In ancient times, when the world was first birthed from chaos, when the Demon God and the God Emperors walked side by side to shape creation, there existed a realm beyond mortal understanding of the Celestial Realm.

  The Celestial Realm was a vast and boundless domain, grander than any other plane of existence. It stretched endlessly across the heavens, with sprawling continents of divine light, endless oceans of starlight, and colossal palaces floating among the stars. Towers of jade, citadels of gold, and temples carved from the bones of ancient cosmic beasts filled the horizon. Legions of divine warriors God Kings and God Venerates numbering in the countless millions stood ready, their might enough to shake the heavens and tear apart lesser worlds with but a breath.

  Hidden deep within the Celestial Realm was the Demon God Clan, residing in a secluded paradise known as the Demon God Realm. After shaping the world, the Demon God perished, leaving only his descendants, his bloodline ancient, noble, and incomparably strong. They bore his legacy not through conquest, but through peace and understanding.

  Hóng Shā Tiān was one of them. As Sect Master of the revered Sword Dao Pavilion, he was the youngest cultivator in history to attain God King-level cultivation, only in his early twenties. His mastery of swordsmanship and comprehension of the Dao were peerless throughout the realm, though even he had not yet reached the exalted God Emperor realm. Shā Tiān was strikingly handsome, with jet-black hair flowing freely like midnight silk, and piercing cyan eyes that seemed to gaze deeply into the mysteries of the universe.

  The Sword Dao Pavilion was an awe-inspiring sect nestled within a secluded valley surrounded by towering mountains, lush bamboo forests, and pristine rivers. It was renowned throughout the Demon God Realm for its deep devotion to both sword arts and the profound study of the Dao. Elegant stone paths led through carefully tended gardens, their tranquil beauty accentuated by softly flowing streams and blooming spirit herbs. Majestic halls of jade and dark wood stood proudly, adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of legendary sword masters and ancient Dao philosophies.

  At the heart of the Pavilion stood the Great Dao Hall, an imposing structure with walls engraved with countless sword techniques and Dao scriptures, where disciples gathered daily to meditate and refine their skills. Surrounding the central hall were numerous cultivation chambers, serene libraries filled with ancient scrolls, and training fields paved with smooth stones polished from countless footsteps of dedicated disciples.

  Shā Tiān’s family lived alongside him within the Pavilion. His father, Hóng Zhanlóng, was steadfast and wise; his mother, Lǐ Míngxuě, gentle and insightful; and his beloved younger sister, Hóng Líng'er, bright and spirited. Ling'er shared the family traits, her black hair shimmering in the sunlight, and her lively cyan eyes full of curiosity and joy. Shā Tiān cherished every disciple, elder, and family member dearly, each of them precious beyond measure. The Demon God Realm itself was a realm of peace, its inhabitants uninterested in war or conquest despite their peerless talents and unmatched potential.

  Yet, such tranquility could not last forever.

  One fateful night, while the entire sect rested peacefully beneath the starlit sky, Hóng Shā Tiān practiced his sword beneath the gentle glow of moonlight. This night, however, was different. The heavens themselves cracked open with a deafening roar, and through the rift stepped forth an overwhelming army, their presence enough to threaten the very fabric of the Demon God Realm.

  The God Emperors Emperor Xuān, Emperor Huāng, and Emperor Cāng remained hidden high above in the void of space, shrouded in divine radiance, while their forces surged forward. From the massive spatial tear spilled millions of God Kings and tens of millions of Ancient Gods. In unison, they roared a thunderous decree that shook the mountains and split the skies:

  "All who bear the Demon God’s blood must die!"

  The first wave of slaughter began immediately. Divine soldiers poured into the realm, blood already staining their weapons. Many bore freshly impaled members of the Demon God Clan upon their spears proof that the massacre had already begun beyond the Pavilion’s borders.

  In the face of such horror, Shā Tiān stepped forward.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Behind him, flowers of the Dao bloomed in radiant arcs, each petal etched with cosmic truths. He raised his sword, a blade honed over years of relentless pursuit, and released a single, flawless strike.

  The heavens screamed.

