Great Heaven. The final destination of all cultivators, the highest of realms. A land of boundless danger and endless fortune. To reach this world is to stand on the edge of eternity, where power defies reason and the laws of the universe bend to the will of the strong.
In the distant outskirts of this realm stood a majestic pavilion, its beauty so awe-striking that even the grandest palaces of any kingdom would pale in comparison. Surrounded by jade-like rivers, tranquil lakes, and towering, snow-kissed mountains, it was the kind of scenery that could paralyze even the most skilled artist. If they attempted to paint it, they wouldn't even know where to begin.
Suddenly, the sky twisted.
A wormhole split open, and from within, a man with four arms stepped out. With every step he took, the very space beneath him shattered, as if he were walking on mirrors. He hovered there, high above, wind tousling his long black hair, his face etched with madness and glee.
"Underheaven! Today, you die!"
His voice boomed across the land. The heavens themselves trembled. Before the final echo faded, thirteen figures emerged from the pavilion and flew out, each unleashing a pressure so vast the sky burned with thirteen miniature suns.
An old man stood at the front, robes fluttering in the wind, his eyes narrowed like blades.
"Original Sin… You dare show your face here?!"
But the man in question only laughed, four weapons appearing in his hands.
"Why not? I came only to visit an old friend."
His pressure exploded outward, crushing mountains in the distance. Compared to him, the combined might of the thirteen felt like candlelight before a raging sun.
Despite putting on a brave front before the man, he was secretly terrified. Had Original Sin come on any other day, he would have been more confident—for their master would have dealt with him.
This was the reason why he was panicking. Other than the thirteen disciples, no one knew that their master was attempting to comprehend the Universal Dao and finally reach true immortality. At this moment, he was vulnerable and could not be disturbed. Thus, Original Sin's attack timing could not have been worse. This could only mean that there was a traitor among them who leaked the information.
"Who is it?! Who dared to spread the news?!"
The youngest disciple among them screamed out. It seemed he was not the only one who had reached that conclusion. The other disciples appeared to realize it as well, but now was not the time for accusations. Traitor or not, they had to stop Original Sin from reaching their master.
All of them instantly unsheathed their weapons, and an even more terrifying pressure emanated from them. Yet despite being faced with such power, Original Sin seemed more amused than afraid.
"Oh my... how arrogant of you, to think you can stop me with mere numbers," he said.
"We are under no illusion that we can kill you. We only need to buy time."
The older disciple said, and as soon as those words were said, Original Sin's amused smile faded and a serious expression took its place.
No more words were spoken. He attacked—and so did they. All at once, to hold him back.
The moment the battle began, a terrifying shockwave tore through the land, creating a crater of unimaginable depth below them.
As the battle raged, the weather changed. The sky split apart. Mountains were reshaped; new ones rose where the old had collapsed. New valleys were carved into the land, while old ones were replaced with craters. Lakes evaporated, and the surrounding forests were uprooted, turned to dust.
Within mere days, the battlefield had become unrecognizable, no longer the serene realm it once was, but a scorched land of ash and ruin. And yet, despite all the destruction, the pavilion still stood, untouched by the calamity.
Soon, six days passed. The thirteen figures were heavily injured, some missing limbs, others looked pale and weak. A few had aged decades in mere days.
Original Sin was not completely unscathed, either. One of his arms had been severed—replaced by black tentacles riddled with eyes. Eyes that, if stared into by a mortal, would drive them mad before delivering them to a horrible death. Other than that—and his tattered robes—he remained in nearly perfect condition.
"As expected... of a Godlying," the oldest disciple muttered, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
Nothing had worked.
They had fought for six straight days, but all they managed was to tear his clothes and sever one arm. They had been unable to form arrays or restriction formations, as doing so required perfect coordination—and with a traitor among them, it would have been suicide. One mistake was all Original Sin needed to end them.
That said, each of the disciples was an expert—renowned throughout Great Heaven as geniuses with numerous accomplishments to their name. And yet, even they were powerless before such a being.
"I must say... he trained you well. Better than most," Original Sin remarked.
No one answered. All remained in battle stance, ready for his next move.
Then, something happened.
