"Heh… Heh-heh… Hahaha!"

Laughing crazily, one hand clutching his exposed jet-black eye while the other half of his face was pure skeletal, a tall, slender man with long black hair relished in the destruction he had caused.

Standing in the middle of a courtyard, he breathed in deeply. The scent of smoke from the flames devouring the surrounding structures filled his lungs.

Hanging overhead, the pitch-black night sky was adorned with the moon and stars.

The air was thick with the stench of death—rotting corpses of core disciples, inner disciples, outer disciples, and even servant disciples lay in grotesque piles, their numbers too vast to count.

This was simply too intoxicating for Zǔ Zhòu to resist, and a huge, maddening smile spread across his flesh side face.

His black robe, ripped and torn in several places, clung to his body, drenched in the blood of the men and women he had brutally killed with his bare hands.

Before Zǔ Zhòu, the highest authorities of this once-glorious sect were kowtowing before him, their faces in the dirt, their bodies bearing the marks of numerous wounds.

The leader of the sect, along with the grand elders and elders, displayed a multitude of negative emotions on their faces.

However, the predominant negative feeling they had was fear.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and some of them even lost control of their bladders.

After all, the man—no—the demon who they were bowing before had a reputation for treating human lives as a joke.

This demon was beyond selfish, narcissistic, cold-hearted, immoral, and exceptionally sadistic.

This monster believed that the Nine Heavens, extending even to the Immortal Realm, Upper Realm, Mortal Realm, and even the Underworld Realm… was his personal playground.

In spite of everything, there was a single individual who had enough courage to try to reason with this crazed demon.

"Ex…Exc… Excuse me… Laughing Demon…" The Sect Leader gradually raised his face from the ground, but as soon as he did, he sensed a chilling sensation on his neck, and suddenly, everything flipped and darkness engulfed him.

"Did I say you could lift your head?" Zǔ Zhòu asked coldly, to the decapitated head, his tone shifting from laughter to ice in an instant.

Abruptly, the soft melody that had been playing turned into a dissonant and erratic tune, drawing the attention of everyone who was still breathing towards its source.

Tears streamed down the face of the Holy Daughter, who was playing the Guzheng, as she silently wept upon witnessing her father's death.

"You damn monster…" she quietly mumbled, unaware that the words had slipped out.

The moment her father's lifeless head hit the ground, she was struck with the realization that she had lost everything dear to her, as if a lightning bolt had struck her.

She had lost everything - her innocence, her family, her sect, and even her revered status as the Holy Daughter of a sect that had once held a prominent position in the Heaven Rankings.

The Celestial Sect which was renowned for producing the most formidable cultivators in the Nine Heavens.

They accommodated the finest individuals, ranging from heavenly princes to esteemed young masters and pure geniuses, commanding the respect of countless powerhouses.

Their reign of prestige, power, and wealth lasted for many millennia, but now it all came crashing down because of the actions of a single individual.

Zǔ Zhòu, whose focus had immediately shifted to the beautiful fairy, couldn't help but express his annoyance by clicking his tongue, as the previously perfect melody was now spoiled.

He always preferred soft, soothing music to accompany his kills—it brought him a certain peace, turning slaughter into an art form, smooth and hypnotic.

Nevertheless, he disregarded that and became intrigued by the words that the Holy Daughter had spoken.

"Hmm? Me? A monster?" Zǔ Zhòu muttered aloud, his head tilted to the side, confusion etched on his face.

Upon hearing these words, the Holy Daughter instinctively placed her hands over her mouth, realizing the gravity of what had just escaped her mouth.

"I—" Just as she was about to apologize for her rude remark, she felt a sudden tightening in her throat, preventing her from speaking.

When Zǔ Zhòu began walking over to her, her once flawless white skin turned pale, and a swirling sensation overwhelmed her.

The Holy Daughter made another attempt to speak, but her throat tightened even further, making it impossible for her to breathe.

The intense Qi surrounding the monster before her felt overpowering, as if it could force her to collapse.

Zǔ Zhòu had reached the pinnacle of cultivation, mastering the Art of Qi to such an extent that he could seamlessly manipulate the legendary energy that flowed through everything.

He was the only being in history to achieve such heights; those who attempted it were either struck down by tribulations, too weak to endure, lacking the necessary talent, or simply not fated to ascend.

"Do you think I feel good, when after some person does some atrocious act toward me, that I have to kill them?" Zǔ Zhòu sighed as he questioned, his gaze locked with hers, as he noticed the fading light in her eyes.

