Old Zhou

Thousands of miles away from the Feng Clan's grand palace, deep within Tiger Mountain, an old man lay sprawled on the ground. His frail, seventy-six-year-old body was hunched over a worn-out shovel with a crooked handle.

A little way off, past a mound of freshly turned earth, stood a weathered wooden fence, enclosing a modest vegetable garden and a small, timeworn cabin. The faded structure, built from pinewood, leaned slightly, as if bowing under the weight of years.

A narrow dirt path began at the fence, weaving its way through towering trees and jagged rocks, before vanishing into the heart of the mountains.

The old man slowly opened his eyes. A heavy weight pressed against his chest, making each breath a struggle. He coughed—a deep, wracking sound that seemed to drag his very soul closer to the edge.

The sun had just begun its ascent, casting its golden glow over the peaks. The moon, pale and ghostly, lingered on the horizon, fading into the vastness of the sky. Stray beams of sunlight slipped through the tangled branches above, their warmth caressing his closed eyelids.

A sigh escaped his cracked lips.

Pain throbbed through his skull, and his body—worn down by age and toil—felt too feeble to move. With great effort, he shifted slightly, his gaze settling on the figure standing above him.

A man in black robes.

His face was gaunt, framed by a long beard, and his expression was unreadable.

The old man's voice came in weak gasps. "W-Who... are... you?"

The man in black answered calmly. "I am a shadow, Old Zhou."

Zhou exhaled shakily, his mind clouded with the fog of old age. Was this just another illusion born from the final moments of his life? His gaze drifted toward the mound of earth beside him—a fresh grave, rising like a small hill at his feet.

With great difficulty, he forced himself upright. His frail limbs trembled, unable to fully support his weight, but he steadied himself against the old shovel, just enough to sit on a nearby stone.

It was his wife's grave.

Her name—lost somewhere in the tattered pages of his memory.

A quiet sigh left his lips. "I can't even remember your face... but somehow, I know that even the fairest of celestials would have bowed before your beauty."

The man in black stepped closer. His voice was low, carrying the weight of truths long known.

"Even the most radiant flowers wither before death."

With trembling fingers, Zhou touched the damp soil of the grave. It was soft… as if it had only been laid down hours ago.

He murmured under his breath, "Then why… can't I remember anything?"

The man in black replied, "Perhaps there is nothing to remember."

Zhou's gaze wandered. The fence, the cabin, the garden… He knew them all.

"But I've lived here for years…"

The man said nothing.

Zhou tried again. "Who… am I?"

"You are Old Man Zhou."

Zhou let the words linger on his tongue. "Old Man Zhou…"

The man nodded. "That's right. You are Old Man Zhou. Death came for you, did its work, and left."

Zhou's breath hitched. "Death?"

"Yes… You died, Old Man Zhou."

Zhou looked down at his hands. "But I'm right here… in front of my wife's grave…"

The man's voice was quiet. "No… This is simply what you wanted to happen."

"What I… wanted?"

"That's right, Old Man Zhou."

Zhou turned to him, desperation in his eyes. "Then if I'm dead… why can't I see my wife?"

The man gave no answer.

Zhou's voice wavered. "Who are you?… Are you death itself, come to take me away?"

"Death?" The man chuckled. "No. But I have sent countless souls to meet it. My name is one that shakes the Realms."

Zhou's eyes widened in horror. "Y-You're… a Demon?"

The man smirked. "That's right. But don't be afraid. You were nothing more than a mortal—I have no need for you. You have your path to walk, and I have mine. This brief encounter… will be our last, Old Man Zhou."

Zhou fell silent for a moment. Then, he accepted the truth. He was dead. But now that he had faced it, fear no longer gripped him. He had already died—what was there left to fear? Besides, it seemed that Demon had no intention of harming his soul.

The Heavenly Demon continued, "This meeting was fate. Perhaps if you enter the cycle of reincarnation, we will meet again, Old Man Zhou."

A faint smile crossed Zhou's lips. He bowed deeply before the Heavenly Demon. "My lord..."

The Heavenly Demon stroked his chin. "Speak."

Zhou sighed. "My lord, this is my last plea… Perhaps it is bold of me to ask, but I know you are going to take my body. Before this frail soul of mine fades completely, I ask only one thing… I have a foster daughter, in a town not far from here. You have no need for my help, but she… without me, she will be defenseless. Please, even if only for a time… watch over her."

The Heavenly Demon chuckled. He had no need to heed the plea of a fading soul. And yet, he decided to accept it.

