Prologue

In the divine realm, clouds billowed and churned, battle flags fluttered, and the thunder of war drums reverberated across the heavens. Hundreds of thousands of celestial soldiers and generals, armored in resplendent gear, arrayed themselves against the demon horde. Their commander, tall and imposing, bore a resolute, handsome face hardened by years of leadership, his demeanor severe and distant. Standing atop a golden divine dragon and wielding the Demon-Slaying Sword, he reduced countless fiends to ashes beneath his blade.

“Master—!” From afar, an azure dragon tumbled through the clouds, transforming into a valiant and radiant female warrior who hurried to his side. Breathless, she reported, “The Demon Emperor came prepared. The Pangu Stone has already been taken.” As she spoke, a fierce blue-faced demon swung a great blade at her. With a flick of her silver spear, she dispatched it effortlessly.

“The Pangu Stone must not be lost,” the commander declared in a low, commanding voice. “Hold the line with Xixi. I will retrieve the Pangu Stone.”

“Master, hurry and reclaim the stone. Sister Yu and I will hold them off!” A dainty red phoenix soared down, transforming into a petite, charming maiden. Gripping a short sword, she plunged into battle with the demons, muttering with spirited defiance, “Disgusting monsters! I’ll have my father trap you all in the tower and burn you with true fire day and night, hmph!”

Mounting his divine dragon, the commander soared through the clouds in pursuit of the Demon Emperor.

Ahead, a dense horde of fiends formed a battle array, their bodies intertwining into a vast black net that sought to ensnare the commander. Standing on the dragon’s back, his eyes icy and unmoved, he raised his palm. Lightning burst forth in countless streaks, slashing through the fiends until not even ash remained.

He pressed forward, but the Demon Emperor’s six guardians set four of their number in his path to delay him: the Nine-Headed Purple Fox Maiden, the Blood Lake Demon, the Twin Bone Maidens, and the Scarlet Drought Demon.

The Scarlet Drought Demon, with fiery red hair and crimson skin, crouched like a beast, eyes gleaming with malice, its claws burning with scarlet demonfire.

It was said the Scarlet Drought Demon was born from an ancient emperor’s command to exterminate Buddhism—countless scriptures and statues, along with devout monks, were burned. Flames that could not consume the sacred were finally ignited by the emperor himself, and from that inferno the demon emerged. Its existence was tainted with the emperor’s imperial aura and the inextinguishable karmic sins of sacrilege.

From its body grew black lotuses, their stems slick with tainted blood. Each petal, drifting in the air, could wipe out ten thousand years of cultivation with a single touch, raining down in inescapable showers.

With a sweep of his divine sword, the commander summoned a gale that turned into a barrage of needles, pinning each petal in midair and shattering them. The sword wind, still potent, nearly severed the demon’s head, but the Nine-Headed Purple Fox Maiden lashed out a tail, whisking the demon to safety at the last moment.

Unlike the nine-tailed foxes, the Nine-Headed Purple Fox was a primordial demon—a rarity among the fox clan, and each of her nine faces was uniquely, devastatingly beautiful. Legend had it that the infamous Daji, who bewitched kings and toppled dynasties, was modeled after but one of these faces, yet captured only a fraction of its allure.

Thus, the Nine-Headed Purple Fox time and again evaded celestial pursuers, their hands stayed by her beauty. Yet the commander, unmoved by her charm, frowned with disdain, drew the Divine Sun-Shooting Bow, and loosed an arrow that multiplied into nine, striking down all nine exquisite heads. Each of the fox’s faces, wide-eyed in disbelief, seemed unable to fathom a man so impervious to her beauty.

The golden dragon swept its tail and surged onward, only to be halted by a colossal, towering lake of blood. The dragon shuddered in fear.

The blood lake churned violently, and from its heart, a fountain of blood took human form—a striking man garbed in crimson, standing atop the lake as if it were solid ground. His eyes, like the lake, were murky and bloodstained.

The Blood Lake Demon was born from the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood left by an ancient war among gods, demons, and shamans. When the battle ended, a flood submerged the battlefield, creating a blood lake whose waters could corrode even divine flesh, marking it as a forbidden zone for all realms. After countless millennia, the blood lake itself gained sentience and became a demon.

When the Blood Lake Demon first achieved form, the Celestial Court sought to recruit him, but his pride was unyielding. Eventually, he joined the Demon Emperor.

It was said that within his body resided not only the power of the ancient gods slain in battle, but also the strength of the demon and shaman clans—making him the most formidable of the Demon Emperor’s guardians, accompanied by the Twin Bone Maidens.

The Twin Bone Maidens were born human, but with two heads—one pure bone, without flesh. Such a child, deemed a monster, would be drowned or abandoned in the wild. She was cast into the woods by her parents; embodying both yin and yang, life and death, she was a perfect vessel for the demon path and was adopted by the Demon Emperor. When grown, she was made to devour her mortal parents, achieving mastery overnight—a twin blossom of sin sprung from the human realm.

