The first layer of the Infernal Prison.
A drizzle of crimson rain fell from the sky, soaking the ancient city below.
Puddles formed on the uneven roads, the collected rainwater reflecting the dim light of the surroundings. Pedestrians quickened their steps, hurrying through the downpour.
In the eastern district of the city, within a dilapidated wooden hut, a burly figure clad in tattered armor sat beside a campfire, cradling a four- or five-year-old child in his arms.
His voice carried a sense of reverence as he recounted the history of their race, embellishing the past with grandiose praise for their ancestors.
"The world we live in is divided into layers of smaller worlds. Our world is known as the first layer of the Infernal Prison…"
The young boy, listening intently, nodded seriously.
"Father, was our Youming Clan really as glorious as you say?"
"Our ancestors once ruled over multiple small worlds. They were undoubtedly a formidable power," the burly man affirmed with a nod.
"Then why is that glory gone?"
At this question, the man's expression became somewhat awkward.
"The rise and fall of races is a natural cycle. There is no eternal supremacy. At the very least, our treasury still holds the priceless relics from the days of our ancestors' glory… As long as our clan is not wiped out, we still have a chance to reclaim our former heights—but that will require the efforts of all our people, including you."
The boy's eyes lit up.
"Then in the future, I want to join the Youming Army and become a warrior like you, Father!"
The burly man hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.
"Youying, I hope you become a scholar, not a warrior."
"Why?"
"Honor as a warrior is fleeting, yet the challenges are heavy, and death always lingers close behind…"
…
With the dream of leading his people to rise again, Youying defied his father's wishes at the age of eleven and joined the eighth reserve corps of the Youming Army.
His father was none other than his instructor.
Back then, youthful dreams carried no weight of experience. His aspirations were pure, driven only by the belief—"This is the future I desire."
Once enrolled in the reserve corps, Youying trained and studied alongside his peers under his father's guidance.
During this time, his outstanding talent became evident.
His exceptional performance in the reserve corps caught the attention of the Youming Clan's noble elite, who personally bestowed upon him an emerald-embedded honor necklace.
From that moment on, glory adorned his name, and his future seemed limitless.
However, fate took a cruel turn when he turned thirteen.
That day, an event shook Youming City to its core.
Colossal beasts, their sheer size blotting out the sky, descended upon the city, their shadows casting darkness over vast regions.
After that fateful day, Youying was summoned once again by the very nobles who had once granted him honor.
Having studied history, he understood well that these nobles were descendants of the very pioneers who had once led the Youming Clan to greatness. Even though their former glory had faded, they were still revered among the people.
Despite his uncertainty, Youying was curious about why he had been summoned.
But when he learned the truth, it felt like his entire world shattered.
"Youying, the Sanghun Clan is in need of a new batch of slaves. This time, they have high requirements for talent. For the future of our clan, you will be given to them as a slave."
At those words, Youying's heart trembled uncontrollably.
"It will only be for ten years. After that, we will retrieve you," the noble continued, his tone as though he were merely negotiating a deal—but his words carried the weight of an irrefutable command.
Youying wanted to refuse.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon the courage to speak.
In front of the nobles who ruled the Youming Clan, he had no right to say no.
…
The day of their departure came as scheduled.
The colossal beasts returned, and Youying, along with a group of selected individuals, was escorted onto their backs.
Standing upon the beast's back, he gazed downward at his father, who stood in the distance.
But instead of meeting his eyes, his father averted his gaze and turned away.
At that moment, Youying's heart nearly collapsed.
In his father's stories, sacrificing oneself for the clan was supposed to be an honor.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not feel any pride in this.
There were others in the clan far more talented than him.
There were the children of nobles.
So why did it have to be me?
The colossal beast spread its wings, and the city below grew smaller and smaller.
As the distance widened, Youying's mind was filled with a single thought—
"They abandoned me."
This journey lasted over half a day, and when they descended through the clouds, they arrived at a land shrouded in black mist.
