Heavy storms had rampaged the night before, foreshadowing an ominous future. On a morning in that notable summer, when the trumpet creepers bloomed more abundantly than usual, the Great War between the Orthodox Alliance and the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult suddenly broke out.

The gravity of the situation was still unknown, even when the twenty-two branches and the one hundred twenty-nine sub-clans under the Orthodox Alliance were simultaneously attacked across the Central Plains.

It was unforeseen that in this fight, which would last for thirteen years, we would lose everyone we knew.

Even the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult, the aggressors in this war, did not expect it.

The Great War of the Orthodox and the Demonic.

How can one explain those horrific thirteen years?

On the battlefield, snow mingled with blood, creating never-ending crimson snow. The wind howled, seemingly in agony for all those who perished.

The horrific things that had become hard for us to get used to soon became the standard.

The corpses of our comrades, frequently sent flowing down the river, soon created a river of blood. The metallic stench became so typical that we could now eat while the smell permeated our noses.

Although the power of the Demonic Cult was beyond imagination, the Orthodox Alliance still held on with immense strength.

The hidden elders of the Orthodox Alliance emerged from seclusion, and the sealed demonic masters of the Heavenly Demonic Cave were unleashed.

The disastrous war raged on and became a system of counterbalances. When one side pushed, the other side pulled; when an enemy was killed, an ally was lost as well.

Those you could call friends, brothers, and fellow comrades in arms all met their ends. It did not matter whether one was a master or a novice; the fate they met was the same. Those called the heroes of the Orthodox and the demonic masters of the Demonic Cult both perished alike. Death awaited regardless of whether one was cowardly and suggested surrender, or brave and fought until the end.

Anyone who wielded a weapon met their end.

When the Three Divine Monks of Shaolin and the 108 Arhats broke through the banner of the Heavenly Demon and entered Nirvana, everyone under the Orthodox Alliance wailed in grief and tightly embraced each other.

Their sorrow only continued when a bloody battle lasting three days led to the deaths of the Seven Heroes of Qingcheng, who perished together with the Fist Demon.

There were still tears left when the Beggars' Sect Leader threw himself into a thunderous explosion to save his disciples, and when the First Sword of Mount Hua met his end with a broken blade embedded in his heart.

Now, no one cries.

When news arrived of the death of the Wudang Sect Leader, only silence remained. There were no tears left to cry. Everyone stood in resignation, awaiting the same fate the Sect Leader met.

The war had shed light on the true nature of those around, showing that those who had been trusted the most had betrayed first, and the ones who were seen to lack loyalty fought till the end. However, none of this mattered; their exhaustion had reached its peak.

Rumors of a truce were spread among the battlefield, but that false hope was destroyed by the next disaster. In the end, rumors were just rumors. No one cared who the victor of this war would be anymore, and the sentiment that losing would be better as long as it brought an end to this conflict was prevalent.

Soon, that sentiment became an expectation, and the thought of loss permeated the battlefield like a ghost. Their hearts had become cold like, the solid river, frozen by the winds in the northwest. Swinging the sword no longer seemed habitual, but more so a burden filled with heaviness.

Rumors spread once again, stating that the Demonic Cult would handle punishments for the participants from the Orthodox Alliance on a graded severity scale, with the first rated the lightest and the fifth rated the worst. It was heard that the punishment for a fourth-grade offense was beheading, and the fifth was being made into a zombie. Suicide rates increased significantly, as people did not want to meet their ends in such a terrible manner.

Desertion surged, and even those who were sent to capture the deserters became deserters, and those sent to capture them did the same.

The only ones who remained till the end were the righteous and courageous, determined to die for the future of the martial world.

Magpies gathered all around as expected with the scale of death brought by the war. That particular morning, they were particularly loud and notable, just like the trumpet creepers of the summer thirteen years prior. And just like then, the abrupt news that the war was over spread, this time not a rumor but a fact.

Everyone embraced each other and finally let out the tears that had been dried up and blocked by the dam called war.

The tears flowed continuously as they recalled all of those who had died for this meaningless war.

For what reason had the Demonic Cult agreed to a truce while they were in the most favorable situation? It was unknown.

Various rumors spread around trying to decipher the reason. The most plausible ones were that either an invincible master had emerged from seclusion, or that there was internal conflict within the Demonic Cult. However, neither were confirmed, leaving the truth of the matter hidden.

Both the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult and the Orthodox Alliance remained silent on the matter, as if they had made a promise.

Most of the sects that participated in the war, including the Nine Great Sects and the Four Great Families, closed their doors to the martial world. Now was the time to let their tears dry and raise new disciples.

As one year passed, then another, new forces began to show their faces in the martial world, filling the massive power vacuum created by the war. The landscape of the martial world was no longer as it was before, changing rapidly.

Even as such turbulent years passed, there was still no proper conclusion from either the Heavenly Demonic Divine Cult or the Orthodox Alliance. They maintained their silence as if the terrible war had not happened.

Thus, twenty years had passed.