The Zhao Dynasty, once a beacon of order and legacy stretching back a thousand years, now stood hollow beneath its gold-leafed banners. The outer provinces were fraying—warlords grew bolder, sects less obedient, and whispers of rebellion stirred in the mountains of the northwest.
Even the Imperial City, encased behind walls blessed by dragon blood, throbbed with unease. The imperial court, once teeming with confident ministers, now brimmed with paranoia. Some claimed the heavens no longer favored the dynasty. Others said the heavens were watching—and waiting.
At the heart of this storm sat Emperor Zhao Rui, draped in black and gold robes, face gaunt with sleeplessness.
In the dim sanctum of the imperial palace, he stood before the Obsidian Soul Mirror, its surface swirling with formless shadows. Through it, he stared at a figure now seared into his waking thoughts: Lu Xuan.
"He lives," the Emperor murmured. "And worse—he grows stronger."
The advisors around him said nothing. Only one dared to speak.
"The boy has broken into the Nascent Soul Realm, Your Majesty," whispered Chancellor Ji, voice dry as parchment. "And according to the reports from the Celestial Dawn Sect, he possesses... the Immortal Demon God Physique."
Those words sent a chill across the chamber.
Zhao Rui's hands tightened on the arms of his throne.
"I watched my great-grandfather kneel to that thing. A monster in human skin. Now he's reborn—hiding in a child's face."
He stepped down from the dais, the weight of centuries clinging to every motion.
"I will not be the emperor who lets him rise again."
The Secret of Blood and Memory
Far from the capital, Lu Xuan stood alone in the Celestial Dawn Sect's secluded garden, his black robe fluttering faintly in the evening breeze.
His cultivation had surged. After the Blood Lotus war, his strength reached the Nascent Soul Realm—and with it, the first level of the Immortal Demon God Body had awakened.
His flesh regenerated faster than steel could wound.
His qi was tenfold that of normal Nascent Soul cultivators.
But with that power came something... else.
A whisper beneath thought. A presence behind his eyes.
He didn't sleep anymore.
Didn't need to.
But sometimes, in the stillness of night, he remembered things that hadn't happened.
He saw himself from above, cloaked in black flame, armies kneeling beneath his gaze, cities crumbling under his outstretched hand.
Demon God... Lu Xuan.
He barely noticed when Su Xue approached. But her presence stirred a coldness in his chest.
"You're restless," she said.
He didn't respond.
She stepped closer, tossed a jade slip into his hand. "You should see this."
As the spiritual script unfolded in his mind, memories surged into view.
A woman—elegant, proud, engulfed in flames.
A child, screaming.
And above them, a man, glowing eyes like black suns—himself.
"What... is this?" he breathed.
"Your past," she said, voice like broken glass. "You slaughtered my family."
He looked at her in stunned silence.
"I don't remember—"
"I do," she snapped. "I watched you burn my mother alive. My entire clan, gone. Now you wear a new name, but you're still the same monster."
Her hatred was a blade—cold and precise.
Lu Xuan opened his mouth, but no words came. He felt the demon stirring within, hungering for violence, for denial.
She should be silent.
She should kneel.
He clenched his fists. Shut his eyes.
"Believe what you want," he whispered. "But I'm not that person anymore."
"No," Su Xue said, turning away. "You're worse. Because you pretend not to be."
The Emperor's Gambit
Meanwhile, within the Zhao Dynasty, four cloaked figures knelt in the imperial sanctum. Their faces were hidden, but the dark qi coiling around their limbs revealed their nature—Shadow Envoys, assassins born of curse and contract.
"Your target," the emperor said, tossing them a blood-sealed talisman, "is Lu Xuan. Dead or captured—I care not. But his soul must be bound and brought here."
The leader, a pale figure with empty eye sockets, bowed. "It shall be done, Your Majesty."
Zhao Rui turned to the side, staring at a worn statue in the room's corner—an effigy of a long-dead ancestor who had once sealed the Demon God.
"If the heavens will not protect us, we will protect ourselves."
He was running out of time.
The sects no longer feared the throne. The borders were cracking. And now, the Demon God lived again.
In the Depths of the Sect
Back in the Celestial Dawn Sect, Lu Xuan knelt before Sect Master Jian Lu and Elder Shi Qiran, his master. The three sat within the Moonflame Chamber, a place only opened during great peril.
"You are no longer a simple disciple," said Jian Lu. "You walk the edge of something far greater—and far darker."
Shi Qiran stepped forward. "I will not abandon you. But you must control what awakens inside you, Lu Xuan. You cannot allow it to rule you."
Lu Xuan said nothing, but the shadows danced around his fingers. His breathing was too calm. His heartbeat too slow.
It was as if his humanity... was slipping.
"I'll do what I must," he said quietly.
The Sect Master frowned. "The Emperor has begun moving. He fears you."
"He should," Lu Xuan replied.
Legacy and Curse
In her private chamber, Su Xue stared into a mirror.
The image didn't show her. It showed the Demon God—his past self.
She whispered to the wind, to no one.
"You took everything from me."
"And one day, I'll take it from you."
Outside, the moon turned red, and the wind shifted—carrying with it the scent of fate.
To be continued....