The origins of power traced back to a cataclysm twelve million years ago, when the Twelve Divine Beasts unleashed their final act—detonating their celestial bodies and scattering their essence across the vacuum of the universe. The reason for their sacrifice had long been lost. Only its place in history remained, a violent turning point in creation.
From that shattered essence was born Theríon, the primordial energy of the gods. It dispersed across the universe in quadrillions of particles, embedding itself into the fabric of every conceivable thing. Some particles fused with the inanimate, imbuing stones and steel with immense power. Others merged with the living—beasts, plants, and eventually, mortals.
Those who learned to refine the Theríon dormant within their body unlocked unimaginable potential, becoming Cultivators capable of wielding the unique abilities of the ancient beasts. This refined energy became known as a Bloodline—a living, divine legacy carried within the bearer.
Through the ages, mortals cultivated these legacies and passed them down through generations. Over centuries of marriage between different lineages, those divine origins mingled, producing countless hybrid bloodlines.
As the lineages mingled, their power thinned. Those who retained fewer, purer bloodlines tended to be stronger, while most people inherited mixed lineages with diluted potential.
The origin of the Scarlet Demon God Phoenix Bloodline was a tale of opportunistic ascension.
Eons ago, a Scarlet Demon King from the underworld stumbled upon a relic—a stone saturated with the original Theríon of the Divine Phoenix. By refining this essence and forcibly merging it with his own marrow, he birthed an entirely new lineage. The fusion raised his people from a regional clan to one of the universe's strongest powers. To mark this dominance, they renamed themselves the Demon God Clan, a symbol of their stolen divinity.
To preserve this prestige, the clan instituted draconian rules regarding purity. While rare cross-breeding occurred, the clan ensured that every generation produced hundreds of "Pure-Bloods" to anchor their military might. This was the standard of the universe: every superpower guarded its purity as a matter of survival. To dilute the blood was to risk the throne.
Two things, however, could take precedence over bloodline purity: love and politics.
When two souls were bound by genuine affection, the concerns of lineage often became secondary. Conversely, political marriages were cold tools used to forge alliances between warring stars. In Feng Luotian's case, both had played a part.
His mother hailed from the Heavenly Swan Race, the mysterious keepers of the Blue-Eyed Heavenly Royal Swan Bloodline. Like the Demon God Clan, the Swans were a universal superpower, but their origin was a void in the historical record. Rumors suggested their history had been deliberately purged and the truth forbidden since the first generation.
Because of the deep bond between his parents and the strategic value of a prince marrying into the Swan royalty, the union was sanctioned. Decades later, Feng Luotian was born—the living intersection of the Abyss and the Heavens.
Even as a mixed-blood, Luotian's potential was staggering. In the messy world of hybrids, the dominant bloodline usually suppresses the weaker one. However, because both of his parents' lines were of unparalleled purity, they achieved a rare Dual Manifestation. In his previous life, this allowed him to wield the abilities of both the Phoenix and the Swan in harmony.
Even those heights had their limits. Mortals had regarded him as a god, but his power had been hopelessly inadequate against the enemy he eventually faced.
What Luotian yearned for was not merely the strength he once held, but a Perfect Bloodline—one capable of reaching the ultimate, untouched summit of cultivation. To reach that peak, he needed the revolutionary technique he had spent his previous life perfecting: Bloodline Interfusion.
In the current timeline of this world, this process was a ghost, a theory that wouldn't be realized for another four hundred years. It was a radical method of "Spiritual Smelting" that combined multiple lineages into one essence.
The cost was astronomical: each of the contributing bloodlines would permanently wither to less than a tenth of its original potency. In exchange, the friction of their collision would forge a completely new, pure bloodline with an entirely unique, heaven-defying ability. This newly forged lineage would possess the potential to shatter the limitations that had bound the Twelve Divine Beasts themselves.
The true challenge, however, was Timing. Interfusion could only be initiated when the bloodlines were in their "Pristine State"—the fleeting window of Bloodline Awakening. To attempt it later, after the blood had been "polluted" by elixirs or tempered by other techniques, was a death sentence.
In his past life, Luotian had already reached the heights of a Divine Immortal when he finalized the theory. His own blood had already changed through centuries of growth, leaving him unable to use the method himself. He had tested it on a disciple, watching in silent astonishment as the youth nearly eclipsed Luotian's three centuries of cultivation in a mere thirty years.
Now, standing in the meditation chamber of his youth, Luotian felt a surge of profound gratitude toward his father again. The seal had prevented his awakening, keeping both bloodlines in their purest, primal state. It had given him the one thing a God usually lacked: a second chance at a perfect beginning.
