The rain fell in sheets of freezing iron, hammering against the thatched roofs of a village that had long since forgotten the warmth of life. The wind howled through the empty streets, a mournful dirge for the silent dead, but beneath the eaves of a modest cottage, the cold seemed to hold no sway.
Two women stood there, pristine and untouched by the grime of the world. They were visions of ethereal beauty, clad in robes of snowy white that shimmered with a subtle, inner luminescence. Their hair, black as the deepest ink, cascaded like waterfalls down their backs, framing faces that were mathematically perfect—features so flawless they bordered on the uncanny.
"Sister Ling," the younger woman on the left whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. She tilted her head back, watching the storm rage against the heavens. "Do you believe it will work this time? The Heavens have lowered the ladder of transcendence once more. If Wen Xian Dao—if our Order—can seize this moment, we will never again have to wallow in this filth. We will be free of the mortal coil forever."
Her companion, Sister Ling, remained impassive. Her gaze was not on the sky, but on the village before them. "The opportunity is real. The Powers Above do not offer such things idly. Their intent is brutal but simple: sever the last tethers of humanity's destiny and hunt down the remnants of the Night Watchers. We are merely the actors in their play. If we perform our roles, the rewards will follow."
" The Night Watchers..." The younger woman sneered, her beautiful face twisting into a mask of disdain. "Those irreverent fools. No respect for Heaven, no fear of the Earth. They should have been purged centuries ago. It is a stain on our history that some slipped through the net."
Sister Ling chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth. "You should be grateful for their resilience, little sister. If they hadn't fled like rats, why would the Heavens offer us another chance at godhood? We are being paid to clean up a mess. The humans of this realm will suffer for it, of course. But that is their burden, not ours."
She spoke with the casual arrogance of a being who viewed humanity as nothing more than livestock—cattle to be managed, or slaughtered, as the season dictated.
Behind them, the village was a tableau of peaceful horror. Every door was barred, every window shuttered. Inside, entire families lay in repose. Some were tucked into beds; others were slumped over half-eaten meals. There was no blood, no sign of struggle. They simply looked as though they had fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber.
But in the flickering candlelight of the silent homes, a supernatural phenomenon was unfolding.
From the crown of each corpse's head, tiny, invisible motes of light drifted upward. They were fragments of the soul, harvested like grain. These motes floated through the wood and thatch, converging on a single point in the village square. There, the air rippled with a magnetic distortion. Hovering in the center of this field was a spectral projection—a woman, no larger than a human skull, sitting in a lotus position with hands forming a complex seal. She was a blur of white light, indistinct and holy, radiating a terrifying sense of tranquility.
"The Unborn Mother, the Vacuum Hometown..." The younger woman in white turned to gaze at the phantom, her eyes glazing over with fanatical devotion. "May we find shelter in her embrace. To be above the world, never to sink."
Sister Ling, however, broke the reverie. She turned her sharp gaze toward the impenetrable darkness of the rainy night. Her voice dropped, cutting through the sound of the wind.
"You've been listening long enough. Come out."
A raspy, scraping laugh echoed from the darkness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, shifting from the east to the west, carried on the damp wind.
"Heh... heh... Wen Xian Dao lives up to its name. Your senses are sharp."
The voice belonged to the Corpse Demon Ancestor. It was a sound like grave gravel grinding together, steeped in the chill of the grave.
The rain intensified, blurring the line between earth and sky, but the two women did not flinch. They stood like marble statues, unbothered by the growing dread.
"Speak," Sister Ling commanded. "I wish to confirm the details of the Ascension. Is the Will from Above absolute?"
"Thirteenth Lord," the woman continued, addressing the shadows, "I know you hide in Corpse Demon Mountain, sleeping away the centuries. But you have slept too long. Look at the world. The Death Domain expands. The Evil Gods stir in their prisons. Blizzards in summer, droughts in the monsoon, demons walking the streets in broad daylight... the omens are screaming. Why ask us what you already know?"
"We are here to cooperate," she added, her tone softening slightly, though the threat remained. "Transcendence is coming. We have no desire to start a war with your kind over a simple misunderstanding."
Silence stretched in the darkness, heavy and suffocating. Then, the smell hit them—the cloying, sweet scent of advanced decay.
