The Void Realm's sky bled crimson, its fractured stars jagged as shattered fangs, casting a sickly glow over a battlefield choked with ash and bone. Corpses lay twisted, their qi-drained husks clawing at the earth, mouths frozen in silent screams, their flesh shriveled like parchment. Xun Wei, once a Mid Sky Immortal, stood at the heart of the carnage, his black robes drenched in blood, the metallic stench clinging to him like a shroud. His eyes, cold as the void between worlds, surveyed the devastation without a flicker of emotion. At his feet, the Celestial Mandate's final host—a grotesque monstrosity of writhing qi, splintered bone, and festering flesh—convulsed, its hollow eyes dissolving into black ichor, leaving a stench of decay. Victory was his, but it was a hollow thing, a fleeting step toward an eternal throne. His face, serene as a monk's, hid a mind sharper than any blade, unmoved by the slaughter or the fading wails of the fallen.
Three centuries ago, in Ironbloom Valley, Xun Wei was a D-grade cultivator, his meridians brittle as dry twigs, his dantian a cracked clay pot. Mocked by peers, scorned by elders, he refused to kneel to fate. In the shadows of his clan's disdain, he forged the Dual Path of Eternity, a heretical method that wove righteous and demonic qi into a single, unbreakable thread. The righteous Light of Serenity bathed his meridians in golden warmth, anchoring his soul like a lighthouse in a storm. The demonic Crimson Fang Technique was a blood-red serpent, burrowing into others' dantians to siphon life essence, leaving husks that crumbled to dust. Together, they formed a volatile synergy, the golden qi tempering the crimson's hunger, shattering the Celestial Mandate's boundaries—divine laws capping even Celestial Sovereigns. The Dual Path promised ascension to a realm where he could rewrite existence, but its creation was steep.
In early experiments, the Dual Path nearly unmade him. Demonic qi clashed with righteous, triggering qi deviation, his meridians spasming, his soul teetering on the brink of dissonance—a madness where the self unraveled. Blood seeped from his eyes, his screams echoing in his Abyssal Hollow lair as he balanced the forces. Only his relentless will, honed by years of rejection, held him together. When whispers of his method reached the clans, envy turned to treachery. The Celestial Mandate, a sentient force of divine order, could not intervene directly but crafted hosts—puppets of qi and malice—to hunt him. They stormed his base, finding a charnel house: skeletal remains piled in corners, cultivators drained to dust, their faces locked in terror. The truth branded him a demonic heretic, and the war that followed painted the Void Realm red.
Now, at the battle's end, Xun Wei's meridians burned, the Crimson Fang overtaxing his body. His left hand clutched the Abyss Relic, a black orb pulsing with chaotic qi, stolen from the Mandate's sanctum during a raid that cost him his last ally, Zhao Lin. He had lured her to Abyssal Hollow, her trust a weapon. As his Crimson Fang drained her qi, her body withered, her screams fading into silence. He watched, unmoved, her death fueling his ascent. Sacrifice was power, and he spared no one. The relic's whispers grew fevered, guiding him to a rift in reality, a tear where crimson starlight met neon blue. Through it, he glimpsed Yunhai, a sprawling metropolis of June 08, 2025, its skyscrapers aglow with ley-line holograms, hovercars weaving through misty air. At its heart was a figure of immense power, a god masquerading as a mortal.
In Yunhai's No. 60 Academy, a young man slouched in the cafeteria, his uniform crisp but eyes dull, a bowl of noodles untouched before him. His Eternal Dantian held qi vast enough to unmake worlds, sealed by the Veil of Serenity, a righteous technique cloaking his power. A golden-haired girl, Jia Mei, her Dawn Blade Technique at Foundation Early radiating loyalty, sat beside him, urging, "You could ace the ley-line test without trying." He shrugged, his apathy a wall. Lin Tao, broad-shouldered with the Iron Tide Technique at Foundation Middle, boasted, "I'll join the Celestial Veil Sect before you blink!" Across the city, Elder Wen, Core Formation Middle, monitored ley lines with his Starflow Technique, sensing faint disturbances. Mei Lin, a city enforcer at Core Formation Early, patrolled with qi-runed gauntlets, her vigilance unmatched.
Xun Wei's lip twitched in disdain. "Power squandered is power stolen." He activated the Phantom Wisp Technique, a demonic art cloaking his soul in shadow, its crimson tendrils slithering through the rift. The wisp latched onto the young man's aura, unnoticed. In the cafeteria, a student spilled tea, scalding his hand, crying out. The young man glanced over, then away, unmoved, while Jia Mei rushed to help. Xun Wei's soul began siphoning divine qi, weaving it into his Void Dantian. The golden Light of Serenity stabilized the crimson Crimson Fang's hunger, but the influx was a storm—his meridians screamed, blood trickling from his lips, his body convulsing in the Void Realm. His god-level soul held firm, a fortress against chaos, but his mortal frame struggled, meridians cracking like dry earth. He began forming a second foundation—a righteous qi reservoir to cloak his demonic power—knowing his body needed time to adjust.
A wounded cultivator nearby, barely alive, reached for him, gasping, "Master Wei, save me…" Xun Wei stepped back, his serene mask intact, letting the man's qi fade into death. Sacrifice was power, and he would not waste it on the weak.
As the transfer completed, the Abyss Relic shuddered, cracking like brittle glass. The Eon Cycle Technique, a forbidden art tied to his Dual Path, roared unbidden, triggered by the relic's collapse. A vortex of crimson and gold engulfed him, time fracturing into shards: Ironbloom Valley, 300 years ago, his 15-year-old self kneeling in shame, talentless, mocked. His Void Dantian, now brimming with stolen qi, fused with his god-level soul, its power flooding his fragile body. The vortex spat him out in Ironbloom Valley's ceremony hall, his youthful form kneeling amid jeering peers.
The hall reeked of aged incense and decaying pride, its obsidian pillars carved with dragon motifs worn by time. Zhao Fen, his cousin, her Frostwind Technique at Foundation Middle chilling the air, sneered, "Talentless as ever, cousin?" Her black hair gleamed under torchlight, her eyes sharp with malice. Elder Cang, Core Formation Late, his Starflow Technique casting constellations across his robes, droned about clan duties, his voice a dull hum. Hua Ling, gentle with her Jade Blossom Technique at Foundation Early, whispered nervously to Kai Ren, brash with his Thundercoil Technique at Foundation Middle. Elder Yan, Core Formation Peak, watched from the shadows, his crimson robes hinting at forbidden power.
A young cultivator nearby, qi flaring wildly, collapsed, blood seeping from his eyes, begging for aid. The crowd gasped, but Xun Wei's serene face didn't shift. He watched the boy's qi flicker out, his body still, while Zhao Fen rushed to help, too late. His cold mind calculated: the Light of Serenity would maintain his righteous facade, but the Crimson Fang would feast in shadows. His body ached, the stolen power straining his meridians, but the second foundation began to form, a deceptive qi reservoir to fool the sect and the Mandate. The Dual Path of Eternity, his secret from a future timeline, would guide him to an eternal throne, and nothing—not Zhao Fen, not the Mandate—would stand in his way.
Far in the Void Realm, in the Celestial Mandate's temple of silence, divine waters rippled like a disturbed grave. A golden-robed being stirred, its voice a hiss. "A heretic defies time… unnatural."
An ancient, mechanical voice echoed, cold as iron. "He is… other."
"Intervene?"
"Not yet. Let him rise. The Mandate will crush him when he falters."