Chapter 1: The Bitter Pursuit

In the vast, endless skies, where time itself bends and shatters under the weight of eternity, there stood a figure—an Immortal, untouched by time, unbothered by the fleeting conflicts of mortal beings.

The Immortal's name was Wei Zhen. A being that had transcended the concept of good and evil, an existence so far beyond mortal understanding that even the brightest of gods and the deepest of demons trembled at its mention. For Wei Zhen, there was only the Dao—nothing more, nothing less.

No longer concerned with the trivial struggles of the world, Wei Zhen had long ago abandoned the thoughts of morality. What was good, what was evil? Such questions were for those still shackled by the bounds of time. Immortals, in their pursuit of the Dao, were beyond these primitive concepts. They were the ones who watched, unaffected, as the fleeting lives of others played out like the movements of ants. In the grand scheme of things, all beings were dogs—worth nothing more than the fleeting life they clung to.

In the halls of the Heavenly Sect, there were whispers of Wei Zhen's return. It had been a millennium since anyone had seen the Immortal. But now, he stood before the sacred altar, staring at the flickering flame of existence. The altar was ancient, its stone carved with countless names of those who had once dared disturb the Immortal’s Dao.

"Do you feel the urge to stop me?" Wei Zhen’s voice echoed in the cold, empty chamber.

A figure stepped from the shadows—an old man draped in robes of silver, the High Elder of the Heavenly Sect.

"Wei Zhen, you have returned," the Elder’s voice was soft, but laced with a deep, unwavering authority. "You know the rules of the Sect. You cannot simply walk in and—"

"You speak of rules," Wei Zhen interrupted, his voice indifferent, as if it held no weight. "These rules are the chains of mortals. You live in a world defined by them, but I no longer care."

The Elder stiffened, sensing the vast gulf between them. His eyes glimmered with a hint of fear. "But there must be a line between right and wrong. Even for an Immortal."

Wei Zhen's expression remained cold, his eyes narrowing with the same bitter resolve that had shaped his eternal existence.

"Right and wrong are fleeting notions," Wei Zhen replied. "In the endless cycle of time, they are mere illusions, born of the ignorant minds of mortals. I do not care for them. I care only for my Dao. And if anyone, be they friend or foe, dares disturb my path, they will know nothing but destruction."

The Immortal’s hand lifted, fingers tracing the air with a motion so subtle, it seemed like the wind itself had bent to his will. The Elder’s face went pale as the ground beneath them began to shake, as if the very essence of the world was being torn asunder.

"I have learned from time’s lessons," Wei Zhen continued, his tone never changing. "Mortals die. Gods fall. But the Dao endures."

The Elder’s eyes widened in realization, fear giving way to despair. He dropped to his knees, hands trembling as they reached for the stone altar.

"You... You cannot..." His voice faltered, but his words were drowned out by the overwhelming presence that radiated from Wei Zhen.

"Whoever disturbs my Dao," Wei Zhen's voice thundered like the crack of lightning, "will meet their karma. You, a mere mortal, will not escape its reach. You are nothing."

With that, the Elder's form crumbled, reduced to dust in the blink of an eye. The once-strong figure was nothing more than ashes, scattered by the wind, his soul forever severed from the world.

Wei Zhen stood in silence, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The storm that had stirred within the Sect’s walls had settled, leaving only a sense of unshakable stillness in its wake. He did not feel satisfaction nor sorrow. It was of no consequence.

This was the Dao he had chosen—a path of ruthless inevitability, where even the strongest could be crushed without mercy. There was no place for weakness or compassion in his world. The world of mortals was but a fleeting moment, and to an Immortal, their struggles meant nothing.

Wei Zhen turned his back to the Sect, stepping into the unknown. His quest would never end. He would continue his pursuit of the Dao, for it was the only truth that remained in the face of eternity.

And to anyone who dared stand in his way—good or evil—they would be reduced to nothing more than ashes.

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