057 Heavenly Demon
I woke up.
The stone ceiling above me was the same as always—cold, cracked, eternal. My thin bedding did little to soften the hardness of the floor, but I had long since learned to ignore such things. Comfort was a luxury meant for those who had already proven themselves.
I sat up, my limbs aching from yesterday's training. My breath came out slow and steady, white mist curling from my lips in the dim morning air. The world outside had yet to awaken. No sounds of combat. No screams. No commands barked from the overseers.
It was quiet.
But quiet never lasted long.
Among the hundred of us seeded disciples, only eleven remained.
I was second to dead last.
Not the worst, but close enough that it hardly made a difference.
I had no delusions. I wasn't special. I wasn't particularly talented. The only reason I had made it this far was because of my bloodline ability—Sixth Sense Misfortune. It allowed me to survive where others failed, to step just slightly out of death's reach.
But it was a crutch.
And crutches did not make one strong.
The truth was evident in the gap between myself and the others. The ten remaining disciples before me had all pierced into the Soul-Recognition Realm, the fifth realm of cultivation. I, meanwhile, remained stuck in the Spirit-Mystery Realm, the fourth realm.
It wasn't as if I had slacked. I had given my all. Dedicated every fiber of my being to cultivating for the sake of the Heavenly Demon. And yet, this was my limit.
A quiet failure.
A forgotten ember among roaring flames.
I should have felt despair. I should have been terrified.
Instead, I felt nothing at all.
I swallowed a sustenance pill.
It sat heavy in my stomach, dissolving into warmth that spread through my limbs. Food was unnecessary at our level. Wasteful, even. The sect provided these pills instead—nutrient-dense, perfectly portioned, devoid of taste or pleasure.
I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing.
Then, I cultivated.
Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path.
That was the name of the technique I had been granted. A method that allowed me to manipulate misfortune, to defer and accumulate fate itself.
It was also a curse.
The more I cultivated, the more misfortune gathered within me. I could delay it, postpone it, but I could never be rid of it entirely. The elders had told me this was a boon. A strength. A tool to be wielded against enemies.
And yet, I wondered.
What happened to a blade that had no sheath?
What happened to a vessel when it was filled beyond its limit?
I exhaled.
The cold air carried the weight of my thoughts away.
None of it mattered. Not really.
The path before me was already set.
So, I did what I had always done.
I cultivated in silence.
I felt a presence outside my door.
It was faint—hesitant, even—but with my Qi Sense, I could still detect it. A familiar trace of energy, light and cold like the morning frost.
I sighed.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and in walked her.
Silver hair framed her youthful face, her pale eyes filled with that same naive brightness she always carried. Dong Yun was a couple of years younger than me, barely past thirteen, and she had the irritating habit of seeking me out whenever she could.
"Big Sister Gu Jie!" she greeted with a grin.
I gave her a tired look. "Why are you here, Dong Yun?"
She ignored my tone and stepped inside, her hands hidden within the long sleeves of her robes. "You were cultivating all night again, weren't you?"
I didn't answer.
She took my silence as confirmation. "You should take breaks, you know. There's more to life than just—"
"Cultivation is life," I cut her off, my voice sharper than intended. "You should be raising your realm instead of wasting time."
Her smile faltered, but only for a second.
"I am cultivating," she protested. "I'm already at the peak of the Will Reinforcement Realm! Soon, I'll reach the Spirit-Mystery Realm like you!"
I narrowed my eyes. "Not soon enough."
Dong Yun pouted. "You sound just like the elders."
"Maybe because they're right."
She huffed, crossing her arms. I could feel the cold mist curling around her fingers, the natural manifestation of her Wintry Cloud Breath. A special constitution. A gift, just like my Sixth Sense Misfortune.
But gifts meant nothing here.
I looked at her, this naive little girl who still believed that we were chosen by the Heavenly Demon to have better lives.
How foolish.
How pitiful.
She had yet to understand what it meant to be a seeded disciple.
And by the time she did, it would be far too late.
Dong Yun was naive.
Her illusions weren't even the beginning of it.
She talked about righteous cultivators, heroes of the realm, and the world outside as if it were some grand adventure waiting to be explored. A place where justice prevailed, where the strong protected the weak, where people had the freedom to choose their fates.
Once upon a time, I shared those dreams too.
But I had long since cast them away.
There was no world outside for us—only the Heavenly Demon's domain.
"Big Sister Gu Jie, did you know? I overheard an elder talking about a sect in the west, one that takes in orphans and raises them as true disciples! They don't make them fight for their place, and they teach arts of healing and protection instead of just killing."
I stared at her.
She was smiling as she spoke, her eyes sparkling with foolish hope.
"…You've been listening to rumors again," I said flatly.
"It's not a rumor!" she insisted. "They called it the Azure Harmony Sect! The elder said they're weak but kind. Can you imagine, Gu Jie? A sect where no one has to fight to survive?"
"No," I said.
Her face fell slightly, but she wasn't deterred. "Maybe when we get stronger, we can leave and—"
"There is no leaving, Dong Yun."
She flinched at my tone.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Listen to me. Your cultivation is still shallow, so you haven't realized it yet, but our lives—our bodies, our talents—all of it belongs to the Heavenly Demon. We weren't chosen for our potential." I looked her dead in the eyes. "We were chosen to be consumed."
She paled. "That's not true. The Heavenly Demon—he saved us! He healed your voice, didn't he? He gave us a chance to become strong—"
"Dong Yun," I interrupted. "How many of us were there at the beginning?"
She hesitated.
"…Over a hundred," she admitted.
"And how many are left?"
She swallowed. "E-Eleven."
I leaned forward, my voice quiet but firm. "Of course, you know that already. Then tell me. Where did the others go?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hands clenched into fists.
I had asked myself the same question, once. And when I found the answer, I learned to stop asking.
Dong Yun turned away, as if looking at me any longer would make the truth real.
I sighed. She's still clinging to hope.
I wished I could still do the same.
But I knew, to my very core, that my life—our lives—belonged only to the Heavenly Demon.
The air was thick with incense and expectation. Every disciple, elder, and master had gathered within the grand hall, kneeling in disciplined rows beneath the towering pillars. The hall itself was vast—vast enough to swallow a mountain whole, its ceiling so high that shadows stretched endlessly across its golden latticework. Flames flickered from braziers carved into the forms of open-mouthed beasts, their light unable to warm the cold within my bones.
I knelt among the others, my hands resting against my thighs, head bowed in forced reverence. I was not alone.
There were many of us here.
The outer disciples stood furthest from the throne, their numbers vast yet insignificant, their robes plain and unadorned. Behind them, the inner disciples—fewer in number, stronger in presence—dressed in the deeper shades of the sect, their sashes marked with the Heavenly Demon's sigil. And then, there was us.
The seeded disciples.
We knelt closest to the throne. We were different. We were not merely students of the sect—we were the life and strength of the Heavenly Demon himself.
Under the seven clans he ruled, he alone was the honored one.
We, his chosen, existed for one purpose.
To give our lives to him.
I lifted my gaze, just slightly.
And there he sat, upon his throne of gold and shadow.
The Heavenly Demon was old, though his presence had long since surpassed the fragility of age. His features were noble, carved by time and power—sharp cheekbones, a long and straight nose, lips set in an expression that betrayed nothing. His hair, white as untouched snow, cascaded down his back, a stark contrast to the heavy robes of gold and black that draped over his frame.
But his eyes…
Pitch black.
Twin abysses, vast and empty, devouring the light itself.
He did not speak, not at first.
He did not need to.
The weight of his presence alone was enough to steal the breath from the weak. Even the elders, the ones who had long since transcended mortality, bowed deeply before him, their foreheads pressed against the marble floor.
I swallowed, suppressing the instinct to shiver.
Dong Yun knelt beside me, her hands curled into fists within her sleeves. I could feel the tremble in her qi, the quiet storm of emotions she tried to smother. Fear. Hope. Desperation.
She still believed in him.
Foolish girl.
The silence stretched, each second an eternity. Then, at last, the Heavenly Demon moved.
His voice was quiet.
It did not need to be loud.
"Rise."
The air trembled with his command.
Every disciple obeyed. Every elder followed. We rose in unison, our breaths held, our hearts steady.
He watched us, those abyssal eyes sweeping over the sea of bodies before him. And then, he spoke again.
"The time draws near."
My blood ran cold.
"You have been chosen," he continued. "As my strength. As my blood. As my life."
A murmur ran through the hall. Some disciples glanced at one another, uncertain. The inner disciples straightened with pride, as if to be acknowledged was an honor.
But we—the seeded disciples—stood in silence.
We knew what he meant.
He was not speaking in metaphor.
