The Tale Of The Demonic Sword God

The scent of blood still lingered in the air as I pushed open the grand doors leading to the Sect Master's chamber.

The chamber was far more elaborate than the rest of the sect. Dark wooden pillars lined the walls, each carved with intricate depictions of cloud-patterned dragons. A massive incense burner sat in the center, its embers still glowing faintly, filling the room with the scent of aged sandalwood.

And there, standing at the far end, was the Sect Master.

He was an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, but the strength in his posture suggested that age had not yet claimed him.

His robes, embroidered with azure threads, bore the insignia of the sect—a fading imitation of the Azure Cloud Sect's crest.

His eyes met mine, calm, unwavering, as if he had expected my arrival.

He smiled.

"Mo Wuyuan," he said, his voice steady. "I see you have made quite the mess outside."

I took another step forward, my fingers tightening around the hilt of Heaven's End.

"I simply repaid a debt," I said. "They sealed my fate the moment they stood by and watched as I was cast out."

The Sect Master sighed. "Revenge is such a bitter thing, Wuyuan. It consumes the soul, leaving behind nothing but emptiness."

"Spare me the lecture," I scoffed. "Are you going to fight, or are you just going to talk?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You mistake my intentions, young man. I do not wish to fight you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then what is it that you want?"

He spread his arms wide, as if in surrender. "I wish to serve."

I paused.

"You wish to serve?"

He nodded. "It is clear that you have surpassed us all, Wuyuan. Even the elders fell before you like dried leaves in the wind. There is no point in resisting what is inevitable."

His smile widened, but it did not reach his eyes. "Instead of destroying this sect, why not take it for yourself? Let me and my disciples serve under you. We can rebuild, stronger than ever."

For a moment, I considered it.

The idea had merit—a base of operations, loyal subordinates, resources to cultivate further.

But then—

A cold whisper slithered into my mind.

"Lies."

The Crimson Veil pulsed against my soul, a silent warning.

"This man does not seek to serve. He seeks to survive."

I met the Sect Master's gaze once more, and now I could see it—the flicker of calculation behind his expression, the hidden malice beneath his words.

He was waiting. Stalling.

Gathering his strength for a surprise attack.

I exhaled softly. "You almost had me convinced."

The Sect Master's smile faltered. "Oh?"

I moved.

He moved faster.

The room exploded into motion.

The Sect Master's palm shot forward, unleashing a torrent of azure energy. It crashed into the ground where I had been standing just moments before, shattering the floor into a web of deep cracks.

I twisted midair, landing gracefully a few feet away. Heaven's End hummed in my grip, eager for blood.

"So you saw through me," the Sect Master said, his tone no longer warm, but cold and sharp.

"Did you really think I'd fall for something so obvious?" I smirked. "Come, old man. Show me if you're worth keeping alive."

He didn't hesitate.

With a flick of his sleeve, talismans shot toward me, glowing with golden light. Each one carried a powerful seal, meant to bind my movements or suppress my qi.

I raised Heaven's End.

First Form – Shadow Severance!

A single slash.

A streak of dark light carved through the air, slicing through the talismans before they could activate. The golden seals disintegrated into ash.

The Sect Master's eyes widened, but he did not stop.

He slammed his hands together, forming a seal—his body became enveloped in a radiant blue aura, his cultivation surging.

"Cloud Piercing Palm!"

A massive spectral hand, formed of pure qi, crashed toward me.

I didn't dodge.

Instead, I stepped forward, Heaven's End burning with demonic energy.

Second Form – Abyssal Rend!

The moment the spectral palm touched my sword, its energy twisted, distorted—absorbed into the black blade like water vanishing into the void.

The Sect Master's face twisted in horror.

"What—?!"

I grinned. "This sword doesn't just cut, old man."

With a single step, I was upon him.

He barely managed to conjure a shield of azure light, but it was too late.

Third Form - Oblivion Surge!

A streak of red-black light slashed through the air.

The shield shattered.

The Sect Master staggered back, clutching his chest where a deep wound had appeared, black qi eating away at his flesh.

He coughed, blood spilling from his lips.

His knees buckled. "You… you are no longer human, are you?"

I tilted my head. "No," I admitted. "Not anymore."

I stepped forward.

