Sovereign of Stolen Fate

Flickers of memories passed through Qin Tian's head. This one of his so called brother Wu Han

"To the future of the Heavenly Sword Sect!"

Qin Tian laughed as he raised his cup, the golden liquor sloshing slightly under the moonlit sky. Wu Han, his sworn brother, grinned back at him, lifting his own drink in return. They sat atop the sect's outer pavilion, their legs hanging over the edge as they overlooked the valley below, where thousands of flickering lanterns illuminated the sect's vast grounds.

"To us!" Wu Han echoed, knocking his cup against Qin Tian's before downing the drink in one go.

The crisp burn of spirit wine filled Qin Tian's throat as he followed suit, exhaling deeply with satisfaction. He tilted his head to the side, studying Wu Han, who wore a look of nostalgia.

"What's with that expression?" Qin Tian chuckled, pouring them both another round.

Wu Han smirked but didn't immediately answer. Instead, he swirled the liquor in his cup, watching the moonlight reflect against its surface. "I was just thinking… who would've imagined that two street rats like us would climb to the peak of the Heavenly Sword Sect?"

Qin Tian smiled, his chest warming—not just from the drink, but from the memory.

Two orphans, raised by the sect. They had trained together, fought together, bled together. There were nights, long ago, when they had huddled under the same worn-out blankets in the outer disciple quarters, promising that one day, they would stand side by side, untouchable, unshakable.

"We earned it," Qin Tian said firmly. "And together, we'll take the sect to new heights."

Wu Han chuckled, shaking his head. "You always talk like you're some great legend in the making." He knocked back his drink before smirking. "Fine, if you become a legend, let me be the shadow that watches your back."

Qin Tian grinned, extending his hand. "Then it's settled. Whatever comes, we face it together."

Wu Han clasped his forearm in a brother's grip.

"Together."

Another Memory of his former lover Ling Xue, now it's just a viper he let in.

The scent of jasmine and candlewax lingered in the dimly lit chamber. Soft silken sheets brushed against his skin as he lay there, his arm lazily draped over Ling Xue's bare shoulder.

She traced idle circles on his chest, her long, silken black hair cascading over him like a waterfall of midnight. The moonlight filtering through the windows painted her delicate features in a soft glow—her beauty was unparalleled, ethereal.

"Are you truly leaving tomorrow?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Qin Tian let out a slow breath, fingers trailing through her hair. "Only for a few weeks. The elders need me to oversee the Southern Outpost's expansion. It's a minor matter."

Ling Xue pouted, shifting closer so that her warm breath tickled his collarbone. "A few weeks is far too long."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her on top of him. "You act as if I haven't left before."

"It's different this time," she whispered. "You're rising too quickly. The sect watches you now, some with admiration… others with unease."

Qin Tian's brows furrowed slightly. He knew there were factions within the sect who viewed his rapid ascent with suspicion. He had always been aware of the delicate balance of power, but he never doubted his place within it.

Ling Xue traced a finger along his jawline, her dark eyes shimmering with something unreadable. "Sometimes, I wonder… if I am simply standing in the shadow of a man who will one day fly too high for me to reach."

His grip on her tightened instinctively. "You are not in my shadow, Ling Xue. You walk beside me. Always."

She held his gaze for a long moment before smiling, leaning down to capture his lips with hers.

The kiss was slow, deep, possessive. He pulled her closer, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his own.

"I'll wait for you," she murmured against his lips.

Qin Tian smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You won't have to wait long."

Memories Qin Tian has a hard time believing were true. Now as the wind carried the scent of burnt incense and sword oil, but this time, there was no warmth, no laughter, no love.

Qin Tian stood at the peak of the Heavenly Sword Sect, his robes in tatters, his once-immaculate white and gold now drenched in crimson. The corpses of his disciples and sworn brothers littered the courtyard, their lifeless eyes frozen in eternal disbelief.

They didn't even have time to fight back.

Lightning crackled through the shattered heavens, illuminating the figures standing before him. He forced his body to remain upright, though every breath was agony, poison coursing through his veins like molten iron. He had been ambushed, betrayed, discarded.

Yet, what cut deeper than the wounds was the face of the man leading them.

Wu Han.

His sworn brother, his most trusted friend, now stood at the forefront of his enemies. The same Wu Han who once stood beside him against countless enemies, who once raised his cup in drunken laughter, calling him brother.

Now, there was no warmth in his eyes—only cold ambition.

Beside him stood Ling Xue, her beauty untouched by battle, her delicate hands resting on the hilt of the sword she had plunged into his back only moments ago. Qin Tian had once loved her, or at least, he thought he had. Now, she looked at him with mocking amusement, as if his suffering was no more than a passing breeze.

Feng Hao sneered openly, his spear resting on his shoulder, eyes burning with long-held envy. Zhao Ren, the quiet one, remained unreadable, his silence neither gloating nor regretful.

Qin Tian coughed blood, staining the ground beneath him. His legs trembled, barely holding him upright, but he refused to kneel.

"Why?"

His voice came raw, laced with disbelief and fury.

Wu Han stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Because you reached to high, Qin Tian. Even the heavens refuse your existence now. Fate demands balance."

"Fate?" Qin Tian laughed—harsh, broken, and bitter. Blood dripped from his lips. "A convenient excuse for greed."

Ling Xue tilted her head, her smile soft but razor-sharp. "Oh, Qin Tian. You always were blind. We simply corrected heaven's mistake. And you made it so easy."

Feng Hao scoffed. "You were always in my way, stealing the glory that should have been mine. Now, it's my turn."

Wu Han raised his hand, silencing them. His expression hardened, as if unwilling to prolong the moment. "It's over, Qin Tian. Your name will vanish from history. Only we will remember you—not as a hero, but as a lesson."

Qin Tian let out a shaky breath, feeling his vision blur. Yet, he grinned—not in amusement, but in something darker.

"You think you've won?" His voice was quiet but steady. "You think heaven will reward treachery?"

For a fraction of a second, hesitation flickered across Wu Han's face. A shadow of doubt. But then it was gone, buried beneath cold resolve.

"Have we not? Besides heaven rewards strength," Wu Han said. "And now, it belongs to us."

He unsheathed a dark, rune-etched blade, humming with forbidden energy. The moment the blade met Qin Tian's chest, pain erupted—pure, mind-shattering agony—yet it was not the pain that consumed him.

It was the emptiness.

As his vision faded, he felt his very existence unraveling, his soul sinking into an abyss untouched by light or time.

But the darkness was not silent.

Somewhere Beyond Death...

A voice echoed, whispering through the void.

"You refuse to accept this fate... yet fate makes a fool out of you."

Qin Tian's soul trembled. He could not see, could not feel his body, yet the voice resonated within him.

"You have been cast aside... just as I was."

"You bear my power now—a curse and gift."

Something stirred. A presence. A force older than time.

Qin Tian gritted his teeth, though he had no body to clench. "Who are you?"

"Remnant of a god long forsaken by Heaven itself."

"Do you wish to vanish, nameless in the void? Or do you wish to steal fate itself?"

His mind swirled, memories of betrayal crashing through him like a storm. Wu Han's cold gaze. Ling Xue's laughter. Feng Hao's sneer. Zhao Ren's silence.

The rage, the unwillingness to accept death, the hunger for vengeance— all of it roared inside him.

"I will not vanish," he growled. "I will return. And I will tear fate apart. I will have my revenge!"

The voice laughed. A sound not of mirth, but of something ancient and unshackled.

"Then take my power, Qin Tian. Take it... and make the heavens tremble."

The abyss collapsed.