The structures here were all built from the bones of massive beasts, their surfaces radiating an eerie darkness.
On the first day of their arrival, Youying and his fellow captives were thrown into a mine.
Their task was simple— dig up minerals from the underground and transport them to the mine's entrance to exchange for food.
But that was not all.
They were also required to serve as sparring dummies for the Sanghun Clan's younger generation.
After a full day of grueling labor, they would be sent to an arena, where they would serve as prey—mere toys for the amusement of Sanghun Clan's young warriors.
Occasionally, the so-called training would escalate into a hunting game.
As prey, Youying and his kin had only one option—to hide within the arena.
One wrong step, and they would be slaughtered on the spot.
This was never the future Youying had imagined for himself.
He had envisioned many ways he might die—
Perhaps he would fall in battle, expanding the territory of the Youming Clan.
Or he would fight to defend his people and die a warrior's death.
But never had he imagined he would be sold off as a plaything, discarded by his own clan.
At just thirteen years old, Youying had already come to understand the brutal reality of survival of the fittest.
In the depths of the mine, he discovered that they were not alone.
Among the captives were others—enslaved members of various races, all sharing the same hopeless fate.
Cruelty was not limited to the arena—it thrived in the endless darkness of the underground mines as well.
For precious minerals, the slaves killed each other mercilessly.
Digging up a rare mineral was not necessarily a blessing—it drew too many envious eyes.
Because minerals were currency for survival.
The quality of food they received was directly tied to the quality of minerals they handed over.
In this brutal environment, Youying witnessed his kin perish one after another. He personally carried their cold bodies out of the mines, burying them in mass graves.
In just a few months, nearly one-third of the Youming slaves were dead. Youying could hardly imagine how he would survive for ten years.
To stay alive, Youying and the remaining survivors gradually learned to be ruthless.
In this world where the strong preyed on the weak, kindness meant death.
With each fight for survival, his heart grew colder. The only thing that brought him any joy was unearthing precious spirit minerals.
Whenever he grasped a glowing mineral in his hands, he knew he had bought himself more time.
In just one year, more than half of his kin were dead.
As time passed, Youying became numb to the constant cruelty around him.
To ensure his own survival, he secretly stashed a collection of minerals deep in the mines.
Injury was common in the harsh conditions of the mine, but the Sanghun Clan allowed no time for recovery.
If a slave failed to hand over minerals, it was an instant death sentence.
Stockpiling minerals became Youying's only solace in this miserable existence.
The second year… the third year…
Youying grew older, clinging to one hope—that one day, he would return to his people.
Even if his clan had abandoned him, at least his father was still there.
At least the blood of his ancestors still flowed through his people.
Year after year, Youying became a veteran in the mines.
Among those who had been enslaved with him, he was the only one left.
He had learned how to survive, while others came and went, replaced by fresh captives—yet he remained.
But his body was deteriorating.
Countless fierce battles had left scars that could never fade. Beneath his tattered clothes, his body was covered in wounds, like centipedes crawling across his flesh.
Some spirit minerals extracted from the mines were highly toxic, their radiation corroding the body.
This had left Youying chronically ill, suffering from frequent dizziness and weakness.
As the ten-year mark approached, the walls of his tiny cave were etched with tally marks to count the days.
His hope was near.
He refused to give up now.
Finally, ten years passed.
On that day, he etched the last mark into the wall.
With a heart filled with joy, he returned to the surface, reporting to the Sanghun Clan overseer that his enslavement period had ended.
But what greeted him was mocking laughter.
"Ten years? How naive."
"Youming Clan might be weaker than our Sanghun Clan, but they're not that weak. If they were, we would have enslaved all of them by now—not just a handful."
"This was never a ten-year deal. This was a trade. Your clan received a reward, and you… are just merchandise."
"You will die in this mine."
Youying's mind buzzed, drowning out the overseer's words.