This was what we were raised for. This was what we were trained for.
We were not meant to serve.
We were meant to be consumed.
"The world moves toward its fate."
His words carried no urgency, only certainty. A simple truth, spoken as though it had already been written.
"Long have the heavens deceived mankind with their false light. Long have they pretended to be righteous, to guide mortals with empty promises of virtue and order."
A murmur ran through the hall. The outer disciples nodded, their expressions reverent. The inner disciples stood straighter, as if drinking in his words.
"But order is a lie."
His voice darkened, reverberating through the very walls.
"The heavens are but chains, forged by those who fear true power. They call us demons, yet they are the ones who hoard divinity for themselves, who cower behind celestial laws, who deny the strong their rightful rule."
The elders bowed their heads lower.
"But a reckoning shall come."
My fingers twitched.
"The fateful day draws near—the day when the devils shall roam the world once more. The day when the heavens shall shatter, and the false gods shall fall to ruin."
He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate. The golden rings upon his fingers gleamed in the dim firelight.
"And we, my devoted disciples, shall stand at the precipice of that new era."
A shiver ran through the assembled ranks. Anticipation. Fear. Exhilaration.
"The strong shall reign. The weak shall kneel. And the heavens shall burn."
A single pause. A single breath.
Then—
"Let the Demonic Ascendance Ceremony… begin."
The hall erupted.
058 Repentant Path
A book was carried into the hall.
Thick, ancient, bound in leather blackened with age. Its cover bore no title, only foreign inscriptions carved deep into its flesh, pulsing with a wicked glow. Elders dressed in ceremonial robes bore it upon a crimson cloth, moving with deliberate reverence, their faces solemn.
The room grew colder as it approached.
I felt it—an aura unlike any I had ever known, a presence that scraped against the edges of my senses like a whisper too close to the ear. Not qi. Not something as simple as that. This was deeper. Older. A force beyond mortal comprehension, woven into the very fibers of the book itself.
The outer disciples trembled. Even the inner disciples stiffened, their expressions unreadable. Only we—the seeded disciples—stood motionless. We had been trained not to falter.
Step by step, the book was paraded forward.
Step by step, it was brought to the throne.
The Heavenly Demon did not move as it was placed before him. He did not so much as blink as the crimson cloth was drawn away, revealing the full, terrible sight of it.
Instead, he raised a single hand.
"Dong Yun."
Her name rang through the hall.
I felt her shift beside me.
I turned.
She smiled.
A small thing, barely noticeable. The same smile she always wore when she found me in the mornings, when she asked questions she already knew the answers to, when she clung to foolish dreams of a world beyond these walls.
I had thought her naive. I had believed her blind.
But now I understood.
She wasn't naive because she was ignorant.
She was naive because she chose to be.
She stepped forward.
Every movement was light, graceful, deliberate. She approached the throne and knelt before the Heavenly Demon, pressing her forehead to the cold stone floor. Her Wintry Cloud Breath curled around her in wisps of mist, fading even as it formed.
She did not beg.
She did not cry.
She did not hesitate.
The Heavenly Demon lowered his hand.
Black mist coiled from his fingertips. It was silent—no crackle of qi, no fanfare, no incantation. Only an unraveling, a pulling, a grasping of something unseen.
And then—
Dong Yun gasped.
Her back arched, her hands twitching against the floor.
A light, pale and fragile, was drawn from her chest.
Her soul.
It writhed in the air, clinging to her, reaching for something—anything—before the Heavenly Demon's hand closed around it.
He brought it to his lips.
And he devoured it.
The light vanished.
Dong Yun's husk collapsed to the floor.
Her body did not convulse. There was no final shudder, no lingering breath. She simply dropped—limbs slack, eyes open yet empty, mouth parted as if she had been about to say something but had forgotten how.
No blood. No wounds. No evidence that a life had been taken—only the unmistakable hollowness of a form without a soul.
I could still hear her voice in my mind. "Gu Jie, did you eat yet? I swear, you forget sometimes."
A hand that used to tug at my sleeve every morning now lay still, fingers curled inward, as if she had been holding onto something and lost her grip.
I flinched.
Only for a moment.
Then I forced myself still, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted iron.
My fellow seeded disciples did not move. They did not react. Not even the ones who had trained beside her, fought beside her. Laughed beside her.
I closed my eyes.
A hand fell on my shoulder.
"Open them."
The voice was quiet. A whisper of authority wrapped in silk.
I opened my eyes reluctantly.
The elder beside me smiled. "It is an honor," he said, his fingers pressing lightly into my shoulder. "To become the Heavenly Demon's strength."
Dong Yun's lifeless form lay before us.
And we watched as she faded into nothing.
The Heavenly Demon reached for the book.
His fingers, long and withered, brushed against its ancient cover. The inscriptions pulsed, a deep, malevolent glow that flickered in and out of existence like the heartbeat of something alive.
The hall was silent.
The outer disciples dared not breathe. The inner disciples stood as still as statues. Even among us—the seeded disciples—there was no movement, no sound. Only the weight of an unspoken truth pressing against our chests.
We knew what was coming.
The Heavenly Demon grasped the edges of the cover and pulled.
Nothing happened.
His expression did not change. He tried again, pressing his palm against the leather, his fingers clawing at its surface. Again, the book resisted.
A ripple spread through the air.
Not wind. Not sound.
A pressure. A suffocating, impossible weight that coiled around the throne, sinking into the bones of the room itself. The torches dimmed. The floor creaked. The very air itself seemed to tremble.
I clenched my fists.
Something wasn't right.
The Heavenly Demon inhaled deeply. Qi surged around him, black and roiling, coiling like a thousand unseen hands. A deep hum echoed from his very being as he called forth his soul.
Pitch-black light burned in his eyes.
"Open."
The command resonated through the hall.
The book did not yield.
For the first time, I saw it—
The hesitation.
The barest flicker of something in his gaze. Something fragile.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
A sharp breath. A pause. A moment stretched too thin.
Then—
"What does an Immortal Soul even mean!?"
His scream tore through the silence.
Raw. Wild. Unhinged.
He slammed the book onto the armrest of his throne, his hand curling into a claw as the air shattered around him. The ground cracked. A soundless shockwave rippled outward, warping everything in its path.
And then—
A hand raised.
Fingers curled inward.
The nearest guards froze.
For a moment, they were there—solid, real, standing as they always had.
Then—
Their souls left them.
Ripped from their bodies.
Pale, luminous wisps—their very existence—dragged into the air and pulled into the gaping void of the Heavenly Demon's maw.
He devoured them.
Their lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground.
I could hear the outer disciples suppressing gasps, hear the sharp intake of breath from those who had thought themselves strong enough to endure the sight.
But I had no room to think of them.
Because his gaze turned.
And it landed—
On me.
A coldness like nothing I had ever known sank into my bones.
I did not move.
I did not breathe.
I did not beg.
Begging would do nothing.
Instead, I reached inward.
My Sixth Sense Misfortune stirred.
And then I tapped into Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path.
I let it flow. Divert. Push the weight of fate away from me.
The girl beside me—nothing happened to her.
But the disciple beside her—
A strangled gasp.
He was lifted into the air.
His eyes widened. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound escaped.
His soul was torn from him.
It twisted in the air, stretching, fighting—only for the Heavenly Demon's teeth to sink into it.
He consumed it whole.
The body fell.
A thud.
Silence.
I was still standing.
I did not know how long I remained like that—frozen—but I knew what I felt.
I was scared.
I had been trained to withstand pain, to endure suffering, to push forward in the face of death.
But this—
This was something else.
I had prayed in my heart that it would not be me. That someone else would bear the weight. That fate—however cruel—would spare me this time.
And somehow…
It had.
But for how long?
I wasn't devoured.
The realization came slowly, sluggishly, as if my mind refused to accept it. I could still feel the weight of the elder's hand on my shoulder, the whisper of his breath against my ear. My heart slammed against my ribs, desperate, disbelieving.
I was alive.
Sanity returned to me in increments, cold and merciless. My gaze flickered to the hall before me. Half of the seeded disciples were gone. Dead. The ones who had once stood beside me, who had trained in the same blood-soaked fields, who had looked up at the same dark sky with the same quiet resignation.
Now they were nothing more than empty husks.
And yet, I remained untouched.
A slow, sickening breath passed through my lips. I couldn't bring myself to be relieved. Not when I knew—I knew—that my survival was not by chance.
The elder beside me leaned in close, his lips curling with something akin to amusement, malicious glee brimming in his voice.
"You are only alive because the Heavenly Demon has other plans for you," he murmured, his grip tightening just slightly, as if savoring the moment. "But in the end… you will still be devoured."
