Chapter 1: The forsaken
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The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the barren wastelands of the Mortal Realm. Dust swirled in the wind, and the air was thick with the scent of decay. Here, amidst the ruins of a once-great kingdom, there was no sound but the relentless howling of the wind. This place was forgotten by time—a land where even the gods had ceased to tread.
And yet, in this forsaken land, a figure moved with determination.
Jian Xuan, the forsaken cultivator, walked alone.
His robes were torn and dirty, his once-pristine sword now dull and rusted. His face, angular and handsome, was marred with the marks of many battles. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights, and a heavy weight hung on his chest—one that no amount of strength could relieve. He had no family, no sect, and no allies, only the singular goal that had burned in his heart for years: revenge.
The Celestial Star, the mark of the Chosen, had been denied him at birth, and that single, unforgivable flaw had condemned him to a life of rejection and scorn. Heaven's Will had decreed that he should be cast aside, that he was unworthy of the great power that was reserved only for those deemed fit by the gods.
And so, he had been forsaken.
The winds howled louder, as if mocking him. In this wasteland, the Forsaken were nothing but whispers. Forgotten by the divine, abandoned by fate. But Jian Xuan was different. He could not accept this fate.
A faint glimmer of light broke through the clouds above, catching his attention. He looked up, his gaze piercing the heavens.
"There is a way," he muttered to himself. "There must be."
The words felt hollow, an echo of a distant memory—a time before the bitterness of exile had consumed him. There was a story, a myth, about the Forsaken Sect, a group of rebels who defied the gods and their preordained destinies. Legends whispered that they had the power to challenge Heaven's Will itself, to rewrite fate.
And Jian Xuan had spent the last three years searching for them.
The wind died down, and the faint glimmer in the sky grew brighter. A flicker of recognition flashed in Jian Xuan's eyes.
"There," he said, his voice steady, resolute. "I've found it."
In the distance, a massive stone structure loomed, its silhouette stark against the setting sun. An ancient temple, half-buried in the sands of time. The Forgotten Path, a place where all forsaken destinies went to die. Yet, for those like him, it was a place of rebirth.
He began to walk faster, his pace quickening with every step.
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Hours later, Jian Xuan arrived at the temple's entrance. The stone door was cracked and worn with age, covered in strange runes that seemed to pulse with an eerie, otherworldly energy. He placed his hand on the cold surface, and the moment his fingers made contact, the runes flared to life, casting a pale light around him.
Jian Xuan took a deep breath. His heart raced in anticipation.
He had heard the rumors—the Forsaken Sect was not easily found, not even by those who had the courage to search for it. It was a place that could only be reached by those who had truly forsaken their old selves, those who had rejected fate in its entirety.
It was said that only those who had suffered the greatest loss could enter.
With a deep breath, Jian Xuan pushed the door open. The ancient wood groaned in protest as the door swung inward, revealing the interior of the temple.
A sense of foreboding filled the air.
The temple was vast, its interior dimly lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls. Strange markings covered every surface, shifting and changing as if alive. The air was thick with the scent of incense, a smell that stung Jian Xuan's senses as soon as he stepped inside.
He walked deeper into the temple, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
Suddenly, a voice—low, but clear—broke the stillness.
"You have come, Forsaken One."
Jian Xuan froze. The voice was not human, not even mortal. It sounded as if it came from the very walls themselves, from the depths of the temple.
A figure stepped from the shadows, cloaked in black, their face obscured by a hood. The figure's presence was overwhelming, a sense of power radiating from them.
"You seek the Forsaken Sect, do you not?" The voice was deep, filled with an unsettling calm.
Jian Xuan narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he demanded, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.
The figure did not flinch, merely tilted their head slightly, as if amused. "I am no one. I am the past, the future, and the eternal now. I am what remains of those who dared to defy fate."
Jian Xuan's grip on his sword tightened, but he did not draw it. "Are you one of the Forsaken?"
The figure nodded. "I am the last of them. The last to remember the old ways, to remember those who dared to defy the heavens and carve their own path. The Forsaken Sect is long gone, forsaken by the gods. But those of us who still remain… we are the keepers of forgotten truths."
Jian Xuan took a step forward. **"I'm here because I have a question—a question that burns in my soul. What is the way to break Heaven's Will? How can I destroy fate itself?"
The figure stepped closer, their presence towering. **"Ah, so you have come to the heart of the Forbidden Path, then. You seek to unmake the very fabric of the universe. But understand this, Forsaken One—to break fate, you must first become it."
Jian Xuan's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
The figure raised a hand, and the room seemed to shift around them. The walls seemed to melt away, revealing visions of a distant world, where gods ruled unchallenged and destinies were written by unseen hands.
"To break Heaven's Will," the figure intoned, "you must be willing to replace it. To destroy fate, you must take its place. And that, Forsaken One, is the price of true freedom."
Jian Xuan's eyes widened. "You mean…"
"Yes," the figure said, their voice cold and final. "You will either break the chains of fate and lead the world into chaos, or you will become its master, rewriting the laws of destiny as you see fit. But beware, Forsaken One, for the cost of such power is greater than you can imagine."
Jian Xuan felt his heart race. "I'm ready. I will pay any price to change my fate."
The figure nodded slowly. "Then you must prove it. Prove that you are willing to embrace the burden of the gods. Only then will you be granted the power you seek."
The vision faded, and Jian Xuan was left standing alone in the cold, dimly lit temple. But now, for the first time in his life, he could feel the weight of his choice.
He was no longer a Forsaken cultivator.
He was a god in the making.
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End of Chapter 1.