The Holy Daughter, summoning all her inner strength as a cultivator in the False Supreme Realm at the Middle Stage, finally drew a breath.

Despite this, she found herself unable to respond, feeling trapped and confused by the storm of uncertainty. She didn't want to answer incorrectly and offend him.

Although the Holy Daughter loved her father, she didn't want to join him in the Cycle of Reincarnation.

Allowing her to breathe a little, Zǔ Zhòu didn't wait for her to process his words. Instead, he carried on speaking:

"When I find out someone stole from me, or tried to kill me, or simply offended me, and I kill that person with my bare hands, their eyeballs POPPING out of their SKULLS. You think THAT gives me pleasure?"

In a moment of hesitation, the Holy Daughter wiped her forehead and in a raspy voice replied, "No..."

"Well, it does…" Zǔ Zhòu revealed his razor-sharp teeth, resembling those of a shark, and let out a laugh as he then snapped his finger.

In that instant, before the Holy Daughter could open her mouth again, her head exploded.

"Die, you damned bastard!" one of the Grand Elders yelled desperately, knowing his death was already sealed. He intended to take advantage of this small opening to at least damage him.

He vanished from his spot, using Shadow Steps, and summoned his Deathly Shadow Sword from thin air.

In mere milliseconds, the Grand Elder focused all his Qi into the blade, even beginning to burn his own cultivation realms in a desperate bid for the most power he could muster.

He refused to meet his end with his gaze cast downward.

Covered from head to toe in his Divine Shadow Armor that he had taken hundreds of thousands of years to create, the Grand Elder poured all his energy into the attack.

As the attack unfolded, the ground behind him violently began to tremble, while cobweb cracks appeared, and the wind intensified greatly, extinguishing the fires that surrounded them.

In but a second, the Deathly Shadow Sword pierced Zǔ Zhòu's neck from behind, a slight cut into the skin, yet he showed no reaction; no pain crossed his face, and he continued to smile madly.

Seeing this, the Grand Elder, now standing behind the demon, shook his head slowly in helplessness. As he had fully burned his cultivation realms, he collapsed weakly to the ground, completely defeated.

"Impossible… Impossible… Impossible…" he repeated over and over in disbelief.

He had poured all his power—hundreds of thousands of years of cultivation and mastery of the Shadow Law—into that attack as a True Supeme Realm cultivator who was at the Peak Stage.

The Grand Elder had believed he could deal some damage, but he never anticipated that he would inflict so little.

When he glanced back, expecting his fellow Grand Elders to assist him, they remained motionless, not even moving when he had attacked.

"Why—" Before the Grand Elder could finish questioning them, his head was violently severed from his body with a single punch.

His Divine Shadow Armor shattered all at once, swept away into the air.

The Deathly Shadow Sword, which had slightly impaled Zǔ Zhòu's neck, vanished instantly, and his neck wound began to heal rapidly.

In just a few seconds, the wound completely disappeared.

Turning around, Zǔ Zhòu walked over to the remaining grand elders and elders, who were seemingly trying to hide their faces deeper in the ground, careful not to display any signs of disrespect.

They were aware of their impending death and realized that fighting back would be futile, so they at least wanted to die without knowing when it'll happen.

"I want the Dao's Heart," Zǔ Zhòu demanded, no longer interested in waiting around, now that all the fun people were no longer alive.

This treasure he wanted was rooted in the very purpose of his visit to the Celestial Sect - who was extremely defiant and determined to protect it no matter what, refusing to surrender it under any circumstance.

Which ultimately resulted in their massacre.

Afterwards, their attitude appeared to have changed.

In a moment of resignation, one of the elders slowly raised his head, trembling with the desperate hope that it would remain attached.

"In the Main Hall, beneath the Sect Leader's throne… That's where the Dao's Heart is located..." he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

A faint, minuscule hope lingered within him, hoping to be spared if he disclosed the whereabouts of this priceless Immortal Treasure Grade treasure.

However, that assumption proved incorrect as his head, along with the heads of the grand elders and the other elders, was cleanly decapitated the next second.

Zǔ Zhòu glanced back at the Main Hall, the only building untouched by the fire, which appeared to be protected by numerous unique formations, and began walking toward the entrance.

"Such a pity. Had they known their place and submitted quietly earlier, I wouldn've merely crippled them all and played with them longer."