Chapter 57: Tian Dao's “Exclusive Mourning Scene”

With the release of the latest episode of The Prequel of the Stars: Embers, featuring a new emotional flashback centered on Tian Dao, the series’ popularity on 13Station skyrocketed—literally leaping several rungs on the popularity ladder.

After all, Tian Dao had long been the undisputed top idol and visual centerpiece of the Stellar franchise. One character, yet he dominated the hearts of nearly half the fanbase. Even viewers who didn’t particularly ship Tian Dao held no ill will toward him.

Sure, in the show, Tian Dao came off as arrogant—always flexing, showing off, and playing the cool guy. But when real danger struck, he always stepped up with unwavering reliability.

Like during the Final Evaluation, when he single-handedly bore the brunt of the pressure from the Second-Rank Stellar Beast · Earth Lizard. Or when Chen Kong was attacked in the supermarket—Tian Dao arrived in time, then obliterated the attackers with effortless dominance, restoring Chen Kong’s honor in spectacular fashion.

These iconic moments, amplified by repeated emphasis from the production team, had cemented Tian Dao’s image in fans’ minds—not just as a born powerhouse, but as a near-mythical figure of invincibility.

This “invincibility” wasn’t about raw strength, but about belief. Fans now assumed: No matter how dire the situation, no matter how hopeless the plot, as long as Tian Dao appeared, everything would resolve in a satisfying, reassuring way.

He had become the ultimate emotional anchor for the Stellar universe—the series’ emotional stabilizer.

And yet, right now, the production team was hinting at a potential narrative death for him.

Some fans dismissed it as a fake-out—surely Tian Dao would be revived later, just like always. But they weren’t willing to gamble.

What if the Stellar team was that chaotic? What if they were genuinely going to ruin the protagonist’s arc by stealing the spotlight? What if the fake-death arc was poorly executed, breaking Tian Dao’s established persona?

Tian Dao’s fans didn’t want to take that risk.

So, shortly after the episode aired, the official 13Station account for Stellar was flooded with angry messages—overwhelmed by a wave of furious fans.

Among them were those skilled at rallying support. Though their protest was ostensibly against killing off Tian Dao, they framed it as a broader warning: “Today it’s Tian Dao—tomorrow, it could be anyone.”

Though this tactic clearly tried to exploit other characters’ fans, the damage was done. Once doubt took root, trust began to crumble.

After a massive, coordinated campaign by Tian Dao’s supporters, even the most indifferent fanbases started to panic.

Even the usually laid-back fans of Jing Ruli—those who never joined any online “rhythm” battles—suddenly took the situation seriously, joining the assault on the official Stellar account.

[Top Comment 1]:

“Today they knife Tian Dao, tomorrow they’ll knife Chen Xing, the day after—off with Ruli’s pillow!”

— 98K likes

[Top Comment 2]:

“Let’s crowdfund the rights—let’s make Stellar: The Legend of Tian Dao ourselves.”

— 72K likes

[Top Comment 3]:

“Reported to Consumer Protection: This isn’t a ‘hot-blooded growth story’—it’s a betrayal.”

— 65K likes

The production team had anticipated backlash. But nothing could prepare them for the sheer volume of condemnation.

Seeing the tide of public fury, they were genuinely shaken.

Because if things kept escalating… they might get cut down by Tian Dao’s fans before they could even kill him off.

Still, despite their fear, the team had no choice. The episode was already finalized. And they knew full well—Tian Dao wasn’t truly dead.

So, after weighing the risks, they chose the safest path: no response.

No explanation. No defense. No reply.

The “Three No’s” strategy did help reduce the firestorm—but it backfired in the long run.

Instead of calming fans, it only deepened their conviction: Tian Dao is going to die.

To ease the rising anxiety—and to soothe the strange, unspoken emotional turbulence—the internet exploded with Tian Dao-themed fan creations.

Among them, the most viral was a “memorial” video, meticulously crafted as a tribute.

In it, a fan attended a convention, carrying a black-and-white portrait of Tian Dao. She placed it in a quiet corner of the hall, then set up a small incense burner with unlit sticks.

Other Stellar fans passing by, understanding the gesture, quietly bowed before the portrait.

Some even left offerings—crackers, bottled water, candies—like gifts for a departed spirit.

It felt less like fandom, more like a ritual.

Naturally, this sparked a wave of amusement among the “jokesters” of the internet—those eternal, omnipresent creatures who thrive on absurdity wherever it appears.

The idea of real-world worship for a fictional character? Perfect.

Even those who had never watched a single episode of Stellar joined in.

The more people came, the more the ritual grew—until it became a full-blown phenomenon.

And with that, a new viral phrase was born:

“Exclusive Mourning Scene”

A nickname now used for any beloved character who’s been implied to die—but hasn’t yet.

A meme that crossed the line between fandom and performance art.

But then, curiosity got the better of the jokesters.

After watching the full episode, they noticed a glaring detail:

The hints about Tian Dao’s possible death were just hints.

Not confirmed. Not inevitable.

Still just possible.

So they asked:

What if you’re so obsessed with mourning someone who hasn’t even died yet… that you actually make the tragic ending inevitable?

Because now, the stakes were so high.

If Tian Dao didn’t die after all this buildup… how could the story possibly recover?

The pressure would be unbearable.

And yet—back in the private chamber of the Stellar World, Tian Dao himself was staring at his dimensional screen, watching the video titled “Tian Dao, Farewell (Candle)”.

He blinked.

“Wait… I’m not even dead yet. Why am I already being mourned?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Sure, he’d expected his dramatic performance to stir up a storm. But he hadn’t imagined it would reach this level—his own funeral, scheduled before his death.

It was absurd.

But seeing the skyrocketing fan engagement—his popularity surging in real time—his inner jokester couldn’t resist.

With a smirk, he quietly typed a comment into the video’s live chat:

“Tian Dao, rest in peace.”

And surprisingly… it felt kind of fun.

After that, he glanced at the calendar beside him.

Today was Sunday.

That meant only one day remained until Kalolin’s birthday—Monday.

Because once Tuesday midnight passed, it would officially be her birthday.

And Tuesday was the day they’d planned her Comprehensive Birthday Plan.

To pull it off without raising suspicion—without letting Kalolin know they were dedicating an entire day to her birthday—Tian Dao would have to get clever.

Because if she found out they were setting aside a special day just for her…

Well, knowing her personality, she’d definitely refuse.

So the best way to lure her in?

Use a mission.

A cover story.

And as for whether that was lying?

Tian Dao had always believed:

If the intent is kind, then it’s not a lie.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end