The Primordial Demon Lord Returns
Three hundred years after the rift closed, the morning light on the Tianyan Continent always carried the sweet freshness of newly awakened vegetation. That sweetness was mixed with the chill of the Far North Ice Plains, the moisture of the Southern Domain Marshes, and the salty sea breeze of the East Sea Coast. As the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, it spread over mountains and rivers, over towns and villages, and over the noses of every living being.
The oasis in the Western Desolate Desert has spread into an endless grassland. As sheep frolic in the sunset, their wool is tinged with golden-red light, like tiny jewels. The sound of the Herdsman's morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) mingles with the cooking smoke, spreading like a warm river across the meadow—the desolation of three hundred years ago has long been diluted by the mellow aroma of milk wine. Even the oldest herdsmen only mention those years swallowed by sandstorms in their stories by the campfire. As the fire flickers, his wrinkled hand strokes his grandson's head, saying, "Back then, the wind could blow stones a hundred miles away."
The rebuilt fishing village on the East Sea Coast stretches out into a crescent-shaped harbor. Children chase after seashells stranded at low tide, their fingertips touching the patterns on the inner walls of the shells, as if they can hear the lingering echoes of the tsunami three hundred years ago. The echoes are faint, like the sigh of an old man, hidden deep within the shells. Coral reefs have grown into underwater palaces stretching for thousands of miles. Pearl embryos are hidden in the folds of fan-shaped corals, and the tentacles of soft corals sway gently. Even the most timid clownfish dare to swim to the fishing boats for food. The shimmering Light Spots on their scales reflect the smiling eyes of the fishermen, and even the sound of the net ropes cutting through the boat's planks when the fishermen cast their nets is filled with laughter.
The miasma of the Southern Domain Marshes has long since transformed into morning dew that nourishes the duckweed. When egrets skim the water's surface, rainbows can be seen reflected in the water droplets kicked up by their wingtips. In the halo of the rainbow, wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys of newly built bamboo houses, and herbs hang to dry on the railings, emitting a bitter fragrance. Herb gatherers, carrying bamboo baskets, move through the greenery, the chirping of insects startled by their footsteps carrying a moist warmth. The lingzhi mushrooms in their baskets are still covered in soil, and the gills hold the dew from last night.
Unbeknownst to anyone, in the heart of the Western Desolate Demon Realm, a vast abyss stretching for thousands of miles was quietly tearing the earth apart. The tearing sound was faint, like Demon Realm cultivator using Bone Saber to cut human skin; only the Ancient Demons slumbering at the Bottom of the Abyss could hear it. They stirred restlessly in their sleep, their scales rubbing against the rocks, making a soft, crackling sound.
When the abyss first appeared, it was just a thin black line, like silk torn by the Demon Realm cultivator's bone blade. In an instant, it became like the gaping maw of a giant beast. The surging demonic energy was no longer a thick, viscous gray-black torrent, but transformed into billions of jet-black lightning bolts. The shapes of the lightning bolts resembled twisted snakes, struggling souls, or the barbs on the fingernails of the Demon Realm cultivators.
Each bolt of lightning carried a ferocious, Devouring Stars power. As the lightning tore through the blood-red clouds, one could see the solidified wails within— the Remnant Souls of Living Beings devoured by the Demon Realm, now being tempered by the lightning to become even more grotesque. Black Blood flowed from the remnants' eye sockets, etching fine holes into the clouds, from which peeked out even deeper darkness.
The Primordial Demon Lord hovered above the abyss, his three hundred years of dormancy transforming him completely. His hair was longer than it had been three hundred years ago, as black as ink, moving without wind, with tiny Demonic Runes swirling among the strands, shimmering with an eerie light.
The Mysterious Black Dragon Robe had long been replaced by dark gold demonic armor. The scales of the armor were forged from the skulls of millions of the Demon Realm cultivators. The name of the sacrificer was engraved on the inside of each scale, written in demonic blood, and was still writhing slightly. The liquid demonic energy flowing in the gaps gleamed with a metallic luster, like a solidified Star River slowly rotating. On the riverbed, one could see the struggling phantoms of Demonic Soul. They were cultivators assimilated by the demonic energy, still putting up their last resistance.
