Refining the Primordial Heavenly Demon
The force of the Spirit Vein Grand Network tightening grew ever more concentrated, and countless streams of light stretched and taut in the void. Each thread was like a string tempered by the Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi, vibrating and resonating with a clear and melodious sound. The silhouettes of countless creatures floating within the threads of light became increasingly clear: Herdsman from the Far West Grasslands raised a carved bowl of milk wine, the foam on the rim reflecting a few bright stars, and the ripples in the wine revealing the hardships etched on his wrinkles; a child from a fishing village in the East Sea pressed a translucent seashell to his ear, his eyelashes dusted with fine salt carried by the sea breeze, and the aroma of freshly roasted dried fish lingering in the air; a woman in a bamboo house in the Southern Region turned over drying herbs with a bamboo rake, the warmth of her fingertips soothing each curled leaf, and the calluses on her fingertips rubbing against the leaf hairs stirring up tiny green glimmers.
These silhouettes swirled three times within the light threads, transforming into cyan-gold runes. The runes sometimes resembled running deer, sometimes swimming fish, ultimately condensing into ancient seal characters, which then burrowed into the cracks on the surface of the Primordial Demon Lord along the light threads. These cracks, which were originally channels for the leakage of demonic energy, were now blocked by the runes, like vines in early spring climbing on withered trees. Every inch of their spread was accompanied by the mournful cries of demonic energy—a lamentation mixed with the wails of devoured cultivators, the Curse of exterminated Lineage, and the resentment of the Demon Realm itself, yet these cries gradually weakened under the influence of the runes.
The purified Demonic Essence flowed along the runes, converging into a winding stream on the cracked earth of the Demon Realm. The stream's water was a pale gold, with tiny particles of light floating on its surface, like crushed stars.
As the stream overflowed the scorched earth, clods of soil crumbled away, revealing tender white roots beneath. These roots, originally the remnants of grass and trees charred by demonic fire, now gently unfurled in the water, translucent buds sprouting from their tips. As it flowed over piles of withered bones, emerald moss emerged from the crevices, its spores exploding in the stream, transforming into a green mist. Even the curves of the finger bones were softened by the moss, as if they were not piles of white bones, but works of art sculpted by nature.
Several tiny, completely transparent insects emerged from the stream, their wings covered in fine golden threads. They fluttered their wings and flew towards the abyss, the sound of their wings flapping carrying a joyful exuberance of new life. Wherever they flew, tiny green dots, no bigger than pinheads, sprouted on the Black Soil of the Demon Realm, like early invitations from spring.
"Roar--" The Primordial Demon Lord's gigantic maw spewed out Black Blood. The blood was not liquid, but a gelatinous substance formed from countless twisted Soul Shadows, emitting a pungent, fishy smell. The blood droplets exploded in the air, but were intercepted by the sky woven from the net of light, turning into a sky full of starlight.
As the sparks fell, some landed on the Black Soil of the Demon Realm, igniting pale golden flames. The flames burned away the remaining demonic energy in the soil, causing it to sizzle. Countless tiny black worms floated out of the rising black smoke, turning to ash upon contact with the flames. Others drifted towards the Far West Grasslands, landing in the campfires of the Herdsman, causing the flames to leap three feet high, casting a warm glow on the wool felt of the tents. Inside the tent, a sleeping baby smacked its lips, dreaming of a golden grassland.
He could clearly feel the Demonic God Origin that had lingered within him for three hundred years disintegrating. That essence, once like an inky black rock, was now like a sugar cube thrown into boiling water, its edges constantly melting away. The devoured Spirit Vein force surged through his veins like a raging river, assaulting his soul—the trembling of the Herdsman's horse-head fiddle carried the fragrance of grass, the fisherman's net-casting chant carried the salty tang of the sea, the ancient ballad hummed by the herb gatherer was moistened by the morning dew... Countless vibrant thoughts drilled into his sea of consciousness, shattering the ferocity accumulated over three hundred years into fragments. In those fragments, he could even see himself as a young man before he fell into the Demonic Dao path: wearing a plain Daoist robe, reciting scriptures under the peach tree at the mountain gate, his fingertips still bearing traces of ink from grinding ink.
Ren Xiaoyao stood at the center of the light net, and his movements were perfectly synchronized with those of his Heaven and Earth Dharma Body, even down to the arc of his flowing robes.
