The battlefield stretched endlessly before me—a wasteland painted in fire, blood, and the acrid stench of death. Smoke curled and twisted into the sky like living serpents, and the cries of the fallen echoed through the void. Millions upon millions of 'Dao-devouring' soldiers surged forward, their synchronized footsteps shaking the very earth beneath me. Their eyes burned with an unwavering, merciless purpose: to destroy me. To erase everything I had ever loved, everything I had ever been.
Around me lay the fallen—friends, loved ones, demon comrades. Cold. Lifeless. Their bodies fused with the soil as if the earth itself had swallowed their existence. Their smiles, their warmth… everything was gone. Only silence remained. Only emptiness. Each corpse whispered the same cruel truth: I was utterly alone.
Yet fear could not touch me. Survival seemed impossible. And yet… behind me, billions of lives depended on my strength. Every flicker of hesitation could cost countless souls. That thought steeled my resolve like molten iron cooling into a blade. I gripped my sword tighter, feeling the weight of endless hopes pressing into my hands. Lightning danced across the battlefield, arcing through dark clouds that churned like furious oceans. The ground quaked. The sky blackened. The enemy surged—a storm without end.
I leapt forward, plunging into the tide of blood and steel. Each strike tore through the air; each clash shook the earth. And yet, despite the chaos, I was not alone. The silent hopes of the innocent clung to me, guiding every blow, whispering of a world that could still be saved.
A strange sensation prickled my mind—threads of memory that did not belong to me. A name floated in the shadows, soft as a sigh: Xuan Huang. And yet… something else stirred within me. Something ancient, buried beneath lifetimes, thrumming with a power I had not yet learned to wield. A force both terrifying and intoxicating.
The enemy's numbers seemed infinite, yet the world itself bent strangely around me. At the edge of my vision, a shadow shifted unnaturally, an intangible presence watching, waiting. It did not radiate hostility—but it was not mine to command either.
Fragments of another life surfaced amidst the chaos. A boy, sharp, cunning—called the Chess King. A figure of legend, the Mystical Emperor. Memories tangled with the rhythm of my heartbeat, fleeting as smoke drifting on a winter wind. Who I had been… and who I was meant to be… remained unclear, as if reality itself had fractured around me.
Steel clashed. The enemy faltered for a heartbeat, then surged again like waves rebounding against unyielding cliffs. My limbs burned. My mind raced. Yet some invisible guidance kept me alive, propelling me forward with uncanny precision. Each step bore weight far beyond my own.
Then—a surge of energy tore through my chest. Not pain, not pleasure—pure awareness. Someone had noticed me. Something immense. I could not see it. I could not name it. Yet it waited, observing, alive with an ancient consciousness.
I could not stop. I could not pause. Every strike, every breath, every heartbeat counted. I was the last line—the solitary spark standing against the darkness. Deep down, I knew: this was only the beginning.
A scream shattered the air—piercing, inhuman. The Dao-devouring soldiers froze, their advance halting for a fraction of a heartbeat. And then I saw it.
A shadowed figure emerged from the chaos, its eyes molten gold, burning with an intelligence older than this battlefield, older than time itself. Not enemy. Not ally. Something beyond comprehension.
I tightened my grip on my sword. Xuan Huang—name, power, destiny—all surged within me, yet the figure remained an enigma. Its intent unreadable. Its presence undeniable.
And yet… one truth struck me like lightning: the storm had begun. Everything was about to change. The battlefield before me was only the threshold. Beyond it lay secrets, dangers, and stories that had waited eons to unfold. The awakening of Xuan Huang had only just begun.
Then I woke. Screaming into the darkness, my voice raw: "Who… who's there?" Silence. Trembling, I whispered, "Why do I keep having this dream? Where… where am I? This isn't my room!"
The world felt strange, alien—and yet hauntingly familiar. Pain lanced through my head. Then I understood—I was the person in that vision… Xuan Huang.
Before I could process, the door opened. My parents stepped in. My mother's eyes wide, anxious: "Xuan, what's wrong? Another bad dream?"
I pinched myself sharply. Reality pressed in, cold and undeniable. My father's face twisted in concern. He sighed, voice heavy with sorrow:
"Xuan… your brain… it may be worse than we feared. But your talent… extraordinary. We hoped the Zi family would rise again, as it once did. Yet after our ancestor died… something changed. No one in our family can become a Wu King. My son… you have the talent to be a Wu King. But your mind… it is fragile. Oh, my child! Oh, our family!"
I drew a deep breath, clarity slowly piercing the fog. Hard to believe—but I had come into this world by transmigration. In my previous life, my intellect had earned me many names: Chess King, Mystical Emperor. Perhaps that was why my legs had never obeyed me.
The dream returned. That version of me—the body I had inhabited—was far from foolish. Yet now, everyone called Xuan Huang foolish. Had I glimpsed the future after my transmigration? Or was this the real Xuan Huang's fate? Had I already lived it, over and over? Or had some hidden hand planted these memories?
Nothing was clear.
But one truth burned brighter than a thousand suns: something immense was coming. And perhaps… I was meant to stand at its center.
And even now, as I sat in my unfamiliar room, a cold whisper grazed the edges of my mind—an unseen voice, soft yet impossible to ignore:
"Xuan Huang… the storm you felt is nothing. What awakens now will tear the heavens apart, and the world will remember your name… whether you survive or not."
A shiver ran down my spine. Something ancient was stirring. Something that had waited eons. And I realized, with a mix of dread and exhilaration—I was no longer just dreaming. I was stepping into a destiny that would devour everything I thought I knew.
The next heartbeat of the world had already begun… and there was no turning back.