Beneath a gloomy sky tainted with blood-red clouds, a desolate valley stretched in utter silence—isolated from the world and forgotten by time. No birds sang. No winds blew. Even sunlight hesitated to pierce the thin mist that clung to every inch of the earth.
And in the heart of this void stood a young man in black robes, his figure like a shadow fused with the darkness itself.
He was Ye Tian.
His gaze was empty, but within that void, something terrifying dwelled—a rage frozen for years, like a lake sealed in eternal winter.
In his hand, he held an old pendant shaped like a dragon—the only relic from his childhood, swallowed long ago by tragedy.
"Today… I return," he whispered.
His voice was heavy, yet calm—echoing through stone and lifeless trees.
The ground beneath his feet began to tremble. The mist thinned. And from the cracks of towering cliffs emerged the silhouette of an ancient structure long devoured by history—the Heavenblood Sect.
His birthplace.
The site of his family's destruction.
A cursed land that concealed the mystery of his very bloodline.
Within Ye Tian's chest, his blood simmered—not from hatred, but from something far deeper:
The Curse of the Heavenly Bloodline.
Since the age of eight, he had been branded a harbinger of doom.
His body rejected all forms of spiritual energy.
He could not cultivate.
He could not fight.
He could not survive.
But everything changed seven years ago—when he fell into the Abyssal Ravine and emerged with a power no human should possess.
His body now was a battlefield—where demonic essence clashed with celestial light.
Two forces that should never coexist.
And yet, he lived.
He still stood.
And he had returned.
---
Atop the cliffs, a group of outer sect disciples gathered. They had yet to notice Ye Tian approaching. One of them—a haughty youth wearing the crest of a noble clan—shouted arrogantly.
"Who are you!? This is a forbidden—"
One step.
That was all.
One step from Ye Tian shattered the air with invisible pressure.
The earth cracked.
The wind halted.
The youth's eyes widened—blood spewed from his mouth, and his body flew backward like a lifeless puppet.
The others froze. Their breath caught.
Ye Tian stared at them, cold as unmelting ice.
"I… am no one," he said softly.
"I am but a shadow—of something you buried alive."
---
Thunder rolled across the heavens.
Far in the distance, the elders of the sect felt the disturbance in spiritual flow.
One of them—Elder Bai, a sharp-eyed old man—slowly opened his eyes.
"He… has returned?"
---
In a world where power is law, and bloodline is fate, Ye Tian was an anomaly.
He was not a hero.
He was not a demon.
He was something that defied explanation—an existence that should never have been born into this world.
And tonight… it would all begin again.
---
The Pavilion of Heavenblood
The twilight wind gently swept through the courtyard, but the air remained still—as if time itself was frozen. Ye Tian's footsteps stopped before a moss-covered stone gate.
This was the entrance to the Heavenblood Pavilion—forbidden to low-ranking disciples, a place where blood and history entwined in silence.
He stood motionless, his golden eyes scanning the ancient stone pillars surrounding the pavilion, as though gazing into memories buried for a thousand years.
An ancient aura seeped from between the stones—faint, yet sharp.
Even Ye Tian, who had long forgotten fear, felt a whisper touch the depths of his soul.
"This pavilion…" he murmured, "is not merely a vault of forbidden techniques... but the birthplace of the curse."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
A tall, thin silhouette approached—it was Elder Mo, the sect's keeper of records.
Clad in grey robes, with long white hair tied neatly behind him, his expression betrayed no emotion, but his eyes were cautious.
"Ye Tian," the old man rasped, "the Voice of Heaven has granted you access… but are you prepared to bear what lies within?"
Ye Tian didn't respond.
Instead, he lifted his head slightly, meeting Elder Mo's gaze.
His eyes pierced like thunder at midnight.
"If I must bear the heavens themselves," he said, "then I shall carry them with one hand."
Elder Mo fell silent.
For a fleeting moment, he saw the shadow of another... someone who once said those very words—with equally chilling resolve.
Ye Tian's father.
"Very well," the elder said at last. "Then enter. But remember… do not let your blood fall upon the seventh floor."
Ye Tian gave a slight nod.
With a single step, he crossed into the Pavilion of Heavenblood.
As the stone doors closed behind him, the world within changed entirely.
Light vanished—replaced by crimson glimmers from inscriptions on the walls.
Hundreds of scrolls glowed faintly, yet one among them—deepest and highest—emitted a dark violet radiance.
There it was.
The Xue Tian Ji—The Heavenblood Codex.
A cultivation manual that once brought empires to their knees—and destroyed a generation of cultivators.
Step by step, Ye Tian approached.
With each pace, shadowy tendrils emerged from the floor—writhing like the hands of ancient spirits.
But Ye Tian did not falter.
His body began to emit a dark, purplish aura—like a shroud of shadow.
The curse in his blood... awakened.
As his fingers touched the scroll, a strange voice echoed from every direction—a blend of screams, prayers, and weeping.
"Are you… the successor of Heavenblood?"
Ye Tian opened his glowing eyes, piercing through the darkness.
"I am not a successor," he replied.
"I am… the heir of destruction."
The scroll unraveled, and thousands of blood-red runes surged into his body.
The pavilion trembled.
And the sky outside darkened—as if to proclaim that a world-shattering force… had risen once more.