The scenery was grimy, dark, and disgusting. Every inch of ground within ten thousand meters was dyed red, a dark, deep red that seeped into the cracked earth like an endless stain. The air was heavy with the metallic stench of blood, mingled with the faint, acrid tang of smoke rising from smoldering corpses.

People cried, cursed, and gave their last breath. Some clung to life with trembling hands, others lay still, their lifeless bodies sprawled across the blood-soaked ground. The anguished screams of the dying pierced the air, a haunting symphony that refused to fade.

"What are you going to do now, you despicable demon? You schemed, manipulated, and deceived. You lied, raped, and killed. You erased entire bloodlines, clans, and sects."

The voice trembled with rage and despair, each word spat like venom. It came from a figure half kneeling in the dirt just before the body dropped cold to the ground, their once pristine robes torn and soaked with grime and blood. Their eyes burned with fury, yet their body sagged under the weight of exhaustion and injury.

Before them stood the "despicable demon," silent and unmoving. The accusation hung in the air like a curse, but the figure's expression remained untouched by guilt or shame. Instead, a faint, chilling smile curved their lips, a smile that seemed to mock the very concept of morality.

"We, people of the righteous path, sects, and clans, have suffered greatly at your unscrupulous hand. But in the end, fate forgives no one. Today, with your death, a new era will start."

The speaker's voice rang with hollow conviction, their words carried more by desperation than confidence. Blood dripped from their lips as they forced themselves upright, wobbling on unsteady legs.

People on the battlefield, tens of thousands strong, yet battered and bloodied, stood shoulder to shoulder amidst the carnage. The dead, numbering tenfold, lay in grotesque heaps, their corpses stretching far beyond the horizon. They came from various lands, realms, and even distant worlds, drawn together by a single cause; to bring down the number one devil in history.

It was an alliance born of desperation, forged not by unity but by shared terror of a foe too great to face alone. Among the survivors, faces etched with fatigue and despair, the will to fight flickered like a dying ember, sustained only by the hope that this collective effort might succeed where countless others had failed.

In the middle of the battlefield stood an old man, his presence barely noticeable amid the chaos, yet impossible to ignore. His long white hair, matted with sweat and blood, hung like a curtain of silver, framing a face weathered by time and war. Dark eye bags sagged beneath his eyes, and wrinkles, deep as ravines, marred his expression, only further accentuating the toll of his unrelenting struggle. His black robe, once pristine, was now stained a sickening crimson, the fabric clinging to his battered form, soaked through with his own blood.

He had fought continuously for weeks without rest, each movement a testament to sheer  otherworldly willpower. His body trembled with exhaustion, his muscles screaming in desperation, but still, he pressed on. Heavy perspiration streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood that covered him, yet his eyes remained sharp, hardened like stone. He had reached the limit of his endurance, but surrender was a luxury he could not afford.

Yet, somehow, he showed a calm demeanor. His face was a mask of neutrality, as though he were not surrounded by thousands of warriors, all intent on claiming his head. The chaos, the bloodshed, the screams, none of it seemed to touch him. He stood there, as if the storm of violence around him were nothing more than a distant echo, a fleeting distraction.

This unshakable composure unnerved his enemies. It was as if the man had transcended the fear that bound them all, standing as a silent testament to the futility of their efforts. The very sight of him, unyielding, unmoved, sent chills down the spines of those who dared to look into his eyes.

It is easy to fight a man who fears death, for fear is a leash that tethers him, guiding his every move. But to fight a man who doesn't fear death, that is pure madness. Such a man fights without hesitation, without the instinct to retreat or surrender. He becomes a force of nature, relentless and unyielding, for his only goal is to emerge victorious, regardless of the price.

To face him is to confront your own mortality head on, knowing that your every action, no matter how careful, could lead to your end. And in the eyes of such a man, there is no hesitation, no weakness, only the cold, implacable certainty that death is just another step in the path he treads.