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
The Heavenly Demon sat upon his throne, motionless, brooding. His golden and dark robes billowed slightly as residual Qi trembled in the air. The cursed book still lay before him—closed, unyielding, defying his grasp. He had tried. I had seen it. He had called forth his soul, his Qi surging in waves strong enough to crush the weak outright. And yet…
He failed.
For the first time, he had reached for something and found himself denied.
A single crack formed in the silence.
Then another.
A groan. A tremor. A shudder that ran deep into my bones.
The hall shook.
Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the stone walls of the Heavenly Demonic Mountain cracked open. The boulders above split apart, jagged rocks tumbling down in great slabs. Something—someone—descended from above, cutting through the debris like a blade through silk.
Then two more followed.
Three figures stood amidst the chaos.
Their presence alone felt like a different world entirely. Their Qi was righteous, vast and boundless, sweeping through the hall like the crashing tide of an unstoppable force. They did not belong to this darkness. They were light cutting through the abyss.
I scrambled backward, heart pounding, trying to find cover behind the shattered remains of a broken pillar.
One of them took a step forward, his robes fluttering in the wind. His sword gleamed even in the dim torchlight, pristine and untarnished by the filth of this wretched place.
Heavenly Sword.
The legend of his blade stretched across the continent. A man who had slain demons and devils alike, whose swordsmanship was said to be untouchable. His face was calm, unreadable, but his mere presence carried the weight of judgment itself.
To his right, another figure cracked his knuckles, his expression fierce and untamed. His aura coiled around him like a living serpent, vast as the ocean, crushing in its might. His very breath seemed to shake the ground beneath him, the sheer force of his Qi making the air thrum.
Divine Flood Dragon.
A powerhouse known for his boundless strength, his ability to summon floods and storms with but a wave of his hand. A man of action, unrelenting and wild.
And the third…
His head was shaved, his robes immaculate despite the descent. His golden prayer beads glowed faintly, pulsing with a rhythm akin to a heartbeat. His expression was one of serenity, but his presence alone felt like it could shatter the very foundation of this place.
Virtuous King of the Buddhist Path.
The monk whose compassion knew no bounds—nor did his wrath. A cultivator who walked the fine line between mercy and destruction, whose chants alone could purify the vilest of evils.
They stood together, unwavering, looking up at the Heavenly Demon seated upon his throne.
Their voices rang clear through the shattered hall.
"The allied righteous forces have come for your head, Heavenly Demon."
I couldn't understand what was happening.
One moment, the Heavenly Demon sat atop his throne, dark and terrible, and the next—the world collapsed into chaos.
Water surged through the grand hall, an unnatural flood that crashed against the pillars and swept away those too slow to react. The air trembled with the force of sword energy, sharp and merciless, slashing through everything in its path. The once-imposing chamber of the Heavenly Demonic Mountain had become a battlefield.
The elders roared, gathering their power in unison, their dark Qi coiling like a thousand writhing serpents. They would not bow so easily.
But their resistance lasted mere seconds.
A single arc of radiant energy descended from the sky, cleaving through bodies like they were nothing more than paper. The elders—men and women who had guided the sect for decades, who had imparted their teachings upon us, who had stood as giants in our eyes—were erased.
The flood thickened. The righteous cultivators did not stop pouring in.
My breath hitched. My feet felt frozen.
If I stayed in one place, I would die.
My instincts screamed at me to move.
And so I did.
Not toward the obvious safest place, no—that wasn't how I survived.
I moved where the least misfortune was.
My body weaved through the chaos, my movements guided by something deeper than thought. A place where a stray sword might have decapitated me? I took a step left instead. A body surged toward me, pushed by the raging currents? I turned just in time for it to crash into someone else.
I knew this was unnatural. I knew I was playing with forces I could barely comprehend. But I had no choice.
I drew upon Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path, pushing my fate forward, accumulating debt.
I will pay the price later. Just not today.
I took in every fraction of borrowed luck I could. Every misstep avoided, every near-death encounter brushed past me like I was water slipping through fingers. My luck was not my own, but I took it anyway.
Because I would not die here.
The Heavenly Demon still sat upon his throne, his black eyes locked onto the invaders. His fury was palpable, a storm barely restrained.
But I saw something else, too.
His hands trembled.
I didn't know how I got there.
One moment, I was navigating through chaos—dodging strikes of sword energy, avoiding crushing waves, slipping past corpses. The next, I was on the ground, my breath ragged, my limbs trembling.
And beside me, within arm's reach, lay the book.
The same wicked tome that had been paraded before the Heavenly Demon. The same book that resisted his grasp.
The very air around it twisted, thick with an energy that did not belong. The inscriptions along its cover pulsed, shifting like something alive.
I should have recoiled. I should have run.
But I didn't.
Because at that moment—at that precise moment—my Sixth Sense Misfortune surged within me.
My entire body screamed at me to reach for it.
It wasn't instinct. It wasn't logic. It was the only truth I had ever known: Follow misfortune's guidance, and I will not die.
So I scrambled forward, hands trembling as I clutched the book to my chest.
The moment my fingers brushed against the cover, something inside me clicked.
The shifting, foreign inscriptions no longer seemed incomprehensible. They were words. Actual, readable words.
The Repentant Path of the Warlock Legacy.
My breath hitched.
And then, before I could react, the book dissolved.
A thousand motes of light broke apart from its cover, spiraling upward in twisting arcs of violet and gold. They surged toward me, wrapping around my limbs, sinking into my skin.
I gasped, trying to move—trying to do something—but my body refused to listen. The motes of light entered me, seeping into my flesh, my bones, my very soul.
I didn't know what was happening.
I only knew one thing.
I was changing.
And then I was no longer Gu Jie.
At the same time, I realized I was Gu Jie.
059 YOU ARE MINE
I was hyperventilating.
My chest heaved, my hands trembled, and my vision blurred as sweat dripped down my forehead. My thoughts scattered like frightened rats, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer wrongness coursing through my veins.
And then—
"It's me, David."
I froze.
The voice echoed inside my head, distant yet familiar, like a name I had forgotten but somehow always knew.
"Stay focused," David said. "We are inside your memories. If you lose yourself, the misfortune you have accumulated will devour us both."
I gasped, barely registering his words as my body jerked backward—just in time to avoid a sword wave that split the ground where I had been standing.
I whipped my head around.
The Heavenly Demon and the Heavenly Sword clashed in the distance, their figures flickering between reality and illusion as their battle shook the heavens.
The Virtuous King stood in quiet concentration, golden Buddhist light radiating from his form as he chanted sutras, his voice resonating with divine power.
The Divine Flood Dragon raised his hands, summoning great torrents of water that surged through the battlefield, drowning sect elders and sweeping away entire formations.
The Heavenly Demonic Sect was burning.
Focus.
David's words echoed in my mind, pulling me from the chaos.
I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing myself to listen—not to my panic, not to my fear, but to the one thing that had always guided me: my Sixth Sense Misfortune.
I let it pull me.
I moved—not with thought, but with instinct—ducking, weaving, slipping past blades and spells that should have cut me apart.
The battle raged on, and I ran, David's voice still whispering in the back of my mind.
But I couldn't shake the feeling.
The feeling that I knew him.
That I had always known him.
I clumsily drew my sword, my grip unsteady as I barely deflected the first strike. Sparks flew as my blade met another, but the impact rattled my bones. My stance was weak. My movements, sluggish.
I had never experienced real combat before.
And it showed.
Three cultivators surrounded me, their eyes sharp and full of killing intent. They weren't stronger than me—not individually—but together, they were overwhelming.
One lunged. I parried, but my form was a mess, my reaction too slow. Another struck from the side, and I barely twisted in time to block. The third aimed for my legs. I jumped back, only for my foot to slip on the blood-slicked ground.
I stumbled.
"Focus."
David's voice rang clear in my mind.
"Angle your blade—don't meet their force head-on. Redirect it."
I gasped, throwing my sword up just in time. My opponent's strike slid off the edge instead of pushing me back. The opening let me step away, widening the distance.
"Breathe. Don't react—predict. You can already feel where misfortune lies. Use it."
My Sixth Sense pulsed.
One of them was about to attack my left. Another was preparing a feint from the right. The third—I couldn't tell.
I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn't think too much—I had to move.
The left cultivator lunged. I pivoted, dodging by an inch. The right one struck next. I raised my sword to block—then realized, it was a feint.
My stomach dropped.
The third cultivator, the one I couldn't sense, came from behind.
I turned, but I was too slow—
"Drop!"
I didn't hesitate.
I threw myself to the ground, barely avoiding the slash aimed at my back. My own sword clanged against the stone, slipping from my grip.
I reached for it.
Too late.
