"Do we even have a chance?" Xiao Ming, a golden-armored martial artist, called out as she and Chang Ming streaked side by side through the sky—twin blurs atop gleaming flying swords.
They were both immortal warriors at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm, respected by all in the Chu Ming Clan. Even the clan head, a cultivator at the second stage of the Soul Forging Realm, spoke to them with deference, for it was extraordinary to reach their level at their age—477 and 479 years old, respectively. Despite their centuries of life, they appeared no older than 25.
"You're asking if we have a chance against Blood Demon Bai Ling? The man who slaughtered the entire Tang Clan and painted the continent in blood? The same monster who defeated three cultivators an entire realm above him while still at the Golden Core Realm? The fastest in history to reach the peak of the Soul Forging Realm?" Chang Ming's voice was grim. "No. No, we don't. Even if we were at the same realm, I doubt we could win alone. But today, he dies."
His tone carried peculiar reassurance as he glanced upward. Tens of thousands of cultivators—Nascent Soul Realm and above—soared alongside them. At the forefront, a man who appeared no older than 20 rode a green dragon, his golden robes embroidered with emerald sigils. Six other cultivators of similar age flanked him.
"Today, that demon will pay for what he did to my clan," the golden-robed man declared.
"Tang Wujin, I understand your pain," said another youth, meditating atop a flying turtle. "I, too, lost my grandchildren to him. But we must not be blinded by rage."
"Alliance Leader, I am aware." Tang Wujin bowed respectfully.
A white-haired man scoffed. "You worry too much. Bai Ling may be at the ninth stage of the Soul Forging Realm, but all six of us are at the eighth. I'm on the verge of breaking through, and our Alliance Leader has already reached the ninth stage. And behind us—an entire army..."
"We are here," the Alliance Leader intoned, his eyes snapping open. "This is Wú Xiàng Gǔ—the Formless Valley."
As they advanced, skeletal remains—both beast and cultivator—littered the ground, some towering like macabre monuments.
"Hard to believe one man caused all this," murmured a Nascent Soul cultivator.
The Alliance Leader raised a fist, halting the army. Ahead, seated atop the skull of a colossal wolf, a figure clad in red and black robes held a blue-armored man by the throat. The victim withered to dust as his life essence drained away. The perpetrator—Bai Ling—turned his gentle, black-eyed gaze toward the army, smiling faintly.
"I knew it would come to this," he said, his voice soothing, almost hypnotic. "If I reached the Heavenly Realm, none could stop me. So, I understand your... collective effort."
For a moment, his calm and gentle tone made the thousands forget they are facing the world's most feared demon.
"BAI LING!" The Alliance Leader's voice boomed like thunder. "You have gone too far. I, Lord of the Righteous Martial Alliance, sentence you to death for genocide and the practice of forbidden arts!"
Tang Wujin struck first. His dragon dissolved into his soul, manifesting as a gargantuan green sword that plummeted faster than sound toward Bai Ling. The Blood Demon countered with a surge of crimson energy, shattering the blade.
The army attacked—11,780 cultivators unleashed their fury. Bai Ling dodged, parried, and absorbed the essence of those he slew, his wounds healing as quickly as they formed.
Realizing his strategy, the Alliance Leader and the six clan heads attempted to pin him down. But Bai Ling laughed, seizing the Alliance Leader's wrist. Sinister energy flooded the leader's meridians, triggering a Qi backlash that injured him and broke the formation.
"Impossible!" Tang Wujin gasped. "How—?"
Distracted, he failed to react as Bai Ling severed his arms and impaled the Alliance Leader's heart.
"I've waited so long for this," Bai Ling whispered, draining the leader's essence—body, Qi, and soul.
"You're not just absorbing Qi... but souls? How?!" the Alliance Leader choked out.
Bai Ling offered no reply. Despite the thousands still attacking, he conjured clones to defend himself. Yet the onslaught overwhelmed even his regeneration.
"No—not now!" Bai Ling swallowed a crimson pill, accelerating his absorption.
"He's breaking through!" Tang Wujin roared. "If he succeeds—!"
Before he could finish, an eruption of energy cracked the valley. From Bai Ling's position, a hand emerged—so vast it dwarfed the canyon. Then another. And another. Six hands total, followed by three ferocious heads that resembles a lion. A titan rose, skin black as the abyss, wreathed in red light, a trident of malevolent energy materializing in its grip. The pressure alone rendered Nascent Soul cultivators unconscious.
"It's over..." Tang Wujin dropped his sword, despair gripping his heart.
Then—nine pillars of light speared the heavens. From each emerged a figure radiating power equal to the titan.
"The Nine Heavens?!" Tang Wujin's shock was absolute. These were the legends—the only cultivators in history to reach the Heavenly Soul Realm, each over ten millennia old. Why were they here? To welcome a junior... or exterminate a demon?
The Nine attacked faster than thought. One strike cleaved a head from Bai Ling's titanic form—yet it regenerated instantly.
"Just when I thought I'd finally be left alone," the giant rumbled, its voice chilling bones.
A six-winged warrior in majestic armor scoffed. "Surrender, boy. You're unworthy of the Heavenly Realm." Millions of golden swords materialized behind him.
Bai Ling laughed bitterly. "Fine. I'll embrace death—but not alone. Today, I rewrite history."
A blood-red pillar erupted skyward.
"He'll destroy the planet!" The six-winged figure transformed into a golden dragon, coiling around the energy to contain it. The others joined—but the pillar absorbed their bodies, souls, and power. A vortex of crimson winds, faster than sound, annihilated the valley.
When the storm cleared, only four of the Nine Heavens remained in the crater that was once Wú Xiàng Gǔ. The Blood Demon—and five Heavens—were gone. One survivor was missing half his body.
The world reeled. Someone had achieved the impossible: killing five of the eternal Nine Heavens. And that someone was a demonic cultivator.
Bai Ling would be remembered as the Heavenly Demon—the one who reached the heavens and shattered it. His death brought celebration, yet his legacy left dread in its wake.