The last day

The Realm of Heaven and earth

The World of Hengjie

In the beginning, there was only the endless void—an infinite expanse of nothingness. But then, in the depths of this dark space, a sudden and violent collision shattered the silence. From this cosmic upheaval, four primordial forces were born: Chaos, Creation, Space, and Time. These mighty spirits, each wielding unfathomable power, came together in a grand convergence. Through their combined will and effort, the world of Hengjie was forged—a realm where the essence of these ancient forces gave birth to all that exists.

A cold and icy abyss .....

Long ago, nestled deep within the snow-clad mountains, there lay a small village in Shuangxue, the Land of Dark Ice. The name itself was born from the land's eerie landscape, where instead of pure white snow, a strange black hue covered everything. This wasn't just ordinary snow; it had a unique power. The black snow could nurture any heavenly treasure to its peak, giving birth to plants and herbs of unimaginable potency.

This mysterious land didn't go unnoticed. Ancient clans, whose origins were as old as humanity itself, soon encircled Shuangxue. Their greed wasn't just for the treasures the land could grow, but for something even more precious—an ancient martial art that only the villagers of Shuangxue possessed. A secret so powerful, it was said to rival the heavens themselves.

When men from distant lands, driven by greed and ambition, marched to seize this sacred ground, a single figure emerged to stand in their way. He was young, yet his presence was overwhelming, like that of a true sovereign. This was the Last Dark Sovereign, a master of the Dark Arts of Chaos, a martial art so fearsome that its name alone could stir terror in the hearts of even the bravest warriors.

As he stood before the invaders, his aura radiated an ancient, indomitable power. The sky darkened, and the air grew thick with tension. He fought with the ferocity of a storm, his dark arts turning the battlefield into a chaotic dance of destruction. Yet, despite his unmatched skill and unwavering resolve, the alliance of ancient clans overwhelmed him. They razed the village, leaving nothing but blood and blackened snow in their wake. The treasured martial arts they sought, however, remained elusive, lost to the ages—hidden within the whispers of the wind and the dark snow that covered the land.

"Clap… clap…"

The sound of applause broke the silence. It came from the children who had been listening intently to the story, their eyes wide with wonder.

The old man took a slow sip from his small cup of tea as the children's curiosity grew. A young girl, her face full of wonder, asked, "Grandpa, where did you hear this tale? And why is there no mention of the Sovereign? Were there any survivors from those ancient times?"

The old man set down his cup with a sigh and replied, "Ah, this tale is just that—a tale. No one can say for certain if it's real or mere legend. As for survivors, who can say? The world has changed much since then."

With that, he stood up, nodding to the children. They watched in silence as he left their small, humble neighborhood and made his way into a dark, sprawling alley. Here, the sound of the bustling city seemed to vanish, replaced by an oppressive silence. Shadows lurked in the corners, and piercing eyes watched him from the darkness, their glints suggesting danger. Yet, the old man remained unfazed, his steps steady and unhurried as he moved deeper into the ominous alley.

The old man stepped into the vast, open field just beyond the town's edge, his every movement deliberate and unhurried. The night was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves under the gentle breeze. Only now did he turn to look back for the first time since their journey had begun.

Behind him, a sight that would have struck terror into any mortal heart unfolded. A thousand figures, each cloaked in darkness, stood poised with lethal intent. Their chi flared in unison, a wave of invisible pressure emanating from them—each one a master at the Martial King level, honed by countless battles and bloodshed.

But even among these skilled killers, three figures stood apart. Their chi was not just powerful; it was an overwhelming force of nature, so intense that it nearly obliterated the presence of the others. The sheer magnitude of their energy warped the atmosphere, and the ground beneath them seemed to vibrate with the force of their aura. These four were the leaders, each possessing a cultivation level far beyond that of a Martial King, martial saint to be exact ,And it looks like they contained thier cultivation Martial king's to come to the mortal realm "

They were not merely assassins; they were the Supreme Masters of their respective clans, each one a sovereign in their own right. The open ground that stretched between them was no longer neutral territory—it was a battlefield, crackling with the unspoken fury of their impending clash.

