The sky is ink-black, and a heavy sense of oppression falls from the nine heavens, as if an invisible giant hand is choking the throat of all things. He stands alone at the absolute peak of the world, the shattered battle flag fluttering behind him, the only relic left by countless fallen comrades.

The long sword in his hand is called “Reverse Scale,” its blade gathering the last bit of starlight, futilely resisting the ancient darkness. He remembers that the sky was once a deep blue, and the sunlight once warmed the earth. Until that day, the so-called “Heaven’s Way” manifested, treating all things as pawns, establishing a cold order, draining the spiritual energy from the land, extinguishing the fires of humanity, and crushing rebels into dust.

The blood of his comrades soaks the ground beneath his feet, tears of loved ones freeze into ice crystals in the cold wind. Despair floods over every survivor like a tide, but it has not drowned the fire in his heart. That is not hope; hope is too extravagant. It is resolve—resolve to leave scars even if it means burning everything to the ground.

“If Heaven intends to destroy me, then I shall defy Heaven!” A hoarse roar escapes his throat, more thunderous than lightning and more shocking to the soul. He raises his head, his gaze like two blades of tempered steel, stabbing into the bottomless source of darkness. “Rules are made by you, life and death are controlled by you? Why!”

His body begins to burn—not flames, but his final life essence, the unfulfilled will of countless departed souls, the remaining unyielding cry from deep within the earth. They converge into a towering pillar of light, tearing apart the heavy night.

The “Reverse Scale” sword emits a dragon-like tremor, merging with him into one. No complex moves, no earth-shattering titles, only the simplest, purest strike—a single slash embodying all his existence—aimed unhesitatingly at the highest core of “Heaven”!

“Let me cut open this sky!”

Where the blade touches, darkness begins to shatter like glazed glass, emitting a mournful wail that makes one’s teeth ache. A beam of light, a long-lost, warm yet dazzling light, pours down from the crack. He smiles, his body beginning to dissipate in the glow. He knows this sword may not kill “Heaven,” but it will surely tear through this suffocating night, allowing future generations to see that the sky above is not an eternal, unchallengeable realm.

The crack widens, the light surges forward. A new legend perhaps begins with this rebellious, yet earth-shattering sword. #内容挖矿焕新公测开启