Dao Wei stood at the forest's edge, his breathing ragged, cloak torn, hair matted with sweat and blood. Behind him, the Endless Abyss gaped like a divine scar—vast, unending, and utterly indifferent. The sheer drop was a curtain into oblivion. One misstep forward, and he would vanish into the mythos of legends or be swallowed by the silence forever.
Before him, the three Nirvana Realm powerhouses formed a wide arc, cutting off all retreat except the one behind. Their robes billowed in the growing storm, eyes alight with smug triumph. They had chased him across desert, ruin, and forest, through phantom storms and sword-etched traps. And now, here he was—tired, bloodied, flickering like a candle in the wind.
"You were once called the Sword Childe," sneered the tallest, whose thunder armor bore the mark of the White Sky Sect. "Now look at you—a cornered beast."
"A fallen genius," the second muttered, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Such a waste."
The fox-masked one chuckled and tilted her head. "Had you knelt sooner, poor Sword Childe, you might have died with honor."
Dao Wei didn't answer. His body ached. His breathing was shallow, almost silent. But his eyes—They were burning.
Not with fear. Not with rage. But with defiance. With something even deeper—conviction.
Boom!
He moved first.
With a single step, the earth cracked beneath his foot. Sword Qi erupted in a burst of pure light. Skyfall howled as if awakened by the edge of mortality itself. The woman reacted, parrying just in time, but the force of the blow sent her skidding backward.
Clang!
The man in flame armor roared, lunging forward. Dao Wei twisted, parrying with a circular movement, and slashed upward, cutting across the man's arm.
Slash!
Blood sprayed in all directions.
But the cost was immediate. Dao Wei stumbled as blood rushed from his side, a gash reopened. His strength was slipping like sand between his fingers. "I can't keep this up… but I won't kneel. Not now. Not ever. Not after everything. If I die—then let it be facing forward."
Whoosh!
They came at him again, two from the sides, the woman from the front. Dao Wei's world slowed—he sidestepped, ducked under a thunderous palm, twisted mid-air, and lashed out with a blade coated in both lightning and water. The woman screamed as her shoulder was split open.
Yet it was not enough.
Bang!
A fist like a mountain slammed into his back. He flew forward, blood flying from his lips, skidding across the stone toward the abyss. He caught himself just short of the ledge.
The edge of all things.
The flame-robed man stepped toward him, smirking. "It's over."
Dao Wei's fingers clenched the dust. Slowly, painfully, he rose. A low, ancient whisper brushed across the corners of his consciousness:
"Descend, and be reborn…"
His pupils dilated.
The whisper again—more urgent. Louder. Not of madness, but of destiny.
"The world above has judged you. The world below waits."
With a final breath, Dao Wei did something unthinkable.
He gathered every last shred of his power, wove it into a single strike, and plunged his sword into his own shoulder.
Clutch!
"Wha—?!" gasped the thunder-armored guy.
Swoosh!
From the gaping wound, blood burst like a geyser, and in that sacrifice came a storm of energy—an explosive retaliation. The blast threw the fox-masked woman back into a stone pillar, shattering her ribs. The man in thunder armor shielded his face, but took a deep cut across the cheek.
Dao Wei dropped to one knee, the sword trembling in his grip.
His lips parted.
"I am not… yours to kill."
Rumble!
Suddenly—Rustling. Heavy boots. Swords drawn. Voices shouting.
From the ridge above, black-cloaked assassins poured down, their armor gleaming with sigils of the Demon Sect. Their auras were lesser than the Nirvana powerhouses, but numbered in the dozens, each one a practiced killer.
"Don't let him escape!" shouted Guard 1, his voice hoarse and cracking. "We must bring the Demon Spawn to justice!"
Guard 2 cursed under his breath. "How does he move so swiftly? It's as if he's one with the shadows!"
Guard 3, a veteran with a missing eye, spat blood onto the stone. "Stay focused, men! We cannot let him slip through our grasp. Our own fate depends on it!"
Dao Wei's body screamed in pain, but his spirit howled louder. Behind him was the Abyss—cold, eternal, and waiting.
Before him—death.
He rose one last time, Skyfall dragging behind him, crimson cloak torn like a dying banner. Wind whipped across his face. His now-silver hair tangled like the strands of fate itself.
