Have you heard my story

When traveling abroad, Chen Yi never changed his name or identity, as he feared no challenge. However, he did tweak his origins slightly to avoid unwanted attention.

Buzz~

The void trembled faintly.

A jade-white staircase extended from the palace at the center of the lake, reaching right up to Chen Yi.

"Come in together."

Chen Yi strode forward without hesitation, having already prepared to sacrifice thirty-six of his avatars if necessary.

Dai Yuanshan and Liu Bi exchanged a glance before following him up the steps.

As they reached the palace, Dai Yuanshan’s gaze immediately landed on the fragrant elder sister who had once inked his tattoos. She stood at the entrance, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

In an instant, guilt washed over him, and he lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze.

He had no idea how powerful this elder sister was, but he had brought this equally unfathomable outsider here—making him nothing short of a traitor. How could he face her now?

Strangely, even Liu Bi, who had never met her before, felt an inexplicable pang of remorse.

Why?

He didn’t even know her, so why did he feel like a child caught misbehaving before a parent?

But his parents had passed away long ago.

Why were these long-buried memories resurfacing to torment him now?

"Children, this isn’t your fault," the elder sister murmured gently, soothing the turmoil in their hearts.

She was the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao, the Mother of All Beings—though an unworthy one, having allowed suffering to persist. How could she bear to chastise these two chosen ones?

"You seem incomplete, and so does this world," Chen Yi observed calmly. "I’m curious—what catastrophe reduced it to this state?"

Indeed, the Heavenly Dao’s rank remained lofty despite its fragmentation, making it nearly unshakable.

Had Chen Yi relied solely on his preconceptions of the Heavenly Dao, he might have reflexively imagined it as a mere cat.

But something was off.

The Heavenly Dao was formless, capable of manifesting in any guise its observers envisioned. So why had it chosen this peerlessly elegant form and remained unchanged?

"I don’t remember," she admitted with a shrug. "As you’ve noticed, I’m just a fragment—one of nine, to be precise. What mortals call the Heavenly Keys of the Divine Realm."

"Oh?" Chen Yi’s brows arched. "So this was once the Divine Realm, not the so-called Realm of Calamity?"

She nodded. "It was indeed the Divine Realm once. Now, it’s been renamed the Realm of Calamity."

Chen Yi: "..."

Are you messing with me?

What he wanted to know was why it had fallen. Had she truly forgotten everything?

Seeming to sense his frustration, she added, "The events behind its collapse are lost to me. Only by gathering all nine Heavenly Keys will the truth be revealed."

"And you, Chen Yi—the Tribulation Sovereign of the Purple Star Continent—I’ve been waiting for you."

His heart lurched, though his expression remained unreadable. "You’ve heard of me?"

She shook her head and summoned a stone tablet. "No. But long ago, another came here—a man of immense power. He stabilized the collapsing spacetime, allowing me to restart the cycle..."

"Alas, he didn’t stay. Like a fleeting comet, he scattered seeds of hope across this darkened realm before vanishing."

"This tablet is his only legacy. He said that one day, a man named Chen Yi would arrive, and I was to give it to you. All your questions would be answered."

Chen Yi’s frown deepened, his mind reeling.

What kind of joke is this?

Someone had predicted his actions centuries in advance?

And left behind an artifact to explain things?

How overpowered is that?!

Even Lingxiao Wuji and his ilk couldn’t pull off such a feat.

If this guy was so formidable, why wasn’t he the Celestial Emperor?

Steeling himself, Chen Yi focused intently on the tablet.

At first glance, it was utterly ordinary—smooth, unmarked, flawless.

But perfection itself was suspicious.

An average cultivator might miss the trick, but Chen Yi was no amateur. Exploiting loopholes was his specialty.

"A test, huh?"

After a long scrutiny revealed nothing, he smirked coldly—then dissolved twenty-six of his Chaos Pearls within his avatar.

Originally, he’d restrained himself to a one-star avatar to avoid destabilizing this fragile realm. But here, within this fortified pocket of the Heavenly Dao, he could cut loose.

In an instant, his aura surged, his avatar now a four-star Chaos entity.

And at last, the "flawless" tablet betrayed a hairline crack.

Without hesitation, Chen Yi honed his divine sense into a needle and slipped it inside.

The real answers lay beyond.

Past an indigo-tinged curtain of chaos, countless starlike motes converged, forming a celestial bridge before his projected spirit.

Each mote pulsed with profound Dao rhythms—closer inspection revealed entire divine kingdoms within, teeming with minuscule worshippers. Their reverent hymns echoed faintly, a blend of sacred chants and insectile whispers.

"Oho? Fancy setup. Let’s see what’s really going on."

His spirit marched up the bridge, ascending into the mist-wreathed unknown.

Soon, he reached an ethereal platform.

At its center stood a towering figure, back turned.

"You’ve finally arrived."

The voice seemed to drift from beyond the heavens.

Yet the figure remained motionless.

Chen Yi wasn’t one for formalities.

"Turn around," he commanded. "Look me in the eye."