History remembers victories,
but legends are born from massacres.
On this day, beneath twelve descending stars and a billion blades,
the world learned a simple truth—
cornered beasts do not beg.»
The entrance of the Mang State had always been a symbol of glory.
For countless years, streams of cultivators, merchants, alchemists, artifact masters, and wandering immortals had crossed its colossal gates. Some came seeking business, some came seeking alliances, while others simply wished to witness the prosperity of the Mang Family—the unrivaled ruler of this region of the Immortal Realm.
Its streets had once echoed with laughter.
Its gates had welcomed countless honored guests.
Its banners had fluttered beneath an eternal sky.
It was one of the most prosperous and influential domains in the entire Immortal Realm.
But today...
Everything had changed.
The magnificent entrance had transformed into a sea of corpses.
Thousands upon thousands of bodies lay scattered across the shattered earth.
Broken swords.
Shattered artifacts.
Burning palaces.
Blood flowed through the streets like crimson rivers, carrying fragments of broken armor and severed limbs toward the ruined gates.
The air no longer smelled of incense.
It smelled of death.
It smelled of despair.
At the very center of that endless battlefield...
Two figures stood silently.
One was Lin Fan.
The other...
Lin Moun.
Her white robes had long since lost their color, dyed crimson by countless enemies.
Fresh blood slowly dripped from her sleeves.
Her long black hair fluttered quietly in the wind.
Yet despite the endless slaughter surrounding her...
She held a tiny child gently against her chest.
Little Zhou Fang slept peacefully.
He knew nothing of war.
Nothing of hatred.
Nothing of death.
He did not understand why mountains of corpses surrounded him.
He did not understand why his mother's robes were soaked in blood.
He only knew one thing.
The warmth of her embrace.
The steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
Even though those hands had slaughtered countless enemies...
Those same hands held him with the same tenderness they had the day he was born.
So...
The child continued sleeping peacefully.
Believing the world was still safe...
Because his mother was still holding him.
---
Far away—
Several terrifying auras descended from the heavens.
Boom!
Boom!!
Boom!!!
Space itself distorted beneath their arrival.
More than thirty ancient elders appeared above the battlefield, each radiating overwhelming immortal might.
Every breath they released crushed mountains.
Every heartbeat shook the heavens.
Their cultivation was so terrifying that if even a fraction of their aura were released inside an ordinary world—or even within a lower-dimensional plane—
That entire dimension would instantly collapse into countless fragments.
Reality simply could not endure their existence.
They slowly descended.
Then...
They saw the battlefield.
Silence.
No one spoke.
Their expressions froze.
Their eyes slowly widened.
Then they saw two familiar corpses.
Mang Lao.
Mang Shi.
The beloved son and daughter of the Mang Patriarch.
His greatest treasures.
His pride.
His future.
The Mang Patriarch had only three children.
Among the countless descendants of the Mang bloodline...
These three were the ones he loved more than his own life.
And now...
Two of them lay motionless in pools of blood.
One without a head.
The other pierced through the heart.
Dead.
Completely dead.
Not even their souls remained.
Their expressions instantly changed.
The elders' faces became deathly pale.
Then...
Their eyes turned scarlet.
Boom!!
Their killing intent erupted.
The sky darkened.
Mountains hundreds of thousands of kilometers away began collapsing beneath the pressure alone.
Even Lin Fan felt his knees tremble.
His breathing became difficult.
Yet beside him...
Lin Moun simply pulled little Zhou Fang closer to her chest.
With one hand she continuously poured spiritual power into the defensive artifact protecting him.
No matter what happened...
The child would remain unharmed.
One elder suddenly stepped forward.
His roar exploded across heaven and earth.
"How dare the Lin Family slaughter the Young Master and Young Miss of the Mang Family!"
"Do you seek war against the Mang Clan?"
Another elder's voice thundered immediately afterward.
"The Lin Family shall pay with blood!"
"Their entire clan will be exterminated!"
Their voices rolled like heavenly judgment.
Yet...
Lin Moun never even blinked.
Her cold eyes quietly observed them.
She had no intention of explaining.
There was nothing to explain.
Truth only mattered to those willing to hear it.
These people had already decided the outcome before arriving.
Whether she spoke or remained silent...
The result would be identical.
They had come to kill.
Nothing more.
Finally...
Lin Moun spoke.
Her calm voice somehow drowned out the furious heavens.
"First..."
"I am no longer a member of the Lin Family."
"My affairs have nothing to do with them."
The elders' expressions darkened.
She continued.
"And second..."
Her eyes slowly lowered toward the sleeping child.
"If anyone dares harm my son..."
"...then no matter who they are..."
"...I will follow them into hell itself..."
"...and kill them."
A brief pause.
Then—
"Even if it is the Mang Family."
Silence.
Then...
Laughter.
Cold.
