The Foundation of a Demon God
What stirred within Lu Xuan was not a cultivation technique.
It was a law.
A principle buried in ancient, blood-soaked scripture — banned by all righteous sects and sealed by forgotten emperors.
吞界 — Devouring the World.
It simply consumed.
Qi, soul force, spiritual essence — even bloodlines, even karma — all could be digested and reforged into raw, physical might.
And it had chosen Lu Xuan.
The Breakthrough — Body Refining Realm
In the depths of the bamboo grove, Lu Xuan sat cross-legged, bones cracked and muscles burning. His meridians were clogged, and his qi sea barren — the legacy of a childhood without training or spirit roots.
But that no longer mattered.
Because the Devouring World skill didn't require refinement.
It required desperation.
The air shimmered. Stray motes of spiritual essence drifted from the trees — remnants of long-dead disciples' training grounds. Normally too faint to notice. Now drawn to him.
And they were devoured.
Swallowed into a black vortex in his dantian — a void with no bottom.
His skin steamed. His blood thickened. His heart slammed against his ribs like a war drum.
[Body Refining Stage – First Layer: Skin Tempering]
His skin hardened — no, transmuted, as spiritual residue fused into every pore, every cell.
The bamboo beside him snapped from the pressure. The ground caved slightly beneath his seated form.
The pain was immense.
But he did not scream.
He clenched his fists — now strong enough to crush bone, even without qi techniques.
His breathing slowed.
His heart was calm.
"So this is the beginning.''
The Aftermath of the Duel
Mei Ling was still unconscious when Lu Xuan left the arena.
The crowd didn't cheer. They didn't whisper.
They watched him pass in horrified silence, like peasants watching a storm cross the mountainside — too slow to outrun, too strong to deny.
He didn't look at anyone.
He simply walked, barefoot, blood crusting over cracked skin, and vanished into the bamboo forest below the sect.
The Elders Convene
Above the arena, Elder Shi Qiran stood.
"Interesting," he murmured. "No foundation. No formal cultivation. And yet he devours a near-Foundation disciple with one strike."
He turned to the Sect Master.
"Lu Xuan should be taken in. Personally. By me."
The Sect Master frowned. "He's… dangerous."
"All geniuses are," Shi Qiran replied smoothly. "But this one can be shaped. If we control him, we control his fate."
What he didn't say was:
If we fail to control him, he will consume us all.
Far from the meeting halls, Su Xue stood before a frozen waterfall near the inner peaks — the Winter Mirror Basin, a restricted training ground reserved for elite disciples.
There, she removed her outer robe, revealing runes etched like frost along her arms — pulsing, ancient Time Runes.
Her cultivation had been sealed upon her arrival in the past. But now, the bindings were beginning to fracture.
Her level?
Late Nascent Soul Realm.
A realm few reached even in the inner sect.
Her power was drawn from two sources:
Frost Dao — Cold that could freeze not just the body, but spiritual essence itself.
Chrono Mysticism — Forbidden time arts: moment freezes, memory splits, acceleration and delay.
And yet… she hid it all.
To protect the timeline.
To protect herself.
"I wasn't sent back to fight with brute force."
"I was sent back to change the future."
But now that Lu Xuan had awakened Devouring the World, that timeline was already diverging.
She found Lu Xuan meditating beneath the same bamboo grove where they last spoke.
He was different now.
Not visibly — but internally. His stillness was too perfect. Like a predator that didn't need to move.
She approached.
"You're attracting attention," she said flatly.
"I noticed," he replied.
"I warned you."
"You did."
Silence.
Then, Lu Xuan opened his eyes. "What is this power?"
She paused.
"It's not meant for humans," she said. "It was made to destroy civilizations. One user — five hundred years ago — consumed half the Western Continent. A demon prince. His body collapsed under it."
"Then why am I still standing?"
"That's what scares me."
That afternoon, a formal summons arrived.
Lu Xuan had been chosen.
Not as an inner disciple.
But as a personal disciple of Elder Shi Qiran — a position higher than some inner court prodigies, granting private cultivation, secret arts, and immunity from low-level discipline.
It was a calculated move — and a provocation.
The sect's elite were outraged.
Whispers spread like wildfire:
"He's an outer sect orphan!"
"He hasn't even reached Foundation Building!"
"Why him?"
Only one answer echoed:
Because power bows to potential.
Su Xue's Warning
That evening, Su Xue stood at Lu Xuan's door.
He opened it before she knocked.
"I'm not here to congratulate you," she said.
"I didn't think you were."
She stepped closer. Her eyes were frost over flame. "Do not trust Elder Shi. He doesn't want to train you. He wants to control you."
Lu Xuan tilted his head. "Isn't that what you're doing too?"
She froze.
"No," she said, voice low. "I don't want to control you. I want to keep you from becoming something the world can't stop."
He didn't reply.
But his eyes lingered on her longer than before.
Not with emotion.
With calculation of his own.
Later that night, Lu Xuan meditated.
Not to gather qi — he had none.
But to feel the Devouring World pulse within him.
The air thinned.
Somewhere in the lower dorms, a dying beast let out a whimper — and its soul drifted toward him.
Unbidden.
His body devoured it in silence.
No ritual.
No incantation.
Only hunger.
And he smiled — just faintly.
Because now he understood.
This was only the beginning.