Chapter One: Prologue

Since Pangu awakened from chaos, three have accompanied heaven and earth—first the sun and moon, then the stars. All things in the world are but drifting dust, rising and falling, their existence neither necessary nor lasting.

Before the irresistible might of the gods, humanity is as insignificant and humble as ants. Yet, even so, humans are divided into good and evil. For the sake of so-called profit, they slaughter one another, transforming themselves and others into terrifying, twisted beings. By the time they wish to stop, they find themselves long beyond control.

But after all calculations of the human heart are made, none can escape the destined cycle of cause and effect. Round and round it turns, ceaseless and unending.

Little do they realize, before the gods who rule the fate of all humankind, these schemes of light and shadow are already laid bare, and they are but performing their fleeting dramas with their very lives.

…

I stood atop Mount Buzhou, gazing down upon the multitudes of living souls.

I laughed aloud at their misery, yet in truth, I was mocking myself all the more.

The changing of the seasons passed before my eyes like falling stars, mountains and rivers, myriad forms—a landscape painting unchanged for a thousand years. View it often enough, and even the eyes grow weary.

As I turned to leave, a wind from nowhere swept me down to the mountain’s base.

Then came endless darkness. In that unknown space, I wandered like an aged elder, my steps faltering.

Unable to see, I simply closed my eyes, bent down to pick up a stick, and relied on it to feel my way forward.

I had taken only a few steps when all manner of sounds arose around me: hoofbeats, the clash of blades, women and children wailing, cries of agony... and chilling, sinister laughter.

In an instant, a coldness rose from my feet to shroud my entire body.

Yet now, all sounds vanished, swallowed by silence.

I crouched down. My hand barely brushed my ankle before I jerked it back. After a moment’s hesitation, I reached out again.

My trouser leg was soaked through. I reached further down, touching what felt like gently flowing river water.

Parched, I scooped up a handful, but before it reached my lips, the stench of blood flooded the air.

I let go in alarm and tried to flee.

But no matter how I struggled, my feet seemed stuck fast by some unseen force. All my desperate efforts were in vain.

Breathing grew harder and harder; suffocating terror washed over me once more.

“Life in the mortal world is too bitter—why not leave it behind early?”

The sudden voice was deep, heavy with an oppressive force.

Gradually, I heard footsteps approaching.

Closer, and closer...

Suddenly, I opened my eyes. Ah—it had only been a dream.

I rose and wiped the cold sweat from my brow with a kerchief, bitterness welling in my heart.

I know all too well the despair and endlessness of awaiting death.

Yet what wounds most deeply, what proves most fatal, is the trap set by those dearest and beloved.

Once, I devoted myself to the people, plotting for peace across the ages.

In the end, I was left without even a grave.

How could I accept such a fate? How could I swallow such a grievance?

Buddha always chants, “Buddha is merciful.” But when the world is beset by calamity, enduring the six sufferings and tasting a hundred flavors, he merely says, “All beings know suffering—without it, how could there be sweetness?”

Yet he fails to see how many people collapse under the weight before sweetness ever arrives, falling into the cycle of rebirth, their past and present lives repeating as one.

The day I met Buddha, I asked him, “If one has only merit and no fault, why must they know the agony of living without the release of death?”

He pressed his palms together, appearing kindly.

“All things arise from fate.”

“And if you save me once, will it suffice?”

“Buddha only saves those with destiny.”

“If you will not save me, then I shall unleash storms of blood and chaos upon the mortal world once more.”

He only smiled, saying nothing further, and I too asked no more.

Yet, the Way of Heaven repays in kind—every suffering and sin I have endured, not one of them will escape.