Fated to Rule, Destined to Love: The Martial Emperor’s Curse

A deep hum resonated through the void. It was neither sound nor silence—something ancient, something beyond mortal comprehension.

Ling Tian stood at the edge of the ruined temple, his robes fluttering in the unseen currents of energy that twisted through the Forsaken Realm. His breathing was steady, but his grip on his sword tightened.

Something was wrong.

The air here felt too still, as if time itself hesitated to move forward. The very ground beneath him pulsed with traces of a lost era, whispering secrets no mortal should ever uncover.

The Forsaken Realm… a place erased from history. A place even the heavens feared.

He exhaled slowly. Then why was he here?

Ling Tian had ventured through countless ruins and battled entities that could tear apart entire sects with a flick of their fingers, but this was different. His instincts, honed through endless battles and a past life filled with war, screamed at him.

This was not just a ruin.

This was a graveyard of fate itself.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A shadow wove through the dim light, its presence elusive yet suffocating.

Ling Tian turned sharply, divine sense flaring—but found nothing.

A trick of the mind? No, that wasn't it. He knew better.

Just then, the inscriptions on the temple walls shifted.

The murals, once frozen depictions of an emperor standing alone, moved.

Ling Tian's pupils shrank.

Before his very eyes, the emperor raised his sword—not in triumph, but in desperation. Behind him, unseen forces loomed, countless figures cloaked in divine radiance, their faces obscured by veils of light. They were not his allies.

They were his executioners.

The Vanquished Throne… was not abandoned.

It was taken.

Ling Tian's breathing slowed.

Was this… a warning?

He reached out, his fingers hovering just above the wall, when—

BOOM!

The ground shattered beneath him.

An overwhelming force erupted, sending cracks racing across the temple floor. The air trembled as a figure emerged from the abyss—a silhouette clad in a dark cloak, face obscured by a silver mask.

Power.

Unfathomable, suffocating power.

The moment the figure appeared, the entire Forsaken Realm seemed to shudder. The lingering resentment of the fallen, the echoes of forgotten gods—they all bowed before this presence.

Ling Tian didn't move.

The figure stood there, silent. Then, in a voice that carried through the void, he spoke.

"You should not be here."

The words were not a threat. They were a statement. A fact.

Ling Tian smirked. "And yet, here I am."

A moment of silence. Then, the masked figure exhaled, as if disappointed. "Then fate truly is unraveling."

With a flick of his wrist, the world tore apart.

A thousand blades descended from the heavens, each one shimmering with divine law, each one an executioner's decree.

Ling Tian's sword ignited with celestial fire.

"Let's test this fate of yours, then."

He slashed forward, and the battle for truth began.

---