MEMORY: THE BROKEN OATH
[Author's Note]
Welcome to the Era of Myths.
To celebrate the return of the "Great Shaman" tone, we're taking a short detour—2,000 years into the past.
You're about to witness the Origin of the War.
This isn't the Ren Wu who wears a suit. This is Grand Shaman Ren in his prime. There's no System here. No blue screens. Only raw power, a bone brush, and a world that's terrified of him.
You'll see why the Emperor betrayed him. You'll see why the Ten Yamas of Hell fear him.
This is the day the world broke.
(The Main Story continues after this 2-part special event.)
---
[TIMELINE: 2,000 YEARS AGO]
[LOCATION: THE CELESTIAL PEAK — IMPERIAL CAPITAL]
The sky above the Capital looked wrong. It wasn't blue anymore. It had turned the color of old meat—dark red, turning grey at the edges, and pulsing with a heat that made people's skin crawl.
It had been like this for three months. Common folk whispered that the Heavens were angry. Priests claimed it was an omen.
Ren Wu knew better.
The sky was cracking.
The barrier between the Mortal Realm and the Underworld had worn so thin that if you listened hard enough at night, you could hear the screams of hungry ghosts bleeding through the clouds.
Ren climbed the stairs.
Nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-nine steps of white jade led to the Golden Hall of the Dragon Emperor. Each one polished until it mirrored the red sky above.
Ren climbed alone.
No armor. No sword.
Just the simple black robes of the Imperial Grand Shaman, woven from spirit-worm silk. His hair was pulled back in a severe topknot, held by a plain wooden pin.
His face showed nothing. It was the face of a man who'd already decided to kill everyone in the room.
*Thump. Thump.*
His footsteps were the only sound in the massive courtyard.
Usually, this place crawled with the Royal Guard. Today, it stood empty.
Wind howled through the vermilion pillars, carrying the smell of ozone and dried blood.
Ren reached the top.
The doors to the Throne Room towered fifty feet high, carved from ancient spirit-wood.
Ren didn't knock. Didn't push.
He just walked forward.
The massive doors groaned. The wood warped, bending away from him like the timber itself was afraid. With a low creak, they swung open.
Ren stepped into the dark.
---
[THE THRONE ROOM]
The hall was big enough to swallow a mountain.
Golden pillars disappeared into a smoke-hidden ceiling.
At the far end, on a throne of meteoric iron, sat the Dragon Emperor, Ao-Long.
He'd once been a warrior who could shake the earth. Now he looked like a corpse that forgot to lie down. Grey skin stretched tight over his skull. His eyes had gone milky white, darting around the shadows with a cornered animal's panic. He gripped the throne's armrests so hard the iron had warped under his nails.
"You're late, Minister Ren." His voice scraped like dry leaves on stone.
"I stopped to look at the sky." Ren's voice came out deep and calm, without a trace of fear. "It's red, Your Majesty. The Qi of the land is dying."
Ren walked to the center of the hall.
He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a heavy bamboo scroll, tied with red cord.
"I've finished the Audit." He dropped it. The scroll hit the stone floor with a sound like a gavel strike.
Clack
The Emperor flinched.
"The Audit?" he whispered. "We're discussing the survival of the Empire, and you bring me... paperwork?"
"I bring you the Law."
Ren waved his hand. The red cord snapped. The scroll unrolled across the floor, characters burned into the wood with raw spiritual will.
"I've calculated the karmic debt of the Imperial Bloodline," Ren said, his eyes locked on the trembling Emperor. "You've extended your life by three hundred years using the Soul-Eater Technique. You've trapped ten thousand conscripted soldiers, denied them reincarnation, used their spirits to fuel the palace wards."
He took a step forward.
"Because of you, the Cycle is clogged. The dead can't leave. The living can't be born. That's why the sky is broken, Your Majesty. You're a blockage in the veins of the world."
The Emperor laughed—a wet, hacking sound.
"A blockage? I'm the Son of Heaven! I hold the Mandate! I keep the barbarians at the gates! If I die, the Empire falls!"
"The Empire is already dead," Ren said coldly. "It's just waiting for the body to cool."
He pointed to the scroll.
"There's only one fix. The Great Reform. You abdicate. You release the ten thousand souls you're holding hostage. You enter the Cycle and accept your judgment."
Silence.
The Emperor stood. His whole body shook with rage.
"You want me to *die*?" he screamed, voice cracking. "I gave you your title! I made you the Grand Shaman! I let you build your temples! And you ask me to walk into the grave like some peasant?"
"Death is the only fairness in the universe," Ren said. "Even stars die. Why do you think you're special?"
The Emperor slumped back. The rage drained away, replaced by something cold and ugly.
"You're right, Ren." He whispered now. "I'm scared of death. Terrified of it. I've seen what waits in the dark. Cold. Nothingness. Loss of everything."
His milky eyes cleared for a second, revealing sharp cunning.
"I knew you'd come here today, Ren. I knew you'd bring your scroll. I knew you'd try to 'fix' the world."
He smiled.
It was the smile of a man who'd already sold his soul and was pleased with the price.
"But you assume I'm the only one who fears you."
Boom
The heavy doors behind Ren slammed shut.
Total darkness.
Then the pressure came.
Not wind. Spiritual gravity.
