At the very instant when the white-robed figure, crowned in supreme Dao might, stretched forth his hand toward the infant —the heavens fell still.

  The past shivered. The present faltered. The future hesitated.

  Time itself, that which governs all cause and effect, was frozen at the precipice of an unspeakable change.

  And then—from the endless void beyond comprehension, the fabric of existence quivered.

  Without sign, without omen, a black-robed figure stepped forth.

  He was neither of heaven nor earth, neither of yin nor yang, neither living nor dead.

  He simply was.

  In that moment, all colors drained from the world. All Dao melodies fell silent. Even the Boundless Dao of Infinite Samsara recoiled, as if a primordial terror had returned.

  The white-robed youth, who could command the laws of creation with but a stroke of his brush, shuddered from the depths of his true spirit.

  In the unknowable abyss behind the black-robed figure, there loomed the reflection of endless deaths and countless births—a cycle even samsara dared not contain.

  Before the white-robed youth could withdraw—the black-robed figure lifted his head slightly.

  A single glance.

  No strikes were exchanged. No techniques unfurled. Only a glance.

  And with that glance—the white-robed youth was erased from the tapestry of existence.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  The past, in which he once lived—gone. The present, which he occupied—empty. The future, where his shadow might have tread—obliterated. Even the nascent parallel timeline collapsed into dust before it could take form.

  The black-robed figure did not pursue. He simply lowered his unseen gaze toward the present world, toward the tiny form of the new born child.

  Although no features could be discerned, an eerie and indescribable familiarity wove itself into existence—as though this being and child were but two halves of an unspeakable whole.

  When that gaze brushed the world—the entire River of Time ruptured.

  Illusions shattered, Daos wept, the heavens cracked, and myriad stars dimmed.

  The vision, unable to withstand the pressure of that single glance, burst apart, scattering the fragments of reality across unseen dimensions.

  In that collapse, the world was freed from its frozen state, and time, once again, began to flow.

  The supreme existences, hidden across the realms, those who could shift epochs and dance upon laws—fell into utter silence.

  A nameless fear rooted itself in their Dao hearts, as if they had just glimpsed a calamity that not even the heavens could endure.

  What kind of being had descended into the mortal world…?

  Amidst the collapsing fragments of the Long River of Time, a single radiance stood unbroken.

  Child’s True Body, condensed from endless samsara and tempered by untold eons, floated down like a divine star.

  Without hindrance, it merged into the tiny vessel of his mortal frame.

  And in that sacred moment—

  The infant, whose presence until now had been but a whisper, opened his eyes.

  Within those new born pupils, there lay neither innocence nor confusion—only a boundless, ancient clarity.

  The past, the present, the future—countless Daos and karmic rivers—all bowed in reverence.

  The raging storms across the Boundless Dao of Infinite Samsara stilled. The countless laws and cosmic rivers, entangled by cause and effect, resumed their courses in silent obedience.

  The heavens exhaled. The myriad worlds sighed in relief.

  It was as if with the mere opening of his eyes, He had mended the ruptured seams of existence itself.

  Thus was the beginning of an existence veiled in mystery—a path that would one day stretch beyond even the heavens' comprehension, and stand beyond the endless samsara that governed all.