A boot slammed into my wrist, pinning me down. I let out a choked breath, pain shooting through my arm. The cultivator standing over me sneered, raising his sword for the finishing blow.
I stared up, heart pounding.
"Roll! Now!"
I twisted, ignoring the pain as I rolled to the side. A second later, a sword embedded itself in the ground where my head had been.
I scrambled back, gasping.
"Get up. You won't survive if you stay on the ground."
I pushed myself to my feet, gripping my sword with trembling hands.
I wasn't winning this. I knew that much.
But somehow, I was lasting.
And it was all because of the voice in my head.
The fight continued.
And we were losing.
I couldn't tell how much time had passed—only that my arms ached, my legs trembled, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Cuts burned along my skin, each one a reminder of my failure to dodge, to parry, to fight properly.
I wasn't meant for this.
I had never been meant for this.
The cultivators before me advanced, their eyes filled with the righteous fury of those who had come to eradicate demons. I stepped back, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I—I don't want to fight," I choked out. My voice was hoarse, weak. "Please. Let me go."
They hesitated. Only for a second.
Then the one in front sneered. "Now you beg?"
I flinched.
"You serve the Heavenly Demon," another spat. "You stood by while your sect devoured the innocent. And now you want mercy?"
I did.
I desperately did.
I wanted to run. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I wanted to forget the taste of fear in my mouth and the weight of blood on my hands.
The brainwashing drilled into me since childhood wavered.
The teachings, the lessons—the devotion I was supposed to feel—it all seemed distant, almost ridiculous, now that I stood on the losing side.
I was supposed to gladly lay my life down for the Heavenly Demon.
But I didn't want to.
I didn't want to die.
A sword swung at me. I barely raised my own to block, the force rattling my arms. I staggered back, sweat dripping into my eyes. The world blurred.
"Move!" David's voice snapped in my head.
I stumbled, my footwork clumsy. Another blade sliced toward me. I twisted too slow, and pain bloomed along my side.
I gasped.
The wound wasn't deep, but it stung.
Another strike. Another cut.
I couldn't keep up.
More and more, the brainwashing bled away.
More and more, fear took its place.
And then—
I saw it.
Across the battlefield, at the center of the carnage, the Heavenly Demon stood.
Or rather—he wavered.
His golden and dark robes were tattered. His noble face, once untouched by age, now looked weary. His pitch-black eyes burned with rage.
And then—
A sword pierced him.
The Heavenly Sword stood before him, blade buried deep in the old man's chest. His expression was as cold as steel.
The Heavenly Demon opened his mouth, but no words came.
His body trembled.
Then, slowly, he crumpled to his knees.
I forgot to breathe.
The Heavenly Demon—our master, our god—
He was dying.
And in that moment, I realized.
The sect was finished.
We were finished.
Pain exploded in my shoulder.
I gasped, stumbling backward as the blade lodged itself deep into my flesh. My knees buckled, and before I could react, a boot slammed against my chest.
I hit the ground hard. The air fled my lungs.
Above me stood a young man—roughly my age, his cultivation just as good as mine, if not better. His eyes burned with righteous fervor, and his lips curled into something between disgust and satisfaction.
He pressed his foot down harder.
I wheezed.
"Not much of a demon, are you?" he said, tilting his head.
"Just kill her already," one of his friends muttered, stepping closer.
"No, wait," another interjected. "She's an important disciple, right? She's worth merit."
A third one scoffed. "So who gets the credit?"
I could barely register their words through the pain. My head spun. My body screamed in protest. Blood seeped from my shoulder, hot and wet, soaking into my already tattered robes.
They were debating over who should take my head.
Like I wasn't even a person.
Like I was just another tally to their names, another step toward their glory.
I clenched my teeth, heart pounding as I tried to push the boot off my chest. It didn't budge.
The young man above me smirked. "Oh? Still got some fight left?"
I didn't.
Not really.
But I didn't want to die.
David's voice echoed in my head. "Stay focused."
I swallowed, trying to think, trying to find a way out. My Sixth Sense Misfortune screamed at me—this was it. The moment my luck would run out.
I struggled.
The young man lifted his sword.
"Fine," he said, almost amused. "I'll take her head, then."
"DON'T LET THEM KILL YOU!"
David's voice rang in my head like a thunderclap.
And then—
BOOM.
A pillar of lightning descended from the heavens. Blinding, deafening, all-consuming. The world turned white.
I felt the weight on my chest vanish, the boot that had been crushing me gone in an instant. The sword meant to take my life never fell.
I gasped for air.
As my vision cleared, I saw him.
Standing where my would-be executioners had been was a lone figure clad in plated armor—rustic gold and deep green. His helm, reflecting twin lights of gold, obscured his face. A half-ethereal cape, shifting between existence and nothingness, billowed behind him.
In his hand, he held a sword. He had drawn it from nowhere, as if it had always belonged to him.
The cultivators who had surrounded me?
Gone.
No blood. No corpses.
Just dust.
He exhaled, examining his weapon with mild interest. "I had a feeling it was something like this."
I trembled. My body ached, my mind reeled. I could still feel the phantom pain of the sword that had pierced my shoulder, the pressure of the boot against my ribs.
I turned my gaze to him.
His presence alone made the air feel heavier, as though the world itself bent to accommodate his existence.
My lips were dry. My throat burned.
Still, I forced the words out.
"…Who are you?"
"The name is David," the armored man said. He glanced at me, his helm reflecting the twin golden lights of his eyes with increasing furiosity. "But others call me Da Wei."
I didn't move. I barely breathed.
Everything was gone.
The Heavenly Sword. The Virtuous King. The Divine Flood Dragon. The elders. The demonic cultivators. The righteous cultivators. Every single person in the battlefield had turned to dust.
The only ones left were me and David.
A cold wind howled through the ruins of the Heavenly Demonic Sect. My wounds stung, my body shivered. I struggled to my feet, hand pressing against my injured shoulder. The pain felt distant, overshadowed by something far worse.
Then—
Drip.
Something wet landed on my cheek.
I wiped it absentmindedly, but when I looked down at my fingers—
Red.
It was raining.
But not water.
I could taste the iron on my lips. The scent of rust filled the air.
It was raining blood.
The ground trembled. A soundless force gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Then, from the place where the Heavenly Demon had just died—
It rose.
A horned man, pale as a corpse, with bat-like wings unfurling from his back. His robes were ripped apart, exposing a skeletal torso etched with demonic runes that glowed a sickly red. The air distorted around him, thick with something wrong.
His black eyes locked onto me.
A grin stretched across his face, lips pulling back too wide, revealing teeth far too sharp.
He raised a bony finger and pointed straight at me.
"YOU ARE MINE."
I froze. My limbs refused to move. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.
David stepped forward. He placed a hand on his sword and muttered,
"No matter what, don't let him kill you."
060 Righteous Reckoning
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't see this coming.
One of the recurring xianxia tropes, I think… was the master taking over the disciple's body. To be fair, it happened so many times in Lost Legends Online—especially to players who followed the Mage Legacy. Liches and demons loved the body possession genre way too much.
Well, transmigrators could learn a thing or two from them.
Or maybe it was the other way around.
I exhaled, gripping my sword.
"So, pal," I said casually. "Got any name?"
The horned figure barely reacted. His pitch-black eyes gleamed with something ancient and malevolent. Then, with a flick of his hand, a trident materialized in his grasp—its three prongs crackling with dark energy. The weapon pulsed, warping the air around it, as if reality itself wanted nothing to do with it.
The Heavenly Demon's lips curled into a sneer.
"HOW DARE YOU INTRUDE UPON THIS SACRED CEREMONY?" His voice shook the ground beneath me. The blood rain hissed where it met his skin, evaporating into tendrils of black mist.
"THE MISFORTUNE INSIDE THE VESSEL IS YET TO MATURE, BUT CONSIDERING THE CIRCUMSTANCES… I MUST NOT DELAY ANY LONGER. RISKING MY RESURRECTION WOULD BE FOOLISH."
His gaze snapped toward Gu Jie.
I tightened my grip.
"…Yeah, I figured it'd be something like this."
"I ADVISE YOU FROM THIS FOOLISH ACTION."
The Heavenly Demon's voice rolled through the ruined battlefield like a funeral bell. His black eyes locked onto me, deep and hollow, as if they could swallow my existence whole.
"AT MY PEAK, I STOOD AT THE EIGHTH REALM." His grip tightened around the trident, dark energy spiraling around its prongs. "CURRENTLY, WHILE I ONLY STAND AT THE SEVENTH REALM, I AM MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR YOUR KIND."
I exhaled slowly.
Tried to activate Final Adjudication.
—Nothing.
Tried Voice Chat to call up Dave, my trusty Holy Spirit.
—Silence.
