The battlefield burned like hell.
Corpses littered the blood-soaked soil. Craters marked where spells and flying swords had shattered the land. Screams rose above the clash of blades—disciples of sects, righteous and demonic alike, cried out as they died in droves beneath the blood moon.
In the heart of it all stood Lian Zhen, son of the Righteous King—one of the seven divine generals under the Martial Alliance.
He was barely nineteen, but the glow of Celestial Radiance surged around his blade, Heavenpiercer, as he struck down another masked demon cultivator. His robes were in tatters, his body riddled with cuts, but his eyes still burned with resolve.
Across the broken earth stood the Heavenly Demon, tall and calm amid the chaos, his black hair flowing like shadow, and his crimson sword humming with suppressed power.
"Is this what your righteousness has become?" the Heavenly Demon asked, tilting his head. "A boy waving his father's sword like a child clinging to a legacy?"
Lian Zhen spat blood onto the ground. "Even a child of the righteous fights with more honor than you."
The Heavenly Demon smiled. "Good. Then die with that honor."
They clashed.
A storm of energy burst outward as Heavenpiercer met the demon's sword. Their blades screamed with every strike—each one capable of shattering mountains. The ground split. Lightning tore through the skies.
Lian Zhen forced the demon back with a flurry of radiant strikes—he channeled his qi perfectly, guiding it like flowing water, every movement honed from years in the Nine Heavens Sword Hall. This was what he had trained for. This was his fate. To protect the realm, to uphold the light.
Until—
Pain.
A blinding, unnatural pain surged from his back.
He froze.
His body trembled.
He looked down. A blade pierced through his abdomen, soaked in his own blood.
Behind him stood a familiar figure—his uncle, General Yan Xiu, a man who had raised him after his father fell.
"Uncle…?" Lian Zhen whispered, coughing.
Yan Xiu's expression was twisted with regret and fear. "Forgive me, Zhen'er… The martial world… is no longer your place."
Lian Zhen stumbled forward.
The Heavenly Demon didn't hesitate.
His crimson blade swung once—clean and elegant.
The last thing Lian Zhen saw was the battlefield, fading to red.
His head rolled to the side.
And thus, the beacon of the righteous fell.
And the war between orthodox and unorthodox sects erupted into chaos unlike anything the world had seen before.
But he would never know.
He was already dead.
---
"Daigo! If you're just going to stand there, then get out of the ring!"
His eyes snapped open.
It was bright—too bright. Dusty air filled his lungs. A courtyard. The scent of dirt and stone replaced blood and steel.
He blinked hard.
He wasn't wearing battle robes anymore.
He was... a child?
"Oi, freak! You gonna cry or what?"
A fist slammed into his chest—not enough to injure, but it was jarring. Disrespectful.
Instinctively, he staggered back two steps, breathing hard. His heart thundered, not from pain, but from confusion.
Dozens of children surrounded him, all wearing identical tan uniforms. There were stone buildings in the distance, and an older man with a scar across his face watched from the sideline, arms crossed.
He looked at his opponent.
A smug, bratty boy no older than ten, fists raised, puffed up like a rooster in front of hens.
"Match started! If you can't handle a spar, Daigo, just give up already!" the instructor snapped.
Daigo?
Is that… my name?
The memories were hazy—but his body responded.
Another punch came. Sloppy. Open stance.
Daigo side-stepped. Grabbed the boy's arm. Twisted.
The brat yelped.
And then the fire exploded in his chest.
No more betrayal. No more mercy.
With mechanical precision, Daigo slammed his fist into the boy's face. Once, twice, three times. The third punch sent the child flying backward, hitting the dirt hard.
He didn't stop.
He marched over, grabbed the collar, and hammered his fist down again and again, knuckles cracking against bone.
"Stop! That's enough!" the instructor's voice thundered.
Daigo froze.
His hands were shaking.
The boy beneath him was unconscious—his face a swollen mess.
Daigo slowly stood and looked around. The other kids were frozen in horror.
The instructor muttered, "Match… over. Daigo wins."
Without another word, Daigo stepped out of the ring, his chest heaving.
He didn't understand what had happened.
He had died.
He had been betrayed.
He had lost everything.
And yet…
He was breathing again.
And the fire in his blood had not gone out.
End of Chapter 1