A few months ago, on a cold and shadowed night.
The wind cut like blades through the still mountain forest. A dim moon hid behind thin clouds, casting the world into a blur. Dry branches rustled as if stirred by unseen hands, and the low caws of night crows echoed through the darkness.
That night, a ragged man curled up inside a dilapidated stone hut in a remote corner of the Central Plains. His face was weathered, his eyes tired and dusty, but beneath that weariness gleamed a stubborn light.
His name had long since been forgotten by the world—and nearly by himself as well.
But in the sealed memories of a past era, people once called him—Suan Wuyi.
Because of love, he defied fate and violated the taboos of the Celestial Mechanism Sect. Expelled from his sect, he wandered the world in exile.
He never spoke of that past. But now and then, he would wake from dreams, a flash of indescribable regret and sorrow in his eyes. It was a pain he could never touch.
Exiled deep in the forests of the Central Plains, he survived in hardship. A crumbling hut and dried grass for bedding, living off wild beasts and foraged fruit. Though meager, this life hid him well and limited his movements. With only remnants of his strength, he groped forward through the deep woods.
That night, sitting motionless inside the hut, he repeatedly caressed a weathered copper coin in his palm. Its edges were worn, but faintly visible were the characters "Ziwei Star"—his sole remaining possession, and his only proof of identity.
Suddenly, the night stirred. A streak of violet light flashed through the clouds like lightning—gone in a blink.
After that flash, the flow of fate receded like a tide. All fell silent once more. Only Suan Wuyi sensed the lingering trace of that vanished presence—mist-like, elusive.
His heart trembled. He instinctively twisted the coin, activating a fragment of his lost stargazing arts, trying to divine the change in the heavens.
The astral chart trembled faintly. The coin flickered with light. His consciousness was drawn into a chaotic sea of stars. Countless light points surged into view—only to collapse and vanish, as if some invisible barrier sealed the core of fate, rejecting mortal insight.
A sharp pain burst from his dantian and shot up to his brow. He let out a muffled groan, blood oozing from his mouth and nose. His body trembled, breath ragged.
Every attempt to divine it brought a backlash. That aura flickered, elusive, deliberately veiled by some greater force. Suan Wuyi vaguely understood—the reincarnated one had yet to be born. Their fate was like a star cloaked in chaos: sometimes visible, sometimes hidden—beyond the grasp of ordinary arts.
In a flash of vision, he saw: violet light like waves, and deep within the stars, a massive, blurred figure—not quite human, not quite divine.
"A reincarnated god…"
The thought emerged—and was quickly drowned.
That realization struck him like a hammer. He shuddered, then collapsed under the backlash. Darkness swallowed his awareness.
Such was the price of violating the heavenly law. How could a mortal body glimpse the secrets of the divine realm?
He awoke later, drenched in sweat, his breath still shaky—but in his eyes burned a growing madness.
Now he knew. That violet light was no simple phenomenon. It was the supreme omen of the God Tribe's Reincarnation.
"If I can find this person… perhaps it will be the only chance I have to break my fate."
The Celestial Mechanism Sect's ancient texts once said:
"When a god reincarnates into the world, the fate of the Nine Provinces shall be thrown into chaos. But those who glimpse the divine light may yet find a sliver of hope amid the turmoil."
And to Suan Wuyi, that sliver of hope might reclaim all he had lost—or atone for the buried karma he could never face.
Months later.
Winter's chill still lingered. The night was heavy.
Suan Wuyi stood atop a hidden mountain peak in the Central Plains. His gaze was sharp as a hawk's—locked onto prey.
For months he had roamed these treacherous woods like a lone wolf, chasing that flickering trace of aura. Step by step, he closed in on this fated place.
The currents of fate were like mist and smoke. Dim candlelight, dancing, elusive—enticing the soul but impossible to seize. Countless times he had despaired—then rekindled hope, teeth clenched, each time the violet light reappeared. Each glimmer, no matter how brief, ignited the fire in his eyes.
Even if he couldn't pierce the truth, he would pursue it to the end.
"It's here. It's this person… Just a little closer, and fate will change."
He looked down at the Xinghen Sect.
The sect sprawled like a sleeping giant. Towering halls lit like stars. Spiritual energy surged, a tide of aura.
Atop the main peak, a particular manor—Xingxing Manor—was shrouded in a faint, violet divine light.
That light pulsed slowly, as if breathing. It moved with a rhythm, like a slumbering life form nurturing a secret no one should glimpse.
To ordinary eyes, it was a peaceful night. But to Suan Wuyi's astral vision, that divine light rolled like an oppressive tide, making his heart tremble, breath quicken, and fingers tremble faintly.
"This is it… the source. The god's reincarnation lies hidden within that veil of light."
His voice was hoarse, squeezed from his throat, filled with irrepressible fervor.
Madness and obsession flashed in his eyes.
All those bitter months—now answered by fate.
Late that night, with half the lights in Xingxing Manor dimmed, a ragged man arrived beneath the gate under moonlight. His torn robe flapped in the wind, hair wild like dry grass. But in his eyes burned an unwavering, almost crazed determination.
Suan Wuyi.
He raised his hand and knocked. The thuds rang urgent and heavy, breaking the night's silence.
A guard responded, stepping forward to block him, about to shout—when another man with a silver-insignia armband held him back and said, "I'll handle this."
The vice-captain stepped closer, examining the stranger. "Who are you? Do you realize disturbing a noble house at night is a serious offense?"
Suan Wuyi replied, voice rough but firm:
"I come for the divine light. I have urgent matters… I must see the master of Xingxing Manor."
The vice-captain's pupils contracted. He glanced over Suan Wuyi again—though his aura was chaotic, it held a depth like thunder before dawn. Recognizing the gravity of this, he quickly ordered, "Watch him closely. I'll report this myself."
