The Great Sun reclaimed its throne

The void was black as ink, the moonlight white as frost.

A peal of bells came from somewhere unknowable, faint and distant, like a lingering echo left behind at the dawn of creation. It passed through the ages and finally arrived. Wherever it reached, inverted time and tangled causality were smoothed away like snow beneath boiling water.

An ancient dark-gold bell emerged from the fissure.

Its body was no larger than a jade chime, its surface bare of inscriptions or ornament. Only seven cracks wound from top to bottom, each carrying a thread of dawn light in its depths—not the solar essence and fiery energy gathered by cultivators today.

It was the first light of heaven that had pierced the chaos when the world first opened and day and night first exchanged places. Within that light lay the power of "order."

When the bell rang, heaven and earth had to awaken from the night.

Above the bell, the phantom of a three-legged Golden Crow spread its wings and rose, circling it three times. With each circuit, scorch marks branded the void, golden-red sparks flickering within them.

An ancient consciousness rose from the depths of the ink-blue abyssal sea, trembling.

"Supreme Unity Morning Bell..."

Before the words faded, a long neigh tore through the void. Neither horse nor dragon, it carried the fierce resolve to patrol the heavens and trample through ten thousand worlds.

An archaic war chariot roared out of a golden fissure. Its body was cast from an unknown crimson-gold divine material, with only a simple sun wheel carved into its shaft.

Its four dragon-horses were not flesh and blood, but condensations of solar flame essence. Each bore a single horn, and crimson-gold flames that would never die burned through their manes. Their hooves trod empty space, leaving blackened