Chapter One: No Regrets Even in Death, the Heart of the Demon

"Release the Spring Autumn Cicada, Fang Yuan, and I'll make your death swift!"

"Fang, you demon, don't delude yourself. Today, the righteous sects have united to crush your evil lair. We've set up an inescapable trap. Your end is certain!"

"Fang Yuan, you damned devil. For the sake of refining the Spring Autumn Cicada, you've slaughtered millions. Your sins are unforgivable, countless and heinous!"

"Devil, three hundred years ago, you insulted me, took away my innocence, exterminated my entire family, wiped out my kin. Since then, I've longed to devour your flesh, drink your blood! Today, I'll make you wish you were dead!!"

…

Fang Yuan, clad in tattered verdant robes, disheveled and drenched in blood, surveys his surroundings.

The mountain winds billow his blood-stained robes, sounding like fluttering war flags.

Crimson blood gushes from hundreds of wounds on his body. Merely standing there, a pool of blood forms beneath his feet.

Surrounded by enemies, there's no way out.

The die is cast, death is inevitable today.

Fang Yuan calmly observes the situation, unperturbed even facing death.

His gaze, profound as an ancient well, remains inscrutable as ever.

The righteous heroes besieging him, whether esteemed elders of prestigious sects or renowned young talents, encircle him. They roar, sneer, squint with vigilance, or stare in fear at their wounds.

They refrain from attacking, fearing Fang Yuan's last-ditch retaliation.

For three tense hours, they stand at an impasse. As the sun sets, the evening glow ignites the mountainside, ablaze with dazzling colors.

Amidst the tense standoff, Fang Yuan slowly turns.

The heroes instantly stir, retreating a step in unison.

Under his feet, the ashen mountain rocks are dyed dark red from the profuse bleeding. His face, drained pale from blood loss, catches the sunset's light, radiating an unexpected charm.

Gazing at the sunset over the green mountains, Fang Yuan softly chuckles, "Green hills under the setting sun, seasons change swiftly as threads turn to snow. Right and wrong, success and failure, all transient."

As he speaks, memories from his previous life on Earth suddenly flood his mind.

Originally a Chinese scholar on Earth, he crossed into this world by a twist of fate. Roaming for three hundred years, dominating for over two hundred, the passing of five hundred years feels fleeting.

Many buried memories resurface vividly at this moment.

"Ultimately, it's a failure," Fang Yuan sighs inwardly, somewhat nostalgic but unregretful.

He foresaw this outcome when he made his initial choice.

The so-called demonic path disregards benevolence, committing murder and arson. Shunned by the world, surrounded by enemies, yet pursuing boundless freedom.

"If the recently refined Spring Autumn Cicada had worked, I'd still be an evil specter in my next life!" With this thought, Fang Yuan can't help but burst into laughter.

"Old devil, what are you laughing at?"

"Be careful, the devil is about to counterattack in his dying moments!"

"Quick, hand over the Spring Autumn Cicada!!"

Pressured by the heroes, at that moment, Fang Yuan detonates himself.

…

The drizzle silently moistens Qing Mao Mountain without a sound.

Night has fallen, a cool breeze carries the faint rain.

Despite the late hour, Qing Mao Mountain isn't in darkness. From the mountain's base to its peak, glimmers of light adorn it like a brilliant band.

These lights emanate from high-raised suspension houses, not in the scale of a metropolis but numbering in the thousands.

It's the ancient Yue Clan settlement nestled on Qing Mao Mountain, infusing the vast, tranquil mountains with a vibrant human touch.

At the center of the Yue Clan settlement stands a grand and magnificent building. Now hosting a sacrificial ceremony, it shines brightly with countless lights.

"Bless our ancestors. May tomorrow's Opening Ceremony yield many outstanding youngsters, adding new blood and hope to our family!" The middle-aged Yue Clan Patriarch, with a touch of frost at his temples, dressed in solemn white sacrificial robes, kneels on the yellow-brown floor, torso upright, palms pressed together, eyes closed, fervently praying.

He faces a tall black lacquered altar with three tiers, bearing ancestral tablets. On each side of the tablets are red copper incense burners, wafting smoke.

Behind him, a dozen or so elders similarly clad in expansive white robes, are the family's elders and decision-makers, wielding various powers.

After the prayer, the Yue Clan Patriarch bows first, hands flat on the floor, palms tightly pressed against the ground, forehead gently knocking on the earth, emitting soft thuds.

The elders behind him, bearing solemn expressions, silently emulate his actions.