From the curtain of rain, a silhouette emerged. It was massive, towering, and indistinct, shrouded in a swirling vortex of black mist. All that was clearly visible were its feet—bare, massive, and covered in thick, coarse black hair. Where those feet touched the earth, the grass instantly turned black and withered, death spreading like ink in water.
"We sleep deep in the mountain, yes," the Corpse Demon Ancestor croaked, his voice vibrating in the chest. "But we feel the shifts in the heavy earth. Death energy is rising. The clouds choke the sky. We thought this was a feast prepared solely for us, for Corpse Demon Mountain. We did not expect... guests."
"The Will wants chaos," Sister Ling explained coolly. "They want the human world overturned. Amidst the anarchy, we wipe out the Night Watchers. Those who aid in this great cleansing will transcend. Those who pick the wrong side... well, you remember the fate of the old Underworld and the City Gods. Erased from existence."
"Is that so?" The Ancestor's eyes narrowed, two burning red coals in the mist, calculating the odds.
Suddenly, a smaller shadow darted from the treeline. A lesser corpse demon, dripping with foul slime, scurried to the Ancestor's side and whispered urgently into where its ear should have been.
The red eyes flared. "You found them? The two strays?"
"Yes, Ancestor," the minion hissed. "But the scout team we sent... they are gone. Silent. All dead. It smells of a trap."
"This is my domain," the Ancestor rumbled, his voice dripping with icy confidence. "What does a trap matter to a god of death? Go. Tell the others to hold. I will attend to this personally."
He turned his gaze back to the women in white. "The two little mice from Tianshi Mountain have been located. Ladies, perhaps you would care to join me for a hunt?"
Sister Ling smiled, a thin, cruel expression. "It would be our pleasure."
The Bait
High in the desolate mountains, a dilapidated stone pavilion offered meager shelter from the storm.
Jiang Dao lay slumped against a bamboo support pillar. He had suppressed his aura entirely, mimicking the biological rhythm of a mundane human. To any observer, he was just a large man napping in the rain.
Beside him, however, Xu Zifeng and Zhao Ziling were having a much harder time. They looked like drowned rats, soaked to the bone and shivering violently. Their teeth chattered in a rhythmic staccato.
They were baffled. Jiang Dao's grand "strategy" had consisted of marching them in a giant, conspicuous circle around the mountain range, practically waving a flag that said, 'We are here, please come kill us.'
"Gang Leader Jiang," Zhao Ziling stammered, wrapping her arms around herself. She channeled her spiritual energy, forcing steam to rise from her clothes in a desperate bid to dry off. "This plan... It's bold. But what if the Ancestor himself comes? What if we attract the big one?"
Jiang Dao didn't open his eyes. "If he comes, he comes. I'll crush him along with the rest."
The two disciples exchanged a look of hopeless exasperation. Crush him along with the rest. It was the kind of insanity only a monster like Jiang Dao could utter with a straight face.
Suddenly, Jiang Dao's eyes snapped open. The playfulness vanished, replaced by the cold focus of a predator.
"Quiet," he hissed. "They're here."
"Here?" Xu Zifeng stiffened.
Before he could react, the smell washed over them—a tidal wave of rot, sewage, and ancient death. It was thick enough to taste.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy bodies hit the wet earth. Water splashed violently.
From the darkness on all sides, they descended. Black corpse demons, their bodies bloated and leaking gray fluids. Their faces were nightmares of asymmetry—eyes missing, jaws hanging loose, white maggots writhing in open sores. Dozens of pairs of milky, dead eyes fixed upon the pavilion.
Jiang Dao stood up slowly. He stretched his neck, the vertebrae popping loudly in the quiet. He looked bored.
"A decent turnout," he muttered. "Saves me the cardio of hunting you down individually."
"Heh, heh, heh..."
A bell-like laughter, incongruously pure and sweet, drifted through the horde of monsters.
"Thirteenth Lord, our luck holds. The prey has delivered itself."
A heavy, gravelly voice answered from the dark. "Mortal. Are you the one who destroyed my Spirit Corpse? The one who stole the Mandate Artifact?"
Jiang Dao frowned, looking past the wall of rotting flesh.
