Power rules this world.
The strong ascend. The weak kneel.
Every soul claws upward—toward strength, toward immortality, toward godhood.
It's all they want. It's all they live for.
But not me.
I never cared for thrones carved from bone or heavens paved in gold.
I didn't want to live forever. I didn't need to become a god.
All I ever wanted was her.
Lian.
A quiet life, far from the chaos of cultivators and kings.Moments that didn't have to last forever—only long enough to feel like they would.
That was enough.
We had so little.
But when she looked at me, I never wanted more.
"Xuanyan, will you help me herd the cows?"
She always said my name like it meant something.
I smiled. "Of course."
Then the sky broke.
Colors tore across the clouds — red, gold, black.
Thunder, but not from storms.
From gods.
The clash between gods and demons shook the heavens, their waves of power tearing through the land.
Xauyan knew it was no longer safe to stay!
I grabbed Lian's hand and ran.
She was trembling. So was I.
A figure fell from the sky — glowing, twisted, wrong.
A demon.
He raised a blade that pulsed with darkness and hurled it toward the heavens.
The world split open.
Mountains shattered. Trees vanished.
And then, light answered.
Three swords of divine brilliance descended.
They fused into one.
And from it, three Immortal Gods emerged — white, blue, red.
War in the flesh.
They struck together. Even then, the demon didn't fall.
The sky burned.
The gods combined into one being of blinding gold.
I held Lian as tightly as I could.
We were ants beneath titans.
And then — the light swallowed everything.
Xuanyan woke in ash.
The village was gone. No homes, no fields… and no Lian!
He found her hair band. No body. No sign. Just emptiness.
(This can't be!)
"This must be a dream… Yes, I must be dreaming."
I slapped myself , head butted against the ground.
But no waking up, he was still herein world without Lian.
Kneeled on the ground and cried out to the sky.
"Help me!"
A god looked down, seeing it's like nothing and disappear without a care.
Even his last hope vanished. If even the god isn't willing to help him then who should he go to help for?
Demon who caused everything? But he has already been dead.
He stayed in that state for who knows how long.
He realized Lian no more in the world and no one is going to help him.
Xuanyan clenched the hair band.
"If Heaven took her… I'll tear Heaven down."
Just then, A voice came.
"Do you want power?"
It was the dying demon. Bleeding, broken.
Xuanyan hesitated.
Demon are not to be trusted. They are cancer to humanity, always trying to sow discord and cause chaos across humans.
If he wasn't here, perhaps Lian might not have died.
His resentment for the Demon was as high as heaven.
"Haha… boy, this is why you couldn't protect what you love. You lack the resolve. Do you think you can take revenge by yourself "
The demon spoke sensing Xuanyan's hesitation but also knew about his craving for revenge.
He knew while Xuanyan was hesitating, with his mind broken and thirst for revenge, he will succumb to the temptation.
Indeed, Xuanyan hesitated but in the end, he knew that by himself, revenge would be nothing but a word.
"Take it," the Demons said, "Do what you will with this."
Xuanyan hesitated. Then took his hand.
Pain exploded. His body burned. Darkness entered his soul.
Xuanyan saw a vision
A battlefield, swallowed by smoke and storm. A hundred years ago, Zhenmo, the Demon Warlord, stood at the heart of the chaos, leading an army of demons and defiant mortals against the celestial gods.
His presence alone warped the air. With a flick of his finger, he unleashed a blast of demonic power so immense it shattered the skies and split the mountains in two. Valleys crumbled. Rivers boiled. The world itself seemed to recoil from his strength.
And yet, even as gods rained fire from above, Zhenmo stood unbroken. His eyes burned like twin suns as he raised his weapon and roared:
"We do not kneel!"
Back to Reality
The vision vanished as quickly as it came but Xuanyan still felt it — the weight of Zhenmo's fury, the fire of his defiance. It pulsed inside him like a second heartbeat.
The demon died. A forbidden cultivation technique imprinted itself within Xuanyan.
He stood. Eyes glowing faintly.
"For her."
Three disciples of disciples from the Silver Feather Sect arrived in the ruins. Sent by Heaven to investigate the demon presence.
They found Xuanyan standing alone in the ashes.
Disciple 1: "You. Mortal. Identify yourself."
Xuanyan said nothing. Just stared.
Xuanyan: "Even now, you think you're righteous?"
One of them kicked the hairband from his hand.
Disciple: "How dare you ignore us, Answer us or you will face consequence!"
Xauyan's rage boiled beneath his skin, his hatred for the heavens growing with every breath. The demon essence within him stirred whispering, fueling the fire in his veins, twisting his thoughts.
He clenched his fists, flames licking up his arms not born of magic, but of the fury that now lived inside him. It wasn't just rage. It was grief. Lian was nowhere in sight, she was gone!
Xuanyan's eyes turned black and red.
The ground shook. A dark aura exploded out.
The disciples staggered back.
Disciple: "What is this?! he's not human!"
Xauyan moved faster than the eye could follow. Before the three Heaven Disciples could react, he was already upon them.
With nothing but his bare hands, he struck a blur of motion and blood. In a single breath, his fists tore through their chests, ripping out their hearts with terrifying precision.
