Immortal Paladin

057 Heavenly Demon

057 Heavenly Demon

I woke up.

The stone ceiling above me was the same as always—cold, cracked, eternal. My thin bedding did little to soften the hardness of the floor, but I had long since learned to ignore such things. Comfort was a luxury meant for those who had already proven themselves.

I sat up, my limbs aching from yesterday’s training. My breath came out slow and steady, white mist curling from my lips in the dim morning air. The world outside had yet to awaken. No sounds of combat. No screams. No commands barked from the overseers.

It was quiet.

But quiet never lasted long.

Among the hundred of us seeded disciples, only eleven remained.

I was second to dead last.

Not the worst, but close enough that it hardly made a difference.

I had no delusions. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t particularly talented. The only reason I had made it this far was because of my bloodline ability—Sixth Sense Misfortune. It allowed me to survive where others failed, to step just slightly out of death’s reach.

But it was a crutch.

And crutches did not make one strong.

The truth was evident in the gap between myself and the others. The ten remaining disciples before me had all pierced into the Soul-Recognition Realm, the fifth realm of cultivation. I, meanwhile, remained stuck in the Spirit-Mystery Realm, the fourth realm.

It wasn’t as if I had slacked. I had given my all. Dedicated every fiber of my being to cultivating for the sake of the Heavenly Demon. And yet, this was my limit.

A quiet failure.

A forgotten ember among roaring flames.

I should have felt despair. I should have been terrified.

Instead, I felt nothing at all.

I swallowed a sustenance pill.

It sat heavy in my stomach, dissolving into warmth that spread through my limbs. Food was unnecessary at our level. Wasteful, even. The sect provided these pills instead—nutrient-dense, perfectly portioned, devoid of taste or pleasure.

I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing.

Then, I cultivated.

Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path.

That was the name of the technique I had been granted. A method that allowed me to manipulate misfortune, to defer and accumulate fate itself.

It was also a curse.

The more I cultivated, the more misfortune gathered within me. I could delay it, postpone it, but I could never be rid of it entirely. The elders had told me this was a boon. A strength. A tool to be wielded against enemies.

And yet, I wondered.

What happened to a blade that had no sheath?

What happened to a vessel when it was filled beyond its limit?

I exhaled.

The cold air carried the weight of my thoughts away.

None of it mattered. Not really.

The path before me was already set.

So, I did what I had always done.

I cultivated in silence.

I felt a presence outside my door.

It was faint—hesitant, even—but with my Qi Sense, I could still detect it. A familiar trace of energy, light and cold like the morning frost.

I sighed.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and in walked her.

Silver hair framed her youthful face, her pale eyes filled with that same naive brightness she always carried. Dong Yun was a couple of years younger than me, barely past thirteen, and she had the irritating habit of seeking me out whenever she could.

“Big Sister Gu Jie!” she greeted with a grin.

I gave her a tired look. “Why are you here, Dong Yun?”

She ignored my tone and stepped inside, her hands hidden within the long sleeves of her robes. “You were cultivating all night again, weren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

She took my silence as confirmation. “You should take breaks, you know. There’s more to life than just—”

“Cultivation is life,” I cut her off, my voice sharper than intended. “You should be raising your realm instead of wasting time.”

Her smile faltered, but only for a second.

I lifted my gaze, just slightly.

And there he sat, upon his throne of gold and shadow.

The Heavenly Demon was old, though his presence had long since surpassed the fragility of age. His features were noble, carved by time and power—sharp cheekbones, a long and straight nose, lips set in an expression that betrayed nothing. His hair, white as untouched snow, cascaded down his back, a stark contrast to the heavy robes of gold and black that draped over his frame.

But his eyes...

Pitch black.

Twin abysses, vast and empty, devouring the light itself.

He did not speak, not at first.

He did not need to.

The weight of his presence alone was enough to steal the breath from the weak. Even the elders, the ones who had long since transcended mortality, bowed deeply before him, their foreheads pressed against the marble floor.

I swallowed, suppressing the instinct to shiver.

Dong Yun knelt beside me, her hands curled into fists within her sleeves. I could feel the tremble in her qi, the quiet storm of emotions she tried to smother. Fear. Hope. Desperation.

She still believed in him.

Foolish girl.

The silence stretched, each second an eternity. Then, at last, the Heavenly Demon moved.

His voice was quiet.

It did not need to be loud.

"Rise."

The air trembled with his command.

Every disciple obeyed. Every elder followed. We rose in unison, our breaths held, our hearts steady.

He watched us, those abyssal eyes sweeping over the sea of bodies before him. And then, he spoke again.

"The time draws near."

My blood ran cold.

"You have been chosen," he continued. "As my strength. As my blood. As my life."

A murmur ran through the hall. Some disciples glanced at one another, uncertain. The inner disciples straightened with pride, as if to be acknowledged was an honor.

But we—the seeded disciples—stood in silence.

We knew what he meant.

He was not speaking in metaphor.

This was what we were raised for. This was what we were trained for.

We were not meant to serve.

We were meant to be consumed.

"The world moves toward its fate."

His words carried no urgency, only certainty. A simple truth, spoken as though it had already been written.

"Long have the heavens deceived mankind with their false light. Long have they pretended to be righteous, to guide mortals with empty promises of virtue and order."

A murmur ran through the hall. The outer disciples nodded, their expressions reverent. The inner disciples stood straighter, as if drinking in his words.

"But order is a lie."

His voice darkened, reverberating through the very walls.

"The heavens are but chains, forged by those who fear true power. They call us demons, yet they are the ones who hoard divinity for themselves, who cower behind celestial laws, who deny the strong their rightful rule."

The elders bowed their heads lower.

"But a reckoning shall come."

My fingers twitched.

"The fateful day draws near—the day when the devils shall roam the world once more. The day when the heavens shall shatter, and the false gods shall fall to ruin."

He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate. The golden rings upon his fingers gleamed in the dim firelight.

"And we, my devoted disciples, shall stand at the precipice of that new era."

A shiver ran through the assembled ranks. Anticipation. Fear. Exhilaration.

"The strong shall reign. The weak shall kneel. And the heavens shall burn."

A single pause. A single breath.

Then—

"Let the Demonic Ascendance Ceremony... begin."

The hall erupted.