But…
…it was flawed.
Those words hit Zaroth like a dagger of cold truth, shattering the cocoon of excitement he had wrapped himself in. He had been so engrossed in the grandiosity of the Evil God's journey that he forgot: greatness often bore the scars of imperfection.
Yet, this flaw intrigued him. It hinted at something unnatural—something forbidden. His curiosity surged as he read on.
"Even after forging the Evil God Physique, I discovered that it was not complete. Rumors spoke of realms beyond comprehension, at least 12 to 15 stages higher than I had yet reached. Thus began my journey through countless worlds, seeking insights to perfect my creation. The whispers of my name—Evil God—spread like wildfire across the void."
The sheer audacity of this statement left Zaroth stunned. "He wasn't just a cultivator…he was an unstoppable force. The fact that even he acknowledged flaws means those higher realms must be beyond imagining."
"Five hundred years later, I achieved the True Deity Stage. But cultivation alone was no longer the answer. I had to delve into the mysteries of the Dao itself. My understanding of the Dao aligned with Madness, Corruption, and Assimilation—a path that consumed others, reshaped them, and eventually absorbed their essence into my own."
Zaroth's eyes flicked back to that line. Madness. Corruption. Assimilation. Each word bristled with power, each dripping with sinister intent. "So, he could drive others insane, twist them into something unrecognizable…and then take their essence for himself. That's terrifying," Zaroth thought, his heartbeat quickening. He turned the page.
The words grew heavier as they continued, as though time itself slowed under their weight:
"Days turned into months, months into years, and years into decades. Time became a blur, an endless cycle of birth and death, light and darkness. In that eternal haze, I stumbled upon a new inheritance—a relic of unparalleled power known as the Dao Sealing Heaven Xuanhi."
"This inheritance embodied the righteous Sword Path. Through it, I gleaned unparalleled insights into the Dao of the Sword, forging my own Sword Will and, eventually, a True Sword Intent. But the light of righteousness clashed violently with my demonic nature. The Dao of Madness and the Dao of the Sword could not coexist, and their conflict tore at my soul, leaving me adrift in chaos."
Zaroth felt the tension in the narrative, the weight of a man's struggle against himself. "Even he couldn't escape the consequences of his ambition. But…he twisted that conflict into something monstrous, didn't he?"
The Evil God's words continued, darker now:
"I rejected the Sword Dao's purity and reshaped it in my image. From the ashes of the Dao Sealing Heaven Xuanhi, I created my own art: the Truthful Vile Sword Art. A masterpiece of corruption, it became my Fifth True Heritage. Yet this triumph came at a price."
"As I grew stronger, the Saints of Heaven turned their gaze toward me. These so-called righteous paragons hunted me relentlessly. Even when I reached the False-God Realm, my power was not enough. I lost everything—my physical body, my cultivation. My soul lingered at the Deity Stage, a shadow of what I once was."
Zaroth gripped the edges of the book, his knuckles white. The weight of those words settled heavily on him. "Even at the pinnacle of power, he fell. Yet he still left behind his legacy, scattering his inheritances across the cosmos."
The text's tone shifted, as though the Evil God were speaking directly to him now:
"I divided my Seven True Heritages across the universe. The Seventh lies in my Mortal World. The Sixth, within my Mortal Domain. The Fifth, the Sword Inheritance, rests here, in this world."
"This world, no matter how strong it seems, is a mere backwater compared to the true expanse of existence. Even its greatest warriors—Stellar Beasts, Stellar Warlords, and Astral Magi—are but children compared to an Emperor Stage cultivator. The martial techniques here are primitive, but there is potential. Magic and mana can fuse with qi, creating hybrid techniques, though they will always serve as tools, never the foundation."
Zaroth's mind reeled at the revelation. The Evil God's disdain for this world was palpable, but so was his acknowledgment of its hidden possibilities.
"With this inheritance, you will awaken my Evil God Essence. You will wield my True Sword Intent, my Sword Will, and the rhythm of my Dao. Within these pages, you will find two supreme arts: the Omni-Elemental Refinement Mantra and the Truthful Vile Sword Art."
Zaroth's lips parted as he read on:
"The Omni-Elemental Refinement Mantra allows you to refine any material—organic, inorganic, or abstract. Its uses are limited only by your imagination."
"The Truthful Vile Sword Art is a demonic masterpiece containing twelve techniques. Its power is not only physical but emotional. It manipulates and inflicts emotions, sowing chaos in the hearts of your enemies. Use it wisely, Junior."
The final lines resonated with an eerie finality:
"These are my parting gifts. This is my legacy. Practice them well, for they are beyond the comprehension of this world. Farewell, Evil God."
The text ended, leaving a void in Zaroth's mind. He closed the book slowly, his hands trembling. The sheer weight of the Evil God's words was overwhelming. He had been given a glimpse into the life of a being who had clawed his way to power, defied the heavens, and lost everything—yet still left behind a legacy that could reshape worlds.
Zaroth's excitement returned, tinged now with awe and a flicker of fear. "The Truthful Vile Sword Art…this isn't just a weapon. It's a tool of domination. With it, I can carve my own path."
For the first time, Zaroth felt the stirrings of ambition—not just to follow the Evil God's path but to surpass it.