Inside the Heart Demon Palace, deep in the center of the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect, the silence was absolute.
The Heavenly Demon still sat on his throne. The only sound in the vast hall was the steady drip of blood falling from the woman in chains. It echoed like a slow, ticking clock. His gaze had not left her.
"I have one final task for you."
The silence broke as a man appeared at the base of the platform, kneeling on one knee.
His mask matched that of the Left Wing Demon, bone-white and emotionless. But unlike the other, this man's hair was a withered brown, streaked with grey, showing the passage of time etched into his very strands.
The Right Wing Demon.
The Heavenly Demon spoke, though his words were swallowed by the air. Whatever was said, the Right Wing Demon clasped his fist to his palm.
In a blink, he vanished.
For a long while, the Demon Lord remained seated.
Then, slowly, he stood. His long white hair flowed down like a silken waterfall, trailing along the stairs as he descended the platform.
He walked across the silent floor, toward the woman.
She was barely conscious, suspended by her wrists, her blood pooling beneath her. But as he approached, her head lifted.
Their eyes met—his glowing violet, hers deep black.
He stopped just before her and raised her chin with a hand.
"This will be our last conversation," he said quietly. "So you better tell me the truth."
He studied her eyes.
"Was it fun?" he asked. "Manipulating the whole sect into its downfall?"
She didn't respond.
His voice grew colder. "Manipulating me?"
A pause.
"Poisoning me from youth. You were there from the beginning. My maid. My shadow. My friend."
Still nothing.
"You stood beside me," he said, sliding a strand of her blood-soaked black hair from her face. "Was that part of your act too?"
Her eyes remained warm.
Her mouth shut.
He stared into her eyes, searching. But no explanation came. No excuse. No apology. No tears.
He let her chin go.
Without a word, he turned away and began walking toward the grand gate through which his heirs had once entered.
As he approached, the gate opened itself, revealing the night outside.
Unlike when heirs had visited in dark silence night with only light being moonlight.
The air was filled with glowing pink petals drifting and falling from the giant plum blossom tree of mana that towered over the entire mountain range, it's branches covering whole sky above ten thousand mountain range. The tree bathed the world in a soft, radiant glow, its petals illuminating the forgotten majesty of the sect below.
A barrier.
He stepped outside.
There, across the courtyard on a high rooftop, stood a woman.
She was draped in a white kimono, golden hair flowing in the breeze. Her eyes gleamed gold. A sword rested in one her hand.
With small but beautiful face, falling pink plum blossoms adding additional charm.
She looked young—early twenties at most. But her presence felt strong.
Their eyes locked.
""So, you're the new Sword Empress," he said. "Nyara Zenith. Avatar of the Sword God."
"Strongest of younger generation, successor of sword emperor."
Her lips curved into a polite smile. "An honor to be remembered by the heavenly demon of Murmim himself. I heard lot of tales of your legends as child."
A small pause.
" But it's unfortunate. Tonight, your legend will be buried with heavenly demon sect."
He smirked.
"I wonder how long you've been preparing to bury me. But it doesn't matter, remember this: the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect always returns from the ashes. Others tried before. Many came and left. None succeeded."
"Again and again heavenly demon sect stood back on its feet."
She began unsheathing her blade—pure white steel gleaming from its golden sheath.
"Placing your hopes on a handful of children and the remnants hiding inside a mountain, are you? You should forget that idea. The entire Ten Thousand Mountain Field is sealed. No teleportation. No escape. Tonight, the sect ends."
He closed his eyes.
"You're young," he said calmly. "S-rank, perhaps just recently ascended. Even after hearing all those legends, you still don't understand what I am."
When he opened his eyes again, they glowed a deeper violet—almost crimson.
From the space beside him, seven jagged slits appeared in midair.
Each one opened like a vertical eye, revealing blood-red pupils that pulsed with a life of their own.
An ancient, terrifying pressure spilled out.
Crimson eyes didn't look at Nyara. The eyes were focused on other rooftops—where the true power of Murmim stood. Dozens of figures in ceremonial robes, each radiating S-rank or higher strength. Masters of the murmim.
"I may be poisoned. I may be weakened. And I may be surrounded."
He took one step forward.
"But I am the leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect."
His voice deepened.
"I am the Heavenly Demon Lord."
Above the giant plum tree, the sky itself began to split.
Seven enormous slits tore through the heavens. Each widened into a blood-red eye, each one the size of a city, casting their gaze down upon the mountain.
"I am invincible."
They blinked.
And the world trembled.
*****
Inside the mountain, in the underground sanctuary, the battle had reached its conclusion.
Silence ruled.
The waterfall still flowed, glowing red in the mana lights.
Thousands of members stood frozen.
Their eyes were fixed ahead.
In front of the waterfall, two bodies lay broken on the stone.
One figure stood, robes torn, face streaked with blood. In hand, held a crimson blade—the Bloodmoon Katana.
Person took a slow step forward.
Before person, a boy groaned, collapsed on the floor.
Raising the blade.
The katana plunged into his chest, pinning him to the floor.
Purple eyes met purple.
"You should never have started a fight you couldn't win… little brother Ryu."
Xian Lianhua stood victorious.
Her expression was cold, unfeeling. Bloodied but still standing, her injuries were minor.
Ryu lay at her feet, gasping. His body was shredded by battle, his breath shallow.
Still smiling.
Lianhua pulled the blade free, stepping past his body.
Xian Zhenyu lay nearby—his torso split in two. She walked to him, stretching out a hand. The token he once held floated into her palm.
Then she moved to the headless corpse of Jianyu, slipping the violet ring from his finger and placing it on her own.
She turned toward.
Her back facing the waterfall.
The Left Wing Demon knelt.
One by one, every member of the sect followed suit.
Thousands on one knee, fists to palms.
"LONG LIVE THE HEAVENLY DEMON DIVINE SECT!"
"LONG LIVE THE HEAVENLY DEMON LORD XIAN LIANHUA!"
"LONG LIVE THE YOUNG DEMON LORD!"
The echoes of their voices rose to the roof of the mountain.
To be continued...