"This is what you get you demon!"

"Die monster, just die already"

"Master, you can finally rest in peace now..."

"Junior sister, you have been avenged"

"Mom, Dad, It has been done"

"Haha, my disciples, your wait is finally over, master is coming..."

Countless such voices echoed throughout the world as dozens of peak powerhouses watched a single man, burn to ashes right in front of their eyes.

The world had been plunged into an unprecedented dark age as the greatest Demonic Ancestor of all time had arisen.

He had brought with him numerous teams of dead-loyal followers that he had garnered during his rise and on the day of his enthronement, countless demonic cultivators from across the entire realm had paid homage to him.

It had truly been a sight to see, as a single figure sat domineeringly upon the sky, flanked by experts the mere appearance of whom would shake heaven and earth, fully unleashing their auras that boiled the very space that surrounded them.

Under his throne was a terrifying army, composed of millions of the most atrocious and maleficient demonic cultivators, exceptionally corrupt and evil individuals who used the life essence of humans to increase their own power.

Such people are inherently selfish and will not hesitate to betray even themselves in their quest to quench their never-ending thirst for blood and carnage.

Yet nearly all of the demonic cultivators in the world had gathered together under a single banner to perform pilgrimage in order to honor the ascension of the first Demonic Ancestor of the era.

The scenery of that time and place was simply unforgettable for all those who had seen it.

People who could and would end your life at the slightest whim were all fanatically chanting the same name as they brushed each other's shoulders in the delight of a new age; one that would flourish in the blood of the innocents, one in which they, would revel as none would dare to oppose them.

His name itself was taboo. Speaking it would result in the passing away of your entire bloodline, and yourself. Merely thinking of the name would cause your head to explode if you were not strong enough to withstand the mental shock such an action would recoil in.

He was the Demon Ancestor of Tarnation.

A figure hated to the bone by the Twelve Holy Powers. But there was nothing to be done.

The Twelve Holy Powers were once second only to the Three Ruling Religions, the true overlords of the time. Ironically, however, it was only with the rise of the Demon Emperor that they could occupy the position of the strongest factions.

The Demon Ancestor had singlehandedly wiped out all three of the major religions on the day of his inauguration.

That day, the wave of a hand caused blood to flow in rivers and form seas of depth unimaginable. It caused the mountains of stone to be overshadowed by those of corpses. The skies had turned black, and red rain poured for decades on end - as if heaven itself were mourning the end of righteousness in the world, enveloping the world in a gloom that foreshadowed all the injustice that was to come.

And so began a new age. One filled with sorrow, despair, and a depression that overcame every single man, woman, and child.

Regardless of whether they were mortal or not, whether it was an itinerant cultivator or the sect master of a holy land, they were all filled with a sense of panic and fright that filled them till they were at the verge of mental collapse, leaving absolutely no room for anything else.

That is unless they were part of the lucky ones.

Living through those times was worse than not living at all for many, if not most.

To have to bear the anguish and hopelessness of watching your loved ones be tortured, ridiculed, and often desecrated before they were mercilessly slaughtered.

To listen to the laughter and joy of their murderers as they danced around you and sang in pleasure as if savoring every moment of the time that would cause you to have countless rabid nightmares for the rest of your days. Relishing in the blood of those you cared for more than your very life.

Most people cracked at that point. With the anger and resentment gushing through your very veins and the fire burning away at your consciousness being pumped throughout your body.

As your eyes burst out in tears, regardless of whether it was from your boundless grief or your bottomless rage you plunge out from where you stand with every ounce of strength you have left and more, only to be pulled back by the chains that bind your arms, legs, and neck. Enslaved you are, in both body and soul.

You fall to the ground in helplessness as a cold foot smashes your head to the ground with such intensity that you find it nearly completely splits in half, grinding it away on the earth as even more joyous laughter resounds in your ears.

"Just kill him already"

"Yeah end his misery..."

Some of the more sympathetic few would say.

"Stop, he'll die if you hit him so hard, we haven't had enough fun yet"

"Yeah, I want to see him eat his own dick after we chop it off"

"Haha, I have to get this on my jade camera!"

Are some of the more tame iterations that the unforgiving ones would shout.

Your blood would boil in the endless hatred that had already consumed you.

Your thoughts in disarray as your body subconsciously squirmed in desperation, a hopeless attempt at breaking free that would only be stomped down as your arms were first broken.

They had kicked in your elbows, making your arm reach your shoulders from behind as the bones splintered your flesh and their cold touch on your other arm made you shudder uncontrollably; of course, there would never be any mercy.

