Myth Beyond Heaven

Rumble—

A sudden tremor cut Jian Feng off. The ground beneath them vibrated, sending small pebbles skittering across the stone.

All eyes turned toward the Garden of Lost Souls. The trees at its edge were wilting and regrowing at visible speed—an anomaly even for this place.

Lan Huiqian’s hand instinctively went to her sword. “Something’s wrong with the temporal flow…”

The Celestial Pavilion disciples gathered nervously as their elders conferred.

“Could it be Yun Lintian’s doing?” one disciple whispered.

Jian Feng sneered. “Impossible. That arrogant—”

“Enough.” Jian Kun’s quiet command silenced them all. The First Elder stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The Ruins of Forgotten Time are reacting to something. Whether it’s Yun Lintian or another force, we must be prepared.”

Lan Huiqian nodded. “The Temporal Palace’s opening may come sooner than expected. We should—”

BOOM!

A deafening explosion echoed from the Garden’s depths, followed by a pulse of silver light that momentarily froze the shifting trees in place.

Every cultivator present felt it—a ripple through the very fabric of time itself.

Jian Kun’s eyes narrowed. “That energy… it resembles the ancient records of the World Tree.”

Jian Feng immediately stood. “We should investigate! If Yun Lintian has found some treasure—”

“And walk into a temporal storm?” Lan Huiqian countered coldly. “Even True Gods would be torn apart.”

A tense silence fell.

Jian Kun finally spoke: “We wait for the palace. Whatever Yun Lintian has stirred up will either resolve itself… or force our hand.” His gaze lingered on the Garden’s distorted borders. “But mark my words—that man is no fool. If he entered that place alone, he has a plan.”

Jian Feng’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. The disciples exchanged uneasy glances as another tremor shook the earth.

The Temporal Palace’s gates, still weeks from their scheduled opening, began to glow faintly in the distance.

No one seemed to notice it as they paid attention to the forest instead…

***

**

*

Inside the chasm, time itself had gone mad.

Yun Lintian floated at the center of the maelstrom, his body flickering between past and future versions of himself. One moment he appeared as a child, the next as an old man—then back to his current form.

The silver seed in his hand pulsed violently, sending ripples through distorted space.

The serpent coiled protectively around its stone pillar, a shimmering barrier shielding Linlin, Qingqing, Yue Zhihe, and the others from the temporal chaos.

Qingqing tilted her head, her golden eyes wide with worry. “Auntie Snake… what’s happening to Big Brother Yun?”

The serpent’s gaze softened when looking at the two little ones—a stark contrast to its usual mocking tone. “He battles against time itself, little one. Though his Profound Vein of All Creation can refine any power in existence, even it struggles against something as primordial as time.”

Linlin’s ears perked up. “Profound Vein of All Creation? But… Big Brother Yun has the Beyond Heaven Profound Vein, created by Master Yun Wuhan…”

The serpent chuckled softly. “Child, do you truly believe even the God of Elements could craft something capable of refining time?”

Linlin’s eyes widened as realization struck… That was right. How could Yun Wuhan, the God of Element, create such a heaven-defying profound vein? She had never thought about this before.

Meanwhile, Zhou Xuan, Feng Yang, and the others were stunned as they seemed to have learned a top secret by accident…. Profound Vein of All Creations? What was that?

At this moment, the world around Yun Lintian shattered like glass.

One moment, he was floating in the temporal storm, the Seed of Time burning in his grasp. The next—

“Lintian! Focus!”

A familiar voice, sharp with authority.

Yun Lintian’s eyes snapped open.

He stood in a sunlit courtyard, the scent of blooming spiritual herbs thick in the air. Before him, a tall man with stern features and piercing eyes—Yun Wuhan—crossed his arms.

“Again,” his father commanded. “Channel the energy through your meridians, not against them.”

To his side, Yun Wushuang smiled gently, her hair shimmering in the light. “Don’t be too hard on him, Wuhan. He’s improving.”

Yun Lintian’s breath caught.

This… this is the past.

He was young again—barely fifteen, his cultivation still in its infancy. His parents, alive and whole, stood before him.

A lump formed in his throat.

He hadn’t seen them in centuries.

Yun Wuhan frowned. “What’s wrong? Why are you staring like that?”

Yun Lintian opened his mouth, but no words came. How could he explain? That he came from a different timeline?

Yun Wushuang’s smile faded. She stepped forward, pressing a cool hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her touch was real. Warm.

Yun Lintian’s vision blurred.

He had dreamed of this moment a thousand times.

“…No,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”

Yun Wuhan grunted. “Then stop wasting time. The clan tournament is in three months. If you want to prove yourself, you can’t afford to slack off.”

Yun Lintian clenched his fists.

Right.

The tournament.

The last memory he had of his father before everything went wrong.

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll do better.”

Days passed in a blur.

Yun Lintian trained under his father’s guidance, savoring every moment. He memorized the lines on Yun Wuhan’s face, the cadence of his mother’s laughter. He knew this wouldn’t last.

And then—

The world shifted.

The courtyard vanished.

He stood now in a desolate graveyard, rain lashing against his face.

Before him, a simple stone marker—My beloved father, Yun Wuhan.

The grief hit like a blade to the chest.

Yun Lintian fell to his knees, mud soaking his robes.

“I failed you,” he whispered.

The memory of his father’s death played in his mind—the ambush, the betrayal, the way Yun Wuhan had shoved him to safety before the enemy killed him.

“Live, Lintian. Live and defy them all.”

His fists clenched.

“I will avenge you.”

The rain turned to ash.

The graveyard melted away.

Now, he stood atop a broken throne, the sky above a sickly crimson. The land stretched barren in every direction, littered with bones and shattered weapons.

This was the future.

His future.

The world he had saved—but at what cost?

His fingers brushed the hilt of a rusted sword embedded in the throne. The last remnant of a comrade long gone.

“Was it worth it?”

The voice came from behind.

Yun Lintian turned.

Three figures stood before him.

The young disciple from the Yun Clan.

The grieving son at his father’s grave.

The broken ruler of a ruined world.

Each was him.

Each asked the same question with their eyes.

“Would you choose differently?”