Suddenly, the colors of the world faded. Rubble floated upward, as though gravity had reversed. Time itself seemed to slow.
Original Sin and the disciples turned their gaze to the source—the pavilion. The clouds above parted, the sky opened, and a divine beam of light descended, focusing solely on the building.
In an instant, the beam annihilated the pavilion that had withstood even the cataclysmic battle.
"This is... Heaven Tribulation! Master is facing his final tribulation!" one of the disciples exclaimed.
Their master was on the verge of true immortality! Once he refined his body and soul and comprehended the Universal Dao, it's not an exaggeration to say that he alone would stand as an equal to the heavens.
"Argh!" one of the disciples suddenly screamed.
A blazing blade had pierced his heart from behind. The one who struck him was another disciple, The youngest disciple.
"You bastard!" the dying man hissed, holding onto the blade embedded in his chest to stop the traitor from escaping.
No words were needed to know what to do next.
In the next moment, all remaining disciples attacked—vaporizing the traitor together with the other disciples.
And yet, even in death, the young disciple smiled wickedly with tears running down his face.
"It seems... I must stop playing around," Original Sin said coldly, taking advantage of the chaos.
He struck instantly, killing six disciples in one breath.
"As much as I'd love to continue this little game, it seems I'm running out of time."
The few remaining disciples took a defensive stance once again—but they could not hold him for long. One by one, they fell.
Only the eldest remained, barely alive. His body was in pieces and on the edge of total collapse. He was standing simply by willpower alone.
He had lost both of his arms, yet he held his sword in his mouth.
"It's a pity, really. You had the potential to become a Godlying. Yet you die here for a man like Underheaven."
The older disciple only glared at him in response and attacked, only to be kicked and flung away. This time he had no more strength to get up and kept coughing up blood. He glared at Original Sin with pure hatred, only for the man to laugh.
"Yes! The pure hatred. Your gaze is so intense! So crushing! He's really lucky to have a disciple like you! A pity! A pity indeed!"
He laughed loudly. The older disciple could only stare powerlessly.
"I changed my mind. I will kill you right after your master."
Saying so, he turned his back, his previous amused self gone—replaced with an emotionless face.
"Witness... as your master falls by my hand. Witness as I slay your god. Witness it, and carry this tale with you to the underworld," Original Sin said as he floated toward the radiant man at the center of the heavenly light.
He was an old man, dressed in white, with long eyebrows and a beard that seemed carved from clouds. The presence he emitted was terrifying and vast. From the sky, a beam of divine light embraced him. As if sensing the approach of his enemy, the old man opened his eyes.
His two obsidian eyes stared at his disciple in the distance before slowly turning to look at his enemy.
"Original Sin..." His voice was quiet, cold, and strangely distant, yet it caused the surroundings to tremble.
Original Sin said nothing and attacked instantly, but before he could get close, a pressure instantly repelled him, flinging him a few miles away.
From the rubble, he laughed.
"You're insane, old man! Trying to comprehend the Universal Dao without refining your body? That's suicide! Your soul alone isn't enough!"
It was common knowledge that one must refine both soul and body to understand a law before ascending realms. Yet he was attempting to ascend with only his soul? It was nothing more than suicide.
"I won't let you kill yourself before I kill you!"
Original Sin gathered a tremendous amount of energy in one hand, fused it into a spear, and hurled it.
Underheaven didn't move. He was already forcing his comprehension, so he couldn't afford to spare the time to defend against the attack.
Suddenly, the last disciple threw himself in the spear's path.
Annihilating him before he could even scream. Yet the spear didn't stop; it merely lost some momentum.
Then, from above, another beam descended from the heavens, touching the spear—empowering it once more to an even greater degree than before.
"Haha! Even the heavens do not want you as their equal. Die!"
Original Sin forced even more energy into the spear.
At that moment, Underheaven opened his eyes again.
They no longer held pupils, but entire galaxies.
'Ah... how... beautiful.'
The spear reached him.
But something happened.
Something neither Original Sin nor the heavens had expected to happen.
A crack appeared.
Underheaven's soul tore free from his body and entered the crack, leaving behind a body that was instantly vaporized and turned into blood mist.