In a landscape where the atmosphere is saturated with reddish hues, a colossal and monstrous being dominates the scene. This entity appears to be composed of pulsating, gnarled flesh, its organic and tortured forms merging into a formless and terrifying mass. At the center of this entity is a single, immense, scrutinizing eye, its black iris seeming to pierce through the surrounding darkness. The eye, glowing with a sinister light, is surrounded by bloody tissues and protruding veins, adding a nightmarish dimension to the whole. In front of this abomination stands a human figure, minuscule in comparison, on a dark rock. The figure is draped in a black cloak, creating a striking contrast with the living horror towering before him.
The man, whose appearance evokes a noble elegance mixed with fierce determination, is distinguished by his long black hair framing his face with dark grace. His features are fine, almost delicate, but marked by an expression of intense concentration and mystery. In his hand, he holds a black card adorned with golden patterns, which he holds close to his lips in a posture both thoughtful and resolute. His eyes, dark and piercing, seem to fix the immense eye of the creature with cold determination. His garment, richly embroidered with intricate patterns, adds to the mystical aura surrounding him, evoking a character both mysterious and powerful. The entire scene seems suspended in a moment of extreme tension.
With a tone tinged with mockery, the man addressed the colossal eye staring at him: "So, this is where you've been hiding all this time? You've given me quite the challenge, you know?"
The frantic pulsations of the eye betrayed a deeply rooted terror within it, while its voice resonated from all directions despite its single orbit: "Don't even hope to escape your fate. Even if you take my life, your era will end with mine, and you will be buried in this end of times."
At these words, the man burst into calm amusement. "No, I'm not going to kill you," he said with assuredness. "I'm going to seal you. It's so rare for me to encounter something I don't understand, I can't let this opportunity pass."
The titanic eye now throbbed with a feverish intensity, betraying an unhealthy excitement: "Seal me? What madness, miserable human! When this era fades and your cursed existence is nothing but dust, I will be reborn to witness the dawn of a new age!"
At these words, the young man with fine features laughed, not bothering to explain his thoughts and simply sighing: "Fine."
He raised the black card adorned with golden patterns, gently caressing it with his fingertips. A mysterious energy seemed to emanate from the card, wrapping around his hands like ethereal mist. With a fluid and precise movement, he lifted the card towards the titanic eye.
Filaments of golden light shot out from the card, quickly weaving into a complex and shimmering network that enveloped the colossal eye. The frantic pulsations of the eye intensified, betraying a desperate attempt to break free. "Miserable human! Cursed be you and all your descendants!" the eye roared, its voice echoing everywhere. "Your days will be marked by suffering and failure!"
But it was already too late. The golden patterns glowed intensely, forming an impenetrable cage of energy that inexorably closed around the creature. The eye tried to struggle, but each pulse was absorbed by the card, which seemed to drink its energy like a bottomless well.
"You will never know peace! I will haunt your dreams and destroy your hopes!" the eye bellowed as it was inexorably drawn towards the card. In an instant, the eye was sucked in, leaving behind only a heavy silence and an aura of sealed power.
The young man slowly lowered the card, now calm and inert, a slight smile forming on his lips.
At that precise moment, the scene fractured. Cracks of light appeared all around him like a broken mirror, and each shard reflected a different image from his past. The fragments of reality detached and evaporated into golden dust, mingling with the air like shimmering fireflies. The landscape dissolved, the walls collapsed into an ethereal whirlwind, and the ground beneath his feet gave way, causing him to float briefly in a timeless void.
Then, in a heartbeat, everything reassembled. The young man found himself sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion. The memories of his past faded like vanishing dreams, leaving only a sensation of tranquility. He realized then that he had been plunged into a vision, an echo of what had been, and that the present welcomed him again.
The young man sighed, looking at his hands: "How long have I slept?"
He raised his eyes and scanned his surroundings. The immense hall was illuminated by torches with blue flames, casting an ethereal glow on the walls. The familiar murals, depicting scenes from a bygone era, seemed to dance under this supernatural light. Each detail, each brushstroke, reminded him of buried memories, and he couldn't help but feel a strange melancholy in the face of these silent testimonies of elapsed time.
