They called him a demon. They called him a traitor. They said the heavens themselves rejected his existence.
But only he knew the truth—he was Mo Tianxie, the Demonic Sky Tyrant. And tonight, all of Azure Heaven Sect would betray him.
*******
The heavens trembled.
Blood dyed the night sky red, and the immortal peaks of Azure Heaven Sect quaked as a figure staggered across the shattered void. His black robes hung in tatters, his chest slashed open, yet his aura still pressed down like a storm that could destroy worlds.
Chen Wu—no, Mo Tianxie, once hailed as the Heaven-Defying Immortal Emperor—clutched his sword with trembling fingers. The blade that had carved his legend was now cracked, its glow flickering weakly.
Before him, a crowd of familiar faces gathered. Elders. Disciples. Brothers and sisters of the sect he had raised to supremacy. Their gazes carried not loyalty, but a poisonous mixture of fear, greed, and hatred.
At their head stood Sect Master Yun Jian, robed in white, golden halberd in hand, eyes glittering with cold satisfaction.
"Mo Tianxie," Yun Jian's voice boomed, amplified by immortal essence. "You've walked too far down the demonic path. The heavens reject you. As your sect, we cannot allow you to live."
Mo Tianxie laughed, blood dripping from his lips. "The demonic path?" His bloodshot gaze swept across the faces of those who once swore loyalty. "For centuries, I bled for this sect. For centuries, I killed its enemies. And now—you call me a demon, just because you fear I've grown too strong?"
The hall fell silent. Some disciples trembled, unable to meet his gaze.
Yun Jian raised the halberd higher. "You hoarded opportunities that belonged to the chosen of destiny. You defied heaven's will. Today, for the sect's future—you will fall."
At his signal, the elders moved. Pillars of immortal light erupted, sealing the void in a massive execution array.
Mo Tianxie's cracked blade hummed as he forced it upright. His body trembled, but his voice thundered:
"You… all of you… dare betray me?"
He looked at the elder who once taught him swordsmanship. At the junior sister who once trailed at his heels. At the sworn brother who vowed they would ascend together.
Each turned their faces away.
Rain fell, cold and heavy. The heavens wept with him.
Chen Wu's laughter echoed, mad and bitter. "So this is my end? Betrayed not by my enemies, but by my family?"
His immortal essence flared, blasting apart the array and forcing the elders back. His black hair whipped like a storm, his eyes burning with hatred and unwillingness.
"I am Mo Tianxie! The heavens themselves could not kill me—do you think you can?"
With a roar, he lunged. His sword carved arcs of destruction, formations shattered, elders screamed. Blood sprayed across the battlefield. For a moment, it seemed the Immortal Emperor would cut his way free.
But destiny is cruel.
A golden spear pierced through the storm and straight into his heart.
Mo Tianxie froze. His blade slipped from numb fingers. He looked down in disbelief at the weapon lodged in his chest.
The spear belonged to none other than his sworn brother—Li Tian.
"…You?" His voice broke.
Li Tian's face was pale, but his grip was firm. Guilt shone in his eyes, but also grim resolve. "Forgive me, Brother Tianxie. The sect's survival demands your death."
Blood gushed. Chen Wu staggered, but the betrayal cut deeper than the spear.
He wanted to curse. He wanted to weep. He wanted to tear heaven and earth apart.
Instead, he whispered, venom dripping from his last breath:
"Li Tian… Yun Jian… all of you… I will never forgive this. If there is a next life… I will destroy your fates, slaughter your chosen, and seize the heavens themselves!"
Thunder split the skies.
And as his body fell into the abyss, the last thing he saw were the cold, satisfied faces of his betrayers.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
*******
The combined might of the immortal coalition struck.
Mo Tianxie's body disintegrated into fragments of ash and light.
The heavens roared in triumph.
The void stretched on forever.
No light. No sound. Only the echo of his dying curse.
"Am I… dead?" His soul drifted like ash. Rage and despair coiled within. "No. I refuse. I was the strongest. I stood above them all! I will not end like this—"
His soul did not scatter.
It plunged.
Down through shattered worlds.
Down into a lower realm, where struggling mortals dwelled.
And there… a body awaited.
A wasted youth.
A crippled disciple of the Azure Heaven Sect.
Mocked. Beaten. Called trash.
Chen Wu.
The soul of the Demonic Sky Tyrant fused with the dying body.
A heart that had stopped began to beat again.
A searing pain lanced his chest. The void shattered like glass.
Huuh—!
Chen Wu gasped for air. The scent of earth and rot filled his nose. His hands pressed against damp soil, his vision blurring.
The world was wrong.
No longer the Azure Heaven Sect's Grand Hall—this was a forest clearing, moonlight dripping through twisted branches.