"The man not only is expressionless while facing his own death, but he is actually zoned out?!" A chorus of voices rose in unison, their exclamations filled with disbelief and shock. Eyes wide, they stared at the old man, unable to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. How could anyone remain so detached, so utterly indifferent in the face of their own inevitable demise?

It was a rarity, a phenomenon that could only be described as madness, or perhaps something far worse. A man standing alone, on the brink of annihilation, yet as calm and distant as if he were merely watching a passing storm. His apathy was more terrifying than any battle cry, for it signaled a mind that had long ago transcended fear and mortal concern.

Instead of attacking, the warriors grew wary of the man's actions. They hesitated, unsure whether to strike or retreat. After all, they had all suffered greatly at his hands. Each one of them carried the weight of a loss, whether a dead relative, a fallen comrade, or an acquaintance whose life had been snuffed out in the wake of his cruel path. The memories of their loved ones, torn apart by his schemes, weighed heavily on their hearts, and even now, as they stood poised for battle, they could not shake the deep seated fear that this man's indifference to death was but a prelude to something far worse.

Each warrior's gaze flickered nervously, the thought of facing him, of actually delivering the killing blow, becoming a question they were reluctant to answer.

Suddenly, one man broke the tense stillness, advancing at a rapid pace toward the demon. His movements were deliberate and swift, each step radiating unwavering purpose. In an instant, he became the focal point of the battlefield, his striking appearance setting him apart from the masses of warriors who had hesitated.

The man's aura was incredible, almost otherworldly. It surged around him like a blazing fire, rippling with an intensity that made the air tremble.

The crowd parted instinctively, as if unable to withstand the sheer pressure emanating from him. Murmurs rippled through the gathered warriors, their voices tinged with awe and uncertainty.

"Who is he?" someone whispered, their voice barely audible amidst the mounting tension.

"It is him! We are saved!! Overlord Liang Tian has finally joined the battle after the serious soul injury he received from that demon Ren Lin ten years ago!" people exclaimed in shock, their voices rising like a wave of relief and excitement.

The crowd erupted with shouts of encouragement, their morale surging as if a glimmer of hope had pierced through the suffocating despair.

Liang Tian, the Overlord who had once been a beacon of righteousness and strength, had returned to the battlefield after a decade of recovery. His injuries had been grave, the kind that left scars deeper than flesh, but his presence now carried an undeniable aura of triumph.

The demon Ren Lin, who had carved a bloody path of destruction over the years, would finally face retribution. Or so they believed, as hope swelled in their hearts like a fire rekindled.

Overlord Liang Tian was the ruler of two worlds, a being whose name alone inspired awe and reverence. He wore a pure white robe adorned with intricate gold embroidery. Despite having lived for thousands of years and possessing experience vast enough to dwarf the lives of most mortals, his face was unblemished, like that of a man in his early thirties. His features were sharp and regal, with eyes that glimmered with wisdom yet retained a hint of youthful vigor. It was as though time itself had bowed to him, unable to erode his appearance even as it shaped his soul into a being of immense depth and power.

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"Demon Ren Lin," Overlord Liang Tian declared, his voice steady and resonating with authority. "as Overlord Liang Tian, today I promise to exact revenge for everyone who has suffered at your hands, and for the humiliation you dealt me ten years ago."

His tone was confident and cold, carrying the weight of an unyielding resolve. Each word struck the air like a hammer, reverberating across the battlefield and silencing the scattered murmurs of the crowd. His gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through Ren Lin, as if attempting to strip away the demon's every facade and lay bare his very soul.

The tension between the two figures was palpable, crackling like the air before a thunderstorm. Warriors on both sides held their breath, their eyes darting between the Overlord and the Demon. For a brief moment, the endless chaos of the battlefield seemed to pause, all attention focused on the inevitable clash of these two titanic forces.

The entire battlefield fell silent. The cries of the wounded, and the desperate grunts of warriors, all ceased as if an unspoken agreement had rippled through the crowd. Those who had been locked in ferocious combat moments ago lowered their guard, retreating to tend to their wounds with trembling hands.

