zorro708

In the vast celestial realm of Aeternia, cultivation is not achieved through Qi alone—it is forged from the memories of past lives. The strongest warriors inherit the wisdom, skills, and regrets of their predecessors, shaping their destiny with echoes of history.

But Xian Ye is different.

Once a god of infinite wisdom, he now finds himself trapped in the body of a forgotten mortal, awakening with no memories, no power, and no past. In a world where the past defines the future, he is cast aside by his sect and left to wither in obscurity.

Until the fragments begin to surface.

Visions of a forgotten era. A shattered throne beyond the heavens. The whispers of ancient deities warning him of an impending catastrophe—a cycle of destruction that has repeated across countless eons. And at its center: a force that has been harvesting the souls of cultivators, twisting their pasts to rewrite fate itself.

With a single shattered memory as his guide, Xian Ye embarks on a journey to reclaim his forgotten divinity. He must navigate a world where the strongest steal memories to cultivate, where entire sects wage war for fragments of the past, and where even the gods themselves fear the truth buried within him.

But the question remains:

Is he truly reclaiming his past… or is he simply a pawn in a cycle far older than time itself?

Eternal Fragments

A cold wind howled through the empty void.

Xian Ye felt himself falling, yet there was no ground beneath him. Just an endless abyss, stretching in every direction, filled with flickering lights—tiny, distant fragments of something long forgotten.

The whispers surged through the abyss like an unseen storm, neither welcoming nor rejecting him. Just watching.

A memory, jagged and broken, forced itself into his mind.

A towering golden throne, suspended within a sea of stars. A lone figure sat upon it, clad in robes of shifting constellations, his silver eyes gleaming with unfathomable wisdom.

Power rippled from him like an eternal tide, bending reality itself. With a mere thought, he could reshape worlds, erase destinies, shatter heavens.

Xian Ye gasped as he was ripped from the vision, his body jerking violently. The void around him collapsed, and suddenly—

Real World – The Outer Sect of the Azure Sky Temple

The ground beneath him was damp with morning dew. A faint mist curled through the mountain valley, the distant cries of spirit beasts echoing in the wind.

Xian Ye sucked in a sharp breath, his head throbbing.

The memories were already fading—like whispers of a dream slipping through his fingers. But one thing remained clear:

That throne. That figure. Those silver eyes.

The thought sent chills through his spine.

"You're alive. I suppose that's unexpected."

The silver-eyed disciple from before stood over him, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his presence radiated power.

"I thought the elders had already given up on you," the man continued. "You've been unconscious for three days."

Xian Ye clenched his fists, trying to push himself up—but his body felt like lead.

The disciple sighed and crouched beside him. "Still too weak to stand?" He tilted his head slightly. "You don't remember me, do you?"

The disciple studied him for a moment, then smirked. "Interesting."

For the briefest moment, Xian Ye swore he saw a flicker of recognition in those silver eyes—like a man looking at something he had lost long ago.

"You should rest. The elders will decide what to do with you soon."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Xian Ye alone in the mist.

The wind carried a single whisper through the valley, soft and ghostly.

"Wake up soon… or you will never wake up at all."

The Echoes of the Past