Then would come your legs as they kicked your knees till the tip of your toes touched your thighs.

Oftentimes your eyes would be dug out as well, frequently with spoons heated till they were just hot enough to burn you with a pain that made your heart explode but not enough to melt them completely.

The frustration and unending hatred that simply overflowed from you would often create dark entities and bad karma spots nearby, adversely affecting those in the surroundings.

Of course, this is long after all sorts of torture and injustice have been implemented on you, after your shamefully unfortunate and unspeakably cruel death.

Countless such scenes would take place every day throughout the entire world.

The demonic cultivators were in an unchecked and unprecedented position of power.

Never in history had demonic cultivators been so open, or even feared for that matter.

In fact, such boundless fear that overcame the people would often evolve into reverence, as they worshiped the demons and sought to join them with every ounce of their being.

On another note, no other time in history had demonic cultivators been so united either.

Unified under the banner of the Demon Ancestor these freaks of nature for the first time in their existence formed their own elitist civilization.

Countless sects and clans had risen during this dark time. And countless more had fallen.

The Demon Ancestor himself was far too high above to worry himself with such trivial matters.

He was so high up in fact, that even the tormenting of the great masters of the righteous side, reduced to a mere corner in that age, were left to his servants.

But these are the Demon Ancestor's servants, they aren't any regular lackeys or goons that you'd find off a dark alley.

These were the 36 Demon Kings and the 9 Demon Emperors. Together they utterly suppressed all Twelve Holy Powers to the point they dare not even breathe without permission.

Although the righteous side was still left with their countless life-saving and foundation-building treasures and methods.

Which power would be generous enough to undermine their own safety and benefits to ensure the cleansing of the world?

Who would be so selfless to give themselves and the incalculable effort of their predecessors away?

None, after all, righteousness is still only relative at the end of the day.

Of course, there were plenty that attempted such an undertaking but needless to say they were all met with an ill-fate, serving as a further deterrent to those who dared to even entertain such thoughts, regardless of whether it was only in their wildest fantasies, or not.

So how did such a mighty Demonic Ancestor fall?

It all began with a woman.

A woman completely ordinary, with an ordinary background, and an ordinary appearance to boot.

A mortal woman, in fact.

Yet it was this woman, the inhumane and grueling death of whom, led to the rise of a generation of incomprehensible geniuses that fought their way out of the demonic path and brought back light to this miserable world.

It was this group of 13 young men and women who led the Revolution of Righteousness to stand up against the evil and chaos of the Demon Ancestor of Tarnation.

They were called the Thirteen Heroes and together, one by one, they felled the untouchable 36 Demonic Kings.

And then came the 9 Demonic Emperors.

Soon, even the Demon Ancestor could only resort to being hunted down.

But it did not come without a price.

The entire history of the world was wiped out.

The Demon Ancestor in his rage destroyed all Twelve Holy Powers and killed every single expert above the Nebula Realm.

Countless people died at his hands.

And the backlash from all of that negative karma finally came. All those curses and wishes for his downfall finally hit him on the back of his head like a punch from a gorilla to an ordinary person.

His powers were stripped away by heaven itself and he dropped to a pitiful level.

This opportunity was taken in full by the Thirteen Heroes who chased him to the ends of the world and back until they finally cornered him in an earth-shattering finale.

The Demon Ancestor may have lost his powers and he may have fallen to an entire major realm below the Thirteen Heroes.

But he was still a genius. To have become the Demon Ancestor in the first place he must have been a heaven-defying genius that broke all boundaries of current cognition. And it was exactly as such.

Even below the Thirteen Heroes in realm, he fought them all alone at the same time.

But to properly emphasize exactly how mighty and unrealistically supreme he was at his peak. I must mention that -

The Thirteen Heroes were still under five hundred years old at this point in time, while the Demon Ancestor was under a thousand.

Yet the Thirteen Heroes had slain all 36 Demonic Kings and all 9 Demonic Emperors by themselves, often in sieges where both parties were equally matched in number.

These Demonic Kings and Emperors were monsters that had cultivated for eons, fossils so old they had seen the rise and fall of countless empires.

Thus it is only right for their cultivation to have been just as unfathomable as their age, and yet the Thirteen Heroes were able to cross numerous major realms and fight them at their peak.

And the Thirteen Heroes were still increasing in strength when the fight with the Demon Ancestor had begun.

Yet they were all...

Being suppressed?

Their heaven-defying combat power was being pushed to the floor by an even more horrifying force of domination.

Yes, you read that right. The Demon Ancestor was wiping the floor with these era-defining figures.

