The air above Chongqing burned with chaos and death. Rivers of blood flowed through shattered streets, feeding the endless storm of energy that blanketed the capital. Amid this carnage stood Lee Seong-jun—the Demon God—and the Emperor of Silence, Mukhwang, locked in a battle that had already long transcended the limits of mortals.
Lee Seong-jun could feel it clearly. The battlefield itself sustained him. Every drop of blood shed, every dying breath in this city of war, nourished his strength and restored his depleted energy.
"...It seems the outcome has already been decided," he murmured.
Mukhwang met his gaze in silence, his expression grave. In his heart, he already knew the truth. His mind, his spirit, even his body—all were inferior. The only reason this duel had lasted so long was because of the Demon God's amusement.
"I'll ask again," Lee Seong-jun said softly. "What does it mean to twist and distort the order of the universe?"
The Emperor said nothing. His body trembled, but his eyes still burned with unyielding defiance. He knew that surrendering that answer meant certain death. Yet silence would lead to the same.
If death is the only path... then I'll meet it head-on.
Gritting his teeth, Mukhwang raised his head. "Not yet," he hissed. "The fight isn't over!"
The energy around him surged. If the difference in talent could not be bridged, then only strength—raw, absolute strength—could change fate. And there was one forbidden path that could grant it.
Human sacrifice.
If he offered enough life, enough power, he could claim the might of gods. But even one's own body could serve as an offering.
Blue fire ignited across his flesh. It devoured his soul, his essence, his humanity. His aura exploded outward, flooding the entire capital in an instant. The heavens themselves trembled beneath his power.
Lee Seong-jun's eyes narrowed. "…So you've offered yourself."
He exhaled, neither pitying nor impressed. He had expected no different.
"Then let's finish this," he said.
"The sea I longed for…" Mukhwang whispered with a faint smile. His burning body pulsed with divine fury. He could maintain this form for perhaps five minutes—but in those minutes, he was a god.
"If I face you head-on," he thought, "I will not lose."
He raised his arm. "Behold the might of the Heavenly Horse!"
The Emperor unleashed the Heavenly Demon Strike, the most powerful technique of the Heavenly Demonic Arts. The sky split apart as blue fire tore through the world.
Across from him, Lee Seong-jun inhaled slowly. "Haa…"
The power of the Infinite Blood Heart Art stirred within his body. His senses sharpened; time slowed. In that stretched instant, he observed every motion of his foe with cold clarity.
Such a foolish choice, he thought.
The Emperor's strength was terrifying—limitless, absolute. But it was still bound by the natural order. He had ascended by sacrificing himself, his will perfectly aligned with his power. Yet no matter how high he climbed, he still stood within the world's boundaries.
And Lee Seong-jun? He was the one who broke them.
He raised his hand. The blood soaking the city began to rise—rivers turning skyward, swirling into a vast crimson vortex.
Reverse Heavenly Sword Art.
The storm of blood spun faster and faster until it became a scarlet sun above the city, warping the heavens themselves.
'Reverse Heavenly Sword Art—Second Half, Second Form: Reverse Heavenly Dragon Blood Dance.'
The blood vortex shrieked as it twisted the world's very fabric, and from its heart emerged a colossal dragon wreathed in crimson light.
The dragon roared and descended.
Mukhwang swung his sword, releasing his own world-ending power. Blue and red collided—heaven and hell, order and rebellion—shattering the skies above Chongqing.
For a moment, the world was consumed in white.
Then, the blue vanished.
The Heavenly Demon Strike had been utterly erased. The Emperor's strength, his flame, even his body, began to dissolve under the crushing might of the red dragon.
"How… how could this be!?" he shouted in disbelief. "I offered everything—my soul, my life—yet I still lost?!"
The realization struck him like a blade.
We were all fools.
They had all believed themselves to stand atop creation—emperors, gods, masters of fate. Yet they had only ever been frogs at the bottom of a well, gazing up at the unreachable sky.
A faint smile touched his lips. "So this is what it means… to defy the heavens."
The red dragon roared once more and swallowed him whole.
When the light faded, nothing remained of the Emperor of Silence. Only the howling wind drifted across the blood-soaked ruins of Chongqing.
The victor stood alone.
The Demon God had triumphed.