Two glowing figures emerged from the gloom. The sisters of Wen Xian Dao walked through the mud without getting a speck of dirt on their white hems. They looked like goddesses descending into hell, smiling with beatific grace.
Looming behind them was a shadow that blotted out the treeline. The Corpse Demon Ancestor stood four meters tall, a monolith of black fur and death energy. His red eyes burned like signal flares.
"The Ancestor..." Zhao Ziling whispered, her legs giving way. She stumbled back, terror seizing her heart.
Jiang Dao, however, only felt a familiar heat rising in his blood. His breath hitched, steaming in the cold air.
"So, that's the big bad wolf," Jiang Dao mused, his voice steady. He looked at the two women. "And you two? Wen Xian Dao, I presume?"
"Hee hee... that's right," the younger sister giggled, covering her mouth. Her eyes scanned Jiang Dao's broad frame. "My, what potent Yang energy you have. It makes me... dizzy."
"Is that so?" Jiang Dao's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You want to play?"
"Oh, we'd love to play," the women purred in unison, their eyes curving into crescents of seduction.
Jiang Dao's smile widened until it became something grotesque, something predatory. The air around him began to shimmer with heat.
"Good," he growled, his voice dropping to a tectonic rumble. "Because Daddy is going to play with you until you break."
The Fire Demon Rises
BOOM!
There was no warning. One second, it was night; the next, a supernova erupted within the pavilion.
The explosion of Extreme Yang energy was blinding. It wasn't just fire; it was a physical force, a shockwave of golden solar plasma that obliterated the stone structure instantly.
ROAR!
A sound like a dragon's fury tore through the mountains. The shockwave pulverized the front line of corpse demons. Limbs, heads, and chunks of rotting meat were sent flying into the canopy. Boulders cracked. Trees snapped like matchsticks.
In the center of the inferno, a golden blur moved with impossible speed. It was a juggernaut, a battering ram of pure heat, tearing through the horde.
The two sisters and the Ancestor shrieked, reacting on instinct, launching themselves into the fray.
The clash was titanic. Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fists met magical barriers. Claws met burning skin. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the rain, turning the falling water into instantaneous steam.
THUD.
The combatants separated, blown apart by the sheer kinetic force of their collision.
Jiang Dao landed heavily, his feet smashing craters into the bedrock. The ground around him sizzled. The rain didn't touch him; it evaporated a foot from his skin, creating a shroud of white mist.
Xu Zifeng and Zhao Ziling huddled in the ruins of the pavilion, staring in awe.
The man they knew was gone. In his place stood a monster.
Jiang Dao had swelled to over five meters in height. His skin had turned the color of molten bronze, steaming and glowing. Muscles coiled like pythons beneath his dermis. A massive bone tail, segmented and spiked, whipped behind him, cracking the air like a whip.
Around his feet, the remains of the lesser demons were not just dead; they were ash. The Yang energy was so potent that it had incinerated them upon contact.
Opposite him, the pristine sisters were ruined. Their white dresses were scorched rags. Blood—bright and human—leaked from their mouths. Their arms hung at odd angles, the bones shattered by the force of Jiang Dao's strikes.
"He... he's not human!" the younger sister screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "What is this thing?!"
They frantically tried to summon their Yin energy to heal, but the golden fire clinging to their wounds refused to be extinguished. It ate at them like acid.
Jiang Dao grinned, exposing teeth that looked too sharp, too many. He waved a massive, clawed hand.
"Little sisters! Why are you backing away? Don't you want to play?"
"Go to hell, you freak!" the older sister spat.
"Name-calling?" Jiang Dao's eyes blazed. "I'll tear you into confetti for that."
He stomped, the earth groaning, and launched himself like a cannonball.
The Corpse Demon Ancestor intercepted him. With a blur of motion, the giant creature slammed a claw toward Jiang Dao's heart.
"Move!"
Jiang Dao backhanded the Ancestor. CLANG!
It sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a church bell. The Ancestor didn't bleed; he was as hard as a diamond. But the force sent his corpse's energy scattering.
Jiang Dao roared and clapped his hands together, aiming to squash the Ancestor's head like a melon. The Ancestor blocked, driving a fist into Jiang Dao's chest.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
They traded blows that would have leveled buildings. Neither gave an inch. Indestructible body against indestructible body. It was a stalemate of titans.