The air grew heavy. It smelled like wet earth and old bones—like a grave dug up in the rain.
"You want to fix the Reincarnation Cycle?" the Emperor hissed from the dark. "Do you know how many powerful things profit from the corruption? Do you think the Kings of Hell want you to balance the books?"
Shapes emerged from the shadows behind the throne.
They weren't human.
Ten feet tall. Skin like wet ash. Robes made of flayed human skin, embroidered with screaming faces. Horns curled from their foreheads like crowns of bone.
Ren didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He could feel the rot.
The Ten Yamas.
The Kings of the Ten Courts of Hell.
They hadn't invaded. They'd been *invited.*
"Grand Shaman," the central Yama rumbled. His voice sounded like grinding stones. "Your spirit is heavy. It tastes like iron."
Ren looked at the Emperor.
"You opened the gates," he said softly. "To save your own life, you let the wolves into the nursery."
"They promised me eternity!" the Emperor shrieked. "They promised me a seat at their table! If I give them you... I live forever!"
Ren sighed.
It was a sound of deep disappointment.
"I expected the lizards to be greedy," he murmured. "But I expected better of the humans."
He turned his head slightly.
"You can come out now. I can smell your guilt."
From the alcoves, figures stepped forward.
Men in silk robes. Women with jade hairpins.
The Patriarchs. Zhang Family. Liu Family. Zhou Family.
Eight of them.
These were people Ren had fought beside for decades. People who'd sworn oaths to protect the Mortal Realm. The Ye and Wang families were gone—probably purged or fled—but these eight stood with weapons drawn, flanking the demons.
"Ren," the Zhang Patriarch said, voice trembling. "Please. Surrender. You're trying to rewrite the Laws of Nature. It's... it's arrogance."
"Arrogance?"
He turned fully to face them.
One man in black robes against the Emperor, ten Demon Kings, and the eight strongest martial families on Earth.
"I built the barriers that protect your homes," Ren said. "I taught your children how to cultivate. I healed your sick. And you call me arrogant because I ask you to follow the same rules as the farmers who feed you?"
"The world needs order!" Zhang shouted. "The Emperor preserves order! You represent Chaos!"
"No," Ren said. "I represent Consequence."
He untied the Bone Brush from his waist.
Simple tool. Handle made from the femur of a beast that died before humanity was born. Bristles cut from a Spirit Tiger's mane.
He didn't draw a sword. He held the brush like a scholar preparing to write poetry.
The central Yama laughed.
"A brush? You face the combined might of Hell and Earth with a writing tool?"
The Emperor leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"Kill him! Tear his soul apart! I want his skull for my wine cup!"
The Yamas roared.
The hall shook. Dark Qi exploded from the ten demon kings, forming a tsunami of black energy rushing toward the lone figure.
The Eight Families launched their flying swords—hundreds of light-blades screaming through the air.
An attack that could crack a continent.
Ren didn't move.
He lifted the Bone Brush.
Bit the tip of his tongue.
Spat a mouthful of golden blood onto the bristles.
"You say I have no authority?"
He slashed the brush through the air.
The blood-ink didn't fall. It hung in the void, glowing with a light older than the sun.
"Then let me show you the Authority of the First Sovereign."
Ren wrote one character in the air.
[QUIET]
ZMMMM.
The sound vanished.
The tsunami of black Qi froze mid-air.
Hundreds of flying swords stopped, suspended like they were trapped in amber.
The Emperor's scream died in his throat.
Physics screamed in protest, but it obeyed. Because Ren Wu didn't ask. He commanded.
Ren lowered the brush.
He looked at the frozen scene. Terrified eyes of the Patriarchs. Shocked expressions of the Yamas. The Emperor, clawing at his throat, unable to make a sound.
Ren walked forward.
Through the frozen energy blast. Past the suspended swords.
He stopped in front of the central Yama—a giant capable of crushing mountains.
"You made a mistake," Ren whispered to the frozen demon. "You thought the 'Cycle' was a machine. You thought you could break it."
He reached out and poked the Yama's forehead with the wet brush.
"The Cycle isn't a machine. The Cycle is Me."
Ren flicked his wrist.
The character changed.
From [QUIET] to [KNEEL].
CRACK
Reality snapped.
Gravity increased ten thousandfold inside the hall.
The Emperor was flattened against his throne, bones shattering instantly.
The Patriarchs were driven into the stone floor, coughing blood, their cultivation cracking under the pressure.
The Ten Yamas—gods in their own realm—howled silently as their legs snapped. They crashed to their knees, the floor exploding beneath them.
One man stood.
Everyone else knelt.
Ren walked up the steps to the throne.
He didn't look at the Emperor, now a broken heap of silk and shattered bone.
He looked past the throne. At the wall. At the sky beyond.
"You fear death," he said to the room. "So you sold the world to avoid it."
Ren dipped the brush in the Emperor's blood.
He turned to face the kneeling gods and traitors.
"Since you love the Underworld so much... I'll send you there. But not as Kings."
He raised the brush. The air boiled. The sky above the palace ripped open, revealing a Void darker than night.
"I hereby dissolve the Imperial Court," Ren declared. His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed in every soul on the planet.
"Today, the Audit begins."
[TO BE CONTINUED IN SIDE STORY 2: THE HARVEST]