Chapter Text
Centuries had passed since the last great upheavals, and the Heavenly Court remained steadfast, its divine order unshaken. Within its vast halls, immortals debated the endless flow of celestial and mortal affairs, weaving the threads of balance between the realms. Yet, amidst their discussions of routine blessings, punishments, and divine interventions, a peculiar undercurrent began to ripple through the Courts—small, scattered whispers carried by minor deities and officials stationed among mortals.
Something strange was stirring in the mortal realm.
Reports trickled in, fragmented and vague, yet consistently strange. Notoriously cruel ghosts lairs were being eradicated with an efficiency that defied explanation. Demonic forces, once thought entrenched and insurmountable, were being obliterated with such force that even the land itself seemed scarred in the aftermath—only to later bloom anew, as though some unseen hand had mended the earth. Mortal villages, long accustomed to living in the shadow of spiritual threats, were speaking in hushed, awed tones about a figure unlike any other.
One day, during the Heavenly Emperor's routine court session, a minor deity, the River God of the Southern Plains, stepped forward to present his report. He bowed low, his voice trembling as he addressed the assembly.
“My Lord, forgive my intrusion, but strange incidents have arisen in my domain.”
The court’s murmurs quieted as he continued.
“Villages along the Wanjun River have spoken of a figure of immense power—a being who has eradicated haunting ghost lairs and obliterated demons with methods… unnatural.” He hesitated, as though unsure how to phrase the rest. “They say this figure commands the elements themselves, as if the winds and waters obey their very will. The river itself was diverted during a recent battle, only to return to its natural course once the ghost was vanquished. The villagers now call him a protector, though his appearance is said to be… unusual.”
A ripple of interest spread across the gathered gods. The Heavenly Emperor, seated on his golden throne, raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, letting the murmurs swell.
“What do they mean by ‘unusual’?” asked Ling Wen, the goddess of bureaucratic affairs, her expression sharp as she scratched notes onto a scroll.
The River God shifted uncomfortably. “They describe him as a man wrapped entirely in bandages, concealing his form. He is serene but… terrifying in his power. Some claim he is a great cultivator; others whisper he is a… mage. None can say for sure.”
Before anyone could reply, another voice cut through the hall. “I, too, have heard of this figure,” said the Rain Master, stepping forward. Her voice, as gentle as rain, carried a trace of unease. “In my province, villages near the Ghostwood Forest have spoken of battles so fierce that entire swathes of land were left scorched and barren—only for the same lands to bloom with life the very next day. Rivers carved anew, trees regrown in an instant… such precision is beyond even a skilled cultivator’s abilities.”
The murmurs grew louder. The Wind Master, ever curious, leaned toward the Earth Master and whispered, “This is getting interesting. A cultivator who can command both destruction and renewal with such precision? Sounds too good to be true.”
The Earth Master crossed his arms, his tone skeptical. “If such a force truly exists, it would’ve made its presence known by now. This reeks of exaggeration.”
“That’s what they said about Hua Cheng before he single-handedly leveled Mount Tonglu,” the Wind Master countered with a smirk. “Perhaps this one prefers to keep a low profile.”
These accounts, though incredible, remained inconsistent and speculative. Some mortals described the figure as a great cultivator, a master of martial and spiritual arts. Others claimed they were a wandering mage, a being of ancient and forgotten power. A few dared to suggest they were something else entirely—a force unbound by the laws of gods or mortals.
At first, the gods of the Heavenly Court dismissed these reports as mortal exaggeration, the kind of embellished tales that often arose after a particularly gifted cultivator defeated a troublesome ghost or demon. Yet as the rumors grew more frequent, and the scale of the incidents became harder to ignore, a faint unease began to creep into the Court’s deliberations. Something—or someone—was disrupting the delicate balance of power in the mortal realm, leaving behind traces of destruction and renewal so profound that even the gods could not entirely look away.
The murmurs swelled, filling the Heavenly Court like a gathering storm. What—or who—was behind these strange occurrences? And how long could such power remain unchecked before it threatened not only the mortal realm but the divine as well?
Up above, Ling Wen cleared her throat, commanding attention. “My Lord, there is more for today’s meeting. The Palace of Nan Yang recently recovered an enchanted artifact from one of their last missions emptying a wrath lair—a mirror capable of revealing anyone whereabouts. It only needs intention. We could ask it to show us this strange cultivator.”
At this, the court grew silent, every god’s attention snapping to the goddess. Even the Heavenly Emperor straightened in his seat.
“Show us,” he commanded.
With a nod, Ling Wen waved her hand, summoning the mirror. The civil goddess asked the small river god and the Rain Master to stood in front of it and pray with the intention to unmask their current trouble. Then, its surface shimmered before coming to life, displaying a fragmented scene: fire raging, water swirling, earth trembling, and air howling as they danced together in perfect harmony. At the heart of this chaos was a lone figure, their form obscured by bandages, their glowing white eyes a beacon of ethereal power.
