Before the Calamity, the Four Great Cultivators

Yuan Zhihui left, and the paths of Monsters, Demons, Ghosts, and Buddhism had already begun to move.

At the Demon Sect's headquarters, a black dragon coiled around an enormous stone stele slowly stirred. Its body contracted sharply, transforming into a towering man clad in black armor.

Infinite allure suffused his every movement—sinister and evil, yet grand and imposing. The boundless killing intent that shrouded him gathered into pure darkness, enveloping his entire body.

Any creature that saw him would, in that first instant, feel itself sinking into the darkness, becoming its slave.

He was the Ten Thousand Demons Devil Lord, one of the ten greatest cultivators under Heaven.

Now he looked toward the stone stele behind him and raised a hand. A strange power spread from him in an instant.

The stele trembled. Ripples spread across its surface like waves on water.

Within those ripples, an object slowly emerged: a demonic saber.

Its sharp blade and hilt were black. A spine ran along the back of the blade, its jagged bones winding down and merging with the metal.

No one knew what creature the bones had come from. They extended all the way to the hilt, radiating unimaginable evil.

Countless bizarre patterns seemed to flicker across the blade. Look closely, and they appeared to be endless Anomalies. Merely seeing them could twist a person's mind, dragging them in until they became part of the Anomalies.

The Ten Thousand Demons Devil Lord gazed at the blade in his hand, a trace of cruelty in his eyes. "The seventh patriarch of the Demonic Path's Dao-Accomplishing Treasure—the Otherworldly Demon."

"I wonder how many strikes you can withstand, Master."

"Heh, heh, heh."

In the desert stood a temple of pure white.

A closer look revealed that it had been built from countless white bones.