Lu Fan remained on his secluded island, dedicating himself to cultivation and refining his techniques. Years passed in quiet seclusion as he deepened his understanding of Qi and tempered his body to its limits. The spiritual vein he had nurtured flourished, further enhancing his training.
However, the outside world was not as peaceful. A great calamity struck the cultivation world—the Demonic Disaster had erupted. Countless demonic cultivators emerged, wreaking havoc across the land. Even the mighty Sword Sect, once an unshakable pillar of power, found itself in crisis. Their Nascent Soul ancestor had perished, leaving the sect vulnerable. Taking advantage of this weakness, hordes of evil cultivators launched relentless assaults, plunging the sect into an all-out war.
As news of this catastrophe spread, the balance of power in the cultivation world began to shift. Lu Fan, still isolated on his island, was unaware of the full extent of the turmoil—yet the winds of fate were stirring, and sooner or later, they would reach even his secluded haven.
As the war raged in the cultivation world, some low-level evil Qi cultivators took advantage of the chaos and infiltrated the mortal world. Without the presence of powerful sects or righteous cultivators to keep them in check, these demonic practitioners began spreading fear and destruction.
They raided villages, seized resources, and used mortals for their cruel experiments. Some sought to build their own power bases, recruiting desperate or ambitious individuals and corrupting them with demonic cultivation techniques. Others simply indulged in wanton slaughter, treating the mortal world as their playground.
However, amidst this growing darkness, the legend of the Heavenly Eye still lingered. Many mortals who had once been helpless now had martial techniques inscribed on Lu Fan's sacred pillars. Some had even begun stepping onto the path of cultivation, giving them the strength to resist. Though they were far from being a true force, the seeds of change had been sown.
Unbeknownst to the demonic cultivators, the ripples of their actions were beginning to reach Lu Fan.
In a remote village deep within the mortal region, a group of evil cultivators arrived under the cover of night. Their leader, Ouyang Hanyu, a level 3 Qi Cultivation expert, sneered as he oversaw his subordinates setting up a Ghost Refining Array.
"These ignorant mortals will make excellent sacrifices," Ouyang Hanyu chuckled, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. His men carved sinister runes into the ground, and the array pulsed with eerie black light, designed to extract the souls of the villagers and refine them into vengeful spirits.
The village remained quiet, its residents unaware of the looming disaster—except for a single figure standing at the entrance.
A young man, no older than twenty, stepped forward. His stance was firm, and his body radiated a faint golden glow. He wore simple clothes, but his fists burned with a sacred fire.
"You dare disturb this village?" the young man asked, his voice calm yet unwavering.
Ouyang Hanyu scoffed. "And who are you supposed to be? A mere mortal trying to act brave?"
The young man met his gaze without fear. "I don't need a title. I only know one thing—evil must be punished."
Before Ouyang Hanyu could mock him further, the young man's fists erupted in Holy Sunfire, illuminating the night. The sacred flames surged with terrifying intensity, clashing against the ghostly aura of the array.
Ouyang Hanyu's smirk vanished. "Sunfire? Impossible! That technique should only belong to cultivators!"
The young man clenched his fists, his determination unwavering. "Because someone left us a path to follow."
With those words, he charged forward, fists blazing, ready to purge the evil intruders from his homeland.
An Zhen didn't wait for the three evil cultivators to act—his feet pushed off the ground with explosive force, his body becoming a golden blur as he closed the distance. His right fist, wreathed in Holy Sunfire, struck out like a meteor descending from the heavens.
Ouyang Hanyu, the leader, barely had time to react. He quickly activated his Ghostly Veil Art, shrouding himself in a dark mist. The Holy Sunfire-imbued punch passed through the fog, dispersing some of the ghostly energy but missing its mark.
"You're fast," An Zhen admitted, his gaze sharp.
Ouyang Hanyu smirked. "And you're just a fool playing with fire." With a flick of his fingers, five Shadow Ghouls materialized from the mist, their hollow eyes gleaming with eerie malice. They rushed at An Zhen, their clawed hands slicing through the air.
An Zhen's Sunfire Aura flared to life, his body bursting into golden flames. The moment the first ghoul touched him, it screamed in agony, its body igniting and disintegrating into ashes. Without hesitation, An Zhen launched a spinning kick, sending an arc of fire cutting through two more ghouls, reducing them to nothing.
The other two evil cultivators, Deng Mu and Zhao Lang, moved at the same time.
Deng Mu thrust out his hands, summoning a Black Blood Spear, dripping with corrosive Yin energy. He hurled it toward An Zhen with deadly precision.
At the same time, Zhao Lang raised a Bone Flag, its surface covered in writhing souls. A black wind howled as it released dozens of ghostly chains, all rushing to bind An Zhen.
An Zhen's eyes flashed. He stomped his foot, activating Blazing Sun Burst, sending a wave of holy fire surging outward. The Black Blood Spear melted before it could reach him, and the ghostly chains turned to smoke upon contact.
"What?!" Zhao Lang took a step back, his confidence wavering.
"Fools," Ouyang Hanyu spat. "He cultivates Sunfire—it's the nemesis of all evil arts! Don't fight him head-on!"
But it was too late. An Zhen had already closed the distance.
He appeared before Deng Mu first, his fist crashing into his chest like a falling sun. The moment of impact, Holy Sunfire surged into Deng Mu's body, burning his meridians from the inside. He screamed in agony as his body turned to ash in seconds.
Zhao Lang turned to flee, but An Zhen pointed a single finger at him.
Sunfire Surge!
A beam of sacred fire erupted from his fingertip, piercing Zhao Lang's back. He let out a wretched shriek before his body exploded into a cloud of embers.
Only Ouyang Hanyu remained. His eyes were bloodshot with fear. "No—wait! We were just following orders! I can give you information—"
An Zhen didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward, his fist wreathed in divine flames.
Blazing Sun Annihilation!
The impact sent shockwaves through the ground. Ouyang Hanyu barely had time to scream before his body was vaporized, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth.
The ghost refining array was destroyed. The lingering Yin energy in the village burned away, replaced by a warm golden glow.
As the flames died down, the remaining villagers peeked out from their homes, their eyes filled with awe and gratitude.
An Zhen turned toward them, breathing heavily. "You're safe now."