Chapter 25

"You can push my wheelchair up the stairs," I said calmly, my gaze settling on a young man in the crowd. Without waiting for his response, I pulled out a history book detailing the origins of this world, flipping it open as if the matter was already settled.

The young man froze for a moment, stunned by the unexpected command. But then, his expression shifted to one of delight. Eagerly, he stepped forward and began pushing my wheelchair, his joy palpable as though he had just been granted the greatest honor.

As he pushed my wheelchair, the young man couldn't help but glance at the book I was reading. The history of this world is vast and complex, stretching back millions of years. What caught his attention was the section detailing an era equivalent to the Stone Age—about 2.5 million years ago.

During that time, cultivation was far simpler. The Qi Refinement Realm represented the pinnacle of strength, and the comprehension of the Great Way was the sole focus of cultivation. It wasn't about power or technique but about aligning oneself with the fundamental truths of existence, a pursuit that consumed the attention of everyone in that ancient age.

But how did the Stone Age come to an end? To understand that, we must first look at the Sword Deities. How was such a title born? It originated 2.5 million years ago with the very first Sword Deity, now known as the Heaven Splitting Sword Deity.

This legendary figure changed the course of history when he made his move. Wielding a blade, he cleaved through the heavens themselves, creating a bridge that connected this small world to the immortal realm. This singular act marked the end of the Stone Age and the beginning of a new era of progress and cultivation.

It was because of him that the dream of immortality took root in the hearts of countless people. His actions not only inspired hope but also laid the foundation for the cultivation system to grow into the vast and complex structure it is today.

What made his legacy even more astounding was that, even 2.5 million years after his death, only a few had ever approached the level of strength he once wielded. His power remained a pinnacle that most could only dream of reaching.

That was what made his accomplishments truly remarkable. The Dao governing this small world during his time was far less refined compared to the present era. Yet, even after 2.5 million years of advancements, people still struggle to reach the heights he once achieved.

To this day, countless cultivators grapple with the challenge of cutting through the sky and forging a path to the immortal realm, a feat that the Heaven Splitting Sword Deity accomplished with unparalleled mastery.

The Heaven Splitting Sword Deity could have ascended to the immortal realm back then… but he lacked knowledge of the void. His cultivation, as unmatched as it was, wasn't sufficient to endure the void's chaotic and formless nature. Even his unparalleled swordsmanship proved useless in such an environment.

Overwhelmed and powerless against the void, he was forced to retreat back into this small world. It was here, burdened by the limitations of his era, that he eventually met his end, a tragic conclusion to a life that had reached heights few could fathom.

But when he died, the heavens wept, a phenomenon unprecedented in history. There was no other record of the heavens shedding tears, and for forty days, they cried without pause. Torrential rains flooded the world, drowning vast stretches of land and claiming countless lives.

The devastation didn't end there. The flood gave rise to conflict as the land-dwellers waged war against the Fishmen, who sought to reclaim the submerged territories. But that's a tale for another day.

The reason the heavens cried was simple. The Heaven Splitting Sword Deity was only thirty years old when he died—young, brilliant, and full of untapped potential. He was a genius among geniuses, someone who could have risen to prominence even within the immortal realm.

His downfall became a subject of sorrow and debate for generations, his untimely death leaving a void that many mourned. Yet, even in his demise, his legacy endured. It was through him that the 9 Heavens Fiendgod Cultivation Art first arrived in this world, a gift that forever altered the path of cultivation.

"Young master, are you also interested in the Heaven Splitting Deity?" the young man asked, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Although calling it "pushing" might have been generous, he was currently lifting the entire wheelchair as they ascended the floating stairs.

"You know," I said casually, not even bothering to glance at the young man, "I have instincts that never fail me. I've trained them to such a degree that I can even see glimpses of the future, just by trusting my gut."

My tone was light, almost dismissive as if the revelation was no more significant than a passing remark.

"That's impressive, young master," he said with a wide, overly eager smile that practically screamed flattery.

"But there are a few things that can escape even my instincts," I said lightly, my tone calm and unbothered. "Those protected by heaven's secrets, those with a Fate too overwhelming for me to see into… and a few other rare exceptions."

The young man's smile faltered slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he wondered where I was going with this.

"This is my first time encountering a demon," I said calmly, my tone steady and detached. "So, I couldn't help myself, I had to ask you to be the one."

Instantly, the young man froze. His pupils shrank, and for a fleeting moment, I could feel the tension in his body as if he were preparing to attack. But he hesitated, his instincts screaming that any such move would guarantee his death.

"Keep pushing," I said calmly, my voice devoid of concern. "I couldn't care less if you were the reincarnation of the heavens themselves. This pointless war between our world and the demons that's dragged on for 2.5 million years doesn't interest me."

The young man hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. But after a deep breath, he resumed pushing, or rather, lifting, the wheelchair. His heart pounded so violently it seemed as though it might burst, the fear coursing through him almost tangible.

"You were given the task of getting close to me," I said calmly, my voice carrying an edge of quiet certainty. "To extract every benefit you could before eventually killing me. You're one of six others chosen for this task, special demons selected for your talents and your human-like appearance."

The young man's eyes widened, trembling with unease. His fear was palpable now, his carefully constructed facade cracking under the weight of my words.

"Should I kill you?" I mused lightly, my tone was as calm as if I were discussing the weather. "Or perhaps I should step into the demon realm and start a bloodbath. This prince isn't someone to be schemed against."

The moment the words left my lips, a wave of killing intent surged forth, suffocating the young man. His knees nearly buckled under the weight of it, and for a moment, he truly believed he was about to die.

Sweat drenched his forehead as he fought to steady himself, clutching his neck as though that alone would keep him grounded. His mind was overwhelmed by vivid illusions of his body being torn apart, his head crushed, and countless other cruel deaths. Only when I reined in my intent did he manage to catch his breath, though his trembling form betrayed just how close he'd come to breaking.