The Void Realm's sky wept crimson, its fractured stars jagged as broken teeth, casting a sickly glow over a battlefield choked with ash and bone. Corpses lay twisted, their qi-drained husks clawing at the earth, mouths frozen in silent screams. Xun Wei, once a Mid Sky Immortal, stood at the heart of the carnage, his black robes drenched in blood, the metallic stench clinging to him like a curse. His eyes, cold as the void between worlds, surveyed the devastation without a flicker of emotion. The Celestial Mandate's final host—a grotesque monstrosity of writhing qi, bone, and festering flesh—convulsed at his feet, its hollow eyes dissolving into black ichor. Victory was his, but it was a hollow thing, a fleeting step toward an eternal throne. His face, serene as a monk's, hid a mind sharper than any blade, unmoved by the slaughter or the fading wails of the fallen.
Three centuries ago, Xun Wei was a D-grade cultivator in Ironbloom Valley, his meridians brittle as dry twigs, his dantian a cracked clay pot. Mocked by peers, scorned by elders, he refused to kneel to fate. In the shadows of his clan's disdain, he forged the Dual Path of Eternity, a heretical method that wove righteous and demonic qi into a single, unbreakable thread. The righteous Light of Serenity bathed his meridians in golden warmth, anchoring his soul like a lighthouse in a storm. The demonic Crimson Fang Technique was its opposite—a blood-red serpent of qi that burrowed into others' dantians, siphoning their life essence until only husks remained. Together, they formed a volatile synergy, the golden qi tempering the crimson's hunger, allowing him to shatter the Celestial Mandate's boundaries—divine laws that capped even Celestial Sovereigns at a finite plane. The Dual Path promised ascension to a realm where he could rewrite existence, but its creation was not without cost.
In his early experiments, the Dual Path nearly destroyed him. Demonic qi clashed with righteous, sending his meridians into spasms of qi deviation, his soul trembling on the edge of dissonance—a state where the self unraveled into madness. Blood seeped from his eyes, his screams echoing in his Abyssal Hollow lair as he balanced the forces. Only his relentless will, honed by years of rejection, held him together. When whispers of his method reached the clans, envy turned to treachery. The Celestial Mandate, a sentient force of divine order, could not intervene directly but crafted hosts—puppets of qi and malice—to hunt him. They stormed his base, finding a charnel house: skeletal remains piled in corners, cultivators drained to dust, their faces locked in terror. The truth branded him a demonic heretic, and the war that followed painted the Void Realm red.
Now, at the battle's end, Xun Wei's meridians burned, the Crimson Fang overtaxing his body. His left hand clutched the Abyss Relic, a black orb pulsing with chaotic qi, stolen from the Mandate's sanctum during a raid that cost him his last ally, Zhao Lin. Her face flickered in his mind—her pleading eyes as he drained her qi to fuel the Dual Path, her final whisper, "Why, brother?" He crushed the memory, his heart a frozen void. The relic's whispers grew fevered, guiding him to a rift in reality, a tear where crimson starlight met neon blue. Through it, he glimpsed Yunhai, a sprawling metropolis of June 08, 2025, its skyscrapers aglow with ley-line holograms, hovercars weaving through misty air. At its heart was Li Shen, a 17-year-old god masquerading as a student at No. 60 Academy.
Li Shen slouched in the academy's cafeteria, his uniform crisp but eyes dull, a bowl of noodles untouched before him. His Eternal Dantian held qi so vast it could unmake worlds, yet he sealed it with the Veil of Serenity, a righteous technique that cloaked his power. Why? Xun Wei sensed it through the relic: centuries of godhood had left Li Shen bored, his omnipotence a chain. He craved human triviality—exams, friendships—to escape the weight of eternity. Jia Mei, a golden-haired prodigy with the Dawn Blade Technique, sat beside him, her qi at Foundation Stage 4 Early radiating loyalty. "Shen, you could ace the ley-line test without trying," she urged. Li Shen shrugged, his apathy a wall. Lin Tao, a broad-shouldered classmate with the Iron Tide Technique at Stage 3 Late, boasted, "I'll join the Celestial Veil Sect before you even blink, Shen!" Across Yunhai, Elder Wen, Stage 6 Middle, monitored ley lines with his Starflow Technique, his stern face etched with worry over recent qi fluctuations. Mei Lin, a city enforcer at Stage 5 Early, patrolled with qi-runed gauntlets, her eyes scanning for threats.
Xun Wei's lip twitched, not in amusement but disdain. "Power squandered is power stolen." He activated the Phantom Wisp Technique, a demonic art that cloaked his soul in shadow, its crimson tendrils slithering through the rift. The wisp latched onto Li Shen's aura, unnoticed by all. In the cafeteria, a student spilled tea, scalding his hand, and cried out. Li Shen glanced over, then away, unmoved, while Jia Mei rushed to help. Xun Wei's soul began siphoning Li Shen's divine qi, weaving it into his Void Dantian. The golden righteous qi stabilized the crimson demonic strands, but the influx was a storm—his soul trembled, meridians screaming as if flayed. In his past life, such a theft would have shattered him, but his god-level soul held firm, a fortress against chaos. Li Shen paused, a chill prickling his neck, but returned to his noodles, his apathy blinding him.
The transfer was gruesome. Xun Wei's body, still in the Void Realm, convulsed, blood trickling from his lips as the Crimson Fang pulsed hungrily, craving more than qi—life itself. A wounded cultivator nearby, barely alive, reached for him, gasping, "Master Wei, save me…" Xun Wei's serene mask remained, but he stepped back, letting the man's qi fade into death. His cold gaze lingered on the corpse, a reminder of Zhao Lin's fate. A pang stirred—her laughter as children, now silenced by his ambition—but he buried it, his heart ice.
As the transfer completed, the Abyss Relic shuddered, its qi spent, cracking like brittle glass. The Eon Cycle Technique, a forbidden art carved into his soul, roared unbidden. A vortex of crimson and gold engulfed him, time fracturing into shards of memory: Ironbloom Valley, 300 years ago, his 15-year-old self kneeling in shame, talentless, mocked. His Void Dantian, now brimming with Li Shen's qi, fused with his god-level soul, its power flooding his meridians. The vortex spat him out in Ironbloom Valley's ceremony hall, his youthful body kneeling amid jeering peers.
Zhao Fen, his cousin, her Frostwind Technique at Stage 3 Middle chilling the air, sneered, "Talentless as ever, cousin?" Her black hair gleamed under torchlight, her eyes sharp with malice. Elder Huo, a grizzled elder with the Blazepoint Technique at Stage 5 Late, droned about clan duties, his voice a dull hum. A young cultivator nearby, qi flaring wildly, collapsed, begging for aid. The crowd gasped, but Xun Wei's serene face didn't shift. He watched the boy's qi flicker out, his body still, while Zhao Fen rushed to help, too late. His cold mind calculated: the Light of Serenity would maintain his facade, but the Crimson Fang would feast in shadows. The Celestial Mandate would watch, but he was no mere Sky Immortal. He was the Eternal Void's architect, and nothing would stand in his way.