And then… you must find the courage to say: It was never enough.”
— Thal’Zir, the Forgotten One
Thal’Zir did not live.
He remembered.
Each breath he took in the void beneath the ash-black tree was a memory of the world before the gods rose — a time when souls wandered freely, unshackled by the Celestial Mandate or golden laws carved into fate.
His throne, the Sixty-Seventh, was not sanctioned. It was condemned.
And now, as Li Fan sat beside him, learning the truth that history had buried, the skies themselves trembled.
“The Divine Chain,” Thal’Zir began, “binds the power of ascension to rules.
You grow strong not because of your will — but because the system lets you.”
He held up a fragment of celestial jade — it cracked and wept blood.
“I broke the Chain once. They called it heresy.
So they erased my name. Banished me here.”
Li Fan's eyes narrowed.
“Why not destroy the system then?”
Thal’Zir smiled.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Because you cannot kill a cage with a sword. You must convince the prisoner it is not home.”
Thal’Zir opened a gate of memory — not a portal, but a living scar. Through it, Li Fan witnessed:
- The birth of the first Immortal Emperor, who rose not from merit, but from blood sacrifice — an entire sect drained to empower one soul.
- The Heaven Encompassing Court, plotting which mortals should be allowed to ascend — and which should fall.
- The Trial of the Pathless, where cultivators like Li Fan were condemned for refusing to take on Heavenly Fate Brands.
He saw visions of himself — in other timelines — where he bowed to the heavens, where he wore the crown of the empire, where he became just another tyrant made immortal.
Li Fan’s fist clenched.
“All this… for control.”
“Ascension,” Thal’Zir whispered, “was never meant to be a ladder. It was a fire.
But they built it into a staircase. And made you pay for each step.”
As the visions faded, the old god rose.
“Now you know. The system is a lie — not entirely false, but chained, limited, a cage around a truth too vast for the gods to wield.”
He stepped forward, and the tree behind him bloomed — not with leaves, but with names. Each name a soul that died trying to break free.
“You can return,” Thal’Zir said, “take their trials, wear their golden robes, and become like them.”
“Or...”
Li Fan did not wait.
He stepped to the base of the throne. Not to sit — but to burn it.
And the names on the tree burst into light, scattering across the skies.
The gods, far above, felt it — a true choice had been made.
A cultivator had chosen not the heavens…
…but the path beyond.