He tried to gather his memory to think about what had happened before his sleep. By habit, he chose to sleep when the era seemed boring, monotonous, devoid of any novelty.
But this time, he vaguely remembered something different. The end of an era... Why had he decided to sleep when everything indicated an imminent upheaval?
He closed his eyes, searching through the foggy veil of his memories. Blurry images emerged: secret meetings, ominous omens, whispers of war and decline. Perhaps he had judged that the inevitable collapse of an era was just a repetition of history, without real innovation. Or perhaps... perhaps he had perceived something darker, something he didn't want to face.
But he could not recall anything. It was as if a black hole had devoured that period, tearing away all his memories.
The young man remained calm. He knew that letting himself be overwhelmed by frustration would lead nowhere; he had faced far more terrifying situations. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his scattered thoughts and resolved to first discover the era in which he had just awakened.
He rose slowly, his movements imbued with innate grace. As he scanned the surroundings, he immediately perceived the absence of the celestial Dao. For many, this revelation would have been a source of anxiety and despair, but for him, it was a simple detail. Having already witnessed the end of four eras, he knew that the celestial Dao would eventually restore itself, like a phoenix rising from its ashes.
The blue flames of the torches danced with supernatural intensity, casting moving shadows on the murals. Each painted scene seemed to whisper ancient secrets and forgotten stories. The young man ran his fingers over a mural depicting an epic battle, almost feeling the resonance of past energies.
He looked down at the ground, where the fresh mud revealed the traces left by those who had passed through the door behind him. He counted eight people, their footprints forming an uncertain path through the darkness.
Yet, he was not surprised by their absence. At the beginning of a new era, fear often chained the souls of mortals, keeping them away from the mysteries and dangers that might present themselves. For him, this silence from others was just a reminder of humanity's fragility in the face of the unknown.
He decided to leave the hall. For him, this cave was just a small refuge, a solitary sanctuary where he sometimes came to rest.
Walking slowly down the corridor, he recalled his life. Once, he was an ordinary American, living in the tumult of modern Earth. One day, overwhelmed by the crushing stress of his job, he had decided to go on a trip to recharge. Camping in a remote mountain seemed like the perfect escape.
But nature had other plans. A fierce storm had descended upon him, forcing him to seek refuge in a dark cave. Barely inside, huge boulders had collapsed, blocking the exit and trapping him in this natural prison. Seeing no other way out, he had resigned himself to exploring the depths of the cave, hoping to find an escape.
The minutes ticked by, and he discovered nothing but oppressive darkness. Then, around a bend, he had spotted a strange herb growing alone in the cold stone. Out of resources and despair, he had torn it out and consumed it without thinking, disappointed by his meager find after exhausting his supplies.
As the herb disintegrated inside him, a devastating spiritual energy had ravaged him, leaving him gasping in pain. Every fiber of his being burned, as if an infernal fire was consuming him from within, pushing him inexorably towards death.
He woke up in the body of a 16-year-old boy named Xiao Yao, an orphan captured by an evil sect to serve as a test subject for countless violent and cruel experiments. He had been transported to a totally different and mystical world, where immortal culture was an absolute reality, imbued with cruelty and disdain.
But the herb he had consumed in the cave had not abandoned him. It had traveled with him, imbuing his new body with unexpected immortality. Now, he was unable to die. This unexpected gift, born of despair, had transformed him, making him more powerful than ever in this world where only the ruthless laws of immortality reigned.
Cultivators use various techniques of meditation, martial arts, and alchemical practices to advance on their path. Mystical treasures, rare herbs, and powerful artifacts are often necessary to overcome obstacles and reach new levels.
Each major advancement is often accompanied by tribulations, heavenly tests that challenge the cultivator's determination and power. Only those who succeed in these trials can continue their path toward immortality.
The ultimate goal of cultivation is to achieve immortality, gaining powers that defy natural laws and allow for eternal life. Cultivators aspire to become divine beings, influencing the fate of worlds and galaxies.
But even the most powerful cultivator could not live forever; their maximum was thousands of years. They could not survive a decapitation. However, the herb I consumed allowed me to achieve the dream of all the world's cultivators: true immortality. I could no longer die, not even by means that would have once ended my life.