He had considered the possibility that the ten-year promise was a lie—
But he had buried that thought deep inside.
It was the only thing keeping him alive.
He needed to believe in that promise.
But now, reality had shattered that illusion, leaving only a cruel truth.
Returning to the depths of the mines, Youying fell into utter despair.
There was no future for him anymore.
He had been completely abandoned.
That night, a fire of hatred ignited in his chest.
The so-called glory of the Youming Clan—
Nothing more than a lie woven by the nobles, designed to control the weak and maximize their profits.
But Youying knew—
He would never get revenge.
He would never escape this underground prison.
At that moment, he lost the will to live.
Life no longer had meaning.
As despair consumed him, Youying dug out his hidden stash of minerals.
He gazed at the dimly glowing stones, his face expressionless.
Collecting minerals had once been his only joy.
But now, knowing he had been utterly discarded, these stones were his only comfort.
Since living no longer mattered, he would die with his treasures.
With that thought, Youying picked up a mineral and shoved it into his mouth.
He bit down, crushing it between his teeth.
If it was too hard to chew, he swallowed it whole.
He wanted to carry these treasures with him as he left this wretched world.
His teeth cracked, his mouth filled with blood, but he kept swallowing.
The sharp fragments tore his throat apart, blood dripping onto the cavern floor—yet he ignored the pain and continued to eat.
His tiny cave was soon stained red, his vision darkening.
Until, at last, he sank into unconsciousness.
What Youying didn't know was that among the minerals he had swallowed, there was a priceless treasure—one that would change his fate forever.
That night, his destiny shifted.
He didn't know how long he slept.
Perhaps it was brief.
Perhaps it was eternal.
But when he opened his eyes, he saw—
A seven- or eight-year-old boy standing before him.
The boy's clothes were pristine, clearly not a slave.
He smiled warmly and said—
"Not bad… The Eye of Truth… Truly remarkable!"
The mysterious boy stood before Youying, murmuring to himself with admiration.
Youying felt utterly confused.
He didn't understand why he was still alive. His broken teeth had regrown, his body was free of wounds, and even his pain had disappeared.
But he knew—this was all because of the boy before him.
"Youying, right? No need to be confused. I saved you."
"As for why… it's because you've fused with a Miracle Relic. Your future potential is limitless. As long as you're not an absolute idiot, I believe you'll carve out a place for yourself in this world."
"You… Who are you?!"
"You can call me Mo."
Mo pulled out a scroll that resembled aged parchment and extended it toward Youying.
"Use your blood to write your name on this scroll, and I will grant you a new life."
"What do you mean?"
"Think of it as a deal. Once you sign your name, I will give you power and a chance to escape this place.
"If you truly want to change your fate, then just sign it."
There was something hypnotic about Mo's words, making it impossible for Youying to resist believing him.
The thought of finally escaping made Youying's heart race with anticipation.
He had no idea what the cost of signing would be…
But he had nothing left to lose.
There was no hesitation in his heart.
Biting the tip of his finger, Youying signed his name at the bottom of the scroll.
Mo grinned as he rolled up the scroll, laughing loudly.
"Why didn't you read what was on it?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters a lot. You are now one of my wagers for the future."
"What do I have to give in return?"
"Nothing for now. Your payment will be in the future… Let's just say, we'll meet again when the time is right."
Mo pointed a finger at Youying's forehead.
Boom!
A flood of knowledge surged into Youying's mind.
Body Refinement Techniques, Mental Attack Arts, Dao Soldier Formation Designs, the Ten Rings Crafting Method…
Countless pieces of information exploded in his brain.
The pain was unbearable, as if his head was about to split open.
Then—darkness.
He lost consciousness.
When he finally awoke, the mysterious boy was gone.
But somehow—he could understand all the knowledge now buried in his mind.
Mo had gifted him a treasury of wisdom.
Knowledge that would help him survive.
Yet, one question remained—
Why?