On the robes of the Dharma Body, the light and shadow of the four seasons of the Tianyan Continent flow: in spring, peach petals are covered with morning dew, and the reflection of bees fluttering their wings can be seen in the dewdrops; in summer, thunder rolls on lotus leaves, and the thunder is compressed into tiny specks of light, dancing joyfully on the leaf surface; in autumn, the shadows of returning geese are hidden in the maple leaves, and the cries of geese flow along the veins of the leaves, turning into tiny golden rays; in winter, moonlight condenses on snowflakes, and the trajectory of the falling snowflakes forms a mysterious Star Map.
The Life and Death Vortex in his palm suddenly expanded, and countless tiny runes emerged from the blue and black light. These runes were alive, sometimes coalescing and sometimes dispersing. These runes were the truths he had comprehended after observing the birth and death of heaven and earth for three hundred years—there were the seventy-two moments of a peony from bud to full bloom, each moment condensing a different fragrance; there were the tracks of sand and gravel swept away by the tide, the process of the sand and gravel being rounded by the tide was clearly visible; there were the arcs of the Big Dipper slowly shifting over billions of years, and those arcs contained the code of the universe's operation.
"The birth and death of heaven and earth are not determined by the Devil Master." His voice transformed into a golden torrent, rushing through every thread of the light net. Wherever the torrent passed, the light threads became brighter, as if they were infused with new life.
When the torrent swept across the Far North Ice Plains, the ice ridges refracted a seven-colored rainbow, and within the rainbow's halo floated the phantom of an ancient ice Ancient Dragon, bowing its head to drink water; when it swept across the East Sea, the waves hummed ancient fishermen's songs, singing of the promise between ancestors and the sea; when it swept across the Southern Domain Marshes, even the most poisonous miasma transformed into a soft, white mist, from which transparent flowers bloomed, their petals inscribed with antidotes.
The moment the torrent struck the Primordial Demon Lord, the eighteen arms of the Demonic God Phantom shattered simultaneously. The fragments transformed into golden rain in the air.
The arm holding the Insulation Blade transformed into swirling willow catkins, each one dusted with golden light, taking root wherever it landed. The Red Thread of fate wrapped around the blade suddenly unfurled, transforming into countless Red String, one end tied to the stars, the other to the earth. Wherever the Red String passed, withered grass and trees sprouted new buds. The palm holding the Greed-Envy Bowl burst forth with a sky full of dandelions. The dandelion seed heads were snow-white, and the illusory desires floating in the bowl transformed into golden seeds at the center of the seed heads, carried away by the wind. Wherever they landed, a patch of sweet-smelling Clover grew, the veins on the leaves soothing the restlessness of the heart.
The nine-headed wailing had barely escaped its lips when it was condensed into Ice Crystals by the Power of Life and Death. The Ice Crystals crystals resembled blooming black lotus flowers, but gradually became transparent as they fell. The moment the Ice Crystals hit the ground, they turned into dew, dripping onto the Black Soil of the Demon Realm, where two small wildflowers with yellow stamens sprouted. The petals were translucent white, covered with droplets of water from the melting Ice Crystals, which, as they rolled, reflected the green of the entire grassland.
The dark golden demonic armor peeled away inch by inch, the fragments disintegrating in mid-air and transforming into black butterflies. With a few flaps of their wings, the black color faded, revealing colorful Light Butterflies that flew towards the Tianyan Continent. The scales forged from the skull disintegrated in mid-air, revealing the remnants of countless cultivators' souls beneath.
The remnant souls were no longer ferocious. Some wore faded blue Daoist robes with dregs of alchemy still stuck in their cuffs; some wore rusty iron armor with dry grass stuck in the gaps; and some had their hair styled in double buns with faded wooden hairpins in their hair—clearly beings from different eras who died in the Demon Realm, yet they all wore peaceful expressions at this moment.
They transformed into specks of light, drifting towards their respective homelands: a ray of light swept across the Far West Grasslands, causing an old man dozing by a campfire to tremble. In his dream, his elder brother, who had died in battle in his youth, appeared, smiling as he offered him a piece of golden-brown roasted mutton. The aroma of the meat traveled through the dream to reality, causing the old man's chapped lips to move. Another ray of light plunged into the East Sea. When a fisherman hauled in his net, he found a large, golden fish he had never seen before. The fish's eyes resembled those of his father, who had been missing for many years. Inside the fish's belly was half of the jade pendant his father had worn when he went to sea. Yet another ray of light pierced through the Spirit Vein Tree of the Southern Region, where a white flower suddenly bloomed. The patterns on the petals were the design of the sword worn by the medicine immortal who had sacrificed himself three hundred years ago. Wherever the fragrance of the flower filled the air, even those who had been ill for a long time felt their spirits lifted.