The Demon Realm realm, spanning millions of miles around him, was collapsing, the dark red soil churning to reveal layers upon layers of white bones beneath. These bones varied in size, some bearing sword marks, others claw marks—all creatures that had perished in the Demon Realm realm over the years. Countless low-level Devil Creature were crushed by an invisible force, transforming into pure Demonic Essence that flowed into his body. The shrill cries emitted as the Demonic Essence flowed resonated eerily with the wailing echoes emanating from the Bottom of the Abyss, a resonance that caused the very air of the Demon Realm to tremble.
At the Bottom of the Abyss, the remains of Ancient Demon Gods, slumbering for billions of years, were weathering at a visible speed. His humerus, a thousand feet long, was engraved with the runes of "Destruction," which turned to ashes with mournful cries, each grain of ash carrying Curse of resentment. The chains binding his finger bones snapped with a dull thud—the price he paid for using himself as a furnace to melt down the accumulated resources of the entire demon Demon Realm over three hundred years. Even the last trace of his essence within the Demonic God's remains was drained. In the dust and smoke of the collapsing skeleton, the lingering echoes of an ancient Battle Song, a Battle Song filled with slaughter and conquest, still lingered.
"Boom--"
Suddenly, the first thunderous punishment of the Demon God Tribulation resounded from the heavens. The sound was like countless war drums being struck simultaneously, shaking the very sky of the Demon Realm.
The purplish-black lightning bolt was over a thousand feet in diameter, and countless twisted Demonic Soul were coiled within it. These were Extraterrestrial Evil Demons refined by the lightning, each Demonic Soul emitting a heart-wrenching scream, its voice filled with the pain and despair of being devoured. Some of the Demonic Soul were in the form of beasts, some were in human form, and some were no longer recognizable, merely blurry black shadows.
As the lightning bolt struck, the space of the Demon Realm was compressed into a crumpled ball of paper. Even the light around the lightning bolt swirled in eerie arcs, as if it were about to be crushed into dust by this Power of Destruction. The instant the lightning bolt struck the earth, the rocks at the edge of the abyss instantly turned to dust. In the rising dust, tiny Space Fragments could be seen shimmering, those fragments like sharp blades, hissing as they sliced through the air.
The Primordial Demon Lord threw his head back and laughed wildly, his laughter shattering the Demonic Soul surrounding the tribulation lightning. Those Demonic Soul turned into black smoke and vanished without a trace amidst the laughter. His laughter was filled with arrogance and a thirst for power.
He spread his arms, and the scales on his dark gold demonic armor suddenly stood up, each scale transforming into Devouring Demon Formation composed of countless smaller arrays. The array's eyes shimmered with a ghostly green light, like the eyes of a venomous snake, and actively absorbed the tribulation lightning into his body. Demonic energy surged within him, preparing to meet the impact of the lightning pillar.
As the lightning bolts exploded through his meridians, countless fine bloodstains appeared on his body. The bloodstains didn't seep blood, but rather boiling demonic energy—this demonic energy intertwined with the tribulation lightning, condensing behind him into a towering, ten-thousand-foot-tall Demonic God Phantom: the Demonic God god had nine heads, the central head a blue-faced, fanged Asura, its third eye on its forehead flowing with Black Blood; the four heads on the left were the ferocious appearances of a jackal, wolf, tiger, and leopard, their mouths still stained with flesh and blood from creatures of different worlds; the four heads on the right were Ancient Deities that had been devoured. Ancient Deities a remnant remains, golden Divine Blood seeping from the broken corners, its eyes filled with pain and rage; its eighteen arms each wield a different Devil Artifact, some holding "Insulation Blade" capable of Causal-Severing, the blades wrapped with severed Red Thread, the Red Thread of fate for countless living beings; others holding "Greed-Envy Bowl" containing the source of all evil, the bowls floating with countless phantoms of desire, power, wealth, and beauty; its eyes burning with black flames capable of incinerating the Principle, the flames flickering and even the space itself sizzling and melting, revealing the gray Void beneath.
"Ren Xiaoyao, three hundred years have passed!" His voice pierced through the Demon Realm barrier, resounding in every corner of the Tianyan Continent. The sound waves caused icicles to fall from the Far North Ice Plains, striking the ice surface with a crisp sound. "Your Merit Power has probably long since solidified into a cocoon, while I have already touched the Demonic God Origin!"
Before he finished speaking, he had already torn through the void. The torn void was like a piece of torn paper, revealing the Primordial Chaos colors behind it. His figure shuttled through the void, leaving a trail of black afterimages.