What exactly did Mo mean by the future?
But at this moment—Youying finally had the will to live again.
He knew that the knowledge in his mind would become his key to escaping this prison.
For the next few days, Youying's spirit reignited.
During this time, he also discovered changes in his body.
His right eye had become special.
Even in complete darkness, he could see with perfect clarity.
More than that—whenever he focused on an object, detailed analysis appeared directly in his vision.
This must be—the Eye of Truth.
He finally understood what had happened.
It wasn't Mo's doing.
It was because, while eating his mineral collection, he had accidentally swallowed a legendary treasure.
That relic had chosen him.
And because of it—Mo had bet on his future.
Family was unreliable. His clan had abandoned him.
But his precious collection—had saved him.
It had given him a new life.
And it had given him hope.
At that moment, something changed inside Youying.
A seed had been planted.
The desire to collect.
The instinct to hoard treasures.
To never let go of things precious and rare.
From that day forward, he had a new purpose.
In the following years, Youying trained relentlessly.
He studied every technique in his mind.
If he lacked spirit stones for cultivation, he dug them up—or simply stole them.
As long as he delivered the required quota, the rest became his own resources.
He grew stronger at a terrifying pace.
Ten years… then twenty…
He had no idea how strong he needed to become to escape the grasp of the Sanghun Clan.
So he kept growing stronger.
Kept enduring the oppression.
Kept accumulating power in silence.
Over time—he became the longest-surviving slave in the mines.
And his love for collecting minerals only grew deeper.
Every time he used up resources for training, his heart ached.
But he knew—it was necessary.
If he wanted to escape…
If he wanted to collect more treasures…
Then he had to become even stronger.
The dark, endless mines became his sanctuary, a place to gather power in secret.
With the Eye of Truth, he could see through the earth and pinpoint the exact locations of rare minerals.
He no longer needed to dig aimlessly.
Time flowed like a river.
Even Youying lost track of how many years had passed.
His small cave had so many tally marks on the walls, there was no space left to carve new ones.
And then—finally.
He was ready.
That day, the overseers called him to the Sanghun Clan's arena.
He was to serve as a training dummy—again.
But this time, he wasn't being tested by new recruits.
This time—his opponent was the very same "genius" warrior he had faced many years ago.
That "genius" was no longer a new recruit.
Now—he was a Sanghun Clan high-ranking elite, marked with the Flame Seal of Nobility.
Beside him stood a young child, no older than seven or eight.
A new heir to the Sanghun Clan.
This wasn't just another training session.
It was a game—a repeat of the past.
Only this time—Youying would not play along.
For years, he had smiled through the humiliation.
For years, he had endured every insult.
For years, he had pretended to be weak.
But not anymore.
When Youying thrust his arm forward, it tore straight through his opponent's chest.
The high-ranking warrior of the Sanghun Clan, someone he once saw as unbeatable—
Had died in an instant.
And at that moment—Youying realized something.
The monsters who had oppressed him for so long…
Were far weaker than he had imagined.
At that moment, Youying completely severed ties with his past self.
The sudden eruption of power tore the Sanghun Clan elite's body into shreds, sending a storm of energy raging across the arena.
He threw his head back and laughed wildly.
As countless figures rushed toward him, Youying no longer held back his strength.
The arena was soon dyed red with blood.
After the battle ended, Youying slowly walked toward the terrified child, who stood frozen in place.
He crouched down, patted the boy's head, and smiled.
"Do you hate me?"
"I'll give you a chance… Kill me in the future."
With that, Youying took to the skies—soaring toward freedom.
When he returned to the city that had faded into the depths of his memories, the flames of revenge burned fiercely in his heart.
The betrayal of the past… would now be repaid in full.
As he stepped into the Nether Palace, the massacre began.
The leaders of the Youming Clan fought back with all their might, but before Youying, they were nothing.
The very nobles he once had to look up to were now groveling before him, begging for their lives.
