Infinite void, ten thousand thunders extinguished.
Lin Xuan, the Demon Sovereign of the Tribulation Stage who once stirred the winds and clouds, striking terror into the hearts of righteous cultivators, now lay at the end of his strength.
His black demonic robe lay in tatters, his body drenched in blood. Deep, bone-exposing wounds scarred his once-imposing frame, but the most horrifying sight was the bowl-sized transparent hole in his chest, its edges charred black—the result of a direct strike from the "Purple Xiao Divine Thunder." He stood atop a field of shattered stellar fragments, surrounded by the wreckage of countless magical treasures and lifeless corpses stripped of their spiritual radiance—a floating graveyard of cosmic horror.
"Lin Xuan! You are at the end of your rope. Surrender now!"
A majestic Daoist proclamation echoed through the void, carrying the awe-inspiring might of heaven. From all directions, dozens of shadowy figures radiating formidable auras closed in around him. Though their attire varied—some Daoist, some Buddhist, some Confucian—they all bore a jade token engraved with the characters "Tian Dao" (Heavenly Way). They were the most mysterious and powerful organization in this realm: the Heavenly Way Alliance.
At their head stood a figure whose aura was ethereal and detached, as if one with the Way of Heaven itself. His gaze was cold as ice as he fixed it upon Lin Xuan: "To defy Heaven's will invites Heaven's wrath. Lin Xuan, you have stolen the primordial essence of Heaven and Earth, disrupted the cosmic order. Today, you shall perish here, body and soul destroyed."
Lin Xuan coughed up a mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of his own entrails, yet suddenly burst into a long, piercing laugh. His laughter was filled with defiance and madness: "Hahahaha... What a fine defiance of Heaven! What a fine Heaven's Way Alliance! You are nothing but hypocrites, cloaked in sanctimonious robes, usurping power, and strangling all living beings! When did this world become your private property? We cultivators defy heaven to seize our destiny—what wrong have we done?"
His gaze, sharp as blades, swept over every present soul. It was the killing intent tempered through countless life-and-death battles—even at death's door, it sent shivers through some hearts.
"You dare spout heresy at death's door!" a venerable Taoist wielding a whisk rebuked him harshly.
Lin Xuan said no more. He knew reason was futile against absolute power and might. Feeling the nearly depleted demonic essence within him and the cracked, collapsing Nascent Soul, a resolute glint flashed in his eyes.
"You seek my life? Then pay with your own... as my burial offering!"
His hands abruptly formed an ancient, eerie seal. The dim demonic energy surrounding him suddenly boiled, like a final burst of light before death, erupting into a blinding, violent black radiance brighter than even his prime!
"No! He's detonating his infant soul!" The leader of the Heavenly Dao Alliance's face twisted in horror as he shouted hoarsely, "Form the array! Quickly!"
But it was already too late.
"With my demonic soul, I ignite my demonic blood! Consume all existence, returning to utter void!"
Lin Xuan's voice echoed like a final death knell, carrying the exhilaration of total annihilation. In the next instant, his entire body, along with the shattered Nascent Soul, exploded with a thunderous roar!
Indescribable destructive energy swelled and erupted like a black sun in the void. Space collapsed in patches, time itself seemed to warp in that instant. Fragments of stars, wreckage of magical treasures, and even the closest few Heavenly Dao Alliance experts were vaporized instantly by this force, unable to utter a scream.
A colossal shockwave swept across the surroundings. The remaining Heavenly Dao Alliance members spat blood and flew backward, desperately summoning their protective treasures to barely preserve their lives. Yet each wore a horrified expression, their hearts still trembling with terror.
The leader watched the gradually subsiding energy turbulence and the now-empty void before him, his brow furrowed. His divine sense swept repeatedly, confirming he could no longer detect even a trace of Lin Xuan's life force or soul fluctuations.
"Hmph, he got off easy—ending up utterly annihilated, body and soul," the dust-wiping old Taoist said bitterly, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
The leader remained silent for a moment before speaking coldly, "Target eliminated. Returning to report."
The void fell silent once more, as if nothing had ever happened....
Who knew how long it had been—perhaps an instant, perhaps ten thousand years.
In absolute darkness and chaos, Lin Xuan's consciousness flickered feebly like a candle in the wind.
"I... haven't been completely obliterated?"
He sensed that his soul's core—that most primordial, indestructible demonic essence—had not been utterly consumed by the self-detonation. Instead, it was enveloped by a strange force, drifting aimlessly through the turbulent currents of spacetime.
Countless fragments of light and shadow flashed before his "eyes"—silhouettes of spacetime, shards of worlds. A powerful gravitational pull tugged him toward some unknown destination.
"Reincarnation? Possession?"
As a great power at the Tribulation Stage, he possessed profound knowledge of the soul's path. He instantly grasped this as his sole chance for survival. He retracted all conscious fluctuations, tightly coiling his indestructible demonic soul like a dormant seed awaiting the moment it would fall into "soil."
A wave of excruciating pain washed over him, jolting him awake from the void.
It wasn't the agony of a soul being torn apart, but real, physical torment.
He abruptly "opened" his eyes—or rather, the eyes of this body.
Before him lay a low, dilapidated wooden ceiling, spiderwebs tangled in the corners, the air thick with mustiness and a faint scent of blood. Beneath him was a hard, splintered wooden bed, covered with a coarse, blackened straw mat.
Fragments of unfamiliar memories, like shattered glass, forced their way into his consciousness.
