The wind howled across the ruins of Mount Sheng as Mingyao stood before the altar of Threads. Veins of silver light pulsed through the ancient stone, and the sky overhead shimmered with fractured stars, as if the heavens themselves awaited judgment.
Behind him, the world trembled. Heaven, the demon lands, the mortal realm—all groaned under the weight of unraveling fate.
Beside him, the ancient spirit Shiye spoke softly. "If you step through, the Loom will judge you. And it does not lie."
"I'm not here to claim fate," Mingyao said. "I'm here to stop it from collapsing."
"Intent is not enough. Even a blade meant for justice can kill the wrong soul."
Mingyao gave a small, bitter smile. "Then let the Loom decide if I deserve to hold it."
He stepped forward—and the altar shattered beneath him.
Darkness swallowed the world.
---
He stood in a void filled with woven starlight—threads of fate stretching in all directions. Some hummed with power. Others frayed and snapped, drifting into oblivion.
A chorus echoed across the expanse.
"Mingyao, child of two suns. Do you seek the Loom?"
He nodded once, heart pounding. "I seek to mend what was broken."
"To mend is to choose. And choice always wounds. You will be tested."
From the depths of the void emerged three towering figures—faceless and radiant, cloaked in celestial silk and shadow. The Loom's Guardians—the weavers of reality's first pattern.
"Three trials. Three threads. Pass them, and the Loom may accept you. Fail, and all you are shall unravel."
Mingyao clenched his fists. "So be it."
---
First Trial: Resolve
The void melted into fire and blood.
A burning village.
Flames licked the skies. Demons surged through smoke-choked streets. Screams tore through the air.
He recognized this place—he had passed through it moons ago, helping a child escape.
Now, in this illusion, the scene twisted.
A young boy cried for help, reaching from the flames.
And Yanshi—his companion—lay crushed beneath a fallen beam, unconscious, bleeding.
A voice rang out.
"Only one may be saved."
Mingyao stood frozen. "No…"
"This is the Loom. This is fate. One thread for another."
He bolted toward the child—but fire exploded, forcing him back.
He turned toward Yanshi—but shadow hands dragged her deeper into debris.
"NO!" he roared. Power surged in his chest, but the rules were clear. Choose—or both perish.
He refused.
Instead, he screamed, unleashing a storm of divine fire that shattered the illusion itself.
Smoke became stardust.
The Guardians' voices returned.
"You held your resolve. You did not surrender your will to the cruelty of choice. First thread: passed."
---
Second Trial: Morality
Now he stood in a silver chamber. Floating in the center, chained and blindfolded, was Mosha—the god he had killed. Brother in blood. Killer of his beloved, Lianhua.
"Is this redemption?" Mingyao asked.
"It is temptation," the Guardians replied. "He can be revived. Would you allow it?"
Mosha stirred. His voice was full of venom. "Let me out, brother. I will kill you again. And again."
Mingyao stepped back, heart pounding.
The voice pressed. "To control the Loom means deciding what lives. Would you let your enemy live, knowing what he is?"
Mingyao whispered, "I would not bring him back—not from guilt, not from pity. I won't doom another life just to soothe my doubt."
Mosha screamed—and vanished.
"You understand that mercy without wisdom becomes madness. Second thread: passed."
---
Third Trial: Identity
He was in a mirror world—black sky, red moon.
And across from him stood himself. But twisted.
This Mingyao was cloaked in dark fire. His eyes burned crimson. A halo of broken godhood hovered above him.
"I am what you would be if you took everything," the double said. "No regrets. No fear. Pure power."
Mingyao scowled. "That's not strength. That's surrender."
Dark Mingyao laughed. "You think you're better because you suffer? You stumble while people die. I could end this war in a blink."
They fought.
The clash cracked the false world—fire, shadow, memory. They were evenly matched, but Mingyao struck with something the shadow lacked: restraint.
He disarmed his double, but did not kill him.
"I choose who I am. Every day. I won't become you."
The shadow dissolved into sparks.
"You have chosen the thread of your truth. Third trial: passed."
---
The Loom appeared before him—an eternal spindle of light and shadow, its threads whispering in all tongues.
Mingyao stepped forward.
But something dark slithered across the threads.
The Guardians cried out.
"Corruption!"
From the shadows, someone stepped through the breach.
Mingyao's heart stopped.
Liuxian.
His friend. His protector. His sword.
"No…" Mingyao whispered. "You were with me."
Liuxian's eyes glinted. "And I still am. But I serve the Balance first."
"You followed me into the trials?"
"You were never meant to reach the Loom. If you take it, you risk unmaking everything."
"I passed."
"That's what terrifies me."
Liuxian unsheathed his blade.
---
Their battle was furious, celestial steel against elemental fire.
They clashed across starlight and thread. Each blow risked snapping a life, severing history.
"You don't have to do this!" Mingyao cried.
Liuxian's face twisted in pain. "The others are coming. Nüxi… the Celestial Triumvirate… they'll erase you. I can't stop them, but maybe I can delay the end."
He pierced forward—but halted an inch from Mingyao's chest.
Silence.
Then he lowered his blade.
"I believe in you, damn it. Even if I can't stop them."
The shadows around the Loom faded—but the stain remained.
The Guardians whispered with ancient sorrow.
"The trials are passed. But now the Loom is wounded. If left to fester… fate will rot."
Mingyao placed a hand on the spindle.
The threads warmed beneath his touch.
"I'll find the corruption. I'll restore it."
The Loom pulsed—accepting him.
But somewhere beyond the realms… something smiled in the dark.
---