Soon, the sound of steady footsteps echoed from the manor—heavy, like mountains shifting.
Surrounded by elders and disciples, a robed elder approached. His purple robe flowed like clouds, his presence vast and calm. This was Ni Xing Si, Patriarch of the Xinghen Sect.
He stood behind the gate, eyes calm but focused.
After a pause, he cupped his hands and asked in a voice steady as stone:
"May I ask your name, stranger?"
Suan Wuyi nodded lightly in return. His voice rasped but was clear:
"You must be Sect Leader Ni Xing Si. I… am a forsaken disciple of the Celestial Mechanism Sect. As for my name… I fear I cannot give it. I hope the sect master will forgive me."
The three words Celestial Mechanism Sect made Ni Xing Si's brow twitch. His eyes flickered with undisguised surprise. That sect had faded from history since the Seven Stars' Fall a century ago—yet this man claimed to hail from it?
He studied him, noting his sincere gaze and unshaking demeanor. After weighing the moment, he finally said:
"Very well. Then come inside, and we shall speak in detail."
He stepped aside. Disciples made way silently. Together, they moved through the courtyard to a side hall.
Inside, Suan Wuyi's eyes scanned the room, cautious and tense.
The decor was simple but dignified. The atmosphere heavy with unspoken weight.
Ni Xing Si nodded, understanding, then waved his sleeve.
"Leave us. No one disturbs unless summoned."
The disciples retreated. The door closed. Only Ni Xing Si, Ni Linhai, and Suan Wuyi remained.
Suan Wuyi took a deep breath and spoke quickly:
"There is divine light hidden in this manor—reaching toward the heavens. It is an omen of fate. Sect Master, may I ask: is there a woman here, nearing childbirth?"
Ni Xing Si's eyes narrowed sharply. He stepped half forward, shielding Ni Linhai.
"Who are you? How do you know what happens in my manor? What is your purpose? Speak now!"
The hall tightened like ice. Ni Xing Si's hawk-like gaze locked onto Suan Wuyi.
Suan Wuyi didn't flinch.
"I… am the forsaken disciple of the Celestial Mechanism Sect. My name… even I no longer recall. The world once called me—Suan Wuyi."
He paused, fingers brushing the worn coin hidden in his sleeve.
"That night, from my hut, I saw a violet flash pierce the skies. I thought it a fallen star. But the trace of that aura lingered for months. Only recently, when I redrew the Ziwei chart, did I realize—it was no disaster, but the reincarnation of a god."
His voice deepened.
"And the return of a god brings chaos. As written: 'When gods are reborn, fate shall unravel. Those who see divine light may grasp a sliver of salvation.'"
Ni Xing Si frowned deeply. Still doubtful, he pressed:
"If you were cast out, why risk coming here? What proof have you?"
Suan Wuyi gave a bitter smile.
"I swore on my life, this is no lie. I've followed the trace across the land. After months, its strongest point is here—in Xingxing Manor."
His eyes blazed.
"If the sect doesn't act… it may face total annihilation."
Ni Xing Si stiffened.
Moments passed. He exhaled, sat back, and fixed his gaze on the wanderer.
"Then explain. What is this omen? Why are you sure it's here?"
Suan Wuyi responded:
"The light rose from the southeast. Its aura matched your ancestral Ziwei vein. When it flashed, the stars reversed, charts flipped. What else could be the anchor point but this place?"
Ni Xing Si stood, bowed deeply:
"Your warning has awakened me. Lately I've slept poorly, my heart uneasy. Now, all is clear. How can I repay such a favor?"
Suan Wuyi shook his head:
"I come by fate, not for reward. If one calamity can be avoided, that is enough."
Ni Xing Si grew solemn.
"Then… do you know how to avert it?"
Suan Wuyi was silent, then replied with great weight:
"There are two paths."
"First—cut off the child's natural fate. Break the divine link. He will live… but never walk the path of cultivation."
Shock fell. Ni Xing Si and Ni Linhai stood frozen.
Ni Linhai forced out the words:
"And the second?"
"Before birth—send him far away. Hide him until the fate fades. It may take a year… or a lifetime."
Silence.
Only the coin spun in his fingers.
The two men exchanged glances—filled with grief and powerlessness.
Suan Wuyi closed his eyes.
"When fate descends, all are but pieces on the board. Who among us escapes sorrow?"
Ni Xing Si finally stood firm.
"Then from tonight, preparations begin. Liu Xinhui shall leave by nightfall tomorrow—escorted far from here to escape this calamity."
Ni Linhai stepped forward, trembling:
"Father! Is there no other way? This is my own child…"
"Ni Linhai!"
With a shout, Ni Xing Si struck the ground. Power surged. Ni Linhai nearly fell.
"Do you want your son—or the entire sect?! Hundreds of lives ride on this!"
Ni Linhai trembled, fists clenched.
"I… understand."
Ni Xing Si's eyes swept coldly.
"From this moment—seal the manor. Liu Xinhui leaves tomorrow night. You will escort her personally."
His command was final.
Suan Wuyi stood to the side, silent. The coin spun in his fingers, catching a faint violet light.
The flames flickered, illuminating three faces—one of burden, one of resolve, one of helpless fate.
That night, as the lights dimmed and wind stirred, Suan Wuyi stood outside, watching the manor fade into shadows. The coin in his fingers shimmered once—then vanished into the dark.
He turned.
"The board is set. Fate begins. From here on… it's your path to walk."
With that, he vanished into the night. Leaving only faint traces of herbal scent and starlight.
And beneath the stars, the copper coin lay silently upon the stone path—glimmering faintly, as if bearing witness.
The wind stirred.
Unseen by all, the river of fate had already begun to shift.