Chapter 72 – Kneeling Before the Demon

The scene was a ghastly tableau, blood staining every inch, as though the mortal realm had become a purgatory of carnage. Lu Fan sat motionless in his wheelchair, brows tightly furrowed, his gaze locked on the battlefield a hundred miles away.

He beheld Xiang Shaoyun—axe in one hand, shield in the other—his body riddled with wounds, blood pooling beneath his feet. That towering figure now seemed hunched and wearied. Behind him stood a woman of peerless beauty, her face deathly pale, gazing softly at him.

"So it is 'love that births the demon.' Even a tyrant like Xiang Shaoyun, unbending to gods or immortals, bears a tenderness buried deep within. For her, he embraces the abyss."

Lu Fan's eyes darkened with depth. With a single glance, he understood what had transpired—Xiang Shaoyun had been ambushed. News of his return must have leaked, prompting the local governor to deploy thousands of soldiers, martial masters, and elite warriors to slaughter him—a deathtrap with no escape.

Lu Fan tapped lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair. Were it only Xiang Shaoyun facing doom, he might not have reached the threshold of demonization. After all, the Tyrant of West County did not fear death. But because of the woman behind him… he would carve a path through hell itself to shield her from harm.

"A man of passionate devotion is also a seed of the demonic…" Lu Fan shook his head, pensive.

On the continent of Five Phoenixes, the concept of "demons" had never existed—not like the novels of his past life, where demonic sects rivaled orthodox clans. Here, there were only the Hundred Schools of Thought, and none spoke of righteous versus demonic. Yet now, obsession had begotten the demonic.

"This… this could be something new."

"Demonhood—perhaps a new vocation altogether."

Lu Fan smiled, intrigued.

"Then let it be… the birth of the Demon Path!"

With a single thought, he made his choice. The moment he decided, a tremendous force yanked at his soul, stretching it across a hundred miles, where it coalesced into substance and descended before Xiang Shaoyun.

—Silence fell across the heavens.

Only Xiang Shaoyun's ragged breathing remained. He had not the strength to swing his axe anymore. Nearly two thousand foes had fallen before him. His spirit energy depleted, he staggered on the verge of collapse.

But he did not retreat, nor did he fall.

Like a demon god incarnate, he slew all who threatened Luo Mingsang, shielding her with his battered frame. She, pale and trembling, had dropped her sword. Her eyes, filled with sorrowful longing, remained fixed upon his bloodied back.

With quivering hands, she drew a short flute from her sleeve—an instrument in place of her usual zither, the music he loved. Today, she would play one final piece for him.

Bloodstained lips pressed to the flute's mouthpiece. She looked upon him one last time and breathed. A haunting melody rose, drifting through the blood-drenched mountains.

Xiang Shaoyun, soaked in blood, leaned on his axe. The soldiers feared him, but as he heard the flute's song, his hardened expression softened into a gentle smile.

From afar, Governor Liu He of Pingyang County watched with an amused curl of his lips.

"So even the Tyrant has grown old… a beauty's flute to guide him into the afterlife—how touching."

He knew Xiang Shaoyun could no longer stand. Truth be told, if the Tyrant truly wished to leave, not even thousands could stop him. But he was trapped… by love. And that gave them a singular opportunity to end him.

Liu He's expression turned icy. The might of the Tyrant terrified him. He would know no peace until Xiang Shaoyun was utterly annihilated—drawn and quartered.

"Kill him! A hundred thousand taels to the man who severs the Tyrant's head!"

At this command, fear-stricken soldiers and martial warriors found madness in their eyes. Swords raised, they charged forward.

Xiang Shaoyun coughed blood—his reversal of the "Spiritual Flow Technique" had nearly broken him. Yet he laughed, wild and unyielding. He raised his axe once more, fending off hundreds with a single blow.

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. An overwhelming force enveloped him. The world vanished. The melody, the shouts—all gone. Darkness devoured everything.

In that void, a blood-red light emerged from the horizon. A figure appeared, striding across the crimson twilight.

Xiang Shaoyun stared.

"What is a demon? An obsession made manifest."

"If gods walk the earth, should demons sleep eternal?"

"Your obsession has awakened the demon. You seek it, do you not?"

A voice echoed from the void, from the blood-stained figure.

Xiang Shaoyun wavered.

Demon—was it not always the symbol of evil?

"If I become a demon… can I keep Mingsang alive?"

The blood figure smiled faintly. "You can."

"Then I am willing."

Xiang Shaoyun lifted his head, eyes blazing.

But the figure laughed.

"And why should I, the Demon, grant you such power?"

Below.

Xiang Shaoyun took a deep breath. Then, with sudden force, he fell to his knees, and kowtowed three times before the crimson figure.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Each sound echoed across the void.

In the sky above, Lu Fan—now the incarnation of Demon—watched in complex silence. The Tyrant who once bowed to no god now knelt without hesitation for love's sake. He bowed before the Demon.

Three thousand years of kneeling before the Demon… forsaking the heavens, spurning the gods.

"You become a demon for love. That woman will be your greatest weakness. Are you willing to bear it?"

"I am."

Another kowtow.

"If you seek the demon's power, then I shall take one soul from you. Will you yield it?"

"I will."

A final kowtow.

The Demon laughed. Crimson dawn flared, engulfing Xiang Shaoyun.

Threads of blood-red energy fell upon him, tearing at his soul.

Buzz—

Xiang Shaoyun opened his eyes. The flute still played. The sounds of slaughter had not ceased. Yet his ruined body was whole again. Strength surged through him, drawn from his core like a tidal wave.

"This… is the power of the Demon?"

His eyes were filled with awe and uncertainty. Within his dantian, a vortex spun, absorbing the blood from the land. Blood crawled up his limbs like serpents, dyeing his skin crimson. Black patterns etched themselves across his flesh. The air turned thick with demonic mist, coiling around him in sinister elegance.

Luo Mingsang's flute fell silent. Her eyes wide, she stared at the transformed figure before her.

Reborn, Xiang Shaoyun swung his axe. The black mist followed, cleaving through the ranks like a divine beast unleashed. Soldiers shattered like chaff beneath his strikes.

Martial masters and elite warriors charged. His eyes burned red. A roar burst from his lungs, rupturing eardrums, making mouths and noses bleed. The axe followed. Heads flew.

All stood frozen in terror.

Beneath silver armor, Liu He trembled.

"This… this can't be…"

Why? Why was a man who had exhausted his last breath still so fearsome?

"Retreat!" cried his strategist in panic.

But before they could flee, they noticed the ground—soaked in blood—grasping at their feet like hands, pulling them toward Xiang Shaoyun.

Liu He dropped his helmet, his face twisted in fear.

"No—!"

A hand closed around his throat.

The blood mist dispersed.

And there stood Xiang Shaoyun—like a god of death—his face devoid of mercy.

—Lakeheart Island, North Luo.

Lu Fan's spirit returned. He exhaled slowly.

Before him, a system prompt emerged.

One glance, and he smiled.

"Congratulations to the host for successfully forging the Demon Path and nurturing its first follower. You are awarded 10 distributable attribute points, and the transformation reward: [Undying Demon Body – Beginner]."