Prologue

In the Divine Calendar, year 8980, a celestial omen descended upon the desolate marshlands at the heart of the Divine Continent, sending tremors through the races of Humans, Demons, Saints, and Fiends alike.

Deep within these central wastelands lay an ancient battlefield, heaped with corpses and rivers of blood—a vision of the eighteenth layer of hell. Yet, at the very center, a small verdant pool shone with crystalline clarity, as bottomless as a desert oasis. Along its edge, an old monk in tattered robes sat in silent meditation, while in the pool itself, an aged Taoist in a ragged robe fished astride an ox.

Suddenly, the old monk opened his eyes and gazed skyward, speaking slowly, “It comes again.”

At his words, the Taoist frowned in displeasure. “Bald donkey, who asked you to make such a racket? You’ve scared the fish away.”

Seeing his reaction, the old monk could only shake his head in resignation. “Truly a heartless Taoist…”

The Taoist replied indifferently, “It’s none of my concern, nor yours.”

With that, the two fell silent.

In the south of the continent bloomed a singular flower, towering ten thousand feet, its petals trailing among the clouds. Upon the main bud reclined a beguiling woman in white, lazily sprawled on a petal. Her distant gaze fixed on the center of the Divine Continent, lost in a daze; after a time, she murmured softly.

“A celestial omen descends…?”

“Heaven…?”

To the west, within a golden palace, a majestic man in golden robes sat upon a resplendent throne, the very image of a sovereign lord. He gazed far toward the continent’s center, silent, opening his palm before clenching it tightly, unwilling to release his grip.

In the north, before an immense black palace stood a towering dark platform. Upon it, a formidable man looked into the distant sky, speaking not a word, only tightening his hold upon a black axe.

The Black Forest, at the heart of the wastelands, was a place where ancient trees stretched endlessly, shrouding the land in eternal darkness, earning the forest its name. Yet deep within this gloomy wood, where the sun never shone, faint motes of light flickered—around twenty in number, ten within and sixteen without, forming an uneasy encirclement that shifted in confusion.

“The Eight Saints’ Sons, Four Young Fiend Lords, and Four Young Demon Kings—three races united. Quite a scheme,” Ji Yunyang declared sharply, trading blows with a Saint’s Son before retreating a few steps.

Among the Eight Saints’ Sons, a dashing youth thrust his sword at Ji Yunyang, laughing, “Who in the world does not know the Human race teems with prodigies? We have no other intention but to test our strength against yours.”

“Hmph! If you’re so capable, go challenge Nan Shenjun! He, too, is one of our Human prodigies,” snorted Xuanyuan Yuanlie, blocking the Saint’s Son’s sword with his crimson spear and invoking Nan Shenjun’s name.

At the mention of Nan Shenjun, the faces of the three races’ young elites darkened—he was the nightmare of their entire generation.

Nan Shenjun attained the Dao at a tender age—who in the world could match such a feat?

Now, the Young Devourer in black robes broke the silence. “Why waste words? As long as you restrain them, I’ll devour them all at once.”

Despite their dislike of his tone, the others complied with his plan.

“Jiang Yao, it seems I must break my promise,” Qin Yi said bitterly to Jiang Yao, the usual sparkle absent from his handsome face, replaced by guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Yao replied with a radiant smile, her beauty all the more moving. In her heart, she thought, Even if I die, as long as you are with me in the underworld, I will not be alone.

Qin Yi saw her smile and felt all the more pained. Glancing at the assembled Human prodigies, then back at Jiang Yao, he made a decision from which there could be no turning back.

Meanwhile, except for the Young Devourer, the other fifteen from the three races advanced to pin down the ten Human prodigies. With their elite numbers, restraining the Humans was all too easy. The Young Devourer’s gaping maw, ready to swallow the heavens, awaited only the moment their strength waned and resistance ceased.

Qin Yi sighed, finally, and with a single sword stroke forced back the Saint’s Son who opposed him. Slowly, he rose into the air. All eyes turned toward him, puzzled.

“Qin Yi, what are you doing?” Jiang Yao cried out, sensing he was about to do something perilous.

He looked at Jiang Yao but said nothing. Then, gazing up at the enormous black maw above, he began to chant softly:

“Let my Dao body transform, to shatter heaven and earth.”

Suddenly, Qin Yi spoke aloud, and his body burst forth in radiant light. As brilliance flooded the sky, winds howled and clouds surged, gathering into a vast vortex above.

All present, save Jiang Yao, stared in shock at the transformation:

“He’s becoming the Supreme Dao Embryo…?”

“No… Qin Yi!” Tears welled in Jiang Yao’s eyes as she struggled desperately to reach him, but she was powerless to break free.

Qin Yi managed a sorrowful smile at her. With utmost seriousness, he said, “Yao Yao, if there is another life…”

Jiang Yao could only shake her head, sobbing uncontrollably.

Without another word, Qin Yi raised his right hand, sending Jiang Yao into the massive vortex. No matter how she struggled, it was in vain. The Human prodigies seized the opportunity to escape, but Qin Yi neither moved nor spoke—only silent tears streaming down his face as his body slowly dispersed into nothingness.

Before escaping, Ji Yunyang glanced back at Qin Yi, who was fading into a mote of light, his eyes narrowing in thought.

Wang Hong was the last to escape, suffering wounds for his delay, but in that moment, survival was all that mattered.

By now, Qin Yi’s body was nearly gone, only a faint consciousness remaining. As even this faded, he suddenly discovered a new presence in his mind—but it was too late to comprehend what it was.

The Eight Saints’ Sons, the Four Young Fiend Lords, and the Four Young Demon Kings gazed at the vanished Qin Yi with respect, especially the Young Fiend Lords, for such an act was most admired among the Fiends.

“I’ve heard this Supreme Dao Embryo isn’t even the most formidable among his group, but from what he’s shown today, if he had a future, he would be no ordinary figure,” one Young Fiend Lord marveled.

“To slay a Human Supreme Dao Embryo of such character—this was a worthy gain,” a Saint’s Son remarked.

“What a pity that the Innate Sword Embryo escaped,” said the Young Dragon King, regretful.

“Don’t worry, she won’t leave the wastelands unscathed,” the Eight Saints’ Sons replied in unison.

“Amitabha…”

Within the ancient battlefield, the old monk witnessed Qin Yi’s death and recited a sutra in sorrow.

The Taoist beside him laughed. “Be at ease, old monk. The boy showed some conscience, returning his Dao body to the world. I daresay, before long, another Supreme Dao Embryo will arise among the Humans.”

“Hmm…!”

Suddenly, both monk and Taoist exclaimed in surprise.

The old monk looked at the Taoist. “What does it mean?”

The Taoist calculated for a long while but could find no answer, muttering, “Impossible… How could this be?”

Only the silence of the ancient battlefield replied.

Meanwhile, in the Dao Palace of the Human realm—

Beneath a great tree, a white-haired old man napped with a broom in his arms.

Upon a tall building, a scholarly youth stood with his hands behind his back.

Both gazed distantly westward, speaking in unison, “Heaven’s Will is but the execution of heaven’s justice.”

The world would not change greatly for the sake of any one person or any single event.

Just as the disheveled drunk would still drink himself into a stupor and snore by the roadside—perhaps bullied by some during the day, now murmuring quietly in his dreams:

“What are you…?”

“And what are you…?”

“And what are they…?”

The butcher in the old alley south of Cloud Swaying City would simply continue sharpening his cleaver for the livestock as he always had.

No one in all the lands would ever think to connect the youth who died in the wastelands with another, of the same name and surname, who perished within a year on Mount Taiyi.