Until now, they had been like ants, biting down at an elephant's legs, relentless but ultimately insignificant. Their attacks had been driven more by desperation than hope, each one knowing their efforts alone could not fell the monstrous figure of Ren Lin.

But now, Overlord Liang Tian had appeared. His mere presence was a command, a silent proclamation that the battlefield no longer belonged to them. No one dared to get in his way, for they knew their strength was but a shadow compared to the brilliance of the Overlord. One by one, they stepped back, their eyes fixed on the scene before them, their breaths held in anticipation of the duel that would decide their fate.

"Hmph, you think you have the strength to promise such a thing?" Ren Lin's cold tone cut through the silence like a blade, his voice dripping with disdain. His lips curled into a chilling smile, one that spoke not just of confidence, but of an unfathomable darkness.

That smile... it was not the expression of a man cornered or desperate, but of a predator toying with prey. The sight of it sent a chill down the spine of even Overlord Liang Tian, a subtle but undeniable reaction that did not go unnoticed by the surrounding warriors.

Ren Lin's words resonated across the battlefield, carried by a strange, oppressive force. It was as though his voice alone weighed heavily on the air, suffocating those who heard it. The gathered warriors exchanged uneasy glances, their newfound hope wavering in the presence of the demon's unshaken composure.

"It seems you are still the same old demon, unchanged," Overlord Liang Tian replied, his tone calm yet firm, like a mountain unmoved by the wind. "A wolf might lose his fur, but never his nature. However," he continued, his piercing gaze unwavering despite Ren Lin's chilling expression, "I am a completely different person from ten years ago. That battle with you allowed me to see the world through different eyes."

His words carried a quiet strength, an unshakable resolve that pushed back against the oppressive aura emanating from Ren Lin. Overlord Liang Tian stood tall, his presence steady, refusing to succumb to the demon's provocations.

"I successfully refined a mysterious rank 12 yokai after countless setbacks." Ren Lin declared, his voice carrying a dangerous edge of pride. "The Heaven Defying Light Yokai, its ability is truly heavenly. Not a single thing has survived its light, and its aura alone is enough to crush the will of lesser beings."

He paused, his cold smile widening as his gaze flickered over Ren Lin's blood streaked robe and weary form. "And look at you." Overlord Liang Tian continued with a mocking tone, his words sharp as daggers. "In such a sorry state, a shadow of your former self. You are nothing but the remaining ash after a fire, fragile and scattered, easily blown away by the faintest breeze."

Clouds began to gather in the sky, dark and menacing, swirling as though summoned by an unseen force. The wind picked up, howling through the battlefield and carrying with it the stench of blood and ash. The earth itself trembled faintly, cracks snaking across the ground.

Rain started to pour, each drop cold and heavy, striking the ground in a steady rhythm that only heightened the tension. Ren Lin's black robe and long hair floated in the air, shifting and swaying, vibrating slightly as if responding to the mounting power around him. They moved in perfect harmony with the gusts of wind, following the direction imposed upon them.

Ren Lin raised his head slowly, his gaze piercing straight into the storm laden sky above. The rain poured mercilessly, quickly soaking his black robe, the fabric clinging to his frame as if weighed down by the sheer tension of the moment. Strands of his hair, now slick and drenched, reflected an ethereal white light that seemed pure and innocent.

Then he began to grin, a wide, almost unsettling smile spreading across his face. His teeth, smeared crimson with blood, gave the expression a grotesque edge, yet somehow it did not detract from his charisma. Instead, it amplified it, making him look both terrifying and mesmerizing, a figure who defied the line between beauty and horror.

The grin seemed to mock the heavens themselves, as though daring the universe to witness this scene. The soaked battlefield became his stage, and his presence, that grin, cast a shadow over even the bravest of hearts.

"This demon..." Overlord Liang Tian couldn't help but feel a deep sense of oppression, a strange unease settling in his chest. The very air around Ren Lin felt thick, almost suffocating, as if the storm itself bowed to his presence. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Overlord Liang Tian's confidence wavered. His usual composure faltered, and his expression, once cold and resolute, became a shade less certain.

