Mo Li had once been a powerful martial artist. Though not the strongest in the Primordial Realm of old, he was certainly a formidable mid-tier warrior. But now, draped in filthy gray robes, his beard unkempt and eyes clouded and numb, he was a mere shadow of his former self. In this damp underground prison, he had languished for millions of years. A man who could once shatter mountains with a wave of his hand had become nothing more than a withered old man.
Clang! The screech of an iron door echoed through the corridor. Several demons, their heads crowned with horns, skin a bloody red, and bodies covered in scales, dragged a young man into the cell. Mo Li's eyes, long unused to movement, suddenly flickered to life. A surge of desperate longing to escape erupted within him.
"Now! This is the moment!" Mo Li screamed inwardly. But after a long pause, he simply sighed and let his trembling hands fall weakly to his sides.
"What good would it do to get past this one door?" he thought bitterly. "There are more gates beyond, each reinforced with strange demonic powers. And then there are the winged demons… Escape? There is no escape."
He sighed again and glanced down at his wrinkled arms. These were the very hands that once shook mountains and split oceans—now they couldn't even lift a stone.
"This human is your new cellmate," snarled one of the demons, his purple eyes gleaming with malice. He spat on the boy's motionless body, kicked him hard in the ribs, and finally left the cell with a string of curses.
From the distance came the fading voices of two demons: "Humans are filth—we should've wiped them out long ago. This little bastard actually dared to offend the second prince and even severed his arm! If it weren't for our natural healing…"
Mo Li struggled to his feet. The thick iron chain wrapped around his wrist clanked loudly as he approached the boy. He studied him carefully: the youth was strikingly handsome, with long black hair tangled across his pale face, his breath faint and shallow. One glance at his chest, and Mo Li immediately recognized the signs of a severe internal injury—perhaps even a collapsed ribcage. The flow of energy in his body was weak, and the amount of internal force minimal.
"Kill… kill… all of you must die…" the boy suddenly muttered in a dazed rage. His eyes remained shut, but his face twisted with hatred and pain.
"Wake up," Mo Li whispered. He extended a trembling finger toward the boy's chest. After several shaky taps, a faint pearl-white glow of true energy emerged from his fingertip and seeped into the boy's body. A gentle mist rose from the youth, coiling three feet around him before vanishing into his skin. Only then did a faint flush return to the boy's face.
As consciousness returned, the youth slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was an old man who looked more like a beggar, his time-worn face creased with a rare smile.
"You're awake."
The youth nodded and propped himself up with one hand. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes, and immediately began circulating his internal energy. The Nine Revolutions Life-and-Death True Qi surged through him, rapidly repairing his internal injuries. In no time, he was mostly healed.
A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—he clearly remembered his injuries being far more serious than this. Something wasn't right.
"Thank you… senior," the boy said, his voice steady. While channeling his energy just moments earlier, he had detected the same type of qi as the old man's aiding him from within.
Mo Li simply smiled and turned away, returning to his original spot and sitting silently on the ground.
"Senior… where are we?" the youth asked.
With a long sigh, Mo Li looked up at the prison ceiling, where strange runes shimmered in silvery light. "This is the Demon Realm's water prison. A place where all captured humans, condemned to serve as slaves to the demon race, are held."
"…How many are here?"
"I don't know. But even before I arrived, there were already over a hundred thousand."
"You've been here that long? And why are there so many of our people imprisoned here?"
"I came here a million years ago," Mo Li said quietly. "Since then, who knows how many more have been brought in. Even I've lost count."
The boy—Fengyun Wuji—was shaken to his core. A hundred thousand? That can't be right. I've seen the second demon prince and his four guards before—they didn't seem that powerful. With the strength of our Primordial warriors, we should've been able to fight our way out!
Mo Li seemed to read his thoughts and motioned toward the ceiling. "Punch it. As hard as you can."
Though confused, Fengyun Wuji obeyed. Clenching his fist, he launched a punch toward the prison ceiling. The air hissed as energy tore through it. But instead of typical fist force, a massive arc of sword energy burst from his hand. It slammed into the silvery mesh above, but at that moment, a strange four-pointed formation in the center flared red. Lines of energy shot outward through the metallic threads, absorbing the blow entirely. Not even a ripple was left behind.
"See?"
"How… how is that possible? What is this thing?"
"I'm not asking about the barrier," the old man said, shaking his head. "What do you feel in your body?"
Fengyun Wuji closed his eyes and then opened them again, stunned. "Something's wrong. My energy—it's not replenishing. The qi I used isn't coming back."
"It's not that it isn't replenishing—it's that it's replenishing too slowly," Mo Li said. "Here, every bit of true energy is precious. Use one, and you lose one. And more than that—can't you feel it? That weight? Like a mountain pressing down on your soul?"
Seeing the look on the boy's face, Mo Li's voice turned cold and even. "We've been here for millions of years. Of course we've tried to escape. But it's impossible. This is no longer our world. The energy of our realm is being rejected by this one. That second prince and his four guards—yes, they seemed weak to you, didn't they? That's because they are being rejected by our realm. A hundred times more severely than we are here."
"The forces of one world will always reject those of another. That's a law of the universe. It's why humans, though weaker than demons or beasts, can still survive in the cracks between."
Mo Li's voice grew grave. "As part of the peace accord, no one escapes from here. Every tribe member here understands this. If you attempt to run, you won't just bring ruin to yourself—you'll be branded a traitor to our entire race. And I promise you, not just the others—even I won't let you live."
Fengyun Wuji froze. It felt as though thunder had struck him. He stared at the old man in disbelief. "You…"
"I know—you're newly ascended. But for the sake of all humanity, personal sacrifice means nothing. That's why, every century, more of our people are sent here. To suffer. But never to flee. Compared to the fate of our race, our own lives mean little."
Though Mo Li spoke with calm serenity, Fengyun Wuji felt a chill ripple through his very soul.
Enslaved in this place for countless years, tortured without end—and yet… they've given up escape?
A tremor ran up his spine. From the bottom of his feet to the depths of his heart, an icy fear gripped him.