But Youying felt nothing.
With a single wave of his hand, he beheaded them all.
Not a single noble was spared.
In the days that followed, Youying became the new ruler of Nether City.
He set new rules, exterminated all opposition, and showed no mercy to his own people.
Soon, the Sanghun Clan retaliated.
When they demanded that he hand over the murderer, Youying sat upon the Nether Throne and laughed.
Instead, he declared war upon the Sanghun Clan.
He personally sent his father to the front lines.
The war raged on for years.
Eventually, news arrived—his father had perished on the battlefield.
But Youying felt nothing.
Family was unreliable. His clan was unreliable.
Only treasures would never betray their master.
Under Youying's leadership, the Youming Clan suffered heavy losses, but they emerged victorious.
However, by the time the war ended, most of his clan had been wiped out.
As Youying stepped over countless corpses and sat upon the Sanghun Clan's throne, he let out a hysterical laugh.
To his people, he was a tyrant.
Cruelty was his way of life.
But Youying didn't care about their judgment.
The path he walked belonged to him alone.
His clan was merely a stepping stone to his own growth.
When he opened the treasure vault of the Sanghun Clan, his eyes gleamed with greed.
From then on, all his conquests and killings were for the sake of amassing wealth.
He didn't kill for his clan's prosperity. He didn't plunder for his people's survival.
To him, those reasons were meaningless.
His morality was not something others could understand.
Determined to build a vault vast enough to hold his immense wealth, Youying delved into the knowledge of spatial abilities.
During this time, his conquests never ceased.
Even after his clan was completely wiped out, he didn't care.
He continued to plunder.
He enslaved new warriors and forged a new army.
Countless lives were sacrificed in the pursuit of his growing wealth.
But Youying only cared about treasures.
Wealth was power. Wealth was security. Wealth would never betray him.
Then—he encountered the strongest force in the First Layer of the Demon Abyss—the Cangyan Clan.
His army was obliterated.
Nether City was reduced to ruins.
But Youying survived.
With his vast collection of treasures, he escaped.
And in that moment, his love for rare artifacts only grew deeper.
From then on, the First Layer of the Demon Abyss became his hunting ground.
He hunted alone. He pillaged endlessly.
His vault swelled beyond measure.
But his custom-made storage space could no longer contain his ever-growing wealth.
At last, he found inspiration in the concept of Miracle Realms.
Using all the rare resources left by the ancestors of the Youming Clan, he crafted a brand-new spatial realm—
A realm designed purely to store wealth.
As he perfected this space, the Cangyan Clan's pursuit of him only grew more relentless.
Realizing that this world no longer had a place for him, Youying decided to leave.
He had two choices.
One—to enter another minor world of the Domain Realm.
Two—to enter the Human World.
After careful consideration, he chose the Human World.
Because that was where the future lay.
The signs of the Great Change had become increasingly clear.
The Domain Realm was doomed to decline.
Even the Cangyan Clan was already preparing to flee.
Staying behind was pointless.
Crossing the Sky Passage, Youying was fortunate—
He encountered no Sky Warriors and successfully descended into the Western World of the humans.
The region he landed in was surrounded by various domain fields, long abandoned by humans.
As he gazed upon the blue sky and the radiant sun, inhaling the air of this new world,
A cruel smile spread across his face.
He knew—his new journey had begun.
He would become the ultimate collector of this world.
From that moment on, he ravaged domain fields, erased entire clans, and looted their treasures.
His carefully crafted spatial realm expanded endlessly as he poured in more and more wealth.
Then—a magnificent city took shape within the void.
Standing at its center, Youying spread his arms wide and laughed, as if embracing the future itself.
He named this city—Shadow City.
And on that day, he swore—
He would fill this city with endless treasures.
As he stepped into his city, sat upon his throne crafted from countless priceless artifacts, and gazed at centuries' worth of collected wealth—
The final piece of the Evil Collector's legacy was placed.