The unnerving grin, the crimson stained teeth, and the ominous aura surrounding Ren Lin all pressed against him like an invisible force, making his skin crawl. For all his power and experience, Liang Tian could not shake the feeling that he was facing something far beyond what he had anticipated.

The next moment, a massive pillar of pure white light formed in the sky, its brilliance so dazzling that it seemed to split the heavens themselves. The aura emanating from it was nothing short of grandiose. The intensity of its light was so overwhelming that it bathed the battlefield in an ethereal glow, casting shadows that seemed to cower beneath its radiance.

For a fleeting moment, the onlookers, warriors, spectators, and those whose lives had been touched by Ren Lin's cruelty, could do nothing but stare in awe. Some even shed tears, overwhelmed by the sheer purity and majesty of the sight. It was as if a piece of heaven itself had descended upon the earth, offering a glimmer of hope to those who had only known darkness.

The pillar of white light descended swiftly, a straight, vertical line cutting through the storm and pouring rain, its trajectory unyielding and certain. It seemed to seek out Ren Lin, and in that moment, everything on the battlefield seemed to pause, the earth, the wind, even the rain itself. All eyes were locked on the light, the symbol of divine retribution now heading toward the demon.

The next moment, the pillar of light descended with unrelenting speed, engulfing Ren Lin and the hundreds of meters surrounding him in an instant. Its power was overwhelming, almost omnipotent, radiating an energy so pure and intense that it seemed to distort the very air. The battlefield was consumed by a blinding brilliance, as if the sun itself had turned its gaze upon the earth.

Ren Lin's blood stained robe disintegrated in an instant, the fabric evaporating into vapor as the searing light touched it. A violent, excruciating burning sensation ripped through him, his skin, blood, and bones were boiling. The pain was unimaginable, a whit -hot agony that coursed through every fiber of his being. Yet, despite this torture, Ren Lin was not dead.

His form twisted and writhed beneath the light, his body pushed to the brink of destruction. But his will his terrifying, indomitable will held him together. He could feel his very essence being burned away, but he was still alive, still breathing. The demon's resilience, his sheer tenacity, defied the purity of the light.

"Thank you, Overlord Liang Tian, for saving me from this fate." Ren Lin said, his voice cold and dripping with sarcasm. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, pierced through Overlord Liang Tian with a look that could freeze the blood in one's veins.

Despite the agony still burning through his body, despite the near total destruction of his form, Ren Lin's eyes held an eerie calmness, almost as if he were toying with his opponent. The corners of his lips curled into a bitter smile, one that twisted his features into a grotesque mockery of gratitude.

The light around him continued to sear, but Ren Lin's words carried a chilling certainty. His survival, his refusal to die, was a testament to the demon's unnatural resilience. He was not a being who could be so easily extinguished, no matter the purity or intensity of the light that sought to obliterate him. And in that moment, his cold stare seemed to promise that the battle was far from over.

Ren Lin's laughter erupted suddenly, wild and maniacal, echoing across the battlefield like the sound of a shattered mind. His eyes bulged from their sockets, almost leaving their orbits as the madness consumed him, his body writhing in the aftermath of the searing light. It was a laugh born from pure defiance, a laugh that shook the heavens themselves. He howled in agony and triumph, as though mocking both the light that sought to destroy him and the very universe that dared to think it could.

But his laughter was short lived. In an instant, his form began to disintegrate. The intensity of the light that had once surrounded him now seemed to absorb him entirely. With a final, deafening silence, Ren Lin's body evaporated, his essence vanishing as though it had never existed. Not a single trace of him remained, no blood, no bones, no remnants of the demon who had terrorized the worlds for so long.

The white pillar of light quickly began to retract, shrinking down as rapidly as it had expanded. The radiant glow dimmed, fading into the stillness as if it were a fleeting dream, leaving behind nothing but the silence of a battle concluded. It had been a quick, soundless attack a strike so swift, so absolute, that it left the battlefield in stunned disbelief.