But this immortality turned out to be a curse. The evil sect, having discovered my uniqueness, had sealed me and subjected me to countless experiments, trying to uncover the secrets of my immortality.
They were clever enough to jealously guard this secret, even eliminating the one who had captured me, leaving only the high-ranking members of the sect aware of my existence. Every day, I endured unimaginable tortures, my body becoming the testing ground for their dark ambitions. The promise of immortality had turned into a never-ending nightmare.
Hundreds of years passed without the evil sect making any significant discoveries about my case. Over time, I had become numb, indifferent to the pain, apathetic towards my existence.
Then, an event changed everything. An orthodox sect discovered the base of my captors and launched a devastating attack, annihilating the wicked sect. In their assault, they found me, thinking I was just an unfortunate mortal captured, and freed me without suspecting my true nature.
Freed from my chains, I wandered the lands for thousands of years. I explored forgotten realms, uncovered ancient secrets, and delved into mystical arts. I learned the refining of rare materials, the alchemy of powerful elixirs, and the mastery of various formidable spells.
Each new skill broadened my knowledge and strengthened my power. I taught my wisdom to powerful individuals, forming a new generation of cultivators. I had become a legend, a mythical figure traversing the ages, sharing my expertise with the worthy and punishing the malevolent.
Of course, I spared no effort in trying to understand the reason for my arrival, the identity of that herb, and finding a way back to my homeland. Yet, I reaped nothing but failures, one after another.
But another incident occurred, marking a turning point in my life. I discovered that the celestial Dao, the will of heaven I thought as eternal as myself, began to break. This rupture spawned a calamity of unimaginable power, capable of uprooting all the foundations of the era.
I eventually became the only survivor of that epoch, a powerless witness to the deaths of my disciples, my companions, and my master, one by one. Their disappearance left an immense void and an indescribable pain, but I knew I had to move forward.
In the second epoch, I forged a Dao heart, an impregnable fortress of will and determination. This heart allowed me to extricate myself from emotions likely to disturb my cultivation. Thanks to this discipline, I transcended the most arduous trials, fortifying my soul and spirit to face the challenges ahead.
Xiao Yao walked further down the corridor, murmuring with a sigh, "This should be the fifth epoch... This sleep was a surprise to me... I hope this time, I will finally uncover the mysteries behind those abominations."
Remembering his vision of the past, Xiao Yao looked intrigued. He had every reason to be. These abominations were the first creatures he had encountered from a world outside the celestial Dao.
As Xiao Yao continued down this unchanging corridor that had traversed the ages with him, he reached his study chamber. This place was filled with precious memories. He particularly recalled the moments spent with one of his disciples, where he introduced her to the poetry of Earth. Those poetic moments created a harmonious resonance with the celestial Dao.
Remembering the happiness of that little girl, his face lit up with a smile. He remembered the gleam in her eyes every time he pronounced her name. The nostalgia of those lost moments warmed his heart, a sweet contrast to the coldness of his darker memories.
Xiao Yao moved towards the table and delicately picked up the scrolls. His fingers glided over the aged paper, and he began to read softly, losing himself in the timeless verses of poetry.
---
Before my bed, the moonlight is so bright,
I think it is frost on the ground.
I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon,
And then lower it, feeling homesick.
---
Sunlight penetrates the dense heart of the trees,
At sunset, the mountains glow like gardens.
Birds rise, calling in the valleys,
The spring breeze caresses, bringing bird songs.
---
The light rain falls on the spring pavilion,
A light boat crosses the green river.
The grass is thick and the swallow flies low,
At dusk, the poetry fills me with sadness.
Xiao Yao, with a gentle look, silently whispered, "These verses are windows into the human soul. Li Bai, with his 'Thoughts at Night,' expresses a deep longing for his homeland, using the moon as a symbol of his unwavering connection to the land he left behind. Wang Wei, in 'Spring Serenity,' captures the tranquility and harmony of nature, showing how landscapes can reflect an inner peace. Finally, Du Fu, in 'Evening Thoughts,' evokes a twilight melancholy, using rain and dusk to illustrate sadness and contemplation. Together, these poems reveal a profound connection between human emotions and the natural world, and a perpetual quest for meaning and comfort in the eternal cycles of life."