The sword did not rest
it tore into the Demon Realm (魔界 • Mó Jiè), the fifth of the Six Realms.
The skies here were blood-red, the ground veined with molten rivers that whispered of old wars and lost vengeance. The air reeked of dark aura and forgotten souls. Shadows howled as the sword crossed the abyss. The Blood Moon Citadel, once the palace of the last Demon God, trembled as ancient seals cracked.
Once, countless demons had lived and died here. Once, this place had been one of the most magnificent realms in the Six Realms. It was once the most feared, filled with powerful demons.
But now, it was empty.
No single life stirred.
Not a demon.
Not a demon god.
Not even the faintest breath of qi.
Only darkness remained, endless, heavy, and suffocating.
Blackened peaks clawed at the crimson sky.
Ruined temples leaned into ash-filled valleys.
Rivers that once ran with blood now flowed only with dust.
No demons walked the land.
No beasts stirred.
No gods commanded.
Only ghosts lingered among the bones of palaces devoured by time.
And above it all, Xuan Tian Jian (玄天剑) floated.
The divine blade hovered in stillness, its radiant light a blasphemy against the dead skies of the Demon Realm. It turned slowly, as if searching, as if remembering.
But there was nothing left to see.
Only echoes.
Until it stopped.
At the farthest edge of the realm, where the battlefield gave way to a jagged gorge, a single cave yawned beneath a twisted cliff. The sword halted above it and roared, its cry shaking the whole Nine Heavens and Six Realms.
The cave shuddered under the force, and from its depths came a sound, a low, rasping laugh.
"Ha… ha ha ha…"
A voice, sharp, ragged, thick with madness and triumph.
"Finally… finally, you are here," it said, thunder rolling in its tone.
A figure emerged from the shadows, rising like a phantom born of hatred.
He wasn't what the world imagined a demon to be. No horns. No twisted flesh. No monstrous form.
He was beautiful in a way that was almost unnatural.
His long white hair fell loosely down his back, catching the faint crimson light that bled through the Demon Realm's sky. His skin was pale as moonlight, smooth, untouched by time. A faint mark traced his left temple, something between a scar and a seal, but it only made his face sharper, more defined.
He was cloaked in layered black robes, etched with faint crimson markings that glowed like veins of living blood. A half-mask of darkness covered one side of his face, leaving the other half revealed, cold, perfect, and distant. His lips were thin but elegant, and his eyes burned with a violet light that seemed both alive and dead at once — beautiful, but carrying a madness that could swallow stars.
He stood up slowly. Each step was steady and regal. The darkness seemed to move around him, not because he commanded it, but because it obeyed him out of fear.
He lifted his hand toward the hovering sword, his expression twisting with desperate joy.
Behind him, his few army of black shadows knelt. Armored figures, all in black, faces and bodies completely covered, silent and unmoving.
He lifted his head and looked up at the glowing sword above. The faintest smile touched his lips, not joy, not peace, but something between heartbreak and triumph.
"Seventy thousand years," his voice broke. "A whole seventy thousand years. I did it. I really did it. I finally did it… ha ha ha."
His laughter echoed throughout the cave.
He stepped into the blood-red light. His scarred, thin body pulsed with ancient magic as he spread both arms to the sky.
"Yuan Mo… you've returned."
The sword roared, a blast of divine thunder splitting the silence.
He laughed, wild and broken.
"Yes! Roar! Scream! Shake the heavens! Shake the Six Realms! You're home now!"
He dropped to his knees, his few black shadowed soldiers dropping after him. He clawed at the dirt, tears mixing with ash.
"No more silence… no more hiding! Haha!" His laughter ripped through the whole cave. "The Demon Realm will rise again! The heavens will tremble once more! After seventy thousand years, seventy thousand damn years, the power of the Demon Realm can now live again! Hahahaha!"
"Descend, Yuan Mo! You are home! I did it!"
But the sword did not descend.
It did not answer.
It began to turn, to leave.
The white-haired demon's smile froze. His joy shattered.
"No… wait… WAIT!"
He flung out a wave of dark magic, black glyphs cracking the air.
"Where are you going? You belong here! I awakened you! I called you back! You're ours! You should come home!"
The sword's glow intensified, blinding and divine.
It ignored him.
"NO!" he screamed, falling forward. "You belong to us! You're Yuan Mo, not whatever they call you! You should descend here!"
He thrust two fingers upward, channeling a forbidden seal, trying to pull it back. But the sword answered with a burst of white light that hurled him to the ground.
The divine brilliance tore through the skies, vanishing into the stars.
"WHY!" he howled, blood spilling from his lips. "I spent seventy thousand years hiding, sacrificing, waiting, awakening you! Why didn't you stay? I woke you, not anyone else! I woke you from that damn long sleep!"
He collapsed, his cry breaking into raw sobs.
"Why… why do you choose there again? Why…"
Silence fell, heavier than grief.
"Whyyyyyy…"
His scream echoed through the Six Realms as the sword soared away.