The Spirit Vein of the Tianyan Continent suddenly sounded an alarm: the Ten-Thousand-Year Profound Ice of the Far North Ice Plains cracked inch by inch, and an ancient Ancient Dragon awakened beneath the ice spewed out icy mist, which condensed into a defensive barrier in mid-air. High Antiquity runes, shimmering with blue light, were frozen within the mist, activated by the Ancient Dragon's own Origin Power. In the Southern Region Spirit Vein Tree shook violently, their leaves rustling. Dewdrops on the leaves formed a net of light, enveloping the swamp. At the nodes of this net sat cultivating Spirit Monster, their hands clasped together, chanting Ancient Incantations; Ren Xiaoyao the Floating Island where Ren Xiaoyao sat in meditation rippled with azure-gold, and within the ripples, the scene of the Demon Realm clearly emerged— the Primordial Demon Lord stood above an ocean formed by demonic energy, his eighteen arms of Demonic God Phantom waving simultaneously, turning countless shattered plane fragments into ammunition for his attacks. On those fragments, the wails of civilization's destruction still lingered: the muffled sound of bronze cauldrons being smashed, the crisp sound of Glazed Ice pagodas collapsing, and the last cries of children, their cries still carrying the warmth of their bodies.
Ren Xiaoyao slowly rose, his connection with heaven and earth strengthened by three hundred years of meditation. His breathing was steady, like a mountain stream, neither hurried nor slow.
The Life and Death Imprint between his brows had transformed into a rotating Tai Chi Pattern, its azure and gold light interspersed with subtle gray light. This was the Chaos Qi absorbed over three hundred years, now rising and falling in sync with his breath. When he inhaled, the frigid winds of the far north and the warm, humid air currents of the Southern Region surged into his body simultaneously, converging at his dantian; when he exhaled, the two streams of energy condensed into a rotating vortex in his palm, within which tiny Stars' Life and Death.
The Floating Island beneath his feet suddenly disintegrated, and countless plants, trees, and rocks transformed into streams of light that merged into his robes. His once cyan-gold robes now seemed to carry countless worlds, and as the hem fluttered, one could see the phantoms of mountains and rivers rising and falling, and stars rotating: in some scenes, Erupted Lava was cooling into Plains, and the phantoms of dinosaurs struggling in the lava were gradually petrifying, leaving clear skeletal imprints; in other scenes, the light of Supernova Explosion was giving birth to a new star, and within the light lay the molecular structure of amino acids, the origin of life.
"The Demon God Tribulation is nothing more than the final revelry of the Demonic Dao path." His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of every living being, like a spring breeze brushing across a frozen lake. In the sound of the ice melting, one could hear the crisp sound of Grass Seeds sprouting; the sound was soft, yet full of power.
The Primordial Demon Lord had already closed in. His speed was beyond the limits of what the naked eye could see, leaving only a streak of dark golden light in his wake.
The Demonic God Phantom's eighteen arms slammed down simultaneously, each strike carrying the power to shatter Star River. The void turned into viscous ink under the fists, and even the Merit Golden Radiance formed the sky was smashed into countless ripples. At the crests of the ripples, one could see stars that were briefly distorted, their light flickering as if they might be extinguished at any moment.
The foremost demonic arm wielded a massive, jet-black Giant Axe, its blade inscribed with runes of "No Life" and "Annihilation." As the runes flickered, the surrounding vegetation withered and revived instantly, creating a bizarre cycle that seemed to mock the fragility of life. The chopping motion caused the space around Ren Xiaoyao to collapse in reverse—first, flowers and grasses transformed back into seeds, their seed coats still bearing the cracks from when they first sprouted; then, rivers flowed backward, water droplets splashing against the current, creating a tinkling sound; finally, even the light began to flow backward, pulling Ren Xiaoyao's shadow back to his feet, as if dragging him back to the Primordial Chaos before the birth of the universe.
Ren Xiaoyao pointed his finger, and the Laws of Life and Death transformed into countless fine needles. These needles were crystal clear, like ice silk or jade threads, drawing countless intricate trajectories in the air.
