"Kill them! Chase them! Attack! Destroy!" The battle cries of the orthodox sect echoed across the ravaged landscape, their powerful martial arts techniques a brutal symphony of slaughter. With twisted grins and eyes burning with zeal, they chased down demonic arts practitioners, their excitement palpable as they reveled in the extermination of the demonic faction.
The martial world was divided into three power blocs. First, the orthodox faction, who walked a path of righteousness, their blade skills honed with honor, dedicated to protecting the innocent. Then came the unorthodox faction, driven by greed, willing to perform any dirty deed as long as it lined their pockets. And finally, the demonic faction, who gloried in their deadly arts, their ambition to conquer the heavens, defiant against all worldly rules.
Despite their claims of world domination, the demonic faction was mostly isolated, ostracized due to fear and conspiracy. Their various sects, united under a charismatic leader, thrived. They nurtured talented martial artists who were born into the cult. The enraged orthodox faction, who had long tried to suppress the demonic faction, received word that their leader was about to break through to sainthood—the pinnacle of power in the lower martial realms.
This intelligence triggered a deadly scheme. All the orthodox sects formed an alliance, led by the four main sects: Tang, Sima, Wudang, and Emei. These sects consisted of masters of poison, illusion, swordplay, and palm techniques, respectively. Uniting the remaining righteous sects, they launched a coordinated attack against the demonic faction before their leader could complete his breakthrough, that could shatter the precarious power balance in the martial world.
The sudden attack on the demonic sect was far from righteous. The orthodox faction, in their bloodlust, slaughtered men, women, and even defenseless children. The demonic cult desperately tried to defend themselves, but the orthodox faction had gained the support of the unscrupulous unorthodox faction, who, driven by the promise of spoils, eagerly joined the winning side.
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The demonic faction's leader, hearing the cries of war, was forced to prematurely end his cultivation, suffering severe Qi deviation. Even in his weakened state, the merciless experts of the orthodox sect swarmed him, ending his life. The entire southern plain, the heartland of the demonic sects, was ravaged. Even after their leader's death, the greedy and insatiable orthodox and unorthodox factions pursued the fleeing demonic cult members like hunters chasing prey. The demonic cult, desperate to survive, resorted to abandoning their identities, destroying their meridians and qi centers to conceal their martial arts and avoid detection.
However, this story occurred twenty years ago. This is the root of how Mo Chen's world crumbled in a single moment, the tale of a raging beast born from chaos who swallowed and nearly destroyed the world. His father was a skilled martial artist, the guardian of the library that housed the demonic cult's most treasured and forbidden arts. Mo Chen was always close to his father. On the day that the fighting intensified and drew close to the capital, when the demonic leader was forced to abandon his cultivation and join the battle.
His father, desperate for his son's safety, broke the demonic faction's sacred law. He opened a hidden, underground passage leading to the library, a place where forbidden arts were kept. He knocked Mo Chen unconscious, gently placing him inside. "I'll be back, son," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Sleep, and wait. Daddy will come." Tears streamed down his face as he locked the passage door, which instantly vanished, leaving no trace except the knowledge that it could only be opened by the guardian. With a final, lingering look, he turned and joined the raging battle, a battle he would not survive.
Not long after, Mo Chen awoke, his heart aching. A terrible emptiness washed over him. Something precious, something he had always wanted to protect, had been ripped from his grasp. He struggled to breathe amidst his tears, his body shaking with sobs. The anger that welled up inside was almost unbearable, each painful thump of his heart fueled by a burning resentment for those who had destroyed his world and taken his father away. Only twelve years old, alone, and without any food or water, trapped in the library without any means of escape.