Beneath a forest that had forgotten the sun, the last of the old powers gathered beside a lake of glass. For ten thousand years, the world had turned against them. Spirit towers rose into the heavens, human cultivators reached ever closer to the divine, and the ancient beast tribes dwindled into whispered legends. What remained of them stood in the shadow of Star Dou Forest, the final sanctuary of creatures who had once ruled the earth. The Beast God had no kingdom left to rule. His name was only a ghost of former majesty, carried on the breath of dying souls. Around him stood the last lords of the beast clans, their forms shifting between human shape and monstrous might, their eyes heavy with fear and fury. Then the lake began to tremble. A sound rolled through the roots of the world—not the march of human armies, not the clang of Spirit Pagoda bells, but something far older. A voice, muffled and vast, echoed through the forest. It spoke only one word. Finished. In that instant, the Beast God lifted his head, and for the first time in centuries, despair vanished from his eyes. What followed was not hope, but something far more dangerous: prophecy. The age of humanity had built its thrones upon the bones of the beast clans. But deep beneath the forbidden forest, something was awakening. Something that could unmake empires, shatter the heavens, and rewrite the laws of cultivation itself. The Dragon King was stirring. And when he rose, the world would either bow… or burn.
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