Jiang Dao felt a surge of annoyance. This was taking too long.
"Extreme Yang God Fire Body... LIMIT BREAK!"
Deep inside his dantian, a droplet of concentrated divine liquid imploded.
SQUELCH.
Jiang Dao's body convulsed. Bones snapped and re-knit in milliseconds. He grew again. Six meters. Seven. Eight.
He towered over the battlefield, a living volcano. The heat radiating from him set the nearby trees on fire despite the rain.
ROAR!
The Ancestor struck again, aiming for the heart, but Jiang Dao was now so massive the blow landed harmlessly on his abs. The golden fire lashed out, searing the Ancestor's hand. The creature recoiled, fear finally dawning in its red eyes.
"DIE."
Jiang Dao's hand, now the size of a small car, clamped onto the Ancestor's skull.
CRUNCH.
The diamond-hard head caved in. The Ancestor howled, clawing frantically at Jiang Dao's chest, but it was like a kitten scratching a tank.
Jiang Dao reached with his other hand, grabbing the Ancestor's face.
RIP.
With a sickening, wet tear, he ripped the creature's face off. Then, his hand plunged into the open cavity, driving through bone and brain matter until it punched out the back of the skull.
The Ancestor went limp, his massive body dangling from Jiang Dao's arm like a broken doll. The golden fire rushed inside the wound, cooking the monster from the inside out.
"Heh... heh... Call yourself an Ancestor?" Jiang Dao shook the burning corpse. "Why did you stop moving? Come on! Wiggle for me!"
He tossed the flaming carcass aside and turned his burning gaze to the two women.
They were frozen, paralyzed by a terror deeper than death.
"Little sisters..." Jiang Dao's voice was a landslide of gravel. "Still... want... to... play?"
They turned and ran. They ran with every ounce of power they possessed.
BAM!
Jiang Dao moved faster than thought. He appeared behind the younger sister and swatted her. She exploded. It wasn't a fight; it was physics. Her body disintegrated, slamming into the forest floor as a bag of broken bones.
"Sister Ling!" The older woman shrieked, flying through the trees.
A massive hand grabbed her by her luxurious black hair.
"No! Please! Save me!"
Jiang Dao didn't stop. He dragged her through the mud, ignoring her screams. He walked over to the broken heap of the younger sister and grabbed her by the ankle.
"Come on," he whispered, a nightmare come to life. "I'm going to show you something pretty. Like goldfish in a bowl."
He dragged them into the darkness of the woods.
SPLAT. CRUNCH. THUD.
The sounds of wet impact echoed rhythmically through the valley. The ground shook with each blow.
Then, silence.
Jiang Dao returned to the clearing alone. He looked at his hands. His left hand held a charred, severed ankle. His right hand was empty.
Behind him, a crater smoldered in the earth, the remains of Wen Xian Dao indistinguishable from the mud.
"Boring," he sighed, tossing the ankle away.
He stood there for a moment, scanning the dark, hoping for more. But the forest was dead silent. Even the wind had stopped, afraid to draw his attention.
Jiang Dao grimaced. Pain flared in his muscles. The overdose of Yang energy was cooking his own organs. He closed his eyes, centering his breath, channeling the cooling flows of the Yin Evil Mystic Heart Art.
Steam billowed off his skin in thick white clouds. Slowly, painfully, his body shrank. The bone tail retracted. The bronze skin faded.
He stood once again as a man, swaying slightly.
"Refreshing," he muttered.
Xu Zifeng and Zhao Ziling crept out of the ruins, their faces pale as parchment. They looked at Jiang Dao not as a leader, but as a calamity in human shape.
"Gang Leader Jiang..." Zhao Ziling whispered, her voice trembling. "What... what are you?"
Xu Zifeng slapped a hand over her mouth, his eyes wide with panic. "Don't ask!"
Jiang Dao looked at them, his eyes still holding a faint, golden ember.
"Smart man," Jiang Dao said flatly. "Questions like that shorten your lifespan."
He cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. "The Ancestor was tough. Attacking their main mountain might be messier than I thought. We wait a few days."
The two disciples nodded frantically. They would agree to anything. They had seen the devil, and he was on their payroll.