For a moment, the clan temple is filled with the sound of foreheads gently touching the floor.

As the ceremony concludes, the people slowly rise from the floor, quietly exiting the majestic temple.

In the corridor, the elders exhale quietly, a subtle relaxation spreading among them.

Conversations gradually begin.

"Time passes so swiftly. Blink, and a year is gone."

"Last year's Opening Ceremony seems like yesterday, still vivid in my memory."

"Tomorrow marks the annual Opening Ceremony. Wonder what kind of family talent will emerge this year?"

"Sigh, hoping for a Grade A talent. It's been three years since our Yue Clan had such a genius."

"Indeed, Bai and Xiong Clans have produced talents in recent years. Especially White Clan's White Ice, frightening talent."

Someone mentioned the name White Ice, and worry lines appeared on the elders' faces.

This youth's talent was exceptionally outstanding. In just two years, he advanced to a third-level Gu Master. Among the younger generation, he stood unparalleled. Even the older generation felt the pressure from this upstart.

Given time, he would undoubtedly become the pillar of the White Clan. At the very least, a formidable figure. No one doubted this.

"But among the youths participating in tomorrow's Opening Ceremony, there's hope too."

"Yes, the Fang Clan has a genius youth. Speaking fluently at three months, walking at four, composing poetry at five. Exceptionally intelligent and talented. Sadly, orphaned early, now raised by his uncle and aunt."

"Yes, early intelligence and grand aspirations. His recent works like 'Toasting', 'Ode to Plum Blossoms', and 'River City's Sonnet' have received praise. A true prodigy!"

The last to exit the ancestral shrine, the Yue Clan Patriarch slowly closes the doors, hearing the voices of the elders in the corridor.

He knows the elders discuss a young man named Fang Yuan, the most outstanding among the juniors.

As the clan head, attention naturally centers on these exceptional juniors. Fang Yuan shines the brightest among the younger generation.

Experience dictates that those who possess an exceptional memory, exceptional strength from a young age, or those who have early wisdom often exhibit exceptional potential in cultivation.

"If this lad demonstrates a Grade A aptitude, nurture him well. He might stand against White Ice. Even if it's a Grade B aptitude, he'll likely become a significant figure. But with his early wisdom, the likelihood of Grade B is slim, highly likely to be Grade A," this thought crosses the Patriarch's mind, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Soon after, he coughs lightly, advising the elders, "Gentlemen, it's late. Rest well tonight for tomorrow's Opening Ceremony. Preserve your spirits."

The elders, aware of the implications in the Patriarch's words, exchange guarded glances.

Each year, the struggle to recruit these talented youngsters turns fierce, often leading to heated competitions and clashes.

"Let's prepare well and compete fairly without resorting to treachery or undermining family unity. Keep this in mind," the Patriarch emphasizes sternly.

"We won't dare to disobey."

"Always at the forefront of our minds."

"We take our leave, Patriarch, please rest well."

The elders disperse, each lost in their thoughts. Shortly, the lengthy corridor falls into silence. The night's drizzle, carried by a slanting breeze, permeates the atmosphere.

On the third floor of the attic, the Patriarch gazes outward through a window. Fresh mountain air fills his senses, refreshing and invigorating.

Surveying most of the Yue Clan settlement from this vantage point, he sighs deeply.

This is the late night, and yet, many homes in the settlement remain alight, a stark contrast to usual times.

Tomorrow is the Opening Ceremony, influencing everyone's fortunes. An atmosphere of excitement and tension blankets the people, causing sleepless nights for many.

"These are the hopes of our family's future," the Patriarch sighs, watching the scattered lights on the mountain, reflecting on his complex emotions.

Simultaneously, a pair of bright and clear eyes quietly observes these shimmering lights in the late night, filled with intricate sentiments.

"Yue Clan settlement, five hundred years ago?! The Spring Autumn Cicada truly worked..." Fang Yuan's eyes gleam, standing by the window, allowing the rain and wind to pelt him.

The Spring Autumn Cicada's effect is time reversal. Ranked seventh among the top ten Gu, its significance is substantial.

In short, it grants rebirth.

"By using the Spring Autumn Cicada, I've returned five hundred years!" Fang Yuan extends his hand, fixing his gaze on his young, somewhat pale palm, slowly clenching it to feel its reality.

Raindrops patter on the window, Fang Yuan closes his eyes, eventually exhaling, "Five hundred years of experiences, truly felt like a dream."

Yet, he's keenly aware—this is no dream.```