"That's right. I will be residing in your body for a time. You were a pure soul, Old Man Zhou, while I… I carry a weighty karmic burden. I needed a vessel capable of deceiving the order of the heavens. Now, Old Man Zhou, you know that sooner or later, this body will no longer be yours. But a choice still remains… Surrender it willingly, and in return, I will grant your final request."

Old Man Zhou, having nothing left to lose, bowed three times before the Heavenly Demon.

"My lord, I offer this frail body to you."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed the Heavenly Demon's eyes. No longer would he need to forcefully seize the old man's dying shell. Yet, a complication remained—this frail mortal vessel was an ill-suited host.

He stepped toward Zhou's fading spirit. The old soul's gaze held a deep, unwavering peace. But just as the final moment arrived, the Heavenly Demon activated the Soul Binding Formation.

In an instant, invisible forces seized Zhou's spirit.

"No… This wasn't our deal! You swore you would let me go! No… NO!!"

A wretched scream tore from the depths of his soul.

"Demon! Wretched fiend! I curse you—I curse you for eternity!"

The Heavenly Demon's expression remained cold, indifferent.

"Old Man Zhou, now that I think about it… If you were to enter the cycle of reincarnation, the heavens would mark you as dead. But if I take over your body, they will find me before long. I cannot allow you to ascend."

His voice was devoid of emotion as he watched the old man struggle.

Zhou screamed, thrashed, fought. It was futile.

His soul compressed, condensed, until it took the form of a luminous soul pill.

The Heavenly Demon plucked it from the air, studying the shimmering essence in his palm. The pill's ethereal glow, refined through profound cultivation, sent an almost tantalizing shiver through his spirit.

As he absorbed its energy into his sea of consciousness, something unexpected happened.

His power… was being suppressed.

And then, after taking over Zhou's body, something even stranger occurred.

His body underwent a violent transformation. Not only did his appearance change, but his physical age advanced at an alarming rate. The old man Zhou, once in his seventies, had now become a withered elder of one hundred and seventy years.

The sheer pressure of the Heavenly Demon's soul had accelerated the body's deterioration.

Anticipating this, the Heavenly Demon immediately funneled a portion of the soul pill's energy into forcefully unsealing the meridians of his new vessel. He had never shied away from using demonic techniques.

In doing so, he managed to temporarily alleviate the worst effects of aging—but at a steep cost.

"Burning lifespan…! So this is the price I have to pay. Just one year… I only have one year to break through to the next realm, or else…"

He needed to find a way to extend his lifespan.

The simplest solution was advancement in cultivation.

Standing before a cracked mirror, he studied his reflection—and suddenly let out a breathless laugh.

"This face…! Heh. So fate hasn't forgotten me just yet. Ling Yun, we still have unfinished business."

The Phoenix Legacy, bound to his very soul, ensured that each time he seized a new body, his appearance would morph in a specific way. And now, regardless of whose vessel he inhabited, he would always wear Ling Yun's face.

"So I still possess the Phoenix Legacy… Well, that makes things much simpler."

He flexed his aged fingers, a smirk playing on his lips. "Still, being trapped in an old body is truly irritating."

The Phoenix Legacy was so deeply intertwined with his spirit that even in this feeble vessel, it had not abandoned him. The phoenix itself was merely a fifth-rank spiritual beast, but its power was something the Heavenly Demon desperately needed.

"If I want to reshape this body, I need to reach a certain level of cultivation."

He recalled that within the Feng Clan's manor, he had been able to complete this process at the second layer—because the phoenix itself had provided the necessary spiritual energy. But now, that option was gone. This time, he would have to rely entirely on himself.

"How many layers will I need before I can begin reversing my age? Perhaps I'll have to wait until I break into the next realm."

But patience was a luxury he neither had nor desired.

A single year of life hung over him like shackles. In that short time, he would need to break through multiple layers.

As he probed his newly acquired body, he made a grim realization.

The curses… they were still there.

And worse yet—they had grown even stronger.

His eyes narrowed. "So Heaven has truly left me with no other path… except the Demonic Dao."

Moments later, Ling Yun's youthful features withered once more, and his body crumbled back into that of a one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old elder.

"So the soul pill's effect is only temporary… because of karma."

Lifting his gaze to the heavens, he exhaled slowly.

"Heaven…! You have obstructed me at every turn, cursed me at every step. But it no longer matters."

"There is but one path left before me—the path you fear most."

"The Demonic Dao."