In the world of cultivation, the path to power passed through well-defined realms. The first step was Qi Refinement, where a cultivator nurtured the Qi within their body, preparing it for higher realms.
After reaching the seventh layer of Qi Refinement, a cultivator would use spiritual pills and alchemical materials to form a foundation—a crucial step toward the next realm: Foundation Establishment.
Finally, after advancing through the seven levels of Foundation Establishment, the cultivator would condense the free-flowing Qi within their dantian into a golden core, opening the gateway to even greater power.
But Ling Yun, who had just reached the seventh layer of Qi Refinement, had a different plan.
Instead of stabilizing and strengthening his cultivation, he quickly forced it into equilibrium—only to suppress it immediately after.
And then, in a sudden and deliberate move, he injured himself.
An explosion surged from within his body, his veins bulged, and blood gushed from his mouth. Cracks formed in his dantian, and with all his strength, he struck one of his own arms.
Agonizing pain tore through him, yet Ling Yun did not hesitate. He pushed himself further, driving his body to the brink of paralysis, and then—he waited.
Moments later, two guardians of the Foundation Establishment realm leaped down from the cliffs into the valley.
Their eyes widened in shock at the sight of Ling Yun's half-conscious body. The cultivator who had moments ago summoned the shadow of a phoenix in the sky now lay on the ground like a dying man.
The guardians did not hesitate.
One of them pulled out a healing pill from his sleeve and placed it in Ling Yun's mouth.
The other summoned his flying sword, lifting Ling Yun's limp body and carrying him toward Feng Ming City.
Meanwhile, the head of the Feng Clan, who had previously witnessed the phoenix's shadow, suffered a disruption in his cultivation. The celestial phenomenon had put immense pressure on him, forcing him into seclusion.
Though peace seemingly returned to Feng Ming City, Hao Li's body was never found.
Several days later, Ling Yun opened his eyes.
His cultivation had regressed to the first layer of Qi Refinement, yet the energy still coursed through his body. The Dao curse remained—though its grip had weakened.
Silently, he reached for the storage ring he had secretly acquired.
During their journey, whenever Hao Li pointed out certain rare spiritual herbs, Ling Yun would dismiss them as low quality and toss them aside.
But in truth, he had hidden them all within this ring.
A ring gifted to him by an old woman from the Ling Clan—one he had known nothing about until now.
Ling Yun sat in meditation.
One by one, he retrieved the spiritual herbs, arranging them according to the properties described in ancient texts.
Then, he summoned the phoenix flame within him.
No alchemical furnace. No intricate tools.
Only fire, knowledge, and the will of a demon.
In truth, alchemical furnaces were nothing more than tools to facilitate the process.
But true masters of alchemy had no need for them.
They could refine pills of unparalleled purity using only their Qi and their understanding of the Dao—pills whose quality depended not on the furnace, but on the cultivator's skill.
And Ling Yun, even at the seventh layer of Qi Refinement, could produce a pill with at least fifteen percent purity.
But this was only the beginning.
With the experience he possessed as the Heavenly Demon Exalted in his past life, he could push that number even higher—to twenty percent.
His eyes gleamed.
Flames coiled around his hands.
It was time to refine.
By the time he had forged five spiritual pills, his energy was nearly depleted.
Carefully, he stored them in his spatial ring and entered meditation.
As the flow of Qi in his body steadied, a wicked smile formed on his lips.
"The Phoenix's legacy was right. Why would a demon pretend to be an angel?"
"This world is ruled by power. If you are weak, the only thing that awaits you is destruction."
"But I am not one to be crushed by power."
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where fate lay hidden beyond sight.
Ling Yun was not the type to overlook opportunities, nor had he received the Phoenix's legacy by mere chance.
He had always known that legends were a blend of truth and myth.
When people spoke of dragons, they had likely seen high-level serpents.
When stories mentioned mythical treasures, it meant that something was hidden, waiting to be found.
Suddenly, a memory resurfaced—words spoken by the Phoenix echoing in his mind.
"So reincarnation truly exists!"
"And with that technique I created… I seized control of the world's order!?"
But that was not the only revelation.
Something far greater lay beneath it all:
"Seven hidden realms… treasures… the remnants of the Demon's Mountain!"