Determined to become his own masterpiece, Luotian began the process.
He remained seated cross-legged, holding perfectly still. The scarlet darkness and the celestial blue radiance pulsed around him in a synchronized rhythm, like two stars caught in a binary dance. His breathing slowed until it was a mere ghost of a sigh.
Channeling his Theríon, he performed a feat of absolute internal control: he halted the flow of his own blood.
One by one, the veins that pulsed with life grew still. A faint, eerie silence descended upon the room. His skin turned a deathly, frost-bitten pale, the vivid warmth of a living teenager draining away into a dull, waxen grey.
Five breaths passed.
His heart, the forge of his life-force, gave one final, heavy thud and stopped. His chest, which had risen and fallen for fourteen years, became completely still.
At that moment, Feng Luotian—the savior of the world and the son of a Demon God—looked no different from a lifeless corpse.
BOOM!!
The silence of his death-like trance was shattered by a thunderous eruption. His soul core ignited with a violent, pressurized surge of energy. Scarlet darkness and celestial blue light exploded outward, swirling around his motionless form like two violent storms clashing for terrestrial dominance. The room was bathed in a bruised, ominous red glow, sliced through by streaks of serene, piercing azure.
As he passed from death-like stillness back toward life, Luotian's Theríon flared. He activated both bloodlines with precise control: 53% output from the Scarlet Demon God Phoenix against 47% from the Blue-Eyed Heavenly Royal Swan.
This was the most dangerous stage. Bloodline Interfusion depended on the exact ratio; a deviation of even one percent could make the energies consume one another, destroying his spiritual foundations or killing him outright.
It all came down to Bloodline Dominance.
In the physics of this universe, dominance represented the "Specific Gravity" of a divine legacy. The more dominant a bloodline, the more it sought to overwrite and consume everything in its path. To achieve balance, a cultivator had to counteract that dominance with an inverse ratio of Theríon activation.
In a revelation that would have shocked the Demon God Clan, Luotian's research had proven that his mother's Heavenly Royal Swan bloodline was significantly more dominant than his father's Demon God Phoenix line. To level the scales, he had to activate more Phoenix energy to keep it from being overwhelmed by the Swan.
Such precise control of Theríon was unheard of at the One Fang stage. Most initiates struggled to manifest a spark, while Luotian had to maintain two bloodlines in a balance that could kill him if it slipped.
In his past life, he had used massive formation arrays and external dampeners to shield his disciple through this. Now he had to rely on his willpower and the practiced control of a pinnacle expert.
The clashing flames swirled tighter, condensing into a pulsing sphere of energy. Each pulse resonated with a flawless, humming harmony.
Inside the storm, Luotian's face remained a mask of waxen calm: "This time, I will perfect the invention. There will be no failure."
With the ratios locked at 53:47, Luotian guided the twin streams of Theríon into the absolute center of his Soul Core. As they met, the two energies began to fuse.
His eyes ignited; the familiar azure glow flickered once, then mutated—deepening into a vibrant, pulsating Amethyst. His gaze no longer felt human or even divine; it carried an ominous weight that seemed to peel back the very fabric of reality.
Around his body, the scarlet shadows and blue radiance dissolved. In their place rose an iridescent purple flame. It burned with a low, threatening hum. Threads of violet energy began to crackle through the fire, dancing across his skin like serpents of pure, kinetic force.
The room was submerged in this alien light, every shadow flickering in time with the thrumming power of the storm.
Luotian clenched his fists, his muscles coiling with a strength that felt far denser than any One Fang Fighter should possess.
"HAH!!"
The shout was a thunderclap.
BOOM!!
A massive, omnidirectional explosion of energy erupted from his marrow. The amethyst flames surged outward, instantly obliterating his surroundings. The wooden walls—the only home he had known in this life—disintegrated into fine ash. The floor beneath his feet scorched into a glass-like black.
Then a second color tore free from the violet aura: streaks of golden lightning shot upward, tearing a hole through the roof. Unlike the amethyst flames cloaking his body, these golden bolts carried a distinct, nascent rhythm he had yet to understand. They did not dissipate; they pierced the sky itself, acting as a beacon of forbidden power.
High above, the pristine night sky buckled as if under the weight of an invisible titan. Storm clouds coalesced with a violent, unnatural speed, swallowing the stars in a shroud of churning iron. From the heart of the vortex, thunder groaned—a deep, guttural acknowledgment from the heavens of the forbidden power unleashed below.
Pitter. Patter.
Rain began to fall—first a light mist, then a heavy, cleansing downpour. The droplets sizzled the moment they touched the charred ruins of his home, sending up thin wisps of steam into the cold air.