I frowned.
Alright. This was kinda serious.
My Ultimate Skills were locked. That was bad, but I could still use normal skills. I adjusted my stance and switched my passive TriDivine to Divine Flesh. My body hardened, muscles becoming more resilient, flesh taking on an unnatural durability. It was a long-term tanking build, my second best option after outright obliterating enemies with Ultimate Skills.
I layered my defenses.
Armor of the Indomitable—every hit I took stacked my defense exponentially.
Sacred Bulwark—returned a portion of all damage back to the attacker.
Shield of the Eternal—a regenerating forcefield that absorbed incoming attacks before they could touch me.
I felt the weight of the spells settle into my body, an invisible layer of divine protection wrapping around me.
Then, I raised my sword.
"My kind?" I smirked, watching for his reaction. "Ever met someone like me? Now, that's something I want to hear."
The Heavenly Demon laughed. It was the kind of laugh that echoed through bones, slithering into marrow, crawling up the spine like a thousand centipedes. He spread his arms wide, his shredded robes fluttering around his skeletal frame.
"ALL OF THEM." His black eyes glowed with malevolence. "ALL OF THE RIGHTEOUS CULTIVATORS, BLIND. THEY CLING TO THEIR LAWS, THEIR PATHS, IGNORANT TO TRUE STRENGTH."
His voice was heavy, rich with centuries of arrogance.
"THEY FEAR WHAT THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND. THEY CONDEMN THAT WHICH THEY CANNOT CONTROL. THEY REJECT THE GIFTS BESTOWED FROM BEYOND."
The trident pulsed in his grip, its aura thick like coagulated blood.
"BUT WHEN THE DEVILS WALK THIS WORLD, WHEN THEY RETURN TO CLAIM WHAT IS THEIRS," the Heavenly Demon's lips curled into something between a sneer and a grin, "THERE WILL BE NO SANCTUARY. THERE WILL BE NO KINGDOMS. THERE WILL BE NO HEROES."
His black gaze burned into me.
"THERE WILL ONLY BE HELL."
Yeah, yeah, standard villain monologue. I'd heard enough of these to last a lifetime.
While he was busy with his grand declaration, I casually cast Designate Holy Enemy.
A reversed red cross flickered into existence above his head.
The Heavenly Demon snarled the moment he felt it.
He waved a hand, dark energy surging as he dispelled the mark instantly.
Bad move, buddy.
Dispels were trump cards. In a proper fight, you never wasted one unless absolutely necessary. He just burned his for no reason other than his fragile ego.
No wonder this dude died.
Compel Duel.
A radiant halo materialized above both my head and the Heavenly Demon's.
The light wasn't warm or divine—it was an oath made manifest, an unbreakable contract of combat. The golden ring spun slowly, inscribed with intricate symbols that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
For a brief second, the Heavenly Demon winced, as if shackles had closed around him. The halo above his head flickered—then solidified, locking him into the duel.
The air around us hummed with restriction.
A fight only between us.
If he tried to fight someone else? Stat penalties.
If he tried to run? Stat penalties.
If anyone else tried to interfere? My skill would be canceled, but he wouldn't know that.
His fingers curled into claws, his trident vibrating with an unseen force.
"YOU…" The word dripped with venom.
I rolled my shoulders and settled into stance.
"Yeah?" I raised my sword. "En garde."
I cast Shield of Faith on Gu Jie, a shimmering barrier of pure faith enveloping her like a translucent dome. It was one of the few supportive skill I had that I could cast on others, barring healing spells and Gu Jie damn well needed the barrier.
I tightened my grip around my sword, raising it with both hands in a solid defensive stance. Breathe in. Breathe out.
I let go of my hesitation. I immersed myself in the memories of David_69, the real Paladin in me.
The armor felt right—as if I'd been wearing it my whole life. The weight, the way the plated segments shifted with my movements—it was second nature. Even the helmet, which should've obscured my peripheral vision, didn't bother me. I didn't need to see everything. I just needed to react.
The Heavenly Demon flickered.
A black shadow, rippling with malevolent energy, lunged toward me in a trident thrust aimed for my heart.
I saw it.
I traced his power using my evolved Divine Sense and parried with Flash Parry—a high-level Martial Path skill, faster and sharper than the basic version. The moment our weapons clashed, a burst of divine sparks erupted, and I felt an instant mana restoration surge through me. Good.
Flash Parry had a short cooldown—three to four seconds—but landing it meant I could chain an empowered Martial Path skill next.
I chose Stagger.
A subtle pulse of force rippled from me, forcing the Heavenly Demon into a 1.4-second staggered state just from standing too close. His movement stuttered, an opening forming—small but enough.
I felt his malevolent energy slip past my parry, some of it managing to pierce through—but my Shield of the Eternal absorbed it. Sacred Bulwark reflected the excess back, turning his own dark power into scorching holy damage.
His face twisted in surprise.
I didn't let him recover.
I activated War Smite, my blade igniting with righteous fury, and slammed it into him. A shockwave blasted from the impact, sending the Heavenly Demon flying backward like a comet.
Then, before he could even think of stabilizing—
I pointed my sword at him.
Holy Smite.
A halo materialized above him, glowing with searing brilliance. Then—
It rained holy projectiles.
The Heavenly Demon slammed his trident down, sending a deep, echoing boom through the battlefield. The ground cracked beneath him as waves of dark energy spread outward, devouring the ambient qi in the atmosphere. His wounds sealed almost instantly, his body pulsing with renewed power.
Great. He could heal.
I wanted to follow up, but I had Gu Jie to protect.
That was the problem with being a tank in PvP. Not because they were slow—not at all. A well-built tank could keep up just fine. The real reason tanks were unpopular in PvP?
DPS.
Or rather, the lack of it.
Of course, I was an exception. But still…
If I were a full DPS Paladin, built for raw damage output, I might have been able to one-shot the Heavenly Demon in the 1.4 seconds he was staggered. Even without Ultimate Skills. Maybe. Maybe not. I stand by my opinion.
My DPS peaked when my health dipped low. Or, even better—if I died once.
The problem? There was no enemy yet that could match my natural defenses. Even without buffs, my passive skills stacked on top of each other, making me ridiculously hard to kill. And that was before adding my tank skills into the equation.
Still—this was the first serious fight I was having against a cultivator. (Jiang Zhen didn't count.)
The cloud of dust where I'd blasted the Heavenly Demon finally settled.
He rose.
His pale, horned face twisted into a glare, his eyes burning with hatred.
"YOU ARE NOT FROM AROUND HERE!" his voice boomed. "YOU ARE HELL'S ENEMY!"
Yeah. At this point, it was pretty undeniable.
This guy kept referencing Hell.
In the same way Lu Gao had made contact with Hell, this guy had done the same.
Coincidence? I doubted it.
I wondered—was it Hell that had given him that Legacy Advancement Book that Gu Jie had absorbed? It made sense. Maybe they were running a referral program.
I took a step forward, keeping my blade raised.
"So, you're friendly with Hell, huh?" I asked. "Tell me—how did you get in touch with them?"
The Heavenly Demon scoffed.
"I DON'T NEED TO ANSWER YOUR QUERY."
Above us, the halo linking us through Compel Duel flickered—then vanished.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance.
Again?
He'd used his dispel ability.
I narrowed my eyes. He hadn't used it instantly after I'd cast Compel Duel, so it probably had a cooldown instead of an energy cost.
Still—that was a ridiculously short cooldown. Broken, even.
Most dispels were heavily resource-restricted, but this guy? Spam-casting.
The Heavenly Demon raised his trident.
His voice rang through the battlefield.
"THREE PATHS TO POWER!"
His body split into three.
Each form now held a single-pronged spear instead of a trident.
Glowing characters hovered above each of the clones.
Thanks to my Translation skill from the Linguist sub-class, their meanings became clear.
Ambition (志)Violence (暴)Cruelty (残)The Ambition clone smirked, voice laced with arrogance.
"We only need to kill the psyche of the sacrifice, and the ritual will be complete."
The Cruelty clone grinned, eyes gleaming with malice.
"We will have fun destroying you, outsider." He spread his arms mockingly. "Even the great Sects of the entire realm had to send their strongest warriors to deal with me. What makes you think you can handle me alone?"
I didn't bother answering.
Then came Violence.
He didn't waste breath on words.
He roared, body bursting into a fiery aura that stank of sulfur.
"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"
This guy yapped too much.
My shorter cooldown-based skills had already reset. I focused on Violence first—he was the loudest and most aggressive. He lunged at me with his spear wreathed in sulfuric flames. I activated Flash Parry, deflecting his attack with precise timing. The impact sent a satisfying shockwave through my arms, and a fraction of my mana surged back into my reserves.
