In the depths of the dense forest, crows suddenly took flight, their outstretched wings forming a pitch-black cage that enveloped everything tightly.
Xiao Chun had stolen the demon pellets from the demons guarding the river to ensure Gui Yansheng could cross it. She had hurriedly urged Gui Yansheng to cross the river and leave, unwilling to follow, fearing that the demons would notice someone crossing and come after him, ruining his chances.
She preferred to stay behind and buy Gui Yansheng time.
A young girl who had always lived among humans knew the dangers of human nature, but she was unaware of the ruthless brutality of demons.
Shortly after Gui Yansheng crossed the river, the demons who had lost their belongings found her. A mere mortal girl against the fierce and terrifying demons—her fate was predictable.
Gui Yansheng held the body of the girl before him. Her body had become rigid, devoid of the warmth and softness she had once had. No matter how he called out to her, she would never awaken again.
They had endured countless hardships, traversed mountains and rivers, and reached Heishi City in search of his father.
She had sacrificed her life, painstakingly stealing a bag of pellets to ensure his safe crossing.
And what of him? He hadn’t even seen the face of Gui Diaotang, his father. All he saw was his father’s soon-to-be bride, high above, untouched by the myriad sufferings of the mortal world.
He was like a stray dog, hunted, driven away, and caught in a web of identity constraints that led to his doom. After giving everything, he gained nothing, a mere joke.
The dreams and hopes of a better future, the greedy fantasies of reuniting with loved ones and living a good life, had been brutally shattered one by one.
Why?
Why was the world so unfair?
Why must he endure everything?
Why, as a half-demon, must he live like an ant beneath human feet, humble and lowly, subject to the whims of fate?
Intense anger surged from his heart, resentment and hatred flaring like a lit torch, spreading wildly through his limbs and bones. A dark mark climbed up his spiritual veins, blossoming into an eerie black begonia at his forehead.
A sharp pain suddenly pierced her chest, causing Zanxing to bend over in agony.
The youth holding the girl turned around, his golden eyes like a blinding abyss, hiding unseen madness.
He stared across the Mingming River, toward Heishi City, and spoke slowly, each word dripping with intent: “Gui Diaotang, I will kill you.”
With a thunderous roar, countless shattered fragments flashed before Zanxing.
She saw Gui Yansheng burying Xiao Chun’s body and then leaving the place, heading toward the distant south.
In the south lies a perilous realm called the Asura Ghost Path, a place hidden with tens of thousands of Asura demons, a land so treacherous that neither demons nor cultivators wish to tread. For ordinary people, entering this realm is a matter of life and death. Yet, the Asura Ghost Path was also the quickest place to cultivate demonic power. Those who emerge from it would surpass cultivators who have trained for a hundred years.
Gui Yansheng ventured alone into the Asura Ghost Path, and after years of cultivation, he slew countless demons and eradicated all Asuras, finally awakening his Heavenly Demon bloodline.
Years passed, and the world had changed. He was determined to return to Heishi City to personally take vengeance on the Demon King. However, upon exiting his seclusion, he learned that the Demon King had been slain years ago at the Ruins of the Golden Gate.
He had sacrificed everything to emerge from the Asura Ghost Path, seeking the world’s most powerful force to reclaim what he had lost. Yet, the one he had hated for half his life was no longer alive.
That night, he sat at the cliff where he once sought refuge from the rain with Xiao Chun, staring at the falling rain and remaining silent throughout the night. The hatred remained unquenched, and he could find no peace. The incessant mountain rain, like a lover’s whisper, soaked his clothes. He gazed up at the dark sky.
What was the Dao of Heaven?
Was it a set of rules or an absurd coincidence? If everything was destined, why must he endure the myriad sufferings of the mortal world? If pain was predestined, why offer him endless hope only to reveal the capriciousness of fate at the final moment?
The black begonia on his forehead was dark as ink, his golden eyes shimmering with a strange light.
If heaven sought to destroy him, then he would defy heaven.
Since he resented the rules, he would become the rule-maker.
He sought to acquire the strongest power in the world, to become the master of fate. He would not remain an ant drifting with the current, nor just another being among countless others.
Zanxing felt the excruciating pain in her heart growing more intense, as if someone was carving out her very flesh with a sharp blade.
She watched as Gui Yansheng obtained his life’s spiritual weapon and transformed it into an umbrella. The Asura Umbrella could capture souls and devour spiritual essence, with every deceased person’s shadow imprinted on its surface, making the umbrella both eerie and magnificent.
He searched for the whereabouts of the Xiao Yuan Pearl, knowing that refining it would grant him the power to look down upon the Three Realms. He aimed to ascend to the Celestial Realm and rewrite the world.
In the Five-Wheel Pagoda, the Xie Zhi statue at the entrance immediately retreated upon seeing him, its judgmental spirit overwhelmed by his menacing aura, and it couldn’t help but willingly submit. The world was not a place where evil could overcome righteousness, it was a place where the strong ruled supreme.
In the final trial of the Eight Sufferings of Reincarnation, he became the Master Jingshan, experiencing the life of a pitiful person. At the end, the citizens of the city knelt and begged, but the golden-robed youth laughed uproariously, bending over and shedding tears of laughter. In the void, someone persistently told him, “Let it go, let it go, lay down the butcher’s knife, and you will become a Buddha.”
The tip of the Asura Umbrella pierced through the chest of the person before him. He said coldly, “I was born to be a demon. Why should I become a Buddha?”
The question that had troubled the Master Jingshan throughout his life did not cause the slightest hesitation in him. What did the people and the world matter to him? The truth was that good people never had good endings. It was an unchanging principle since ancient times.
Zanxing gasped in pain, clutching at her robes with such force that it seemed she might tear the fabric. Gu Baiying gripped her arm and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Inside the Five-Wheel Pagoda, a small wheel held in the palm of a monk’s hand made a strained, grinding noise as its rotation slowed to a crawl. Despite its dwindling strength, it stubbornly continued to turn, inching forward with considerable effort.
Mingjing’s hands gripped the Zen staff tightly, with thick streams of spiritual energy pouring from the staff’s tip into the slowly rotating Dharma Wheel. The struggle was intense. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his already weakened body, injured by his inner demons, looked ready to give out.
At that moment, with a thud, two figures fell from the void, Meng Ying and Mu Cengxiao, who had passed the trials of the Buddha Tower. They looked up to see the scene before them.
“Meng and Mu,” Mingjing said with a relieved tone, “The young princess and others have entered the Buddha Tower. Quickly, help me hold the Dharma Wheel. We must not let it keep spinning.”
“Otherwise, everyone will die here!”