The mist clung to the earth like a living veil, wrapping the Nameless Grave in a damp embrace. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the distant caws of scavenging birds circling above, their black wings slicing through the gray sky like scattered shadows. The world seemed suspended in a timeless purgatory, a liminal space between death and forgotten dreams.
Li Tianming moved cautiously among the shattered tombstones, each step deliberate and silent. His eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the surroundings for any flicker of the fate threads he so desperately needed. The threads shimmered faintly, almost invisible to the untrained eye—silken filaments of destiny that connected all living things, pulsing with the energy of their owners' lives and wills.
In this fractured realm, fate was a currency more precious than gold or blood. To harvest these threads was to steal power, to manipulate destiny itself. And for Li Tianming, it was the only way to awaken fully from the shackles of oblivion.
He summoned the Threadstealer Gu from the depths of his consciousness. It slithered from his palm like a strand of living ink, barbed and pulsating, hungry for fate.
A few steps ahead, a figure moved cautiously—a scavenger, hunched and ragged, her breath visible in the cold air. Her fate thread glowed faintly in silver, fragile but alive. He extended the Gu silently, watching it reach out with predatory precision.
With a swift flick, the thread was severed, and a rush of energy surged through him. The Fate Furnace inside his chest pulsed, glowing brighter with stolen vitality. His body tingled as the power settled into his bones, awakening muscles and senses dulled by long dormancy.
The scavenger shivered, sensing an inexplicable chill, but before she could react, Li Tianming vanished into the shadows.
Survival first. Then strength.
The days—or perhaps only hours—blurred together as Li Tianming hunted the graveyard's edge, feeding the furnace, rebuilding his foundation. Each stolen thread deepened his awareness of the world's broken laws and fractured qi.
But there were others.
One dusk, the air changed. A presence drew near—he felt it like a shift in pressure, a heat behind his spine. Emerging from the shadows was a robed cultivator, his steps deliberate, his gaze sharp.
Li Tianming saw the crimson fate thread burning from his heart—strong, aggressive, arrogant.
Without words, they knew.
The Threadstealer Gu writhed in Tianming's hand.
The cultivator narrowed his eyes. "A thief dares prey on my fortune?" he growled.
Flames erupted from his palm. Runes shimmered across his blade. But Tianming was already moving—slipping between shadows, letting the Gu lash forward.
The battle was fierce. Fire scorched stone, blades sang, and the night filled with echoes of war. But Li Tianming's mind was cold, calculating. With one final strike, he severed another portion of the thread.
The enemy staggered back, furious but weakened.
"I'll remember this!" he spat, fleeing into the fog.
Tianming didn't chase. The furnace flared with stolen energy. A dangerous foe now marked him—but so too had he grown stronger.
Let them come, he thought. I need enemies as much as I need fate.
Later, by a crumbling shrine, Li Tianming knelt and closed his eyes. Within, the Fate Furnace now glowed with stable fire, its hum like a war drum.
He gazed into the dark sky. Somewhere, far above, Heaven watched.
And he grinned.
"Even Heaven's will can be rewritten."