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Once, Shen Tian stood at the pinnacle of the celestial world, revered as the Heavenly Saint—the last seeker of true immortality. But when the heavens themselves decreed that the Dao of Immortality must be erased, his own disciples betrayed him. Torn apart by divine punishment and cast into the endless cycle of Samsara, he was doomed to suffer a thousand lifetimes of agony.

Yet fate is not so easily rewritten.

Now, in his 1,001st life, Shen Tian awakens as a crippled orphan in the lowest realm. He has nothing—no strength, no cultivation, no allies. But unlike before, he remembers everything. The knowledge of lost techniques, the secrets of forbidden arts, and the final ember of the Eternal Dao Seed still burn within him.

In a world where immortality is a myth and power comes only through the Nine Forbidden Daos, Shen Tian will walk a path no one has dared before. He will steal from the heavens, unravel the lies of the celestial order, and carve a new destiny with his own hands.

The heavens betrayed him once.

Now, he will rewrite the heavens themselves.


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Heavenly Requiem: The Last Immortal

The air was thick with the stench of filth and damp stone as Shen Tian and Jiang Hao returned to the slums. The streets were quieter than usual, an eerie stillness settling over the alleys. Whispers followed them, but none dared to approach.

Word had spread. The scavengers had not returned.

Shen Tian paid them no mind. His focus remained on the scroll tucked within his sleeve, its presence a weight against his skin. He had no doubt that this was something precious—something long forgotten.

He needed time to unravel its secrets.

Back in his shack, Shen Tian unrolled the brittle parchment. Faded ink traced complex diagrams and intricate characters, the script ancient yet familiar. He had seen something like this before—long ago, in a different lifetime.

His eyes narrowed as he traced the faded strokes. The symbols were not of the current era. They belonged to the old world—before the fall of the Dao of Immortality.

This was not an ordinary technique.

As he read deeper, his breath slowed.

The Void Shadow Sutra.

A technique forged in secrecy, meant for those who wished to walk unseen. It did not focus on brute force but on movement, on presence—or rather, the absence of it.

It allowed the user to dissolve into the fabric of the world, bending energy in a way that made them a phantom. It was not true invisibility, but something close.

For someone in his position—someone hunted—this was perfect.

Shen Tian's lips curled into a rare smile.

The heavens had stolen his path to immortality.

But they had not erased everything.

The first attempt at the Void Shadow Sutra was brutal.

Shen Tian sat in meditation, guiding his breath, molding his meager energy according to the sutra's flow. It was unlike anything he had practiced before—subtle, elusive, a technique meant for those who understood the nature of existence itself.

His meridians, though slowly recovering, were not yet strong enough to handle such intricate movements of energy. Each attempt left him exhausted, his limbs trembling, sweat drenching his body.

Each breath drew him closer to mastery.

By the time dawn broke, something had changed.

The air around him shimmered for the briefest of moments before settling once more.

A single step forward, and his presence flickered—his aura vanishing before returning.

Jiang Hao arrived later that morning, finding Shen Tian seated cross-legged, his breathing steady despite the exhaustion in his gaze.

"You look like death," Jiang Hao remarked.

Shen Tian exhaled. "Then I match the slums well."

Jiang Hao snorted, then grew serious. "The Black Hounds made their move last night. They were looking for you."

Jiang Hao's grin was sharp. "They didn't find you. Some of them ended up in the river instead."

Shen Tian arched a brow. "Your doing?"

Jiang Hao shrugged. "We protect our own."

Shen Tian remained silent for a moment. He had expected the Black Hounds to come sooner or later, but their failure to locate him bought him time. Time he would not waste.

Jiang Hao leaned against the doorway. "What now?"

Shen Tian stood, rolling his shoulders. "Now? We prepare."

Jiang Hao's grin widened. "Good answer."

The slums of Broken Sky City were a battlefield.

Factions rose and fell with the tides of power, and now, Shen Tian had become part of that cycle. The Black Hounds had been sent by someone—a force above the slums, one that had taken notice of his existence.

That meant he was no longer just a name whispered in the backstreets.

And Shen Tian intended to use this to his advantage.

Now, it was time to accelerate it.

The last immortal was rising once more.

Chapter 8