The figure moved with grace, wielding the elements with a precision that left the court in stunned silence. Opposing them was a devastation ghost whose strength should have matched the gods themselves, yet it faltered, its power crushed beneath the elemental onslaught. As the ghost dissipated, the figure raised a hand, and the land scarred by their battle began to heal—rivers flowing once more, trees rising from ash, the earth itself renewed.
The vision ended, leaving the court in a heavy silence.
The first to speak was Mu Qing, who had been watching with folded arms and a faint scowl. “This power… it is not divine,” he said, his tone biting. “No god commands the elements in this manner. And it’s certainly not mortal cultivation. This is something else entirely.”
“Something dangerous,” Feng Xin added, his expression grim. “If this figure can challenge ghosts of that caliber, what’s to say they won’t turn on the Heavenly Court next?”
“Or perhaps,” the Wind Master interjected with a gleam of mischief in their eyes, “this is simply a very creative cultivator who doesn’t know their limits.”
The Rain Master shook her head. “This is no cultivator. The precision of their power, the balance of destruction and renewal—it transcends the techniques of mortals and gods alike.”
Ling Wen glanced at the Heavenly Emperor, her voice carefully neutral. “My Lord, the evidence suggests this is not a force we can ignore. Whether they are a threat or an ally, we must uncover the truth.”
Jun Wu steepled his fingers, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “If no such force exists in our world, as we believe, then this figure must be an anomaly. And anomalies unsettle the balance of heaven and earth.” He rose to his feet, his voice echoing through the hall. “We must know their origins—and their intentions. Assemble an investigative team.”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing were named as the mission’s leaders and fists, their loyalty and experience deemed critical for such an endeavor. Joining them were the Wind Master and the Earth Master, whose elemental domains might provide insight into the mysterious power.
As the Heavenly Court buzzed with speculation and debate, hidden from the prying eyes of the immortals, a quiet connection hummed to life elsewhere—a communication array, ancient and discreet. Within its unseen threads, two voices intertwined, sharing information beneath the notice of the Court’s watchful gaze.
From the depths of his Gambling Den, Hua Cheng leaned back on his throne, his crimson robes draped over its carved edges. His single visible eye glinted as he activated the array, reaching out with practiced ease. A soft ripple of power pulsed through the air before a familiar, cold voice resonated in his mind.
"You’ve been unusually quiet, that’s refreshing I must say," He Xuan remarked, his tone sharp and unhurried.
Hua Cheng smirked faintly, though his expression soon hardened. "What’s happening in the Heavenly Court?"
There was a pause, followed by the faintest hum of amusement. "See for yourself." Through He Xuan’s eyes, Hua Cheng was suddenly granted a view of the Heavenly Court.
The vast golden halls of the Heavenly Court came into sharp focus, grandiose and overwhelming as always. Hua Cheng, viewing the scene remotely, immediately recognized the tension in the room. Ling Wen stood at the center of the assembly, holding an ancient, polished mirror. Its surface shimmered unnaturally, fractured glimpses of chaotic images swirling within. Around her, gods gathered in quiet murmurs, their eyes trained on the artifact with a mixture of intrigue and unease.
Hua Cheng’s sharp gaze focused on every detail.
The vision ended abruptly, and Hua Cheng returned to the quiet of his lair. He Xuan’s voice echoed through the array, smooth and distant. "Satisfied?"
Hua Cheng’s response was sharp. "No."
He sat upright, his eye glinting with cold determination. "This changes everything. I’m coming."
He Xuan’s sigh resonated through the array, laced with faint annoyance. "You’re what now? What do you expect me to do? Announce to the Heavenly Court that the great Crimson Rain Sought Flower wants to tag along?"
"No," Hua Cheng said bluntly. "Find an excuse. You’ve worked your way into their little mission, haven’t you? Make sure I’m there too."
There was a pause. "And why, exactly, do you care so much?" He Xuan asked, his tone tinged with both curiosity and suspicion.
Hua Cheng’s voice dropped. "Just do it. I’ll handle the rest."
Back in the Heavenly Court, Ming Yi stood silently among the gathering gods, his face impassive. As the investigative team finalized their plans, he spoke, his tone deliberate and calculated.
“This figure’s power is not only unorthodox but potentially volatile,” he said, addressing Jun Wu and the team. “If their abilities involve balancing destruction and renewal, there’s a possibility they could disrupt spiritual realms beyond the mortal plane. It’s prudent to bring someone with expertise in such anomalies.”
The Wind Master tilted their head curiously. “And you think that someone is you?”
Ming Yi shook his head. “This figure’s actions overlap with the domains of ghost realms and the spiritual elements. One of my attendants is familiar with these and he could ensure no unnecessary risks arise.”
Feng Xin frowned but said nothing, while Mu Qing’s gaze lingered on Ming Yi suspiciously. Still, the suggestion was logical enough to pass without further objection.
Meanwhile, Hua Cheng shed his usual crimson finery, opting for a nondescript mortal guise. He wrapped himself in layers of illusion, hiding his distinctive aura and disguising his presence even from the sharp senses of the gods. As he adjusted his veil and shed his red umbrella, his lips curled into a faint smile—one that carried both determination and a shadow of something softer.
The team complete, they descended in the mortal realm. The investigation may begin!