The night was draped in beauty, as though the stars themselves had descended to bless the city with their light.
It was a city straight out of the immortal realms... where splendor reigned, and every inch of it glowed with ethereal charm.
The buildings shimmered under the moonlight, their walls adorned with precious stones and intricate carvings, each more magnificent than the last.
Lanterns of different colors floated above, casting soft glows over the streets, creating a dream-like atmosphere.
Despite the late hour, the streets were bustling with life. Laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the sweet melodies of flutes and strings, as though the city itself had joined in celebration.
From every corner of the city, lights flickered and danced, the entire place alive with a festival-like energy.
At the heart of this grand city stood a towering structure, the most extravagant of them all. Its golden rooftops reached toward the heavens, its walls glittering with gemstones, as though the entire building had been crafted from stardust.
It was a palace... a monument to the king who ruled these lands.
This dark night was no ordinary one. The whole city was decorated like never before.
Every street, every alley, every corner had been draped in flowers, and the roads themselves, where people walked, were lined with petals. It was as if the entire city had been bathed in the essence of spring.
On one of the main roads leading to the grand palace, the streets were lined with vendors, their stalls full of wares... silks, foods, and toys for the children.
Laughter echoed as families wandered from stall to stall, and the sweet aroma of roasted meats, candied fruits, and warm bread filled the air.
Near one of these food stalls, sitting on a wooden bench, was an elderly man.
His back was hunched, and his frail body shook slightly with each breath. He looked as though a gentle breeze might carry him away at any moment.
His skin was wrinkled, his eyes sunken, and he had only three wispy strands of hair left on his head. Despite his appearance, he wore an elegant robe, and there was a calm, contented smile on his face.
In his hand was a walking stick... weathered and worn from years of use. Beside him sat two small children, no older than five... a boy and a girl.
The boy wore a bright blue outfit, while the girl was dressed in a soft pink robe.
They both held large, colorful candies in their hands, eating them with innocent delight. Their giggles and the way they licked their treats in unison painted a picture of pure joy.
The old man watched them with gentle eyes, his smile growing as he listened to their laughter.
The boy, with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, turned to the old man and asked...
"Grandpa, why is the city so decorated today?"
The old man chuckled, a deep, raspy sound, and patted the boy's head gently.
"It's because of our king's marriage."
The boy's eyes widened in awe, and the girl looked up, her candy forgotten for a moment.
"Whoa!" they both exclaimed, excitement lighting up their faces.
The boy, unable to contain himself, leaned forward eagerly.
"Grandpa, is it the same mighty king you always told us about? The one in your stories?"
The old man smiled and nodded.
"Yes, yes. The very same," he said softly.
"Our king… our god."
The girl, her curiosity piqued, tilted her head.
"But wasn't he a demon?" she asked, her voice innocent but laced with confusion.
"You said he was a demon before."
The old man chuckled again, a sad but affectionate sound, as though recalling bittersweet memories.
"Not just any demon," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
"He was the Absolute Demon... the strongest of the demon kind. The most ruthless, the most feared. A being who could destroy worlds with a flick of his hand."
The children stared at him, wide-eyed, their imaginations running wild.
"Then why are we celebrating his marriage?" the boy asked, puzzled.
"Wasn't he bad?"
The old man sighed, shaking his head with a gentle smile.
"Because, children, there was no one kinder than him."
The boy furrowed his brow in confusion.
"But you just said he was the most ruthless…"
The old man's eyes softened, filled with distant memories as he gazed toward the grand palace in the distance.
"The world labeled him as the worst demon, yes. He was feared by everyone. But to us, to his people… he was the most kind-hearted god."
The girl tugged at the old man's sleeve, her curiosity still not satisfied.
"What do you mean, Grandpa? How can a demon be kind?"
The old man chuckled once more, his wrinkled face lighting up as he recalled the past.
"He was so kind, little one, that he did something no one expected. For our sake, for the sake of all his people, he gave away all of his powers. He gave up the cultivation he worked for millions of eons to obtain, just so we could live in peace."
He paused, his voice trembling with emotion.
"There is no one more benevolent than him."
The children exchanged glances, a mixture of awe and admiration in their young eyes. The boy's chest swelled with pride as he stood up on the bench.
"I want to be just like him!" he declared with a wide grin, his hands clenched into tiny fists.
His sister, who had seemed hesitant at first, now nodded eagerly, clearly influenced by her brother's enthusiasm.
"Me too!" she chimed in, her voice soft but determined.
The old man chuckled, his heart warmed by their innocence. But then, his expression darkened, and a deep frown creased his weathered face. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering into a more somber tone.
"But… I truly hope he never regains those powers," he said quietly, his eyes distant and shadowed with old fears.
The children looked up at him, their excitement fading as they sensed the change in his mood.
"Why, Grandpa?" the boy asked, tilting his head in confusion.
The old man closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering words that had haunted him for years... the words spoken by the king himself, on the day he gave away his powers.
The old man's voice trembled as he spoke, recalling that momentous day.
"He said this… on the day he gave up his cultivation…"
He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he remembered the voice... Ye Tian's voice, filled with power and finality.
It was a voice that sounded heavenly, yet it shook the souls of all who heard it. He repeated the words that had been etched into his mind ever since...
"Today… on this day… I give away all of my powers, my cultivation, and the millions of eons of hard work, so that I may see my people live in peace."
The old man paused, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. The children watched him with wide, anxious eyes, waiting for him to continue.
"But," the old man whispered, his voice barely above a breath...
"If for any reason, I must wield these powers again… know this... on that day… this world will cease to exist."
The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, sending a chill down the children's spines. They looked at their grandfather, their innocent faces now filled with fear and uncertainty.
The old man, too, was struck with an old fear. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped his walking stick. He could still hear Ye Tian's voice in his mind, could still feel the weight of those words.
But then, with a deep sigh, the old man shook his head, trying to calm himself.
"There's no way anything like that will happen," he muttered to himself, forcing a small smile.
"Our king is at peace… and so are we."
Just as the old man relaxed, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He squinted, his smile fading as he saw people further down the street running... running toward the grand palace, their faces filled with fear.