And that too while being an entire major realm below them in cultivation, his power constantly dissipating, his strength relentlessly falling.

Yet the heavens were still too slow.

Yet the cries of countless people were still too quiet.

Yet the strength of these prodigies was still too weak.

In front of the true face of an era, the first throughout ancient and modern times, they were mercilessly butchered.

The Spear Hero was the first to go down, a single punch straight to his chest was all it took for the strongest master in physical strength to explode in a rain of blood.

The Fantasy Hero had the cruelest death though. A woman as remarkably beautiful as her was tortured to a simply ridiculous length. Trapped in an illusion, the type of power she herself specialized in, she was forced to withstand an unbearable physical torment from which the only way to escape was to tear her own skin and flesh apart. She died at her own hands, the most beautiful woman of the time, died by devastating her own appearance.

The Demon Hero died the most shameful death, betraying his sworn brothers and sisters when he attempted to join the Demon Ancestor. Only to be shot down by a torrent of blood that encompassed him in a sphere of blood, slowly drowning him as he unabashedly begged for mercy.

Yet the most outrageous and despairing death belonged to the Spectre Hero, the strongest of the Thirteen Heroes who specialized in spiritual power. His very soul was ripped from his body and he was helpless to do anything about it. The man who served as the face for cultivating the soul and was renowned for having the most robust spiritual power in the endless history of the world. He was able to do absolutely nothing to stop it as his own soul was wrenched out of his Linghun Aperture with excruciating pain and he could only watch as his life slowly faded away.

Until only four of the thirteen heroes remained.

These four were namely, Star Hero, Flame Hero, Sword Hero, and the leader of the Thirteen Heroes, Balance Hero.

Together these four finally brought the Demon Ancestor to his knees as he was now barely stronger than a mortal.

The sacrifice of the nine late heroes was not in vain as they had bought the others enough time to reduce the Demon Ancestor's strength to a level that could barely be defeated by these four heroes.

Star Hero exploded countless constellations in the vast starry sky and rained down the power of origin from the heavens themselves, bombarding the Demon Ancestor like drops of acetone on a block of styrofoam.

The Sword Hero plunged his sword, his birth dharma treasure, into the very heart of the Demon Ancestor, skewering him to the ground, preventing him from getting up as he so desperately tried.

The Flame Hero used his innate gift of the Karmic Reincarnation Flame to burn the Demon Ancestor in an inferno that fed on his sins. Blazing brighter and brighter till it glowed like the sun on a hot summer afternoon.

Finally, the Balance Hero commanded the will of the world to clear up the corruption and dirt stuck in the gears of fate, intensifying the power of good and weakening that of evil he struck out with a palm; the Order Restoration Kung Fu was the strongest martial art in the entire world, encompassing the myriad races and countless forces of chaos and balance it had a strength unparalleled in both ancient and modern times.

And as that palm fell the Demon Ancestor of Tarnation was pushed to his final few breaths.

And in that moment, he only had a single emotion - regret.

It was not hatred, nor was it anger or resentment. It was a single feeling that overshadowed his entire being, the regret of all his actions that culminated not in his death, but in the death of so many other people, countless people most of whom were truly innocent.

The death of mortals may be inconsequential to cultivators, but at the end of they day, they are all human.

Playing with the lives of humans is an unforgivable sin, and he realizes this in his last moments.

A golden light of purity envelopes him as his body slowly reconstructs itself into that of a clear, pure, human body. He acquires the innate physique spoken of only in legends, a power that is said to be insurmountable, simply invincible throughout the universe; it was the Exalted Nirvana Physique, a constitution so rare the only known embodiment for it was the symbol of the first God Emperor of Mankind.

Unfortunately, this enlightenment came to the Demon Ancestor far too late.

He had already been burnt to an unholy mass of blackened flesh and noxious gases by the Karmic Reincarnation Flames and his consciousness had faded to the faintest shade of existence.

The last thing he heard was the roar of the world as it rejoiced in a heaven-shaking tremor, utterly delighted at the removal of such blight.

This tale has since then been immortalized by history as the journey of death, destruction, chaos, and finally, restoration.

It is the founding story of the Dao Returning Sect, the power that reinstated the correct path of cultivation in the world and is currently responsible for enforcing justice throughout the universe.

And in this epic tale of the inevitable triumph of good over evil, only a single name has been recorded. It is the name of the strongest cultivator to have ever walked this world and in honor of such unfathomable strength, his importance has been emphasized beyond all others.

He is the Demon Ancestor of Tarnation, Han Xuanyuan.