The wind stilled.
He turned slightly, glancing back toward the blackness yawning behind him.
A voice in his heart whispered:
"You were never meant for this world…"
Dao Wei gave one last look at the world that had judged him.
The sky roared. The guards drew near. The powerhouses prepared their final strike
Rumble!
The forest writhed like a dying beast beneath the storm-heavy sky, gnarled trees clawing toward heaven like the hands of the damned. Each branch that Dao Wei brushed past was a jagged knife, each root a trap set by fate itself.
He ran.
Faster than any man should in his condition. His clothes were tattered to ribbons, stained red and black from wounds too numerous to count. Blood seeped from his side, tracing lines down his ribs like old scars given life. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. Every muscle screamed. But still—he ran.
Behind him, the Nirvana powerhouses carved through the forest like demonic bolts of lightning, their steps splintering stone, their strikes parting the wind. Blades of energy cracked through the trees, turning the ancient trunks into ash and splinters. The very earth seemed to bend under the weight of their wrath.
But Dao Wei was already gone.
He weaved through the trees lining the valley's edge like water through fingers, his hair streaming like comet light. His feet barely touched the ground. One moment, he was ducking under a low-hanging branch; the next, vaulting off a rock, twisting midair, and disappearing into the darkness once more.
His mind spun, wild with fractured thoughts—The Old Man's gentle scolding. The scent of sandalwood in the Lower Shura's halls. The way the sunlight once fell on Ailia's face. The warmth of his brother's hands on his shoulder.
The hope of seeing them again all now gone.
He clenched his jaw, tears stinging the corners of his eyes—not from grief, but fury.
"You destroyed everything. And you still want more?"
Rumble!
A blast of energy hissed past his ear, cutting a tree in half. He felt the heat singe his cheek, but he didn't stop. He leaped again, rolling under a falling trunk, then dashed across a shallow stream, his boots splashing silently over the surface.
The thunder-armored man descended from above, axe in hand, seeking to finish it.
Swing!
Dao Wei didn't look. He felt.
In an instant, he twisted, rising his sword in a single, fluid motion, clashing steel against steel. Sparks screamed into the night. The force of the impact knocked him back—but not down.
He planted his feet.
Swung once.
Clang!
A slash of silver light erupted like a divine scythe, carving a deep trench in the ground and forcing the pursuer back several steps.
But the effort tore at Dao Wei's core. His knees buckled. He spat blood onto the roots of an ancient tree.
The flame-robed guy burst through the undergrowth. "You can't run forever!"
Dao Wei looked over his shoulder, eyes shining—not with fear, but resolve. "I don't need forever. Just one more step."
The pursuer slashed again—but by the time the energy wave cracked the trees, Dao Wei was already thirty paces away.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He pushed forward, faster now, as if some deeper instinct had taken over. Something called to him. A pulse in the earth. A scent on the wind. He broke through the final line of trees—
A canyon unlike any other—vast, jagged, dark. It tore through the land like a scar left by the gods. Black cliffs plunged into misty nothingness. The air was thin and sharp, heavy with silence. On the far edge, the horizon trembled. And beyond it… The Endless Abyss.
He stood still for the briefest of moments.
Then a whisper on the wind curled through his ears.
"Descend… Descend."
A flare of light exploded behind him. The three Nirvana powerhouses caught up, their eyes glowing with murderous intent. Their swords gleamed with celestial inscriptions.
"You've reached the end of the world, Sword Childe!" one bellowed. "Now kneel!"
Dao Wei turned, body swaying like a tree in a storm. His sword hung loose in his fingers. Blood dripping from his arm.
But his eyes… His eyes were brighter than ever.
"I would never kneel for anyone," he said, voice low, "not even the Heavens can make me."
The three fanned out, careful now. Even weakened from the battle wounds, they had now learned that this boy—this so-called Demon Spawn—was no ordinary prey.
They moved as one, attempting to box him in. Blades flashed, energy coiled, and intent crackled like lightning.
But Dao Wei moved again.
Boom!
With one final burst of strength, he vanished, reappearing midair with a flicker of distorted space. Skyfall roared—a silver arc of brilliance cutting through the darkness. The flame-robed man reeled, his arm torn open.