Then, a chill ran down my spine as Divine Sense warned me.
Cruelty materialized from Violence's shadow, his spear slithering toward me like a venomous serpent. I barely twisted my body in time, the weapon slicing through the air where my ribs had been a moment ago.
And then there was Ambition—predictable, arrogant Ambition.
He had bypassed me entirely and was behind us now, his spear streaking toward Gu Jie. Despite her lack of cultivation, she could see everything. Because this was inside her memories, inside her. She stood frozen, horror written across her face.
Okay. A three-on-one situation with a handicap? Might be a bit much even for me.
I summoned World Aegis from my Item Box, catching both Violence and Cruelty mid-attack. Their spears rebounded, momentarily throwing them off balance. I followed up immediately with Shield Bash, smashing my shield forward and sending them both staggering back with the knockback effect.
That left Ambition.
I had a second to act before his spear ran Gu Jie through.
I activated Castling.
A burst of light swapped my position with hers. The moment I appeared in front of Ambition, I dismissed my sword and shield back into my Item Box. His spear struck true, sinking into my chest.
A sharp crack echoed in my ears. The pain flared through my ribs, but I grinned.
That's more like it.
Sacrificial Zeal kicked in, amplifying my attack power the lower my health dropped.
Ambition's smug expression shifted as he realized something was wrong. I tightened my grip on the spear embedded in my chest and twisted it viciously. He gasped in pain at the reflected damage, eyes widening in disbelief.
"You should probably grit your teeth," I advised.
I clenched my fist and activated Righteous Reckoning, multiplying my damage reflection while empowering my next attack.
Holy energy surged through my arm.
I reared back my glowing fist, channeling Divine Smite, and punched Ambition square in the face.
His head exploded.
061 Breaking the Shackles
Again, seeing how I slaughtered the demonic clone, I realized just how vastly different damage was calculated in this world. I still couldn't let go of the mentality that this place functioned like Lost Legends Online. The numbers in my head weren't adding up.
Anyway…
Ambition crumbled into dust, his spear vanishing with him.
Cruelty grinned. His spear crackled with dark energy, the single prong splitting into two jagged points. The air twisted around him as his aura grew denser, fouler. So he was the core.
Violence roared and lunged for Gu Jie, his entire body blazing like an infernal comet.
I clenched my teeth and activated Spell Resonance, a skill from the Spiritual Path sometimes shared with Mages, Shamans, Warlocks, or Druids. It allowed me to store a spell that could be instantly cast and couldn't be interrupted.
Summon: Holy Spirit.
A golden sigil formed in front of Gu Jie, and from it, a warrior of light emerged, clad in brilliant silver armor with a tower shield and spear. My Holy Spirit, Dave.
Dave raised his shield and intercepted Violence's charge with a Shield Bash. A holy force burst out, repelling the rampaging clone.
Of course, his appearance here meant my main body was left vulnerable outside... so I should finish this fast.
Dave turned his head toward me. "What's the objective, My Lord?"
I didn't hesitate. "Protect Gu Jie."
Dave nodded and braced himself, raising his shield to guard her.
I breathed in and out, steadying myself. This world played by different rules, and I needed to stop treating it like Lost Legends Online. And here I thought the fight with Brukhelm had been the exception. Damage calculation, mechanics, and even skill interactions had been unpredictable, but that didn't mean I was at a disadvantage.
I summoned my sword from my Item Box as I activated Holy Wrath—a buff spell that empowered the next attack. Blue and gold radiance poured from beneath me, forming the shape of feathered wings that flared out and then dispersed into shimmering motes.
I didn't stop there.
Blessed Weapon.
My sword pulsed with divine light, golden radiance trailing along its edge. The warmth of the spell coursed through me, and as was my habit, I recited its flavor text in my head:
"A blade bathed in light carries the will of the heavens. It does not waver, nor does it yield. With each strike, righteousness is etched into the flesh of the wicked, and the path of the just is made clear."
I had long since learned that deeply understanding the meaning behind a skill's flavor text could actually empower it. I would have dismissed them as fluff, but I had found something deeper in them. Call it immersion training.
The divine light brightened further, burning away the darkness around me.
Cruelty clicked his tongue. "Tch. This is getting tiresome."
Then he slammed his bident down.
The ground quaked. Malevolent energy pulsed outward.
Ambition reappeared, splitting Cruelty's bident into a single pronged spear. I watched as Ambition's form rematerialized, along with his spear. It was the same bastard I had blasted the skull moments ago, now fully restored.
I narrowed my eyes. "Now, that's just plain gimmicky."
The trio of demons circled above, their bat-like wings beating against the thick air. Their voices dripped with venom as they hurled insults at me, their words barely worth processing.
"Arrogant fool!" spat Ambition, gripping his spear tightly. "You won't get lucky, twice!"
Cruelty sneered. "Did you think righteousness alone could protect you? How naive."
Violence bared his fangs in a mad grin. "WE WILL RIP YOU APART!"
They gained altitude, their dark forms circling like vultures over carrion. Below them, Gu Jie remained silent as a mouse, staying exactly where she needed to be—at the center of our formation. I wasn't sure if she was too scared to speak or if she trusted me and Dave enough to handle this. Either way, it worked.
Dave stood firm beside her, gripping his tower shield.
"Dave, any suggestion?" I asked.
"My Lord," he responded, his voice steady. "The enemy's strategy is clear. They seek an opportunity to divide us. If we had access to our Ultimate Skills, we could end this now. For now, I can only offer defense to Gu Jie."
Holy Spirits had the innate ability to conjure weapons matching their class, and Dave used it well. Without hesitation, he discarded his spear. A second tower shield appeared in his other hand.
I almost let out a whistle. Dual wielding shields?
That would have been impossible in Lost Legends Online. Too impractical. Too inefficient.
But this wasn't LLO.
And Dave wasn't bound by game mechanics anymore as much as I'd been.
He raised both shields, standing in a firm, immovable stance. His body shimmered with protective energy, a literal wall between Gu Jie and the incoming threats.
Good.
That meant I could focus entirely on the fight.
As the three demons circled above, I turned to Gu Jie. "What do you know about the Heavenly Demon?"
Gu Jie hesitated, her fingers curling into her sleeves. "His mastery of illusion techniques is unparalleled. Even the greatest sects struggled against him." Her voice wavered slightly, but she continued. "He wielded all kinds of elemental arts with deadly precision, his spearmanship was unmatched, his vitality terrifying. Near-immortality… he had myriad abilities that made him such a fearsome demon… that even if he was so far in the archipelago, the biggest sects in the world still heard of him... and feared him."
I frowned. There was something in her tone—an unshakable reverence.
No matter how much she feared him, no matter how much she had distanced herself from him, there was still an undeniable attachment.
I sighed through my nose and glanced at my chest. The spear wound I had taken earlier was long gone, my healing magic having done its job. However, my armor still bore the hole where it had pierced through.
That was… concerning.
Back in Lost Legends Online, armor and weapons had durability. The only exception was legendary gear. That meant—
My Wandering Adjudicator armor I was wearing wasn't the real thing.
The items I pulled from my Item Box were probably all replicas, conjured by this strange space.
That explained a lot. No wonder even I was starting to feel the pressure. Every possible handicap was stacked against me.
But so what?
I let out a breath and rolled my shoulders. I wasn't going to lose here. This was a complete mismatch. A Paladin against a demon? The odds were as lopsided as they could get.
Losing here would be an embarrassment.
A damn shame.
I spread my arms wide, tilting my head back. A grin stretched across my face.
And then, I laughed.
It started as a low chuckle, then grew into full-bodied amusement. My voice echoed through this mindscape, rising above the tension.
The three demons paused mid-flight.
The wind stirred.
I raised my chin, eyes burning with conviction.
"Under heaven and earth, only I am the honored one!"
I had always wanted to say something like that.
"Radiant Dawn."
I used another skill.
The golden radiance of Radiant Dawn condensed around me, pulsing with divine brilliance. The air shimmered in response, warping under the sheer intensity of the buff. Holy power surged in my veins, a burning flood of righteousness waiting to be unleashed. And yet, I wasn't about to waste it on some half-measure.
I still had Holy Wrath active. The energy kept compounding, multiplying the potential devastation of my next strike.
So, naturally, I did the most sensible thing.
I pointed my sword at my own chest—and drove it in.
Gu Jie gasped.
Cruelty cackled in amusement.
Ambition frowned, wary.
Violence, however, reacted in the way I wanted most. His eyes burned with frenzied anticipation as he lunged forward, his spear wreathed in hellish flames.