The old man felt the air grow heavy with the weight of their combined chi, and a cold, bitter anger seemed to seep from the very earth. The four Supreme Masters were here to settle a score, their presence a testament to the gravity of the conflict that would soon erupt. This was no mere skirmish; it was a battle that would reshape the balance of power among the clans.

"It seems you truly fled to the mortal realm. Not a wise choice, Song Luoxu," remarked Bailong Jianxiu, the Dragon Sword, his voice calm and mocking as he stroked his white beard. Clad in a robe of blue and red, with a dragon-embroidered sword at his side, his eyes gleamed with an almost playful malice.

Seeing the faint smile on Jianxiu's face, the old man, Song Luoxu, responded cheerfully, "Don't worry, Dragon Sword. I came here to savor the last moments of my life. But now, with you all standing in my way, it seems a peaceful death is not in the cards for me."

"Peace? A demon like you couldn't possibly know the meaning of it," scoffed Long Tianshen, the Heavenly Leader, his voice laced with disdain.

"Why don't we just kill him already?" Heiyu Duye, the Poison King, suggested coldly, his eyes narrowing with impatience.

The Blood Monarch, Gu Xueyan, gave a silent nod, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever, perfectly in line with his reputation for rarely speaking.

As their remarks hung in the air and their weapons gleamed in the dim light, Song Luoxu remained unfazed. With a deliberate motion, he unsheathed his dark sword—a blade so deeply ebony that it absorbed all light, its surface reflecting nothing. The sword, an embodiment of the chaos arts, seemed to pulse with an ominous energy, marking Song Luoxu as its final master.

The sight of the sword, with its inky blackness that even blood could not stain, made the Four Supremes pause, acknowledging its fearsome power.

"A marvel of your clan, truly," remarked Bailong Jianxiu, his admiration begrudging but sincere. "A blade that exists by its own will, growing stronger with its wielder. It is something beyond compare."

"Enough with the flattery, Dragon Sword. We're here to kill him and retrieve the Time Bead," Heiyu Duye snapped, his voice sharp.

The Time Bead—one of the Ten Spirit Weapons, imbued with the power of the Four Origins. Once securely hidden in the Heavenly Court's secret array, it had been stolen by Song Luoxu for almost, whose unmatched abilities had allowed him to escape to the mortal realm and survive there for another 500 year's as an old scholar.

"To think the Dark Clan had a hidden successor like you," Long Tianshen mused, his tone almost impressed. "You're nothing like your grandfather. He was righteous, despite his unfortunate end—we framed him and killed him. But you… you're the embodiment of evil, willing to do anything to achieve your goals."

The Blood Monarch's words were meant to provoke, but Song Luoxu remained emotionless. His eyes, cold and distant, seemed to be searching for something beyond the present, something deeper. Yet, despite all he had achieved, there was still something missing, something unfulfilled.

Within moments, a thousand martail masters descended upon him, their weapons aimed to kill. But with a single, fluid movement of his blade, the entire battlefield froze over, encased in black ice. The Four Supremes, undeterred, launched their combined attack—a force so powerful that the entire mortal realm trembled under its might.

Song Luoxu fought valiantly, his blade moving with unmatched speed, deflecting and countering each assault. Yet the relentless onslaught from the Four Supremes pushed him to his limits. Blood trickled down his forehead as his old body struggled to withstand the continuous barrage.

With a final, desperate act, Song Luoxu plunged his dark sword deep into the earth, its ominous power reverberating through the ground. Grasping the Time Bead tightly in his hand, he began channeling all of his remaining qi into it. Seeing this, the Four Supremes grew frantic, their faces twisting with urgency as they swung their weapons furiously, desperate to stop him.

Despite the blood spilling from his mouth and the countless blades piercing his body, a faint smile appeared on Song Luoxu's face. Before the Supremes could react, the Time Bead activated, unleashing a blinding light. The Supremes' faces contorted with rage and anguish, blood dripping from their eyes as they realized they were too late.

Song Luoxu stood unmoving amidst the chaos, his voice calm and resolute as he whispered, "In the next life, I shall become a great once more."