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

He could feel the presence above him, lingering in the shadows of the pagoda roof. The silver-eyed disciple had been watching—waiting.

His voice was calm, almost amused.

A blur of motion—so fast that even with his enhanced senses, Xian Ye barely registered it.

And suddenly, the silver-eyed disciple was standing beside him.

He moved like he had never touched the ground at all.

Xian Ye forced his muscles to stay relaxed. If this person wanted to kill him, he would have done so long ago.

The disciple tilted his head, watching him with unreadable eyes.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

The disciple studied him for a long moment before sighing.

Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned away.

"You should prepare yourself, Xian Ye."

He began walking, his steps light and effortless, as if the earth itself barely acknowledged his presence.

"Because soon, everyone will know what you really are."

The disciple stopped at the edge of the walkway.

For the first time, his expression changed—just slightly.

Xian Ye remained standing in silence.

The words shouldn't have meant anything. They shouldn't have shaken him.

But deep inside, something twisted.

Like the echo of a memory that hadn't surfaced yet.

Or a truth he wasn't ready to face.

There was only one way to find out what was real.

And that was to survive the trial.

The Azure Sky Temple was restless.

Disciples whispered behind closed doors, theories and strategies spreading like wildfire. Allies were formed. Enemies chosen.

Xian Ye sat in his chamber, his training blade resting across his lap.

His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping.

To the heartbeat of the sect itself.

He had spent years as nothing. A forgotten name in a sea of mediocrity.

The Silver-Eyed Shadow