The Blood Lake Demon conjured a blood dragon, vast and formidable. The Twin Bone Maidens played a bone flute, whose notes could unsettle even the most sacred mantras, sowing chaos in enemy minds.

The searing notes coiled around the commander like fiery serpents. Each time he slashed them apart, they reformed, burrowing insidiously into his thoughts, whispering ancient, unending grievances.

Frowning, the commander realized the flute’s magic had taken hold, conjuring illusions and inner demons. He sealed his ears with golden lacquer, admitting not a sound. The blood dragon lunged, its maw brimming with the wrath and murderous aura of countless slain gods and demons.

With a single thought, the commander summoned four golden avatars, each awe-inspiring, wielding sacred relics, a divine eye shining on their brows. In the divine realm, only those of immense cultivation could manifest such golden avatars outside their true bodies. The guardians had not expected the commander to possess such power.

Like the golden statues enshrined in temples, the avatars were impervious—one swung a great blade, beheading the blood dragon in a geyser of scarlet, yet the blood could not corrode their form. Another raised a precious cauldron, gathering the blood and refining it within.

The flute’s magic, potent against mortals, was useless against emotionless golden statues. Realizing the blood dragon—his core—was being refined, the Blood Lake Demon, weakened, seized the Twin Bone Maidens and fled.

There was no point in pursuing cornered foes; his true aim was to reclaim the Pangu Stone.

The Pangu Stone was the crystallized heart of Pangu, the primordial being who split heaven and earth with his axe and, upon his death, became the world’s mountains, seas, and the array’s core. The stone’s true purpose was a secret of the Celestial Court, but all knew its loss would spell doom for the Three Realms.

He pursued them to a desolate wasteland—beyond which lay the demon realm.

A nine-headed beast pulled a cart bathed in crimson light, surging forward a thousand miles in a single leap. Within the cart, the Demon Emperor sat in meditation, flanked by a male and female guardian.

The female guardian glanced out the window. The Demon Emperor spoke, “Are we near the demon realm?”

She bowed deeply, “Your Majesty, after Black Mountain’s shadowed valley, we will arrive. The plan to seize the Pangu Stone has succeeded.”

With leisurely composure, the Demon Emperor replied, “I have crossed swords with that Lord of Kunlun for many years—he is a formidable opponent. As mortals say, a rivalry of brilliance. I wonder, between us, who is the true master strategist...”

The female guardian dared not reply.

Suddenly, a fierce wind swept by. Ahead, the commander stood atop his golden dragon, sword in hand, barring the path. The nine-headed beast snarled but dared not advance.

A dense black mist engulfed the cart, and the beast perished beneath its weight. The mist crept to the commander’s feet, unable to proceed further.

“Return the Pangu Stone,” the commander demanded, his tone brooking no refusal.

After a long silence, a languid voice drifted from the mist, “Pangu, the ancestor, split heaven and earth, parent of all beings. Demons are among the myriad spirits—why should the Pangu Stone belong only to the divine realm?”

The commander remained unmoved. “The heart of Pangu is the core of our celestial array. To take it unbidden is thievery—and a thief must be punished.”

With that, he summoned divine thunder. Purple lightning rent the black mist, and just as it was about to strike the cart, a red shield sprang up, covering the vehicle. For two hours, the thunder sawed away at the shield until at last it shattered.

In that instant, the Demon Emperor burst forth, faster than lightning, exchanging a thousand blows with the commander. The Demon Emperor wielded a strange, ivory-colored blade, clashing against the Demon-Slaying Sword. His two remaining guardians sought to intervene, but were held at bay by the commander’s golden avatars.

To maintain avatars in such a fierce duel drained his power, and though his face betrayed nothing, the commander’s sword arm trembled imperceptibly.

Blood streaks began to appear on the Demon Emperor’s blade, coalescing into a crimson line along its edge, which suddenly blazed with red light. The commander’s expression changed drastically. “What sorcery forged your demon blade?” he demanded.

With a hint of amusement, the Demon Emperor replied, “A Lohan from the Buddhist realm, incarnated as a great monk—I used his bone for the hilt. The cauldron that suppressed Chiyou’s soul beneath the Yellow River was smelted into the blade, and the soul of Chiyou himself, slain in the Battle of Zhuolu, quenched its spirit.”

Such a blade could slay gods and Buddhas alike, and the commander’s sword was nearly overwhelmed.

His divine eye opened, firing a beam of white light into the Demon Emperor’s eyes. In that fleeting moment of distraction, the commander leapt back and unleashed a secret sword technique—one he had devised during the ancient war of gods and demons, a move of unparalleled power but grave consequence.

The Demon Emperor, surprised, began to falter. Dozens of strikes pierced his body, and with a grim resolve, he produced the Pangu Stone.

Swathed in five-colored divine light, the stone was almost within the commander’s grasp when the Demon Emperor’s eyes flashed with wicked cunning. He hurled the Pangu Stone toward the mortal realm.

The commander leapt to pursue, but a whistling sound came from behind. He turned, sword flashing, but it was a trap—pain exploded in his chest as a golden arrow pierced him from behind, its bloodied tip emerging from his breast.