Sacrificial Zeal kicked in, empowering me with every ounce of health I lost. The divine radiance around me flared even brighter, and the pain instantly converted into righteous strength. I gritted my teeth, and my memories of David_69 immersed me deeper into my battle instincts. The real Paladin in me didn't just tolerate pain—he weaponized it.
I cast Retributive Restoration, fueling my next strike with the healing I was about to receive.
Violence's spear plunged into my chest.
It hurt, but I endured.
I left both weapons—my sword and his spear—embedded in my body. Instead of removing them, I healed.
Great Cure.
Golden light enveloped me as my health skyrocketed. The force of the healing surged into Retributive Restoration, the divine overflow channeling into my next attack. I twisted my body slightly, turning toward Violence, and lifted a hand.
Then, I slapped him with Thunderous Smite.
The sheer force of the impact sent a concussive shockwave through the air. The divine energy expanded in an instant, swallowing Violence whole. He barely had time to scream before he and his spear disintegrated, his very essence obliterated by the surge of holy power.
I watched with Divine Sense as the remnants of Violence's existence were drawn toward Cruelty. His spear, once single-pronged, transformed into a bident once more. His aura deepened, twisting with an unnatural presence.
I moved.
I activated Zealot's Stride in conjunction with Flash Step, covering the distance between us in an instant. My open palm radiated scorching energy as I slammed Searing Smite into Cruelty's face.
He managed to block by summoning an aura of ice, the opposing elements clashing violently upon impact. The resulting explosion sent cracks through the air itself, distorting the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Ambition dashed toward Gu Jie, spear poised to strike.
Dave met him head-on, dual-wielding his tower shields like a living fortress.
He would hold the line.
That meant I only had one job left.
End Cruelty.
I gripped Cruelty by the throat. His ice aura spread over my arm, sharp and bitter, but I didn't mind. The frost crackled and spread, layering over my skin like crystalline vines, biting deep into my flesh.
I casually topped off my health with Great Cure.
The divine warmth surged through me, erasing the pain before it could even set in. I made sure not to let my health dip below 75%—a delicate balance to maintain purely by instinct. Too low, and I'd risk a genuine injury.
A challenge, but nothing I couldn't handle.
I pulled Cruelty's face closer to mine, letting the cold deepen its bite. My passive Reflect, empowered by Sacred Bulwark, steadily returned the damage back at him. It wasn't just the ice aura either—the sword still embedded in my chest pulsed with residual energy, funneling more pain into my opponent than it did to me.
Cruelty struggled, his clawed fingers scraping against my gauntlet. He tried to speak, but I tightened my grip, silencing him.
"Tell me," I mused. "Are you human?"
He couldn't answer.
I enlightened him anyway. "Because if you are, you'd be my first murder. Quite the sobering thought, really."
Cruelty's body trembled. Whether from rage, pain, or fear, I didn't care. I had enough of his theatrics.
I raised my free hand, divine energy surging into my clenched fist.
Divine Smite.
The light burst forth as I slammed my fist into his head.
Cruelty—and his bident—disintegrated into ash. The swirling remnants of his essence funneled toward Ambition, drawn in like ink bleeding into water.
Huh.
So Cruelty wasn't the main body after all.
All three of them were.
I let out a breath, then dropped into a freefall. As I fell, I topped off my health again with Great Cure, keeping the cycle going.
Ambition—no, the Heavenly Demon—had fully reformed below me.
I landed right on his chest, my boot pinning him against the ground.
The force of the impact cratered the earth beneath him, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the battlefield. The weight of my divine power pressed down, crushing him inch by inch.
His shrieks filled the air as the reflected damage from Sacred Bulwark ate away at his body.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He clawed at my leg, screaming, writhing beneath my heel. His aura flickered wildly, no longer in control. His once-menacing presence had been reduced to desperate, undignified thrashing.
Pathetic.
I reached for the sword still embedded in my chest and twisted it, pouring more pain into myself—just enough to fuel my next attack.
Righteous Reckoning.
The holy power amplified the reflected damage even further. The Heavenly Demon convulsed, his screams reaching an unbearable pitch.
"Mercy!" he howled. "SPARE ME—!"
I pressed down harder.
And watched him suffer.
The Heavenly Demon's screams had long since turned hoarse, reduced to broken, desperate wails. His body twitched beneath my boot, his once-menacing aura flickering like a dying ember. His hands, clawed and trembling, reached out in a final, pitiful plea.
I met his gaze—wide, terrified, utterly defeated.
"Mercy," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please... spare me..."
I ignored him and turned to Gu Jie. She had remained still this entire time, silent as a ghost. Her face was pale, her hands clenched at her sides. Even without cultivation, she had seen everything.
"You're free now," I told her. "From him. From your past."
She inhaled sharply but said nothing.
I turned my attention back to the writhing demon beneath me.
I clenched my fist. Divine energy gathered around it, golden light pulsing with righteous fury.
This guy had talked a big game. He had thrown his power around, split himself into three, hurled insults like he was invincible. He had tried to break me, tried to break Gu Jie.
And now, in the face of real defeat, he begged.
Pathetic.
I brought my fist down.
Divine Smite.
The holy energy surged through him, swallowing his body in golden light. His scream cut off instantly. His form shattered, dispersing into nothingness like dust in the wind.
And just like that, the so-called Heavenly Demon was gone.
Honestly?
That title was wasted on him.
062 A Path Forsaken
I stood there in silence, watching as my armor crumbled into dust, fading away like a dream that had lasted just a little too long. In its place, I felt the familiar texture of my Lofty Jade Proposition robe, wrapping around me comfortably. The battle was over. The so-called Heavenly Demon was nothing but a memory now.
Gu Jie, too, changed. Her younger, unburdened appearance now carried more nuance. Her clothes and features shifted, aligning with the version of her I had come to know. It was a subtle transformation—one that reflected not just her physical self but the weight of her past, lightened just a little.
My Holy Spirit, Dave, had already vanished the moment the battle ended. He had no place in this world, after all.
I turned to Gu Jie and offered her a hand. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, her fingers cold but steady. As always, she addressed me with quiet reverence.
"Master."
I sighed. "You can just call me David, you know."
She blinked at me, as if the thought had never occurred to her. Then she shook her head. "Master."
Yeah, figures.
I exhaled and folded my arms. "So, are you finally ready to tell me the rest of your story?"
Gu Jie turned to me, her expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled. It wasn't the kind of smile you gave when you were happy—it was the kind that came when you accepted something painful.
The world around us shifted.
The shattered battlefield faded, replaced by another time, another place. The sky darkened. The wind howled.
And then, I saw her.
A younger Gu Jie stood alone beneath the weight of the heavens, clutching a book that pulsed with ominous energy.
The Legacy Advancement Book.
She had taken the first step onto the Repentant Path of the Warlock.
The world around us had shifted into something else entirely. The battlefield had vanished, replaced by a darkened sky and a barren wasteland. The wind howled, dry and relentless, carrying the scent of dust and something acrid—like burned offerings.
And there she was.
A younger Gu Jie stood in the middle of it all, a small figure against the overwhelming chaos.
She clutched at her robes, trembling, her gaze darting between two opposing forces. On one side, cultivators in flowing robes, the righteous warriors of the greatest sects in the world. Their blades shone with holy light, their auras steady and unwavering.
On the other side—Him.
The Heavenly Demon loomed above them all, his presence a stain upon the world. And before him, kneeling, was a girl.
Gu Jie's voice cut through the silence.
"I was… confused," she admitted, her tone quiet, almost distant. "I didn't know who to root for."
I didn't interrupt her. I just watched as the scene played out before us, her past unraveling like a threadbare tapestry.
The girl kneeling before the Heavenly Demon was younger than Gu Jie, but not by much. There was something in her eyes—something resolute.
"She was the only friend I ever made," Gu Jie continued. "She… she chose to sacrifice herself to him."
The words were heavy, and I felt the weight behind them.
"She said it was the only way," Gu Jie whispered. "That if she didn't, he would take someone else. Maybe me. She thought she could change something… that she could control her own fate, even in the face of that monster."
The scene shifted.
The moment of sacrifice came and went, but I didn't need to see the details. The way Gu Jie turned her head away was enough.
Then, the righteous cultivators arrived.
Blades unsheathed. Techniques erupted. The sky turned into a canvas of destruction, streaked with the light of a hundred different arts.
Gu Jie flinched.
"I ran," she admitted. "I wasn't brave enough to fight. I wasn't strong enough to change anything."
Through the storm of battle, I watched as her younger self darted through the chaos, dodging stray attacks with the uncanny instinct that was her Sixth Sense Misfortune. The battlefield itself seemed to twist around her, bending fate to keep her just out of reach of destruction.
And then—
A book.
It lay discarded among the rubble, untouched by the battle around it. A simple thing, bound in black leather, its surface marred by age. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.
