Present Time. Astral Palace, Location Unknown.
The hum of the [Memory Fueled Throne] resonated through the empty hall, pulsing with faint jade light as though it breathed the stories it consumed. Seated upon it, the man cloaked in arcs of lightning leaned back, his face obscured, his words carrying the weight of countless lives.
"Names," he murmured, his tone sharp, almost mocking. "Bai Qi, Wu Guang, Chen Guang, Qiu Shandian. They speak of legacy, of power... but they lie."
The throne shuddered faintly, its jade light casting fleeting shadows that twisted like phantoms of the past.
"Bai Qi was no saint, nor was he the invincible [White Scroll Immortal] they whisper of. He was a scholar, a leader of a superior-tier plane. Yet for all his brilliance, treason cut deeper than any blade." His voice grew quieter, edged with bitterness. "The leaders of the [Forests], whom he trusted most, turned against him. Their betrayal forced his (my) hand, and he (I) turned to the forbidden—the rebirth technique, a last resort for cowards and visionaries alike."
The jade light grew dimmer, revealing fragments of a celestial plane consumed by betrayal.
"The price was steep. The body was lost, and a soul was cast adrift along the [Astral Road]. Even after a plane with no actual qi, and dozens of years spent in travel, the choice of vessel was no choice at all—Wu Guang, a lifeless mortal, the nearest any soul could cling to. But even that reprieve came with... complications."
Behind the throne, a shadow loomed—vivid yet monstrous, radiating a regal, infernal presence.
"Kui Mulang," The man spat, the name dripping with a mix of disdain and respect. "A demon emperor, a force too vast and ancient for mortals to comprehend, had claimed Wu Guang’s soul as his own. When the actual Bai Qi arrived, he didn't even notice him there, a predator coiled in the body he took over."
The lightning arcs flickered erratically as the man paused, the jade throne’s hum intensifying.
"It wasn’t a battle of strength—Kui Mulang’s will far outweighed Bai Qi's, no matter his strength and Wu Guang’s shattered psyche had no defense. It was a battle of emotions, of patience, of coexistence. Even if most of the time Bai Qi's rational manner worked out, making his newly acquired body and personage act as he devised, he also lost a couple of times, releasing both the absolute rage of Kui Mulang and Wu Guang's timidity.
Still, as the cultivation advanced, the demon and the main being reached an uneasy accord. Wu Guang... became something of a tether, the thread between the conflicting natures. A bridge, frail but necessary."
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The shadows rippled, and for a moment, the throne projected a memory—three figures entwined, two vast and imposing, one faint but unyielding.
"Together, they became something neither could have planned," he continued, his voice soft but heavy. "An amalgamation, not by design but by necessity. Bai Qi’s mind took the reins, but it was no longer the scholar, the immortal, the betrayed. All of his new self was a fragment of each—a mix of the demon’s ambition, the mortal’s faint humanity, and even his own ruined will. And even that fragile unity wasn’t enough."
The jade light flickered, images forming of a chaotic city, a battle fought with desperation rather than precision.
"The city... The escape," he murmured, almost to himself. "It could have been different. But it wasn’t. Decisions made in the heat of actual danger, or failure as Bai Qi cataloged it, gave birth to Qiu Shandian, a being left with nothing but his mind and the will to endure. Bai Qi, Kui Mulang, and Wu Guang—all their convictions failing except for an actual escape. Even the [Lord of Everything] that Bai Qi cultivated, at that moment being nothing but [Lord of Few], did not resonate at all. But Qiu Shandian... he endured."
The throne hummed louder now, conjuring fragments of faces—some vivid, others obscured.
"To endure was all they could offer them," he said, his voice shifting to regret. "The comrades of Wu Guang’s [Seven Island Plane], lives I now swore to protect. The allies of Chen Guang in the [Black Empire], whose scheming I can now tolerate because I owe them his life. The [White Tiger] sisters, who stood with Bai Qi when his strength faltered. Ma Su, the reformed bandit who would have sacrificed herself without hesitation. Even Chun Hua..."
The light dimmed, the mention of the [Astral Devourer] hanging in the air like a star veiled in shadow.
"She followed each of the names or, actually, lives. Not as a companion or friend, but as a force—a constant reminder of what Bai Qi, in his different personas, once sought to control."
He leaned forward, his lightning-cloaked form casting jagged shadows that seemed to reach for the jade light.
"But Qiu Shandian is not me. Nor is Bai Qi, nor Wu Guang. Not even Kui Mulang, for all his wrath and pride. They are memories, ghosts bound to this throne, powering it, feeding it. They are not who I am."
The throne pulsed, as though resisting his words, its hum almost a protest.
"Yet I speak their stories," he admitted, quiet but firm. "For this throne demands memories to function, and I must fuel it. Their lives, their failures—they are the fire that keeps me alive. But I am not them."
The figure stood, his form towering yet weighed down by invisible chains.
"The [Astral Palace] is not Bai Qi's, Wu Gung's, or Chen Guang's. It is not even a property of Qiu Shandian, although he arrived here." he said, his voice resolute. "It is mine. And I will not let their blunders and memories define me."
He turned away from the throne, the arcs of lightning dimming as his footsteps faded into the endless shadows of the hall. The hum of the throne lingered, feeding on the stories of lives that no longer existed in this [Palace], even if bound to a man who claimed to be free.