His body felt weak. Pathetically weak.
Dizziness slammed into him. He doubled over, coughing dark mortal blood.
"No…" His trembling hands looked young, soft, uncalloused.
He stumbled to a puddle. A stranger's reflection stared back—a handsome youth of seventeen, with sharp eyes twisted by arrogance and cruelty.
Memories not his own flooded his mind.
The villainous young master of Azure Heaven Sect. The arrogant disciple despised by all. The one fated to die miserably as a stepping stone for destiny's so-called hero.
Chen Wu's lips curled in bitter laughter. "So this is my rebirth? Five hundred years in the past, in the body of a loser cursed by fate?"
His gaze sharpened, deadly calm.
"Fine. Then I will tear fate apart. This time, I will not be the prey—I will become the predator."
The night wind carried his oath to the heavens.
Rustling. Footsteps.
Torchlight spilled into the clearing. Disciples in Azure Heaven Sect robes emerged, laughter sharp and cruel. At their head: Zhao Feng, scar-jawed lackey, long-time tormentor of the "old" Chen Wu.
"Well, well, if it isn't Young Master Chen," Zhao Feng sneered. "Look at you, groveling in the dirt. Where's that arrogance now?"
The others jeered. One spat. "Even your fiancée begged the Sect Master to annul your engagement today. You're nothing but trash!"
The old Chen Wu would have cowered. He would have cursed, screamed, then been beaten into unconsciousness, cementing his path as a pathetic stepping stone.
But this Chen Wu—Mo Tianxie reborn forged from betrayal and death—lifted his head slowly.
Calm. Cold. Eyes like a predator among insects.
The laughter faltered. Something in that gaze sliced their confidence apart.
"Zhao Feng," Chen Wu said softly. His voice was a blade drawn in silence. "Do you know what happens to dogs who bark too loud?"
Zhao Feng blinked. For a moment, confusion cracked his arrogance. "What did you—?"
Chen Wu moved.
One instant he was crouched on the ground. The next, he had closed the distance, a blur of motion fueled not by strength but by ruthless precision. His fist slammed into Zhao Feng's gut with surgical force.
Crack!
Zhao Feng choked, eyes bulging, torch clattering to the dirt. The impact folded him over like a broken reed.
The disciples froze. None of them expected it.
"How… how did he move like that? He's supposed to be crippled!"
Chen Wu straightened, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "Pathetic." He drove his knee upward, smashing into Zhao Feng's jaw. Teeth cracked. Blood sprayed. The bigger youth crashed to the ground, writhing and wheezing.
"Next," Chen Wu said, voice like ice.
The clearing went deathly quiet.
The remaining disciples exchanged nervous glances. This wasn't the Chen Wu they knew. He wasn't whining, wasn't cowering. His aura—though devoid of cultivation—was suffocating. A wolf's snarl behind a man's calm mask.
"You… don't think you can scare us!" one stammered, drawing a short blade. "We're cultivators, you're nothing but a cripple—"
He lunged.
Chen Wu sidestepped smoothly, seizing the boy's wrist. With a twist, bone snapped like dry wood. The disciple's scream tore through the night before Chen Wu smashed his elbow into the boy's temple. The body crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The others stumbled back, fear overtaking mockery.
Chen Wu dusted his hands as though swatting away dirt. "Weak. All of you. You think cultivation makes you strong?" His lip curled. "I could kill you all with nothing but my fists."
The disciples hesitated—then bolted, dragging the unconscious one with them.
"Run, tell the others! He's gone mad!"
Their footsteps vanished into the forest, leaving Zhao Feng groaning in the dirt.
Chen Wu knelt, grabbing the youth's chin and forcing his eyes up to meet his.
"Listen well," he said, voice low and venomous. "Spread this throughout the sect. The Chen Wu you mocked, the Chen Wu you spat on, is dead." His grip tightened until Zhao Feng whimpered. "From this night onward, anyone who raises their hand against me will lose far more than teeth."
He released him with a shove. Zhao Feng collapsed, trembling, unable to meet his gaze.
Chen Wu rose, brushing leaves from his robes. The moonlight framed him like a blade cutting through the darkness.
So this was how fate intended to humiliate him—by throwing him to dogs in the dirt. But he had already bitten back.
And this was only the beginning.
He tilted his head skyward, eyes gleaming with a predator's hunger.
"Hero. Protagonist. Chosen One." The words dripped with venom. "You stole my glory once. This time, I'll steal yours. Every treasure. Every beauty. Every destiny written in your name—I will carve into mine."
The night wind whispered through the trees, carrying his oath into the heavens.
And in the shadows of the forest, unseen eyes widened as a girl gasped softly.