She hesitated, staring at it.
And then, without thinking, she reached for it.
The moment her fingers brushed against the cover, light engulfed her.
"I watched him die," she said. "Over and over again."
The memory replayed in front of us, an echo of the past made tangible. The Heavenly Demon, a being of unfathomable strength, cut down by the righteous cultivators. Blood spilled, staining the battlefield. And yet, before his body could even cool, his wounds would knit back together, his broken bones reforming as if time itself refused to let him die.
And then he would rise again.
Gu Jie stood there, watching it all unfold, a spectator to an endless cycle.
"I didn't know what to feel," she admitted. "Every time he fell, I thought—maybe this time, it would be real. Maybe this time, he wouldn't stand back up."
She clenched her fists.
"But he always did. And every time, something in me wavered."
The Heavenly Demon was her captor, the one who had twisted her fate. And yet, watching him fall, only to rise again, stirred something in her.
"Did I hate him?" she murmured. "Did I… pity him?"
Her younger self flinched as another blade pierced through the demon's chest.
"I didn't know," Gu Jie said. "But I did know that I didn't want to be there anymore."
The memory shifted, the scene flickering like an old lantern about to die.
The book.
The Repentant Path of the Warlock Legacy.
It pulsed with power, its very presence an anomaly in the chaos of the battlefield.
"When I absorbed the Legacy," Gu Jie said, "my mind cleared."
She turned to me, something like disbelief in her eyes, as if even now, she couldn't quite believe it.
"For the first time since I was taken, I could think."
The fog that had shrouded her thoughts, the whispers of loyalty, the instinct to obey—it all vanished in an instant.
"And then," she continued, "I felt it. An impulse. An overwhelming, undeniable need to run."
The younger Gu Jie bolted.
She didn't stop to think, didn't stop to question. Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, her body driven by something deeper than fear.
I hummed in thought. "I think I know why."
She looked at me curiously.
"Warlocks have a passive," I said. "A resistance against temptations from Beyond. Technically, they have a passive skill that makes them sane."
Gu Jie blinked. Then, she laughed. It was a short, dry sound. "So that's what it was?"
I nodded. "Seems like it."
For a moment, she just stood there, considering it.
Then, the memory moved forward once more.
Her escape had taken her far. She had been strong, even back then—strong enough to forge her own place in the wider world. If the world had been fair.
But life wasn't fair.
"It didn't take long before I was hunted," she said.
The scene shifted. Gone was the battlefield of righteous cultivators and demons. Instead, we saw a different kind of conflict—one far more personal.
Gu Jie, alone, backed into a corner by a group of sneering young cultivators.
"They wanted to make a name for themselves," she said. "And I was an easy target."
She had strength. She had potential.
But she didn't have combat experience.
"I survived," she continued, "but only just."
The memory played out before us. Blades slicing through the air, techniques slamming into the ground around her. The younger Gu Jie dodged, barely, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
The Heavenly Demon was losing.
But he still fought. He still endured.
Gu Jie exhaled slowly. "Even as he fell, I was still here, barely holding on."
I didn't miss the irony.
He was supposed to be the villain. She was supposed to be free.
And yet, their struggles had mirrored each other.
Gu Jie's voice grew quieter, as if she were speaking more to herself than to me.
"I don't remember when I lost them," she admitted. "One moment, I was running. The next… they were gone."
The scene shifted around us. The dark forest where she had been chased flickered and blurred. Her pursuers were no longer in sight. The echoes of their techniques, the cutting winds of their sword slashes, all of it had vanished into eerie silence.
She was alone.
I watched as her younger self collapsed against a tree, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. She wasn't unscathed—cuts ran along her arms, bruises formed where she had barely dodged death. But she was alive.
And she was… stronger.
Gu Jie turned her palm over, as if remembering the moment vividly.
"My curses had changed," she said. "They had become stronger."
A flick of her fingers. The air in the memory distorted, an ominous energy curling from her hand.
"And it became easier—bestowing misfortune upon others."
I recognized it immediately. A curse that didn't merely strike, but clung. A hex that burrowed deep, waiting for the right moment to unleash its havoc.
The younger Gu Jie stared at her hands, her expression unreadable.
"But it didn't matter," she whispered. "Because that was when he found me."
A shadow loomed behind her past self. A familiar figure, clad in dark robes, his eyes glinting with something far worse than cruelty—hunger.
One of the Heavenly Demon's clones.
I tensed as I watched the memory unfold, even though I already knew it had happened. Even though I knew Gu Jie was standing right beside me, recounting it like an old story.
I still felt a chill run down my spine.
"I couldn't fight back," Gu Jie continued. "Not against him. He drained my cultivation. My soul… almost devoured."
The younger Gu Jie writhed, her body spasming as her very essence was siphoned from her. The clone of the Heavenly Demon stood over her, watching her fade away with cold detachment.
"At that moment," she murmured, "I wished I was just dead."
I exhaled sharply. "And yet, you weren't."
Gu Jie let out a breathless laugh. "No. I wasn't."
Because the next moment—
She died.
Her body went still. Her breath ceased. Her pulse vanished.
Even I was fooled.
My eyes flickered with realization.
"Oh," I muttered, watching her corpse on the ground. "That skill."
Gu Jie turned to me, her lips curling ever so slightly.
"It was Fake Death, wasn't it?" I said, finally placing the pieces together.
A classic trick. A skill that cloth-type classes loved to abuse. The ability to simulate death so perfectly that even the most experienced enemies wouldn't see through it.
The Heavenly Demon's clone certainly didn't.
The memory played on, showing how the clone, satisfied with his supposed feeding, had left her behind.
Gu Jie sighed. "I woke up much later. In a razed mountain. My cultivation was… meager."
The image of her past self stirred, eyes fluttering open amidst the ruins. The remnants of battle still surrounded her—cracked earth, shattered trees, charred remains of what had once been a great mountain.
She was alone. Weaker than she had ever been.
And yet—
She had survived.
The scene shifted once more.
Gu Jie stood at the edge of a crumbling cliffside, wind howling past her as storm clouds rolled over a restless sea. Her younger self was gaunt, barely more than skin and bone, her once-pristine robes tattered from days—weeks—of endless hardship.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.
"I barely survived each day," she admitted. "With my cultivation at the First Realm, I had nothing to rely on but my meager abilities and… well, my strange talents."
Lightning cracked in the sky, illuminating the treacherous landscape of the archipelago. A wild, untamed place where only the strong thrived. The islands here were riddled with dangerous beasts, cutthroat outlaws, and remnants of forgotten sects that had long since lost their way.
The perfect place for someone like her to be swallowed whole.
Gu Jie's expression was unreadable as she continued.
"If it weren't for my Sixth Sense Misfortune," she murmured, "I would've died a dozen times over. And even that might have been an underestimation of how cruel the world could be…"
I watched as her past self barely dodged a hidden pitfall, stepping away just as the ground caved in behind her. A moment later, a massive centipede-like beast burst forth from the shadows, clicking its mandibles in frustration.
Another time, she slipped through a skirmish between rogue cultivators, their spells missing her by sheer coincidence—if coincidence was what it could be called.
Fate seemed intent on keeping her alive.
"But survival wasn't enough," she said bitterly. "Without any backing, I was nothing."
She resorted to the lowest of deeds—thievery, deception, even banditry when desperation sank its claws into her.
"Sometimes, I stole from passing merchants," she admitted. "Other times, I looted the bodies of fallen cultivators before their allies could return."
I kept my face impassive, but I didn't judge her for it. She had done what she had to.
Eventually, though, she found herself under the care of the Adventurer's Guild.
The memory shifted again. The dark, storm-ridden cliffs of the archipelago gave way to the wooden halls of an adventurer's outpost. The smell of salt and damp parchment filled the air, mingling with the scent of worn leather and old ink.
"I thought I could use my talents for something more… respectable," she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
She took jobs charting new lands, using her keen instincts to avoid natural disasters, deadly monsters, and hostile tribes. Her ability to predict calamity made her invaluable, and for a time, it seemed she had found her place.
But it didn't last.
The image of her past self flickered, her expression turning strained, her movements sluggish.
"My cultivation was too low," she admitted. "And worse, my life force was deteriorating."
The accumulated misfortune, the forceful use of Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path—they had all taken their toll. Even if she rested, even if she tried to heal, it was never enough.
"The more I tried to change my fate," she said softly, "the more it consumed me."
Eventually, she realized the truth.
"There was no place for me in the archipelago."
The final shift came. The stormy coasts disappeared, replaced by the vast, foreign lands of the Riverfall Continent.
"I left," she said simply. "Because if I stayed… I would've withered away."
And so, her journey continued.