The Primordial Demon Lord's body trembled violently amidst the Power of Life and Death. The blood vessels beneath his skin bulged like a spider web, and the energy flowing through them was no longer the gray-black demonic energy, but a mixture of gold and red light. The gold represented the vitality of his Spirit Vein, and the red represented his remaining humanity.
He watched helplessly as his palm turned to ashes. The ashes were black, but the moment they hit the ground, new shoots sprouted from them. The shoots were pale green, wrapped in a transparent membrane, with particles of light clinging to it. They swayed gently in the demonic flames, which not only failed to harm them but also acted as fertilizer, making them grow even more vigorously.
This tug-of-war between life and death caused him to let out a roar that was inhuman. The roar shook the rocks at the edge of the abyss, which were originally black boulders with Demonic Runes, but as they fell, they lost their black color, revealing a bluish-gray interior. Before falling into the abyss, they were caught by the net of light and turned into countless fragments of stone. On each fragment of stone, tiny green sprouts grew, with glistening dewdrops at their tips.
"I am not reconciled!" His last consciousness coalesced into a pitch-black demonic shadow, as thin as a spider's web, yet containing a third of his essence. That essence was his core Demonic Thought, the initial obsession that led him down the path of Demonic Dao.
Within that demonic shadow, one could see countless distorted faces: the fear of the cultivators he devoured before their deaths, the despair in the eyes of the Lineage he wiped out, and the regret he himself saw countless times in his midnight dreams—regret for not being able to hold onto that warm hand that was offered to him back then.
Like a dying loach, it frantically scurried through the gaps in the net of light. The remaining Merit Power in the gaps made it sizzle, and every inch of its movement felt like it was traversing a raging fire, yet it dared not stop for a moment, its instinct for survival overriding everything.
Ren Xiaoyao twitched his fingertips slightly, and the Life and Death Vortex transformed into a cyan-gold light shuttle. At the tip of the light shuttle condensed a drop of Chaos Qi, an energy capable of annihilating everything. It could have caught up with the demonic shadow in the blink of an eye and completely dissipated it.
But out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of countless illusory figures within the net of light—a mother gently patting her baby, the warmth of her palms seeping through the light threads, carrying the scent of milk and a sense of peace; a farmer gripping his hoe, his knuckles white with the determination to protect his home, sweat trickling down his face and dripping onto the parched earth; a cultivator sitting cross-legged, a faint light gleaming between his brows, Inhale and Exhale breath in sync with his Spirit Vein, a gentle peace emanating from him—ultimately, he only let out a soft sigh, a sigh that transformed into a gentle breeze, sweeping across every corner of the Tianyan Continent, calming the restless creatures.
The light shuttle spun in mid-air, transforming into a barrier that stretched across the heavens and earth, blocking the path the fleeing demonic shadows would inevitably take. Mountain and River Map of the Tianyan Continent appeared on the barrier, depicting towering mountains, winding rivers, and clearly visible outlines of towns and villages. However, near the edge of Chaos Border, a tiny gap was deliberately left, at which a faint wisp of life lingered, as if guiding the lost or silently warning them.
"I'll leave you a way out, to see if the world will accept you."
The demonic shadow sensed the gap and hesitated for a moment. In that hesitation were doubt and vigilance, but ultimately the instinct for survival prevailed, and it transformed into a stream of light and slipped out. The instant it disappeared, a layer of black mist on its body was burned away by the life force at the gap, revealing a fainter shadow inside.
It fled towards the Chaos Border, a place even the Ancient Demons dared not tread. There, spacetime was distorted, the sky a swirling, colorful vortex, the earth a floating fragment, and the echoes of countless Plane of Destruction could be heard: the muffled sound of a bronze cauldron being smashed, its broken handle still stained with the blood of sacrifice; the crisp sound of a Glazed Ice pagoda collapsing, its bricks falling with the chanting of monks; and the final cries of a child before the world's destruction, the cries containing the unspoken words of comfort from its mother.
The remaining Demon Body struggled within the net of light, but it was already like a candle flickering in the wind. The light flowing across the surface of the Demon Body grew fainter and fainter, and the black demonic energy was continuously purified, turning into white mist that merged into the net of light.
Ren Xiaoyao formed hand seals, the speed of which was not fast, but it carried the rhythm of the universe. The Spirit Vein Grand Network suddenly contracted, and billions of light threads cut into the Demon Body, twisting it into a constantly flickering Light Orb. The Light Orb brightened and dimmed, like a beating heart.