They didn't even have time to scream.
The disciples of Heaven collapsed where they stood, lifeless, their blood staining the shattered ground. Xauyan didn't flinch.
Xuanyan picked up Lian's hairband.
Tied it to his wrist.
Xuanyan:
"They took you.
Now I'll take them all.
A hundred times over."
After defeating the three Disciples of Heaven, Xauyan stood amidst the shattered remains of the battlefield, his hand still dripping with blood. His chest rose and fell heavily, not from exhaustion, but from the weight of memory.
Lian.
Her name echoed in his mind like a whisper from a forgotten dream. He could still see her smile, soft and warm face. A part of him still refused to believe she was gone. Every breath he took felt like betrayal—as if his survival had come at the cost of something far more precious.
"It should've been me..." he muttered, his voice barely audible against the wind.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. The pain in his heart was sharper than any blade. He had sworn to protect her, yet he had failed.
But in that emptiness, something else stirred—resolve.
He looked to the horizon, where storm clouds gathered like the judgment of the heavens. If he wanted to change fate to challenge the will of gods, he had no choice. He would have to rise beyond what he was. Beyond pain. Beyond regret.
"I'll become stronger," he whispered, the words etched with steel."
Xauyan left the village. He didn't look back.
"All I wanted was for her to be safe," he told himself. "Now I have nothing."
He knew he was nothing before her—no family, no name. But now, he carried the bloodline of demons.
A voice spoke inside him.
"I will not kneel. Neither will you."
Suddenly, he saw a vision. A strange power something that could trap mortals and immortals in a box and slice them apart. He tried to use it, but it was small and weak. He knew he needed to train.
So he went deep into a cave. Far from the world. And there, he practiced.
The three disciples had not returned after weeks. Not a message. Not a whisper through the spiritual threads. Suspicion turned to unease. Without delay, the elders dispatched a group of cultivators to descend to the mortal realm and investigate.
When the cultivators arrived, they found only death.
The bodies of the three Heaven Disciples lay crumpled on the scorched earth — motionless, lifeless, drenched in blood. Their chests were torn open, hearts ripped clean from their bodies. The air still reeked of demonic power.
No fight. No signs of struggle. Just silence… and precision
While Xauyan was deep in training, pushing the limits of his power, the Disciples of the God Realm had begun their search. They were looking for the one responsible for the deaths of their fellow cultivators — and after months of silence, they finally sensed it: a surge of demonic energy, faint but unmistakable, pulsing through the land nearby.
Following the trail, four disciples descended cautiously. The presence was strong, unlike anything they had encountered in recent years.
The disciples didn't attack immediately. They exchanged glances, sensing danger. One of them, a tall man with a jade clasp at his waist, stepped forward and spoke.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Do you know anything about the village that was destroyed during the battle against the demon? Elders fought to bring peace to the mortals."
Xauyan slowly turned to face them. His expression was calm, but his eyes were distant, almost hollow. Hearing the word peace brought back memories he'd tried to bury of Lian, of that burning village, of the life he lost.
A faint, bitter smile appeared on his lips.
"So, you've come again," Xauyan said quietly. "To destroy another life... in the name of peace?"
One of the disciples narrowed his eyes, stepping back in realization. He studied Xauyan's face, then the dark energy still lingering in the air around him.
They appeared before him. One raised his sword. "Beg for mercy, and maybe your soul will be judged kindly."
Xauyan looked at them and said calmly,
"Mercy is all i beg for heaven,but they answerd only with silence."
The second laughed. "Another fool who thinks demon power makes him strong."
"It's him," one cultivator said sharply. "He's the one."
Without waiting for confirmation, he attacked. Divine energy burst from his palm as he launched forward, blade drawn and aimed straight at Xauyan's heart.
By the time they got close, Xauyan had broken through. He could finally control the power.
The first attacked—but he never reached Xauyan.
In a blur of movement, Xauyan raised his hand — calm, precise, almost casual.
In that instant, blood-red threads shot out from his fingertips, moving faster than sight. They weaved through the air like living things, forming a cube-shaped barrier around the attacker. Before the disciple could react, the threads tightened.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
A flash of crimson filled the air. The cube sealed shut — then collapsed inward.
The disciple was gone.
Not a scream. Not even a sound. Only fragments of his robe drifted to the ground like falling leaves, stained dark.
The other two Disciples froze.
The second shouted and summoned fifty swords, sending them all flying at Xauyan. But Xauyan moved too fast. He grabbed one of the swords and crushed it. Then, in a blink, he was behind the second man.
The cultivator tried to run, but Xauyan grabbed his neck and squeezed.
"That's what you deserve," he said.
Snap.
The body hit the ground.
Then, a stronger cultivator arrived. The moment he drew his sword, Xauyan could feel it, this one was powerful.
They fought. The cave shook. Xauyan gav
e everything, but the man was faster, stronger. Xauyan barely escaped with his life.
He realized something.
"I'm still not strong enough," he said. "I can't beat the gods. Not yet."
.
But Xauyan think that
"If the gods stand above me, then I will tear the sky down."