And most important of all…
Reincarnators always lost their memories.
But he—he had retained every single one of them!
What did that mean?
"Does this mean I preserved my memories by using the reincarnation technique… at the cost of my cultivation?"
But there was something else.
Some of his memories were unclear.
"I had forgotten… In the Sacred Realm, the Dao of Demons is different from the Mortal Realm."
In the Mortal Realm, many forms of Qi existed.
But in the Sacred Realm, only Sacred Qi flowed.
And Sacred Qi was the eternal force that permeated the entire realm.
"So the demons of the Sacred Realm aren't inherently demonic. They simply use techniques that go against conventional cultivation."
"That's why they're called 'demonic' in the first place!"
But if that was true… then did it mean he could recreate simplified versions of his techniques in this world?
Ling Yun tried.
But he quickly realized it was impossible.
The Dao curse, combined with his lack of insight, had sealed off his path to forging a new way in the world of cultivation.
Miles away…
A procession from the Ling Clan moved along a winding road toward Feng Ming City.
Draped in white mourning robes, they traveled in silence, passing through villages and towns.
At their sight, commoners lowered their heads, expressing their respect and condolences.
The Ling Clan—one of the oldest lineages in the Eastern Continent—had defended the land's borders against the Demon Continent for thousands of years.
But civil wars, ambition, and betrayal had fractured their once-unshakable unity.
In the end, these internal conflicts had led them into a bloody war with the Feng Clan.
A war that lasted an entire year, claiming the lives of countless elders and warriors from both sides.
Yet amidst all the bloodshed, one name stood above all others—
The legendary commander of the Ling Clan—Ling Yun.
But in the end, he had been captured by the Feng Clan.
And now, a message had struck the Ling Clan like a bolt of lightning from a stormy sky—
He was dead.
The Ling Clan was traveling to the Kingdom of Feng to reclaim their commander's body.
But was that truly their only purpose?
The Eastern Continent: A Land Ruled by Power
The so-called kingdoms of the Eastern Continent were nothing like the nations one might expect.
In truth, no independent government existed.
The entire land was overseen by a council of powerful clans, and only those with sufficient strength had a say in matters of rule.
The Feng Kingdom was one such self-proclaimed nation. Thanks to its formidable cultivators, it had secured a seat within the ruling council—and even held an official representative.
But kingdoms had no fixed borders.
At times, a kingdom might exist without a single neighboring state—yet it would make no effort to expand.
Because in the Eastern Continent, territory grew with a kingdom's cultivation strength, not with cartographic maps.
Any nation foolish enough to expand without the necessary power faced only one fate—annihilation.
Natural disasters, demonic beasts, and unknown forces would tear them apart.
The Eastern Continent was vast beyond reason—yet even so, it was only half the size of the Central Continent!
To the north of the Central Continent lay a vast, frozen land known as the Northern Plains.
Its size was staggering, yet its brutal cold and monstrous, unimaginable beasts made it nearly uninhabitable.
Only clans that cultivated Ice Qi could survive there.
These extreme landscapes and merciless conditions had created an eerie vastness between kingdoms—widening the gaps between realms, both in distance and in power.
At times, a mere mortal would have to travel for decades just to cross from one kingdom to the next.
Within the Ling Clan's caravan…
A young girl sat in silence, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were red, and her heart weighed heavy with grief.
She was thinking of her dead brother.
When she looked around, she saw the same silent sorrow reflected in the faces of those around her.
Everyone was mourning their young lord—Ling Yun.
He was their hero.
The one who had united the clan.
The one who had played a crucial role in defeating the Feng Clan's cultivators.
He was a true commander.
And yet, in the final battle, he had been defeated under mysterious circumstances and taken captive.
Now, the Ling Clan had lost its Hero.
A genius like Ling Yun no longer stood among them. And because of that, they had been forced to bow their heads before the Feng Clan.
Ling Hua, her eyes swollen from crying, her lips trembling, could only see a dark and uncertain future ahead.
A single tear slid down her cheek—freezing the moment it touched her skin.
Frost Qi surged from her body, coating the silk curtains of the carriage in a thin layer of ice.
As her breath turned to mist in the cold air, she whispered, her voice laced with seething rage—
"I… will have my revenge!"