  In a blinding instant, a million God Kings and Ancient Gods were annihilated. Their divine bodies were torn apart, reduced to motes of ash. Blood rained from the skies like crimson storms, painting the battlefield in divine gore.

  The battlefield stood still.

  "We seek no conflict," Shā Tiān said, his voice calm and resonant, echoing across the heavens. "All we desire is to live peacefully, undisturbed by the affairs of the heavens."

  More divine warriors surged forth. The disciples of the Sword Dao Pavilion fought valiantly, unleashing their Dao arts and sword techniques with desperation and fury. Blades of light clashed with halberds of judgment. Heavenly formations lit the skies, only to be crushed beneath endless waves of celestial power.

  Elsewhere, Lǐ Míngxuě and Hóng Líng'er battled fiercely. Despite being surrounded by Ancient Gods, mother and daughter held their ground with breathtaking grace. Lǐ Míngxuě moved like flowing water, her sword dancing in elegant arcs. Ling'er, though young, fought with fierce resolve, her every strike glowing with inherited talent.

  Just as the line threatened to fall, Hóng Zhanlóng Shā Tiān’s father and a God King in his own right stepped forward. He landed beside his son, his long blade gleaming under the bloodied moon.

  Side by side, father and son became an unstoppable force. But soon, Zhanlóng was surrounded. God Kings and Ancient Gods swarmed him from every direction, a tidal wave of celestial might crashing down upon a single man. His blade danced in a storm of divine light, severing limbs and shattering armor, but they were endless.

  "Go! Protect them!" he roared to his son, defiance burning in his voice. "This old man can still hold a sword!"

  For every foe he cut down, three more appeared. Divine spears plunged through his arms, legs, chest, piercing his immortal body and pinning him in place. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his spiritual energy surged one last time.

  He looked toward Shā Tiān as the light dimmed in his eyes, a final smile breaking across his bloodied face.

  "Make them pay... son. Make them all pay..."

  Then, with a final roar, Hóng Zhanlóng was struck by a volley of spears that tore through his body his arms, chest, and legs impaled mercilessly. His body jerked violently from the sheer force, blood gushing from a dozen wounds. Yet he stood, for just a moment longer, defiant to the end, until his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, pierced and unmoving.

  He was gone.

  From afar, Lǐ Míngxuě and Ling'er saw it happen. A scream tore from Lǐ Míngxuě’s throat, and Ling'er’s expression crumpled in horror.

  "Father!" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "No... not you too...!"

  Lǐ Míngxuě gritted her teeth, tears streaking down her bloodstained cheeks. "Shā Tiān, protect your sister. Survive this. Survive... no matter what."

  Shā Tiān fell to his knees, the world spinning in grief. The only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat and the rage that followed.

  It was then that the skies split again not with sound, but with a silence so absolute it swallowed the battlefield. Darkness gave way to blinding, holy light. From above descended three pillars of divine brilliance, each more radiant and oppressive than the last.

  The God Emperors had arrived.

  The ground trembled.

  The wind ceased.

  Even the gods halted.

  Then Emperor Xuān raised his hand.

  A titanic palm of divine law fell from the heavens.

  The Sword Dao Pavilion. The sect, the people, the valley was obliterated in an instant. No scream was heard. No trace remained. A crater miles wide smoldered where beauty and life had once flourished.

  Only ash remained.

  From the skies, Emperor Cāng descended like a phantom of judgment. Without a word, he raised his hand and space twisted.

  From the distant battlefield, Lǐ Míngxuě and Hóng Líng'er were dragged through the void and slammed to the blood-soaked ground before Shā Tiān. Their faces were streaked with ash and tears.

  Shā Tiān struggled to rise, roaring as he tried to break through the barrier of Dao and law that encased them, but it was no use.

  Emperor Cāng looked down at him with cold, unreadable eyes. "Now that you have watched your sect burn... now that you have seen your father die... it's time for the conclusion."

  He pulled the two women close with a flick of his fingers. They clutched each other tightly, sobbing, eyes wide with terror and sorrow.

  "Don't look, Tiān'er!" Lǐ Míngxuě cried. "Live! Endure!"