Qingyang Sect... outer disciple... Lin Xuan... mediocre talent... menial labor... Zhao Hu... bullying... beating...
These keywords strung together instantly revealed his predicament.
He—once the formidable Tribulation-Crossing Demon Sovereign Lin Xuan—had reincarnated into the body of an eponymous outer disciple of Qingyang Sect, recently beaten to death!
"Heh... Ha ha ha..." He tried to laugh, but the movement tugged at his wounds, triggering a violent cough. The spittle he coughed up was streaked with blood.
This was the greatest irony in all creation. He had once roamed the cosmos, viewing all living beings as mere ants. Now, he had become the most lowly and feeble ant among them.
He attempted to sense the world's spiritual energy, only to discover this body's meridians were as thin as spider silk, blocked in multiple places. Its innate talent was utterly abysmal. His body felt utterly empty, even the most basic Qi Cultivation Level 1 cultivation was precarious, making him scarcely different from an ordinary mortal.
"Truly... a wretched vessel." His heart grew icy cold.
Yet the will of a Demon Sovereign was no ordinary thing. After a fleeting moment of absurdity came utter composure. He immediately began internal inspection, examining the state of this body.
External wounds covered him, three ribs were broken, internal organs suffered varying degrees of concussive injury, and worst of all, his head had taken a severe blow—the very impact that had caused the original soul to disintegrate.
"Zhao Hu..." He retrieved the killer's name from his memories—a minor figure who bullied others in the outer sect, relying on his slight connections.
Such petty squabbles among ants had once been beneath his notice. Yet now, this ant had become the first trouble he must confront after his rebirth.
Just then, faint footsteps sounded outside the door—light and hesitant.
Lin Xuan's eyes sharpened instantly as he suppressed all traces of his presence, his gaze fixed intently on the creaking wooden door. Though his body was weak and frail, the vigilance and killing intent inherent to the Demon Sovereign had awakened instinctively.
The door creaked open a crack, revealing a round face peering in, filled with fear and concern.
It belonged to a youth, roughly fifteen or sixteen years old, short and stocky with dark skin. He wore the faded, washed-out outer disciple robes of Qingyang Sect, still speckled with dirt and grass clippings.
Spotting Lin Xuan's open eyes, he gasped in surprise before his face broke into a relieved smile. "Lin... Senior Brother Lin! You're awake?! That's wonderful!"
The boy carefully carried a cracked earthenware bowl filled with murky water and half a piece of hard, blackened cornbread. He hurried to the bedside, placed the items on the headboard, and spoke with concern: "You've been unconscious for a day. I... I secretly saved some water and food. Please eat something."
Memories surfaced. This youth was Zhang Xiaoshan, a disciple like the original body, stuck at the lowest rung of the outer sect. They were often assigned together to the most grueling menial tasks. Yet, he alone would secretly offer meager help after the original body suffered humiliation.
Lin Xuan stared silently at him, neither touching the food nor speaking. Over ten thousand years in his past life, he had grown accustomed to betrayal, slaughter, and manipulation—the treacherous nature of human hearts. Such unprompted kindness struck him as either foolish or... calculated.
Zhang Xiaoshan felt uneasy under Lin Xuan's overly calm, even coldly appraising gaze. He shrank his neck and whispered, "Senior Brother Lin, are you... okay? Zhao Hu and the others are such scum. Once your injuries heal, we... we should avoid them..."
His voice trailed off, filled with the helplessness and timidity of a lowly underling.
Lin Xuan remained silent, his gaze shifting from Zhang Xiaoshan's face to the bowl of water and the half-eaten steamed bun.
Just then—
"Bang!"
The already dilapidated door of the wood shed was kicked open with a violent thud, splattering wood shavings everywhere!
A loud, arrogant voice boomed in:
"Zhang Xiaoshan! You cowardly bastard, you're here after all! And that good-for-nothing Lin Xuan—still alive?"
At the doorway, a tall, menacing youth flanked by two henchmen blocked the exit. A savage grin twisted his face as his mocking gaze swept over Lin Xuan and Zhang Xiaoshan on the bed, as if surveying two insects he could crush at will.
The man was none other than Zhao Hu—the very culprit who had beaten "Lin Xuan" to death in his memories!
Zhang Xiaoshan turned deathly pale, nearly dropping the clay bowl in his hands. He instinctively positioned himself in front of the bed, though his legs trembled violently.
Zhao Hu crossed his arms, advancing step by step, his tone dripping with malice: "Good thing you're not quite dead yet. The overseer said the abandoned mine shafts at Blackwind Cliff on the back mountain need two men to clear the rubble. This 'fine assignment' is yours for the taking!"
He deliberately emphasized the words "fine assignment." Everyone knew the Blackwind Cliff mine shafts had lain abandoned for years, frequently haunted by demonic beasts and structurally unstable. Those who entered faced certain death.
This was blatant murder by proxy!
Zhang Xiaoshan's body shook even harder.
Meanwhile, Lin Xuan, lying on the bed, slowly lifted his eyelids. Within those eyes—once timid and belonging to a useless disciple—a chill like ice frozen for ten thousand years seemed to crystallize. A fleeting, icy glint, utterly ruthless and belonging to a Demon Sovereign, flickered within.
As Zhao Hu closed in step by step, Lin Xuan remained utterly unruffled. Only one thought crystallized in his mind:
"It seems the first task of this Lord after rebirth... is to crush a few noisy flies."