Demonic Insanity

The battle between the two factions had begun. The Feng faction held the advantage in numbers, while the Ling family, along with other clans unwilling to align with Feng Dong, had no choice but to stand together on the opposing front.

The Feng palace was engulfed in flames. The blood of cultivators stained the ground.

Ling Yun wasted no time joining the fray. Without hesitation, he faced the enemy clans, his sword cutting through the air. With each strike, heads fell in droves. And yet, he had not even revealed his true power.

The elders of the Ling family were surrounded. They fought, they killed, and they were killed. Both sides suffered heavy casualties.

Feng Dong's gaze locked onto Ling Yun. In an instant, he leaped toward him with a powerful charge.

Ling Wei, who had been watching his movements closely, immediately sprang into action, clearing a path as he ran toward Ling Yun. His voice rang out in warning:

"Watch out!"

Expecting the attack, Ling Yun swiftly shifted his stance, driving his sword through the chest of a Feng clan cultivator.

Feng Dong landed with immense force, the impact creating a deep crater beneath him. Those within a ten-meter radius could feel the tremor ripple through the ground.

Ling Wei rushed in and engaged Feng Dong, his blade clashing against his opponent's with ferocious intensity. Two other elders quickly joined the fight after exchanging a few blows. Now, three stood against one.

Feng Dong let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"Hahaha! Ling insects! Even three of you together can't take me down!"

A flicker of unease crossed Ling Wei's mind. There was bitter truth in those words. Still, if they could stall him for even a little while, perhaps Ling Yun would have a chance to escape.

"Ling Yun! Get out of here! We'll hold him off!"

One of the elders shouted as well.

"Boy! We're done for! You must survive!"

Ling Yun wiped the blood from his sword, his expression unreadable. His eyes betrayed neither fear nor sorrow.

At that moment, five enemies rushed toward him at once. There was no time to think—only to react. With lightning-fast movements, he severed their limbs one by one, cutting them down in an instant.

Blood, like crimson lightning, splattered across his once-white robes.

He thought to himself,

"So... it's come to this after all."

When he came to his senses, he saw Feng Dong strike, sending his father and the two remaining elders hurtling through the air.

Now, only a handful of Ling family members remained. Those still alive had been cornered, mercilessly hunted down one by one.

The corpses of Ling cultivators lay scattered across the Feng palace grounds like autumn leaves—fallen, lifeless, and forgotten.

From the very start, he had known.

There was never a chance of victory.

In truth, they had all known. From the moment the ling clan was destroyed by the demons, this battlefield had become their slaughterhouse.

And yet, they had chosen to die in battle rather than live in chains.

For them, this death was an honor.

Ling Yun smirked. Blood dripped down his cheek.

'Honor? There's no honor in dying...'

The united army of the Feng clan had completely encircled him.

Amid the battlefield, Feng Dong, eyes burning with fury, tore the last two surviving elders of the Ling family apart before Ling Yun's gaze. But Ling Yun didn't react.

The Feng soldiers dragged his father forward, tossing him at Feng Dong's feet with merciless force.

His father coughed up blood. One of his eyes was gone. Gasping for breath, he whispered something under his breath—but his voice never reached Ling Yun.

Ling Yun's eyes were empty. Indifferent.

Even when Feng Dong placed a foot on his father's head and crushed it beneath his heel, no emotion surfaced in those vacant eyes.

He only stood there, watching his clan being butchered. He heard Feng Dong's laughter echoing through the chaos, but he remained silent.

The encirclement tightened. The Feng soldiers were now only five meters away.

He could see the rage in their eyes.

Feng Dong took a step closer, his gaze dripping with contempt. He roared,

"Ling Yun! Do you see it now!? This is where you bastards belong! Drop your weapon and surrender your life to me!"

Then, without warning, he lunged.

Ling Yun didn't move—not until the last possible moment. But just as Feng Dong's blade neared him, he unleashed his power.

'The peak of the Seventh Layer of Qi Refinement?'

But that was far from everything he had.

Fire energy surged within him. Two blazing wings erupted from his back, lifting him into the sky.

At that very moment, the demons reached the walls of the palace's protective formation.

Wounded and weary, he cast a glance toward them—savage creatures, clawing madly at the barrier, desperate to break through.

Feng Dong, unwilling to let the opportunity slip, leaped onto his sword and soared upward, racing to cut him off.

