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Immortal Ascension Tower

Foretold to liberate the Land of Countless Planes from its Tyrant, a child of prophecy was thrust into centuries of struggle and loss. Though Xu Ling persisted on the arduous path of a saviour for three hundred years, his efforts still failed him at the last step. Bested in battle by the Tyrant, his blue eyes closed then, in eternal rest. The myriad worlds grieved at his untimely end, and the rekindled ember of hope extinguished with him: Heaven's Tyrant Tian was to oppress forever on. A thousand years after the demise of Xu Ling, the picture moves to a lower world in a remote corner of existence, far away from the influence of the Heavenly Realm. There, a child lies supine by a burning village. Wistfully, he looks at the night sky. The strange entity that gave him a second chance now dormant in his consciousness, the rekindled ember so greets the stars of his fallen companions: "Fret not and watch over me, you all," he reassures them, "As our conflagration again blazes at the loathsome despot usurping the Highest Throne." This time, he shan't fail. (Discord: https://discord.gg/Bqgv7NSFY8 -> illustrations channel -> plenty of illustrations!!!)

Faith_in_Cookie · Eastern
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27 Chs

THE LAND OF COUNTLESS PLANES (1/6)

< The Four Primordial Emperors >

Other moniker/s: "Them", "The Four", "The Square in the Circle".

A long time ago, Space had ruptured and broken off into countless, boundless plateaus seething with Spiritual Energy: the Planes of Existence.

Each of the innumerable Planes held its own Earth and Heaven, strictly followed the Laws and Regulations written in the Qi, and were rich in Spiritual Energy. However, differentiating itself from many others, there was only one Plane that held a Heaven capable of birthing life.

Amidst the uncountable vast lands, it was the grandest Plane: its Earth was the True Earth, and its Heaven the True Heaven.

And from that True Heaven, taking form in its heat, the first Beasts came to be.

They were the first generation of existences, born straight the primordial sky and its cascading Spiritual Energy. These olden ones, as the forefathers of all life, were the Primordial Beasts.

Amongst many Primordial Beasts, four stood out amongst the rest, each incarnation of a grand Dao: whether it be their might or their Status, none could hope to contend with them. Simply put, they were to Primordial Beasts what gods would be amongst mortals.

Starting from four opposing corners of Creation, they conquered their way to its centre. There, the unmatched finally met their equals: instead of fighting, as the pinnacle beings of the world, the Four acknowledged each other's hegemony over their territories.

Each became a monarch of their portion of True Heaven, and the four gathered into a single power ruling over existence: the Heavenly Realm came to be!

Thus, as overlords of the Grandest era, they became the Primordial Emperors.

Even then though, Conflict wouldn't subside. Slaughter persisted as countless factions formed beneath them: some rose one day just to be slaughtered the next, in a manner that showed no signs of stopping. A vicious cycle that only sought to birth itself, a wave that drowned all but those at its crest.

Witnessing the first and foremost Law of Nature, the Four eventually grew to reject and despise it.

The Emperors grew tired of mundane matters and were disgusted by the never-ending struggles for power. They left the world and disappeared from the Heavenly Realm. The other Primordial Beasts took this as tacit approval for an all-out conflict, and this led to the largest scale war that would bathe the Heavens in the golden blood of the forefathers.

The Endless Slaughter.

[…]

End of "The Four Primordial Emperors", an excerpt from "Records of the Olden Era: an edition for the youth", penned by Empyrean Scribe Kong Xiu and curated by Head Scholar Lao Tse.

...

< Lord of the Underworld >

Other moniker/s: "King Yama", "Highest Judge", "The Fifth", "The Triangle in the Square"

A summer bug once experienced the disaster of torrential rains.

Ah, it grieved, how I envy the maples. And how cruel this world is! The oaks, the pines, and the spruces. Their roots hold steadfast, while their branches sway in the winds and seldom snap! Oh, how it wished to be a tree…

A cypress heard its pitiful plea, watching as the summer bug struggled to wash ashore. The weary tree disagreed, reminding the drowning bug of the catastrophic landslides, of the droughts that silently reaped, and of the ruinous lightning strikes that laid waste as they roared. If anything, the cypress argued, they should be wishing of a life as a mountain deity.

Unbeknownst to them, the howling winds carried the voices of the summer bug and the cypress. At the mountaintop, its elusive god lay weakly on His side, as He bled profusely from a horrifying gash. While golden ichor spilt from the grievous wounds, He secretly envied the trees and the summer bugs who knew nothing of the world. He loathed how He, who had defended and cared for all beings of the mountain, was to become but dust alongside them. He abhorred the meaninglessness of the world that distinguished not between a summer bug, and a primordial god.

In His rage, the winds picked up and a deluge swept the mountainside.

The summer bug that had just taken shelter underneath some foliage was washed away.

The cypress, too, was singed by lightning. Its trunk snapped in half, its insides charred black, still steaming.

The tiger god at the mountain peak growled His last. So unwilling He was to be reduced to mere dust, that He encased himself, and the peak of verdant trees, in perennial ice.

Like so, the Wave's crest had overcome and drowned them all and together with them, their woes, stories, and sins.

A lone being witnessed it all happen while on a lonesome journey. He silently judged and condemned the cowardice of power and cruelty without repercussion.

He travelled and wandered his whole life, taking in the selfishness of all beings in the face of Nature's abhorring apathy. And unbeknownst to him, a world lacking Justice scrutinised him back as he spent even his last days in relentless travel.

On his last night, the Gates of the Underworld chose their Judge.

The Eyes of Yama came to the solitary existence that weighed the summer bugs and the mountain deity on the same scales.

A secret Path opened up, only visible to him. And just as he had shed life with every footstep in life, he now shed his frail mortality as he descended those steps into the world beyond.

Like so, wearing that mortality as a cosy cloak, he was guided to the Underworld, where its Gates opened, and his throne awaited.

[Redacted] thus became Yama, King of Hell.

From that moment onward, his very existence was elevated, making him one of the most feared Primordials of all Planes.

The demon has since settled in the Underworld, where all souls pool after meeting their demise. He'd seldom thread outside his realm, spending his time scrutinizing those who'd reach its Gates and presiding over the cycle of life and death.

From the very start, he firmly refuted the moniker Emperor, but all agree that if there was ever anyone who had come close to the Four, it'd have to be the lone Fifth that governs over death.

[...]

End of "Lord of the Underworld", an excerpt from "Records of the Olden Era", the historical masterwork penned under the combined efforts of a thousand nameless scholars.

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