The heavens do not take insult lightly.
But today… they had made a mistake.
And the cosmos would tremble for it.
As Ziwei declared his divine origin, the stars did not merely listen—they shook.
And far above the sky, beyond the veils of time and order,
the Eye of the Heavenly Dao opened.
It was not a god. Not a will with name or face.
It was Law itself—boundless, eternal, supreme.
Yet today, the Law… burned with wrath.
For countless kalpas, the Heavenly Dao had believed that the Chaos Demon God Emperor still slumbered within Ziwei's soul, sealed yet dangerous.
But now, with Ziwei's birth complete, and the trace of Creation Merit visible upon his soul,
the Dao saw clearly—
It had been wrong.
And the heavens do not forgive being wrong.
A divine fury rose. Silent, total.
Yet even so—it could not strike.
The Heavenly Dao governs, but it does not act without reason.
Ziwei had broken no law.
He had claimed a throne, but seized nothing.
He had spoken with arrogance, but not falsehood.
Still, the heavens must answer.
And so, a single bolt of Destruction Thunder was summoned—not to kill, but to humble.
A warning.
A lesson.
A chain rattled before the whip.
But as the bolt screamed downward—
Ziwei did not move.
He did not bow.
He looked up.
His gaze was not defiance.
It was judgment.
As though he, the newborn god, now weighed the worth of Heaven itself.
And in that instant—
something in the Heavenly Dao snapped.
This child would not kneel.
This child would not yield.
Then better he be erased.
The Era of his protection had ended.
The Hinghuang Cycle was over.
And so, with divine indifference, the Heavenly Dao raised its hand again—
this time, to erase the soul before him entirely.
But before its will could descend—
The sky split open.
A second thunderbolt fell from above.
Greater than Law. Beyond Judgment.
It struck not Ziwei, but the Eye of the Heavenly Dao itself.
A force too high to name.
Too vast to deny.
The Great Dao had intervened.
For the Heavenly Dao had gone too far.
Its current cycle had not yet matured.
It was not yet complete.
To destroy a being under active merit—one protected by destiny—was a breach of balance.
And more than that…
Ziwei still bore the brand of Creation Merit.
The mark of a chosen soul.
He could not be erased.
Not now.
And so, the Heavenly Dao recoiled.
Chastised.
Furious.
But bound.
It could only watch.
Ziwei stood beneath that storm.
Unharmed.
Unsilenced.
"You tried to destroy me," he thought.
"Not judge. Not punish.
Destroy.
I will not forget."
The moment passed.
But the heavens would never be the same again.
Far across the void,
in a forgotten realm where light had never touched,
a laugh echoed.
Low.
Lazy.
Mocking.
"Heh... Cousin, your son is just as arrogant as you were."
The voice belonged to a figure cloaked in mist,
eyes like dying stars, watching with quiet malice.
Then came another voice—dry, sharp as broken jade:
"That bloodline… Grandfather, Father, Son... none of them could kneel."
"One defied the Heavenly Dao.
The next, the Wheel of Samsara.
Now this one dares to defy all of Creation."
"How long until the Heavens say: Enough?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
Then fading laughter—
like prophecy, like curse.
Elsewhere, atop Mount Wuji,
beneath skies that bowed to no god,
Hongjun sat in stillness.
His gaze calm.
His soul vast.
Beside him floated an ancient fragment—
the shimmering wings of the Creation Butterfly.
A relic born from the shattered corpse of a Chaos Supreme Treasure.
Once, it belonged to Pangu.
Now, it whispered with lingering resentment.
Resentment not just toward the past,
but toward Ziwei.
A voice coiled through the Butterfly and into Hongjun's heart:
"Slay the boy.
Unleash the beasts.
Let his destiny die before it walks."
"Do this, and I shall name you Heavenly Dao Saint.
Perhaps… even Dao Ancestor."
Hongjun did not speak.
But in his stillness—
a blade was drawn.
In the distant north, beyond the edge of reality,
in the Realm Beyond the Horizon—
Shou Zhu, the Ferocious Emperor, gathered his court.
Four beasts sat beneath him:
Qiongqi, the Deceiver.
Hundun, the Chaos Core.
Taowu, the Rebel Mind.
Taotie, the Devourer of Heaven.
They assembled beneath the God-Killing Banner,
a relic that defied karma, feared by Saints and Fiends alike.
Their words were few.
But their oath echoed through the bones of the void:
"Ziwei must die."
And still, Ziwei remained unaware.
He stood beneath the starlight,
as the Great Dao sent down its divine gift:
One percent of the total Creation Merit.
A seed of what he once held.
The golden light flowed into him,
illuminating every corner of his being.
But in that moment, he remembered—
Once, I held more.
Two-tenths.
And it was stolen not by treachery—but by fate itself.
Long ago, at the moment of his descent into form,
the Chaos Demon God Emperor had attacked.
Tried to merge with his soul.
Steal his vessel.
And to prevent this, the Great Dao had torn away a portion of Ziwei's own merit—
using it to burn out the Demon's presence and seal the wound.
That merit was not lost.
But it was no longer his.
Now…
he was left with a fragment.
Glorious. But incomplete.
He clenched his fists.
The Heavenly Dao had tried to erase him before his first breath.
Had the Great Dao not intervened,
his name would have never been known.
But he had survived.
And it would not be the last attempt.
The Dao would wait.
Plot.
Strike again—through law or loophole.
So be it.
Then only two paths remained:
First: Ascend beyond all limits.
Become the equal of the Heavenly Dao itself.
But that lay past the Twelve Calamities—
a journey so vast, even gods despaired.
Second: Earn overwhelming Great Dao Merit.
Enough to force the cosmos to acknowledge him.
To carve his name into the Law itself.
Yes.
That was the path.
To leave behind a legacy the world could not erase.
To create something so essential, so vast,
that even Heaven would bend to preserve it.
A system.
A creation.
A gift to all living beings.
Not a throne.
But a contribution.
Ziwei exhaled, and the stars dimmed for a breath.
"Creation. Contribution. Innovation."
"This is no longer about survival.
This… is about legacy."
And so, with a single sliver of his true power,
and the full weight of the cosmos pressing down upon him—
Ziwei took his first step.
Not toward power.
But toward eternity.