain seeped into her bones. She had nowhere left to run. And then¡­ Through the swirling mist, beyond the ruined passage¡­ She saw it. A temple, standing against the wind, ancient and unmoving. A flicker of hope flared in her chest. "The Immortal¡­ if he exists, he must be there!" She forced herself up, staggering forward. Pain flared in her side with every step, but she moved. The ÊÉÆÇÑý were closing in, their whispers thick in the air, their hunger palpable. But Xu Lian did not stop. She would not die here.

Mo Chen lifted his gaze from the scattered scrolls before him. A disturbance. At first, he ignored it. His fingers rested lazily against the hilt of Beidou, his mind far from the world beyond these stone walls. But then¡­ The sound of something human. A presence struggling against the night, breathless, desperate. Then came the familiar shrieks of the ÊÉÆÇÑý. Not trespassers, then. Prey. Mo Chen exhaled, long and slow. He had no interest in saving a stranger. What happened beyond these walls was no concern of his. And yet¡­ His fingers flexed, a mere whisper of movement. The air around him stirred. A subtle aura, pale blue and ethereal, unfurled like mist, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Outside, the wind howled. And then, a figure staggered through the temple¡¯s overgrown garden. She was drenched in rain, soaked in blood, barely clinging to consciousness. The ÊÉÆÇÑý moved with flickering speed, their empty eyes glowing as they descended upon her. Xu Lian raised a talisman, her breath hitching¡­ But the ink vanished from the paper before she could activate it. She had nothing left. And then the air around her changed. A wind colder than death itself pressed down. The shadows recoiled. With nothing more than a flick of his hand, Mo Chen¡¯s chi stirred. A whisper of power, unseen, unmeasured, before it ripped through the night like silent death. The ÊÉÆÇÑý froze. Their monstrous cries choked into strangled gasps. In an instant, their bodies withered, imploding into nothingness. The darkness swallowed them whole, erased from existence by the force of his will. Silence. The storm raged, but inside the temple, there was only stillness. Mo Chen remained unfazed. A minor inconvenience. Nothing more. A thud. His gaze flickered downward. At his feet, a mortal lay crumpled on the cold stone floor. Drenched in rain and blood. Trembling. Barely alive. Then, her eyes met his. Amber-brown, wide with pain. For the first time in centuries, something stirred in Mo Chen¡¯s chest. A whisper of a presence buried beneath centuries of solitude. A delicate shadow of her, whose face he could no longer recall. Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a crimson blossom of blood, spilling across her chin. Then, the darkness claimed her. And Mo Chen did not look away.