Memory Torrent (Part 1)

# Chapter 2: Memory Torrent (Part 1)

From Sun Palace to Lingxiao Palace, Eastern Emperor Taiyi could walk this road with his eyes closed—and that wasn't an exaggeration. This body had tread it tens of thousands of times, the path long carved into bone. Three steps to a corridor, seven steps to a turn. Which cloud-brick to step on, which pillar hid the gap between patrol shifts—he knew it all by heart.

But today, Taiyi walked with unusual care.

Not because he didn't know the road, but because his mind was too loud. Those memory fragments just crammed into the Chaos Bell were now churning like someone waking from a drunk, surging all at once. He had to steady his steps while splitting his focus to handle the melee inside his head.

First step: stabilize the breath. Inhale, sink into the Dantian... no, the Great Wilderness didn't have Dantian, it was the Purple Mansion. Let the True Sun Fire flow through the meridians, don't let it run wild. Damn, controlling this power was like driving a supercar—one stomp on the gas and you'd fly to the sky.

He deliberately slowed his pace by half a beat, letting his attention pull back a little.

Memories, when they surged, had no order. The first thing to surface was actually a burning sensation—not pain, but the warm comfort of soaking in a hot spring. Before his eyes flickered an endless sea of golden fire. He floated within it, and beside him was a cluster of even fiercer flames, close by, mutually attracted. That was Di Jun before he'd taken form. It felt strange, like twins nestled in the womb, knowing each other existed without speaking.

Born from the Sun Star—that was a hardcore origin. Just a bit hot as a birthplace. No wonder his temper ran hot later.

The scene jumped. The fire sea contracted, condensing into two naked humanoid figures standing on still-boiling magma. They exchanged a glance, then burst into roaring laughter. The laughter was utterly carefree, carrying the innocence of newborns and a fearlessness that defied heaven and earth. That was him and Di Jun, naming themselves, deciding who was elder and who was younger. Then came a stretch of chaotic days—beating down the unruly Fire Spirits and Flame Demons on the Sun Star one by one, recruiting them as underlings, plundering all kinds of glittering fire-attributed treasures. That memory carried a wild, untamed joy: fighting, treasure-hunting, exploring their own backyard—simple and direct.

Then the memory flow "whooshed" and sped up.

They left the Sun Star, entering the true Great Wilderness. The world suddenly opened up dizzyingly wide, and for the first time, they witnessed what true danger meant. Grotesquely shaped Ferocious Beast Remnants, Innate Absolute Formations that could swallow you as you walked, and those Innate Deities who'd popped out of Chaos alongside them but had tempers stranger than strange. Countless battles fought, a few friends made. Slowly, the name "the Two Brothers of the Sun Star" spread across the Great Wilderness, especially the younger brother—fierce in battle, hot-tempered, and that bell in his hand was downright sinister.

Then came the next stage: rallying forces, establishing the Demon Race, founding the Heavenly Court. This memory was vast and noisy, like a documentary on fast-forward. Countless demon faces flashed by—young demon generals looking at him with fanatical reverence, old foxes with surface respect and scheming eyes beneath, and characters like Kunpeng, always smiling but making your back crawl. How Lingxiao Palace was built brick by brick, how the Great Zhou Heavenly Stars Formation was painstakingly worked out by Di Jun and Fuxi, and the endless bickering: which tribe deserved how many resources, which two territories had clashed again... A sea of information surged past, and Taiyi only caught the gist, but the heavy weight of sitting atop power day after day, with countless matters pressing down, was truly and deeply felt.

Of course, the memories mostly consisted of fighting.

Fighting the Witch Race.

Those big brutes had bodies so tough they defied reason. They didn't cultivate Primordial Spirits, didn't believe in Heavenly Fate—they only acknowledged the power in their bloodline and the earth beneath their feet. How the first fight started, he couldn't recall. He only remembered that fighting them was truly satisfying, and truly brutal. The twelve Ancestral Witches, especially their leader Di Jiang, were elusive, impossibly fast—a tough nut to crack. The first time the Chaos Bell had been fully rung in a deathmatch, its sound waves shattered a hundred miles of mountains and rivers, and nearly made him vomit blood himself. That scene was still crystal clear. After the battle, looking at the corpses of demons and witches scattered across the ground, something else surfaced in his heart for the first time—not fear, but a heavy thing called "responsibility." Because behind him now stood billions of demons.

These memories were all stamped with the brand of "Eastern Emperor Taiyi": pride, confidence, the belief that fists were the ultimate truth, unconditional loyalty and trust toward his elder brother, and that burden for the Demon Race—never spoken aloud but truly shouldered. The emotions were thick as strong liquor, burning the throat.

Lin Yuan's modern memories, set against this torrent, were as small as dust. But it was precisely this speck of dust that stubbornly lodged itself somewhere.

It coldly reminded Taiyi: all these badass experiences, world-destroying power, and responsibilities on his shoulders—they all pointed to a written ending: doom.

The Witch-Demon Calamity. These four words weren't very clear in the memories, more like a shadow lingering over the hearts of all high-ranking demons. It was Di Jun's increasingly furrowed brow when he gazed at the stars. It was Bai Ze's hesitant, half-spoken words. It was the killing intent in the workings of Heavenly Fate that grew harder and harder to hide.

And "Lin Yuan" knew the script. Ten Suns Across the Sky, the earth scorched black. Kuafu Chases the Sun, dying of exhaustion. Houyi Shoots the Suns, nine Golden Crows falling. Gonggong going mad, crashing into Buzhou Mountain, the sky collapsing. Finally, the Witch-Demon final battle, both sides wiped out, Di Jun and Taiyi dead, the Chaos Bell flying away, the Demon Race Heavenly Court disbanded.

