The obsidian throne room stretched into shadow, its vaulted ceiling lost in darkness that seemed to swallow light itself.
Crimson veins pulsed through the black stone walls like arteries of a beating heart, casting the chamber in an ominous red glow.
Dozens of figures knelt in perfect formation across the polished floor, their heads pressed low enough that foreheads touched stone.
These were the Heavenly Demon's elite—commanders who had ruled entire sectors of the realm, generals whose names struck fear across three continents. Now they trembled like children.
At the chamber's apex sat a figure that defied easy description. The Heavenly Demon appeared deceptively human at first glance, but everything about him radiated wrongness.
His skin held the pale perfection of carved marble, unmarked by time or battle.
Long black hair fell past his shoulders like liquid shadow, framing a face that might have been called beautiful if not for the eyes—ancient things that held depths of cruelty no mortal mind should possess.
He wore robes of deep crimson that seemed to shift and flow like living blood, and when he moved, reality itself appeared to bend slightly around him.
Most unsettling of all was his stillness—he sat motionless as a statue, not even appearing to breathe, yet the very air in the chamber vibrated with suppressed power.
"Report," he said without looking at the kneeling figures. His voice carried no particular volume, yet it resonated through every stone, every bone, every soul present.
The leftmost commander, a hulking beast-man whose claws had torn through armies, spoke with a voice that cracked despite his efforts. "My Lord... the eastern fortresses have fallen. General Kazarak's legion—ten thousand strong—was annihilated in less than an hour."
"Continue."
Another voice, this one belonging to a pale woman whose beauty hid centuries of accumulated malice: "The corruption fields we spent decades cultivating were purified in moments. Our demon-spawn, our plague carriers, our nightmare constructs—all of them simply... ceased."
"The poisoned rivers turned to crystal-clear streams at his touch," added a third. "The cursed forests became gardens. It's as if—"
"As if what?" The Heavenly Demon's tone remained perfectly level.
The commander's words died in his throat. Around the chamber, others shifted uncomfortably, the sound of armor and scales scraping against stone unnaturally loud in the silence.
"We tried everything, Master," another dared to speak. "The assassins you personally trained. The reality-tearing traps. We even corrupted his closest allies, turned them against him with promises of power beyond measure."
"And?"
"They... they broke free. Every single one. Their bonds to him proved stronger than our corruption. It's impossible, my Lord. No mortal should possess such—"
"Such what?" The words came out like silk hiding razors.
"Such... such luck."
For the first time, the Heavenly Demon moved. His head tilted slightly to the right, and though his expression remained unchanged, the temperature in the chamber dropped noticeably.
"Luck," he repeated, as if tasting the word.
"Yes, Master. Every trap we set, every ambush we planned—something always went wrong at the crucial moment. A sudden rainstorm that revealed our hidden forces. A rockslide that blocked their retreat just as they realized it was a trap, giving them time to regroup. Even our most carefully laid schemes unraveled due to the most unlikely coincidences."
The Heavenly Demon's fingers drummed once against his throne's armrest. The sound echoed like a death knell.
"Don't you think," he said slowly, "that this feels like déjà vu?"
The commander who had just spoken looked up in confusion. "My Lord, I don't understand—"
The words cut off as invisible pressure slammed down on him like a mountain. His body crumpled against the floor, bones creaking under the weight of power that threatened to flatten him into paste.
Around him, the other commanders pressed themselves lower, terror radiating from them in waves.
"You all," the Heavenly Demon said in that same conversational tone, "can't even kill one small young man."
The pressure released. The commander gasped, blood trickling from his mouth as he struggled not to collapse completely.
"Leave me."
They fled. Centuries-old demons and monsters of legend scrambled for the exits like children fleeing a nightmare, their dignity abandoned in favor of distance from their master's presence.
When the last footstep faded, the Heavenly Demon finally closed his eyes.
'System.'
'Why do I feel like something is wrong here?'
[The mortal Lin Feng is Heavenly Blessed, Host. He is favored by—]
'Not that nonsense.' The interruption came with a mental snarl. 'What I want to hear is why I feel like I've repeated this exact conversation multiple times.'
Silence stretched. Then, reluctantly:
[...]
The Heavenly Demon's eyes snapped open, burning crimson in the darkness.
'Use the villain points. Purchase memory extraction.'
[Memory Extraction Protocol activated. Cost: 50,000 Villain Points. Confirmed.]
He stood with fluid grace, each movement precise and predatory.
As he walked toward the chamber's massive windows, his form seemed to blur slightly at the edges, as if reality struggled to contain his true nature.
"Favored by Heaven, huh?"
Beyond the obsidian glass stretched a landscape of devastation. Storm clouds boiled overhead, split by veins of crimson lightning.
In the distance, mountains burned with unnatural fire while the screams of the dying echoed across valleys filled with smoke and ash.
And through it all, cutting like a blade of pure light through the darkness, came the steady advance of orthodox cultivators.
At their head walked a figure that shone with divine radiance—Lin Feng, the Son of Heaven, accompanied by his seven wives whose combined power had already carved through three layers of the Heavenly Demon's most carefully prepared defenses.
The Heavenly Demon placed one pale hand against the window, his reflection merging with the scene of destruction beyond.
Then, without warning, reality twisted.
Space folded in on itself like crumpled paper, and in the span of a heartbeat, the Heavenly Demon's form dissolved into shadow before materializing ten meters away from the advancing orthodox army.
The effect was instantaneous and devastating.
"HEAVENLY DEMON!"
The scream tore from a dozen throats at once as the presence of ultimate evil crashed over them like a physical wave.
Cultivators who had faced down armies of demons without flinching now trembled like leaves in a hurricane, their spiritual energy recoiling instinctively from the aura of absolute malevolence.
The seven wives of Lin Feng—powerful cultivators in their own right—staggered backward, their faces drained of all color. Some fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his presence.
Others raised trembling hands to shield themselves, as if mere gestures could ward off the incarnation of darkness itself.
Even the orthodox army's most hardened veterans felt their weapons slip from nerveless fingers. The very air seemed to thicken around them, making each breath a struggle as primal terror flooded their minds.
But at the front of the formation, Lin Feng stood differently.
Where others cowered, he remained upright. Where others trembled, he stood steady. His divine radiance flickered but held firm, a beacon of light against the encroaching darkness.
Yet his expression was not one of fear—it was confusion.
His brow furrowed as he stared at the Heavenly Demon's imposing form, and his lips moved in a barely audible mutter: "That's... a new way of arrival. Unlike last time..."
The words were soft, meant for no one but himself, spoken in the tone of someone trying to solve a puzzle that should have been familiar.
But the Heavenly Demon heard them.
And slowly, deliberately, a smile spread across his perfect features.
Not the cruel smirk of a predator, but something far more chilling—the satisfied expression of someone who had just found the missing piece to a complex riddle.
"Last time," the Heavenly Demon repeated, his voice carrying easily across the trembling ranks. The words seemed to hang in the air like a death sentence.
Before anyone could react, before Lin Feng could even blink, the Heavenly Demon vanished again.
Reality warped and twisted as his presence simply ceased to exist in that spot, leaving only empty air and the lingering taste of demonic Qi as he rushed head on towards them Without waiting for his army to arrive.
"HE'S COMING!"