Those seemingly insignificant needles embody the profound truth of "a single thought gives rise to an instant, a single thought extinguishes an instant": When they land on the Demonic Axe, the "Annihilation" rune is instantly replaced by "birth," and tender green shoots sprout from the black blade, each tip topped with a glistening dewdrop. The dewdrops reflect the entire grassland, growing tenaciously amidst the demonic flames. When the flames reach the new shoots, they only make them grow stronger. As the nine heads aimed at the Asura Demonic God Phantom suddenly lower their eyelids, a white Mandala blooms between their brows, its petals shimmering with pure light. The dewdrops fell with a soft "tap" sound; the four heads of the jackals, tigers, and leopards on the left transformed into docile pets, their tails swaying gently, and the flesh from their mouths turning into falling petals—red, pink, and white, like a gentle rain; the other five heads howled in pain under the pull of the Power of Life and Death, golden blood flowing from their mouths—purified Demonic Essence. The blood dripped to the ground, transforming into blooming golden lotuses, their fragrance spreading and dispelling the surrounding demonic energy.
"Impossible!" the Primordial Demon Lord roared, and the Demonic God Phantom suddenly self-destructed, transforming into boundless demonic flames. His roar was filled with shock and rage; he couldn't believe that his power could be so easily neutralized.
That demonic flame was different from ordinary demonic energy; it was the "Primordial Demonic Fire" that could burn away the Principle. Even the Merit Golden Radiance would sizzle and burn when it touched it. The frequency of the flame's flickering was completely opposite to the rhythm of the Heaven and Earth Laws, as if it were singing a song in a different tune.
Emerging from the flames were countless remnants of a world swallowed up: in some, wizards were sacrificing living people, the blood on the Altar congealing into Curse runes, shimmering with a dark red light; in others, mechanical civilizations were slaughtering each other, mountains of metal skeletons piled high, a child's toy—a small wooden horse—stuck between gears; in still others, cultivators were slaughtering their fellow disciples for resources, the bloodstains on their Flying Sword still wet, the blades reflecting a light of despair... The phantoms of beings in the remnants stretched out their claws, blood and dirt still lingering under their fingernails, trying to drag Ren Xiaoyao into eternal Annihilation, their wails filled with an unyielding obsession, as if expressing their resentment.
A gigantic lotus flower suddenly bloomed around Ren Xiaoyao. The lotus was tens of thousands of feet in size, with layers upon layers of petals, protecting him in the center like an indestructible fortress.
The petals are composed of countless Law Runes. The outer layer is made of golden petals formed from the Merit Golden Radiance, and on each petal sits a phantom of a praying being—a farmer holding a full ear of rice, the fine hairs on the grains glistening in the sunlight, his smile honest and simple; a student holding a book of sages, the pages radiating points of knowledge, his eyes focused; a mother holding a sleeping baby, the baby's eyelashes glistening with dewdrops of dreams, her expression serene. The inner layer is made of Cyan-Black Petals formed from the Power of Life and Death and death, on which flow the trajectory of the Stars' Life and Death, from the glimmer of Nebula to the brilliance of Supernova Explosion, from the cry of a newborn to the sigh of a fallen civilization, every scene is clearly visible; at the very center of the lotus platform sits a phantom exactly like him, the "Heaven and Earth Dharma Body" condensed over three hundred years. In the eyes of the Dharma Body, the spring, summer, autumn and winter of the entire Tianyan Continent are contained, and deep in the pupils, there is a faint light flowing through the Spirit Vein, that light synchronized with the heartbeat of the continent.
As the lotus spun, its golden petals emitted Purifying Power, transforming the Primordial Demonic Fire into nourishing spiritual Spiritual Qi. The flames, passing through the petals, became a warm breeze carrying the fragrance of flowers and dandelion seeds. These seeds, scattered by the wind, would take root and sprout upon landing. The Cyan-Black Petals released Power of Life and Death, weaving the remnants of the world back into a new Nebula. Within this Nebula, tiny specks of light quickly emerged—new life was being nurtured. Some specks transformed into swimming fish, bubbles rising from the trails of their tails; others into birds, stirring up stardust with their flapping wings; still others into running beasts, Star Grass sprouting wherever their hooves trod. Even the smallest specks of light held a yearning for life. The frequency of their flickering perfectly matched the lotus's rotation, like a dance of life itself.
Seeing this, the Primordial Demon Lord's eyes flashed with madness, and he completely merged himself with the Demonic God Phantom. He knew he had no way out and could only gamble everything.
