Darkness.
An endless void. Neither cold nor hot. Neither silent nor noisy. Just… empty.
Vạn Thiên Phong floated aimlessly in it, his body shattered, his soul cracked, and his mind drifting like a torn leaf in an eternal storm. He couldn't feel his limbs. He couldn't sense his cultivation. He couldn't even remember how long he had been there.
Was this death?
No. Death was supposed to bring peace.
This… was torment.
Memories flickered across the void like dying stars—moments of glory, pain, betrayal. The sight of Bạch Tiêu Nhiên turning her back. The scornful laughter of the so-called righteous sects. The moment his power was sealed, his empire crumbled, and he was cast into this accursed realm.
> "You brought this on yourself," they had said. "This is the fate of all who walk the path of evil."
But was he evil?
He clenched his broken soul, what little of it remained. He had fought to rise above fate. To take control of his life, not be a puppet dancing to the strings of "heavenly will." Was that truly evil? Or just... free?
No answer. Only silence.
But within that silence… something stirred.
A faint pulse. Like a heartbeat buried under ten thousand layers of shadow.
At first, it was barely noticeable. But with each passing moment, it grew louder. Stronger. Until it was not just a beat—but a call.
And then, he heard it.
> "You have fallen far… Vạn Thiên Phong."
A voice. Ancient. Neither male nor female. It echoed not in his ears, but directly within the marrow of his soul.
> "Yet you resist. Even now. Impressive."
> "Who are you?" he asked—or maybe he thought it. He couldn't tell.
> "I am the one who sleeps beneath the roots of existence. The thing your gods fear but dare not name. I have been watching you... little devil."
> "You mock me," he spat mentally.
> "No. I offer you a choice."
The void rippled.
Before him, an eye opened. It was massive—larger than mountains—slitted, golden, and swirling with countless ancient runes. Around it, chains of divine light bound its form, each one carved with seals from a forgotten era.
> "What are you?"
> "The last remnant of chaos. Betrayed. Sealed. Forgotten."
> "And what do you want from me?"
> "Not want. Need. Just as you do."
The eye pulsed. Images flooded his mind—an eternal war waged in forgotten realms. The ancient gods, trembling before a storm of shadows. The birth of order from the blood of chaos.
This being had once been a king. No… a force.
Now, like him, it was broken. Chained. Alone.
They were reflections of each other.
> "Fuse with me," it said. "Give me freedom, and I will give you power beyond comprehension. Rise again—not as a man, not as a cultivator, but as something the heavens will tremble before."
Vạn Thiên Phong hesitated.
It was madness.
But hadn't madness always been the path of those who changed the world?
He reached forward—not with his hands, but with his soul.
The chains shattered.
A scream tore through the abyss, not of pain—but of freedom.
The eye closed, and everything went white.
---
When his senses returned, he stood—not floated—on a solid surface. Beneath him, a black lotus bloomed from nothingness, its petals pulsating with a strange energy.
His body… was whole.
But not the same.
His skin bore ancient marks, flowing like ink across his veins. His eyes were no longer golden, but a deep crimson that seemed to swallow light. His dantian, once shattered, now burned with chaotic fire, wild and bottomless.
He laughed.
Not out of joy. Not out of triumph.
But because the pain was gone.
The weakness was gone.
He was reborn.
But the world did not know yet.
And that would be its mistake.
---
In the real world, far above the abyss…
The righteous sects celebrated.
The Devil had fallen.
Bạch Tiêu Nhiên stood atop a mountain, watching the skies with hollow eyes. She had defeated him. She had been the blade of justice. Yet… why did it feel so wrong?
Her heart should be calm. Instead, it was restless.
As if something… was watching.
As if something ancient had awakened.
---
Back in the abyss, Vạn Thiên Phong took a deep breath.
His new body crackled with dark lightning. His aura bent space. His heart beat in rhythm with the black lotus beneath him.
And his mind?
Sharper. Colder. Hungrier.
He remembered every face that betrayed him. Every word spoken in scorn. Every enemy that dared to smile at his downfall.
He would return.
Not as the man he once was.
But as a calamity.
He turned his gaze upward—toward the surface, toward the world that had cast him down.
And he spoke, not as a whisper, but as a vow:
"I shall return."
"Not as your enemy… but as your end."
The void shattered.
A single crack, thin but pulsing with light, opened above him.
The world above trembled.
And far away, in the highest heavens, an ancient being—the Heavenly Will itself—shuddered.
---
[End of chapter 20