Furious.
Mocking laughter echoed throughout the battlefield.
"A mere Divine Transformation cultivator..."
"...actually dares threaten the Mang Family?"
One elder sneered.
"When the Lin Family stood behind you, perhaps you possessed some qualifications."
"But now?"
"You are nothing."
"Your cultivation is unstable."
"Your aura is chaotic."
"You cannot even control your own realm properly."
"What right do you have to challenge us?"
The remaining elders nodded.
To them...
Lin Moun's unstable aura revealed everything.
She had clearly suffered severe backlash.
Her cultivation foundation had become damaged.
She could no longer display her true strength.
How laughable.
How utterly foolish.
They misunderstood everything.
Lin Moun's cultivation wasn't unstable because she had become weaker.
It was unstable because...
The Divine Transformation Realm no longer belonged to her.
Inside the Ancient Ruins...
The moment she refined the Ancient Divine Flame...
She had already stepped beyond Divine Transformation.
Her cultivation had ascended to a completely higher realm.
However...
The backlash from absorbing the Ancient Divine Flame had completely sealed her cultivation.
It was like imprisoning an ocean inside a fragile clay jar.
The immense power constantly pressed against the seal, causing her aura to fluctuate endlessly.
The elders mistook this fluctuation for weakness.
It was the greatest mistake of their lives.
---
There existed a realm known throughout the Immortal World as...
The Divine Flame Realm.
When cultivators reached that stage...
A flame would be born inside their soul.
But it was not ordinary fire.
It was the manifestation of absolute existence.
The Divine Flame transformed both body and soul into beings beyond conventional laws.
Beyond causality.
Beyond tangible existence.
Beyond reality.
Beyond comprehension itself.
Every Divine Flame cultivator became a walking law.
Reality no longer imprisoned them.
Instead...
Reality obeyed them.
To such beings...
They saw law and principle of existence as a books text .
They could erase those words.
Rewrite them.
Or create entirely new principles.
Yet reaching such a realm required complete understanding of every core fundamental law and principle governing existence.
Only after mastering every core principle...
Would a Divine Flame ignite.
Even among Divine Flames...
Hierarchy existed.
Quasi Flame.
Immortal Flame.
Mythical Flame.
Celestial Flame.
Creation Flame.
Each surpassed the previous by countless orders of magnitude.
Creating a Celestial Flame through one's own comprehension was already nearly impossible.
Creating a Creation Flame...
Was considered impossible.
To obtain such flames...
One had to absorb Ancient Flames born directly from primordial nothingness.
Yet...
Above even Creation Flames...
There existed one legendary existence.
The Legendary Creation Flame.
A flame spoken of only in forgotten myths.
The only way to obtain it...
Was by refining an Ancient Divine Flame.
Not merely an Ancient Flame.
An Ancient Divine Flame.
Even Lin Moun herself had never known the truth.
Inside the ruins...
She had believed she was refining an Ancient Flame.
Only now...
Did destiny quietly laugh at her ignorance.
---
The Mang elders raised their hands.
"Kill them."
Instantly—
More than a thousand Divine Transformation experts shot forward.
Each one carried overwhelming killing intent.
Their combined aura tore apart the clouds.
In the Mortal Realm...
A difference between Foundation Establishment and Golden Core might still be overcome through talent.
But after reaching the Immortal Realm...
Every single star became an unbridgeable abyss.
A one-star Void Refining cultivator could effortlessly slaughter hundreds of cultivators at the same realm possessing only one star less.
Their cultivation stage remained identical.
Yet their true strength differed like heaven and earth.
Such was the cruelty of the Immortal Realm.
---
Lin Moun quietly untied a strip of white cloth from her robe.
The cloth floated gently in the wind like an ancient battle banner.
She removed her strongest protective artifact.
Without hesitation...
She placed it around little Zhou Fang.
Then...
She carefully wrapped the white cloth around his tiny body.
Layer after layer.
Firmly.
Securely.
Finally...
She tied him tightly against her back.
The child continued sleeping peacefully.
Completely unaware...
That heaven itself had already declared war upon his existence.
Lin Moun gently touched his tiny forehead.
Then...
She slowly drew her sword.
Boom—
A terrifying destructive aura erupted from her body.
The earth cracked.
The sky dimmed.
The battlefield trembled.
Her blood-soaked robes danced wildly.
Her silver blade emitted a cry that resembled the mourning of countless dead stars.
One step.
Her figure disappeared.
No...
She had moved faster than perception itself.
The first Divine Transformation cultivator suddenly froze.
A crimson line appeared across his neck.
His head slowly slid from his shoulders.
Before his corpse struck the ground—
A second...
A third...
A tenth...
Hundreds of sword lights erupted across the battlefield like blooming silver lotuses.
Every blossom claimed another life.
The massacre...
Had only just begun.