Tianhua Realm basked in the soft glow of an early golden morning. The divine bells echoed gently across the floating pavilions and immortal towers, and disciples strolled through the courtyards exchanging greetings in calm serenity. No one could have predicted that such a peaceful day would descend into chaos within moments.
From the shadows of the outer market district, a sharp gust of corrupted energy broke the harmony. A series of muffled blasts exploded near the jade trading stalls, and masked figures emerged. They wore the robes of common cultivators, but their eyes burned crimson, and a strange demonic sigil pulsed beneath their skin.
They were not mortal. They were demons in disguise—the infiltrators, servants of the Demon Lord, sent to sow confusion and bloodshed in the heart of Tianhua.
"They've breached the outer wards!" a disciple screamed as the crowd erupted into a frenzy.
High above, the bells of the Sword Arts Academy rang with alarm. In a flash, several immortal warriors descended from their posts, led by elite guardians known only as the "Heavenly Vanguard."
Blades clashed. Talismans flew. Divine energy pulsed like waves in a storm as the immortal defenders engaged the disguised demons. Blood splattered over the sacred tiles, and spiritual smoke curled into the air from exorcised corpses.
Yet amid the chaos, one demon—clever and stronger than the rest—slipped through the battle line, heading straight for the central square.
There, Yingluo stood.
Clad in ivory robes laced with silver thread, her presence was serene. She had just finished addressing a group of juniors when she sensed the twisted aura approaching. Without hesitation, she drew her sword, a curved blade that shimmered with celestial light.
The demon lunged.
Steel met claw. Yingluo deflected the first strike but was unprepared for the demon's burst of speed. Its claw tore across her shoulder, slicing through her robe and skin in one brutal motion. Blood sprayed. She stumbled, crashing into a stone pillar.
Before the demon could finish her off, a cold wind cut through the plaza.
"Enough."
Mo Ren descended like a falling star, sword drawn. In one swift motion, he interposed himself between the demon and Yingluo, deflecting its strike with his blade.
The demon snarled. "Another immortal? You won't stop what's coming."
Mo Ren didn't answer with words. He drove his sword forward, piercing the demon's chest. Black blood hissed against the sacred ground. The creature shrieked and vanished into smoke.
Mo Ren turned to Yingluo. "You're hurt. Stay still."
Yingluo looked up at him, dazed, breathless, her cheeks flushed. For a brief moment, her heart betrayed her mind. She had seen many immortals in her life, but none like him—stern, cold, yet protective.
"You... saved me."
Mo Ren's expression didn't change. "It's my duty."
Before she could speak again, another disciple arrived, shouting, "One of the demons escaped—it's fleeing toward Mount Yuling!"
Mo Ren stood at once. "I'll handle it."
He left without delay, vanishing into the horizon like a shadow bound to the wind.
---
The demon moved fast through the dense forest bordering Mount Yuling. Trees bent with its corrupted energy, birds scattered from its path. But Mo Ren was faster.
He caught up with the creature near a ravine deep within the ancient woods. They clashed violently—sword against black flame. Mo Ren realized quickly this demon was no ordinary minion. It bore a mark on its neck—the symbol of the Demon Lord himself.
"So you're one of his hands," Mo Ren muttered.
The demon grinned. "You're too late, immortal. The seal is weakening."
Mo Ren growled, activating a hidden technique. Golden runes lit up along his blade, and with a roar, he drove it straight through the demon's chest. The impact blasted both of them backward.
The demon screeched and vanished into smoke, its essence fleeing into the deep forbidden lands. Mo Ren collapsed to one knee, clutching his side. Blood seeped through his robes. The wound was deep—too deep.
He collapsed.
---
Elsewhere in Mount Yuling, Yueqing walked alone through the forest. Her basket swayed at her hip, half-filled with herbs and fruit. Her brows were furrowed. She had barely sold anything in Tianhua, and those immortals had mocked her.
"Just because I'm from the mountain, they think I'm lesser," she muttered. "Maybe I shouldn't have gone."
She kicked a pebble, sighing.
Suddenly, she stopped.
There, half-hidden under fallen leaves and moss, lay a man—injured, bloodied, unconscious.
Her eyes widened. "It's... it's him! The man from yesterday."
She ran to him and knelt. "Hey! Wake up! You're hurt badly!" He didn't respond.
With all her strength, she lifted him onto her back, staggering under his weight. "You better not die on me, Mo Ren."
---
By the time she reached her bamboo hut, her legs were shaking. Grandpa Ziyan stood outside, trimming herbs.
"Yueqing? What—" He dropped everything. "Who is this?!"
"He saved me yesterday. He's an immortal, I think. A demon attacked him."
Grandpa Ziyan's eyes narrowed. "Bring him in. Now."
They laid Mo Ren on the wooden bed. The old man examined the wound. "This is demon corruption. He's lucky you found him. A bit later, and he'd have been lost."
Yueqing sat beside the bed, watching him breathe. Her hands were still trembling. "Why would he risk his life like this...?"
Grandpa Ziyan glanced at her knowingly. "Fate moves in strange ways, child. Sometimes a savior falls from the sky not to protect the world... but to be protected instead."
Outside, the wind whispered through the bamboo leaves.
Far beyond, the true Demon Lord opened his eyes and smiled.
The pieces had started to move.