Within the Light Orb were jet-black Demonic Essence, constantly churning and shrinking under the influence of the Power of Life and Death; there was also the life force of devoured Spirit Vein — Grass Seeds from the Far West Grasslands could be seen sprouting within, their tips topped with tiny clods of soil; coral polyps from the East Sea were blowing bubbles, which released colorful light when they burst; and there were countless fragments of the will of living beings, fragments containing laughter, prayers, and hopes for the future, emitting soft "sizzling" sounds under the refinement of the Power of Life and Death, like spring rain falling on a red-hot iron plate, carrying the power to purify everything.
He activated the Tai Chi Seal between his eyebrows, and two streams of light, blue and gold, flowed into the Light Orb. The blue light was the power of life, and the gold light was the power of destruction. The two forces intertwined and rotated within the Light Orb, forming a tiny Tai Chi Symbol.
The Light Orb spun faster and faster, gradually condensing into two Pills: the one on the left was entirely black, with fine Demonic Runes flowing across its surface, yet it was firmly enveloped by a pale golden halo. Within the halo, countless runes could be seen moving about, bearing characters such as "Suppress," "Lock," and "Peace." It was a "Demon-Sealing Divine Pill" refined using the Devil Master's remaining essence and malevolent energy. The pill trembled slightly, as if still roaring in unwillingness, but it was firmly locked in by the halo, unable to break free; the one on the right was seven-colored. The Glazed Ice- like surface contained a miniature version of the entire Tianyan Continent —the icy springs of the Far North Ice Plains tinkled, with transparent fish swimming in the water; egrets skimmed the surface of the Southern Domain Marshes, their wingtips lifting water droplets that held rainbows; the waves of the East Sea held the glimmer of pearls, and the process of gestation could be seen as the oysters opened and closed—this was the "Heaven-Deriving Creation Pill," forged from the life force of devoured Spirit Vein and the will of billions of living beings. As the Pills spun, one could hear the sound of plants growing and smell the moist scent of the earth.
The instant the Pills was formed, the Spirit Vein of the Tianyan Continent simultaneously hummed. The hum, like an ancient ballad, echoed between heaven and earth: the grass on the Far West Grasslands suddenly grew half a foot taller, dewdrops rolling off the blades and striking the horns of stone sheep with a crisp sound, waking the sleeping lambs. The lambs twitched their ears and bleated, their voices full of vitality; the coral reefs of the East Sea shone with unprecedented brilliance, red like burning sunset clouds, pink like the rising moon, and purple like solidified stars. Even the cuttlefish in the deepest depths swam to the surface, spitting out a string of rainbow-colored bubbles. The bubbles drifted to the fishing boat, where the fisherman popped them, splashing up tiny droplets; in front of the bamboo house in the Southern Domain Marshes, the Ganoderma lucidum in the herb gatherer's basket suddenly grew larger, the dew between its gills refracting seven rainbows. In the Light Spots falling to the ground, a previously unseen herb sprouted, its leaves capable of curing long-standing ailments.
Ren Xiaoyao raised his hand and caught the two Pills. The Demon-Suppressing Demon-Sealing Divine Pill was icy cold to the touch, and his fingertips could feel the lingering resentment within its body. The trembling was like the last struggle of a dying beast, but it was gradually soothed by the warmth of his palm. The Heaven-Deriving Creation Pill, on the other hand, was warm as jade. He could feel the pulse of the continent in his palm, and every beat resonated with his own heartbeat. It was as if he were holding an entire vibrant world, and he could hear the sounds of plants growing and rivers flowing within it.
He gazed into the depths of the Demon Realm, at the unhealed Bottom of the Abyss, from which a faint whimper emanated. It was not anger, nor a roar, but a trembling filled with fear, as if countless Ancient Demons were mourning their lost ruler, or perhaps trembling in fear of the all-consuming Power of Life and Death.
On the Black Soil at the edge of the abyss, several small purple flowers have sprouted at some unknown time. They have five petals and yellow centers, swaying gently towards the direction of the light net, as if expressing respect or welcoming new life.
The remains of the Floating Island reformed behind him, the grass, trees, and rocks making soft, rustling sounds as they returned to their places: a golden mark appeared in the pine tree's rings, a trace left by the Merit Power, flowing along the rings and making the pine's branches and leaves even greener; water droplets seeped from the cracks in the rocks, reflecting the fading glow of the sunset, in which countless smiling faces of living beings could be seen; even the previously broken Stone Steps had Green Moss sprouting at the joints, the Green Moss a tender green, gently filling the cracks as if the break had never existed.
However, a crack running east to west appeared in the center of the island. The crack was not wide, but its depth was unfathomable. From the crack grew a small, emerald green grass with only three leaves, yet its green was dazzling. The leaves were covered with newly formed dewdrops, which contained the reflection of the entire Tianyan Continent —from the ice plains of the far north to the swamps of the Southern Region, from the harbors of the East Sea to the grasslands of the western wilderness, all in perfect detail.
