A Tale of the Immortals' Fall

  The father and sons looked at each other, their minds still struggling to grasp what had just occurred. The weight of the experience pressed heavily upon them, yet it was Li Heng who finally broke the silence.

  He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice carrying the wisdom of past generations.

  "I think… this is the work of the Immortals."

  Li Yuntai and Li Xun remained silent, their eyes fixed on their father, waiting for him to continue.

  Li Heng’s gaze turned distant, as though he was recalling a story buried deep in time.

  "I once heard a tale from my grandfather… a story from an era long before our time. He said that thousands of years ago, Immortals truly walked the land, and their presence filled the skies. They flew above the mountains, their robes fluttering like celestial clouds, and their blessings graced the earth. Mortals would burn incense, offering prayers in hopes of longevity, fortune, and enlightenment."

  The flickering oil lamp cast shadows across the dimly lit room, making the old man's face appear even more solemn.

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  "But then… everything changed.

  The sky began to fall."

  Yuntai and Xun inhaled sharply, their eyes widening.

  "The heavens shook, and from above, Immortals and Demons alike plummeted to the earth like falling stars. The very sky that once held them in glory became their grave. My grandfather said that during those dark times, the rivers and seas ran red—not with the blood of men, but with the blood of Immortals, Demons, and even Gods. Their corpses, some as large as mountains, reshaped the land itself. It was said that entire peaks were formed from their remains, and valleys from the craters of their battles."

  Li Heng’s voice lowered, almost to a whisper.

  "Then, one day, they vanished.

  The Immortals disappeared from the heavens and the earth."

  A deep silence settled in the room.

  "The elders say it was because Heaven was angered. That the gods themselves wiped away the Immortals, sealing them away from the mortal realm forever."

  Yuntai frowned, his heart pounding. "But… how could mortals know what Heaven thinks?"

  Li Heng nodded. "Exactly. That is why I never truly believed that part of the tale. But one thing my grandfather always insisted on was this—"

  He looked at both of his sons with a grave expression.

  "Most of the mortal dynasties that rule today… were once connected to the Immortals before they vanished."

  A chill ran down Yuntai and Xun’s spines. If that were true, then the blood of Immortals might still exist in the world—hidden, diluted, waiting.

  Inside the box monument, Guo Chenwei listened.

  From his dark, mist-like existence, his form shifted, trembled.

  His thoughts surged like a storm.

  “So that’s what happened?”

  He had long suspected that the world he found himself in was once ruled by higher beings. But to hear that they fell… that the heavens themselves may have erased them…

  It was a truth far more terrifying than he could have imagined.

  And yet…

  The box—the very thing binding him—was still here.

  It had survived when the Immortals had not.

  Why?

  As Li Heng and his sons sat in the dim light, pondering the weight of the ancient past—

  Inside the box, Guo Chenwei felt something shift.

  Something inside the monument stirred.