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In this land cleaved by the Heavenly Dao, a youth with forbidden blood is prying open a millennial shackle. When Li Wuhen was crouched in the blood slave camp, devouring divine hearts amidst decaying grass, he knew not that the barren bone totem was tearing into his back and growing. As the moonlight of the Nine Skies Realm stained the rivers of the Canglan Continent red for the third time, Anu''''s puppet strings had already quietly entwined the throats of three thousand cultivators, while Ling Qingxiao, with a gentle shake of her folding fan, poured crane crest red poison that both killed traitors and numbed her own love venom. On the chessboard of the Heavenly Dao, blood oaths shimmered with bronze cold light: the multiple-choice question of consuming or being consumed would ultimately tear open the eight-thousand-year-old wager between gods and demons at the Door of Ruin—those who claimed eternal rule were merely spectators from a higher plane, watching caged beasts. Until Li Wuhen held the illusion-breaking mirror forged from the old blind man''''s blood-sacrificed eyes, seeing the gilded viewing stage floating above the cloud seas of the Nine Skies Realm, the struggling ants amid the broken mountains and rivers finally realized that the true god-slaying blade must pierce through the fourth wall confining all beings'''' fates.