He, Eastern Emperor Taiyi, would in that final battle, with no way out, drag the Chaos Bell into self-destruction, trying to take a few Ancestral Witches down with him. In the end, his soul would scatter to the winds.

His footstep wavered, barely perceptibly.

Behind him, Shang Yang's aura remained steady, following three steps back, making no move.

Taiyi steadied himself and kept walking. Only the hand hidden in his sleeve had clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm, relying on that pain to keep himself from spiraling.

No wonder... the system said to "take revenge on the established order." This was a damn slaughterhouse assembly line! Never mind what kind of innate great god you were—you were all sacrifices prepared by the Heavenly Dao to advance the so-called "plot"! The Witch and Demon races had to die to make room for the Human Race. And what about the humans later? Would they too become sacrifices one day?

A surge of rebellious fire "whooshed" up, burning so hot his chest felt tight. This wasn't Eastern Emperor Taiyi's heaven-defying, earth-battling fury. It was more like Lin Yuan, as an ordinary person, discovering that his entire life had been written as a tragedy from birth—that kind of suffocating rage that made you want to flip the table.

To hell with your Heavenly Dao! To hell with your fixed fate!

After cursing inwardly, he inexplicably calmed down a bit. What use was just being angry? He needed to find a way out. The system was the only variable. That "Forbidden Sign-in" sounded like a loophole to exploit.

Just as he was thinking this, a more recent, clearer piece of information floated up from the memories—

Purple Cloud Palace. Dao Ancestor Hongjun. Three sermons.

The memories of the first two sermons were fuzzy. Probably because the original body had been too busy raising his power and grabbing territory back then, only half-understanding those profound Great Dao lectures. He'd thought the old man was impressive, sure, but his lectures were pretty sleep-inducing. Still, the weight of the name "Hongjun" and the identity of "Dao Ancestor" was seared into his mind. That was someone truly standing at the pyramid's peak, looking at all living beings like ants.

The key point was the third sermon. It was coming soon.

In the memories, just these past few days, the Heavenly Court had received some kind of mysterious resonance—not a specific time, but a Dao-rhythm notification that said "the time is near, those with affinity come listen again." That was why at today's court assembly, Di Jun had specifically sent someone to ask. His elder brother would definitely go. Fuxi and Nuwa would probably go too. The Demon Race needed as many people as possible to attend this final lecture—even one more sentence understood might mean one more chance at survival later.

Purple Cloud Palace...

Taiyi's heart stirred. This was the top-tier dungeon of the Great Wilderness. Would the system issue a quest there? The danger level would definitely be off the charts, but the rewards...

He didn't dare think further. At the same time, a chill crawled up his spine. At that place, under the Dao Ancestor's very nose, trying to pull something off? If he messed up, there wouldn't even be ashes left.

"Your Majesty, we've arrived."

Shang Yang's clear, cool voice came from diagonally ahead, cutting off the chaotic thoughts racing through his mind.

Taiyi looked up and realized he'd unconsciously walked the last cloud corridor. Before him, the view opened up into a plaza so vast it defied measure. The ground seemed paved with fragments of stars, emitting a cold, faint light. At the plaza's end, a palace so massive words failed it stood bathed in ten-thousand-foot radiant light, its eaves nearly hooking the stars themselves, its gates open wide as if to swallow an entire world. Endless Dao-rhythm, spiritual energy, and the mixed pressure of countless demon grandmasters emanated from within the palace, pressing heavily on his heart.

Lingxiao Treasure Hall.

The heart of the Demon Race. And the place of his first sign-in.

Outside the hall doors, two rows of Golden-Armored Demon Generals stood like nails driven into the ground, their auras condensed, eyes fixed forward. Seeing him arrive, they dropped to one knee in unison, armor clanking in a crisp, synchronized sound. No one spoke. The air was filled with nothing but solemn killing intent.

Taiyi took a deep breath, pressing all the surging memories, chaotic emotions, worries about the future, and that trace of ruthlessness deep into the bottom of his heart. Eastern Emperor Taiyi shouldn't have these distracting thoughts. He only needed to be arrogant, to be proud, to believe that the power in his hands could shatter anything.

He lifted his chin slightly. In those molten-gold eyes, Lin Yuan's caution and calculation completely faded, replaced by a coldness that looked down on everything. The corners of his mouth habitually turned down, carrying a hint of impatient brutality.

"Mm."

He hummed a single syllable from his nose, acknowledging them. His steps didn't pause as he strode straight toward the gaping, beast-maw-like majestic hall doors.

His robe brushed across the icy ground with a soft rustle.

In his mind, the system's prompt sounded right on time, still in that ancient, cold tone:

[Detected: Host has arrived at sign-in location—Heavenly Court, Lingxiao Treasure Hall.]

[Sign-in quest activated: During the court assembly, publicly make a boastful statement befitting the identity of 'Eastern Emperor Taiyi,' triggering intense emotional feedback such as shock and agitation from at least one-third of the high-ranking demon officials present.]

[Task Completion Reward: A strand of Chaos Demon God's Blood of Ferocity.]

[Good luck to you, Host.]

Good luck?

Taiyi curled his lip inwardly. As his foot crossed the excessively high threshold of Lingxiao Palace, it felt like stepping over an invisible line.

Inside the hall, a dazzling, blinding light rushed to meet him—along with countless gazes, some overt, some veiled, some reverent, some probing.

His stage was set.

The lights were on.

The lead actor was ready to take the stage.