The Ancient Dragon of the Far North Ice Plains withdrew its icy mist, which condensed in the air as a curtain of icy blue light, inscribed with ancient runes, guarding the peace of the ice plains. Icicles ceased falling, and schools of silver fish emerged from the cracks in the ice, their tails slapping against the icy springs. The splashes of water Ice Crystals in the sunlight, like countless tiny stars, shimmering with a cool light. In the Southern Region, the Spirit Vein Tree ceased swaying, and the net of light formed by the dewdrops on its leaves transformed into a fine rain, nourishing the swamps. The raindrops, green in color, pattered softly on the bamboo roof tiles, startling the egrets dozing under the eaves. The egrets took flight, raindrops clinging to their wingtips falling onto the Medicinal Field, causing them to grow an inch taller instantly. Fishermen on the East Sea cast their nets again, the sound of the ropes slicing through the boat's planks carrying a hint of relief, as if they had survived a near-death experience. Fish and shrimp leaped in the nets, the Light Spots on their scales reflecting on the wrinkles around the fishermen's eyes, a smile that held a sense of peace and anticipation for the future.
Unbeknownst to anyone, at the edge of the abyss in the Western Desolate Demon Realm, a black seed was falling from the void. The seed's trajectory was very slow, as if it were being supported by an invisible hand.
The seed was only the size of a fingernail, with Twisted Runes engraved on its surface. The runes were exactly the same as the marks on the Primordial Demon Lord's armor, but much fainter, as if they had been washed away.
It tumbled three times in the air, as if confirming its direction, before silently burrowing into the soil. The moment it entered the ground, the surrounding demonic energy and vitality surged towards it, but were blocked by an invisible membrane.
The soil still retained traces of purified demonic energy, mingled with the vitality seeping from the Spirit Vein, forming a peculiar balance. In the darkness, unnoticed by anyone, the seed gently inhaled a breath of wind. That wind carried the unique chill of the Demon Realm, a slight stinging sensation as it brushed against the skin; the scent of the Far West Grasslands, freshly cut hay mixed with the aroma of sunshine; the salty dampness of the East Sea, carrying the scent of migrating fish; and the moisture of the Southern Domain Marshes, concealing the warmth of decaying leaves intertwined with new seedlings. All these scents swirled around the seed three times, finally transforming into an extremely thin wisp of air that seeped into the gaps in the runes on the seed's surface.
The rune trembled slightly, as if blinking from a long slumber. The originally twisted patterns relaxed slightly, revealing a paler base color beneath, as if the hideous Demonic Runes were merely an outer garment. Inside the seed, a faint light was being nurtured—not the pitch black of demonic energy, nor the golden glow of Spirit Vein, but a gray in between, like the darkest hour before dawn, yet concealing the first light of day.
At the Bottom of the Abyss, the Ancient Demons, still slumbering, stirred restlessly, no longer because of the Devil Master's summons, but disturbed by the unfamiliar aura emanating from the seed. The Ancient Demons with two horns on its head opened its scarlet eyes, gazing towards the edge of the abyss, its nostrils exhaling a sulfurous breath. However, upon touching the soil, it seemed to be blocked by Invisible Power, and could only frantically scratch at the rocks with its claws, Mars flying from its claws flashing briefly in the darkness.
Ren Xiaoyao placed the two Pills into the jade box, which closed with a crisp "click," as if bringing this century-long feud to a close. He looked up towards the edge of Chaos Border, his gaze piercing through layers of void, as if he could see the fleeing demonic figure struggling in the distorted spacetime. But he simply withdrew his gaze, flicked the jade box lightly with his fingertip, and two streams of light flew out of the box, shooting towards the Far North Ice Plains and the Southern Domain Marshes respectively.
The Demon-Sealing Divine Pill Demonic Thought into the depths of the icy plain, instantly transforming into a black Stone Tablet. The tablet was covered with runes that suppressed demonic thoughts, firmly locking in the remaining demonic energy beneath the icy plain. The icicles that had formed on the top of the tablet reflected the sunlight, like an inextinguishable sword. The Heaven-Deriving Creation Pill merged into the roots of the Spirit Vein Tree, and the tree suddenly burst forth with a dazzling green light. The green light spread along the roots to the entire Southern Region, and the miasma in the swamp completely dissipated, revealing the fertile Black Soil beneath. Countless dormant seeds were buried in the soil, waiting for the call of the spring rain.