His body began to swell, eventually transforming into a giant the same size as the Demonic God Phantom. Liquid demonic fire flowed across his skin, as if he were wearing a burning armor, from which Black Blood seeped. The blood, dripping onto the ground, corroded bottomless holes. His eyes became two rotating Black Hole, within Black Hole countless galaxies could be seen being devoured and crushed. The light from these galaxies stretched long bands of light at the edges of the Black Hole, like dying serpents of light. He opened his gigantic maw and began to devour... The Spirit Vein energy of the Tianyan Continent —the newly revived oasis in the Western Desolate Desert instantly withered and turned yellow, the curled blades of grass still retaining the warmth of the sun, and the dew that had condensed at the roots still lingering; the coral reefs on the East Sea Coast turned into grayish-white skeletons, with the remains of small fish still stuck in the crevices, the luster on the scales still undiminished; the newly formed creatures in the Southern Domain Marshes let out mournful screams, their life Invisible Power, even the most tenacious weeds withered instantly, the Grass Seeds still bearing traces of last night's dew.
"With the life force of the continent as a sacrifice, let's see how you protect this world!" The voice of the Primordial Demon Lord was filled with the madness of destroying everything. The sound waves shook the rocks of the Floating Island, causing them to tumble and fall into the sea of clouds below, stirring up thousands of waves. The sea of clouds churned like a pot of boiling water.
Ren Xiaoyao's eyes narrowed slightly, and a beam of light suddenly shot out from the Tai Chi Seal between his brows, piercing through the heavens and earth. The beam of light was pure and warm, like a bridge connecting heaven and earth.
The beam of light landed on the core of the Tianyan Continent, the source of the Spirit Vein reshaped by four Pills three hundred years ago. At this moment, it was emitting a soft white light, and within the white light, the phantom images of the four Pills could be seen slowly rotating. Each Pills emitted a different light, representing the four elements of earth, water, fire, and wind.
In an instant, the Spirit Vein of the entire continent lit up simultaneously: the icy springs of the Far North Ice Plains gushed forth, transforming into cyan light threads, within which Ice Crystals Ice Crystals, refracting sunlight and emitting a seven-colored glow; the roots of the Spirit Vein Tree of the Southern Region broke through the soil, transforming into green light threads, upon which bloomed tiny flowers, emitting a faint fragrance; the seawater of the East Sea evaporated, transforming into blue light threads, within which transparent fish and shrimp swam, swaying their tails, appearing full of vitality... Countless light threads soared into the sky, weaving in mid-air into a vast net covering the entire globe, the mesh of which flickered with the will of living beings, enveloping the Primordial Demon Lord within; those wills contained fear, anger, but above all, a yearning for life.
Those threads of light, though seemingly soft, contained the will of billions of living beings. They were like countless strong ropes, tightly binding the Primordial Demon Lord.
Suddenly, the swallowed oasis sprouted new shoots, golden dewdrops emerging from the tips of withered grass blades, reflecting the laughing faces of the Herdsman. Laughter followed the path of the falling dewdrops, reaching the earth and awakening the slumbering roots. Seven-colored flowers bloomed among the white bones of the coral reef, the petals teeming with the phantoms of fish and shrimp. Even the smallest krill leaped among the petals, their shells gleaming against the colors of the petals, creating a beautiful scene. The screams of the creatures in the swamp turned into songs of joy, countless points of light breaking free from the Devil Master and returning to their own forms—the plundered life force rebelling. Even the liquid demonic fire on the Devil Master's surface began to wane, like a candle flame extinguished by rain, gray ash rising from the edges of the flame.
"This is... the Heaven and Earth Resonance?" The Primordial Demon Lord's giant mouth suddenly froze. He could feel the life force he had been devouring flowing backward. The life force that had been drawn away was backfiring on him along the Spirit Vein and light threads, like countless tiny springs exploding inside his body. Every muscle was twitching, every Root Bone was groaning. For the first time, he felt the fear of losing control of his power, a fear even greater than when he faced the tribulation lightning.
Countless cracks began to appear on the Demonic God's body, from which cyan-gold light emerged— the Merit Power purifying his essence. Wherever the light passed, demonic energy melted away like ice and snow; even the deepest demonic energy transformed into wisps of cyan smoke, emitting the fragrance of burning grass and trees. As the smoke rose, it condensed into tiny phantoms of grass and trees—grass, wildflowers, and towering trees—which lingered briefly on his body before dissipating in the wind.
Ren Xiaoyao had now merged with the Heaven and Earth Dharma Body. He stood at the center of the Spirit Vein Grand Network, his hands in a supporting gesture. His figure appeared and disappeared in the net of light, as if he were one with the entire world, and every move he made affected the pulse of the Spirit Vein.