But just as he closed in, Ling Yun raised his hand—

And snapped his fingers.

A sharp crack split the air. The city's protective barrier shattered.

The demons poured in.

The terrified screams of Feng Ming's people filled the night. They ran in all directions, panic-stricken—but it was futile.

Like living shadows, the demons descended upon them, ripping them apart limb by limb, devouring them while already hunting their next prey.

Now, the cultivators of the Feng clan stood face to face with the true nightmare.

Feng Dong, still unaware of what had just happened, was consumed by rage. With all his speed, he charged at Ling Yun.

A fierce battle erupted between them—a clash that shook the very heavens.

But Ling Yun lost.

He lost an arm. He lost a wing. And then, with brutal force, he crashed onto the palace rooftop.

Blood spilled from his lips… and then, he laughed. A loud, chilling laugh.

'Has he gone mad?'

Feng Dong hesitated for a brief moment before preparing to strike the final blow. But then—Ling Yun's aura shifted.

Feng Dong's eyes widened in shock.

"What?! He advanced mid-battle?! How is that even possible?!"

The answer was clear.

Before the battle had even begun, Ling Yun had placed a demonic formation within the palace.

As the Feng cultivators fought against the Ling family, the formation had been silently siphoning their Qi. And when every last drop of their energy had been absorbed, Ling Yun activated the array—devouring it all in an instant, ascending straight into the Nascent Soul realm.

'… that's impossible.'

Feng Dong muttered under his breath,

"This is absurd… It defies logic…"

If leveling up were this easy, then why weren't there countless supreme cultivators across the world?

But in that moment, logic no longer mattered.

Because the Ling Yun standing before him was no longer the same man he had been mere minutes ago.

The overwhelming power he had absorbed was incompatible with his soul and flesh. At any moment, he could shatter, obliterated from existence. In the other words, his body was on the verge of collapse.

But he had no intention of using this newfound strength to destroy the Feng clan.

He had something else in mind.

A wild, euphoric laugh escaped his lips.

"Hahaha!!! Old Feng! Look closely at the truth of this world!"

His body, like a ticking time bomb, teetered on the brink of detonation. But his eyes remained steady. His resolve, unwavering.

Only one path remained…

The Forbidden Art of Reincarnation – Soul Transfer.

Suddenly, the sky split apart.

A divine calamity, drawn by Ling Yun's ascension, descended upon the city.

A raging storm tore through the land, uprooting buildings, shattering walls. Towering structures crumbled, crashing down upon the palace. Rooftops, like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind, spun wildly through the air, colliding in an explosion of devastation.

Feng Dong struggled with all his might to keep his balance, but the storm was too fierce. The sheer force of it drove him backward.

Then, suddenly, from Ling Yun's eyes and mouth, a blinding white aura burst forth.

The ethereal glow, like a ghostly mist, rose into the air above him.

Feng Dong, shielding his face with his arm, watched in horror. But this… this was only the beginning.

A deafening roar echoed across the heavens.

The world trembled in fear.

The sky—like a vast mirror—fractured.

A colossal rift, spanning a thousand miles, tore through the firmament. And from within that abyss, an enormous, spectral eye emerged—a cold, hollow gaze sweeping over the mortal realm.

Feng Dong, who had been resisting until that moment, suddenly fell to his knees.

Terror seized his entire being. He trembled. His body weakened. And then—his eyes, unable to withstand the sheer pressure, burst in their sockets.

A voice, ancient and boundless, rose from the depths of the rift.

The mere sound of it stole the lives of countless cultivators.

The once-lush fields surrounding the battlefield withered in an instant, turning to barren wastelands.

Above, black storm clouds swirled and twisted, descending toward the earth like an apocalyptic vortex.

Then—those clouds took shape.

A colossal hand, forged from darkness itself, reached down from the sky.

Lightning raged within its form, lashing out in all directions, shattering everything in its path.

That spectral hand lunged toward the white aura above Ling Yun, moving with unimaginable speed.

It meant to seize it.

But just as its massive fingers began to close—

The white light vanished.

With a speed surpassing light itself, it slipped through the spectral grasp and disappeared beyond the horizon.

The great eye in the sky trembled with fury.

And then, suddenly—

From its depths, blood-red tears fell.

And with them came a wail so devastating, so soul-rending, that thousands of cultivators perished where they stood.

_ The end of Book 1 _