He tried to summon more qi, but his body refused. The dark energy had already invaded his meridians, corroding his dantian.

He was finished.

The Sect Master looked up at me, and for the first time, true fear flickered in his eyes.

"Please… mercy—"

I swung my blade.

A single, clean stroke.

His head rolled across the chamber floor.

Silence followed.

I exhaled, letting my grip on Heaven's End loosen slightly.

The battle was over.

The sect was mine.

A pulse of energy surged through me. The remnants of the Sect Master's life essence flowed into my veins, strengthening my body. I could feel the next stage approaching.

This was only the beginning.

As the Sect Master's lifeless body collapsed to the floor, the chamber fell into silence, save for the faint hum of Heaven's End in my grip.

I exhaled slowly, relishing the surge of energy that coursed through me from absorbing his life essence.

But then—

A voice echoed in my mind.

Deep. Ancient. Filled with centuries of resentment.

"Wuyuan," the spirit inside Heaven's End spoke. "You wield me well, but you should know… this is not my true form."

I furrowed my brows, staring at the dark blade. "Not your true form?"

A low chuckle rumbled through my consciousness. "No. What you hold is but a mere fragment of my former self—a shadow of what I once was."

The blade trembled slightly in my hand, as if yearning for something lost.

"Then what happened to you?" I asked.

A pause. Then, the voice spoke once more, laced with quiet fury.

"Betrayal. Cowardice. Fear."

The air in the chamber seemed to thicken, the atmosphere growing heavy with an ancient grievance.

"My previous master was a demonic cultivator who once stood at the pinnacle of this world. He was feared by all, unmatched in battle. But fear breeds unity, and so, the so-called righteous sects cast aside their rivalries and formed an alliance."

A vision flickered in my mind—eight high-rank sect masters gathered together, leading their forces alongside sixteen lower-rank sects that served them.

A total of twenty-four sects.

And against them stood one man, wielding Heaven's End in a form unlike anything I had ever seen.

The sword in the vision was larger, more menacing, its blade seething with black flames. It was not the elegant yet deadly weapon I held now—it was a force of destruction incarnate.

"One against many," the spirit continued. "Though my master slaughtered thousands, even he could not stand against the combined might of the entire cultivation world."

The vision shifted—Heaven's End clashing against divine weapons, fighting against formations forged through the unity of countless sects.

But in the end—

The sword was defeated.

The spirit's voice darkened. "They knew they could not destroy me, so they chose a different method."

I watched as the sect masters, victorious but wary, each stepped forward, chanting incantations, sealing away different parts of the blade's power.

"They took fragments of my strength, stripping me layer by layer, until I was left in my weakest form—the form you see now."

The once-magnificent sword in the vision darkened, shrinking, becoming the blade I now wielded.

The spirit let out a low growl. "But they were not satisfied with merely sealing my power away. They feared that one day, I would return. So they forged weapons infused with my stolen essence, each passed down through generations of sect masters, ensuring that my power would always remain in their hands."

I stiffened. The weapon the Sect Master had wielded—the one I had just slain—was part of Heaven's End?

"Yes," the spirit confirmed, its voice filled with quiet hunger. "Each of the twenty-four sects that took part in my downfall holds a fragment of my power. The high-rank sects claimed the largest portions, crafting weapons of immense strength. Meanwhile, the sixteen smaller sects received lesser fragments, embedding them into the weapons of their sect masters and elders."

I clenched my fist. "So to restore you—"

"You must hunt them all," the spirit interrupted. "Twenty-four fragments in total. Only when I consume them all will I regain my true form."

I glanced toward the Sect Master's fallen weapon. It was a longsword, its azure glow fading with his death.

I stepped forward, picking it up.

A pulse of energy trembled within it—weak, but undeniably familiar.

A slow smile crept across my lips. "Then let's begin."

With a flick of my wrist, I pressed the stolen weapon against Heaven's End.

The moment the two blades touched, dark energy surged forth, devouring the azure sword in an instant.

The air vibrated with power as the stolen fragment reintegrated into Heaven's End.

The blade in my hand pulsed—its form sharpening slightly, the black sheen deepening, the weight shifting ever so subtly.

It was still incomplete, but this was only the beginning.

I exhaled, gripping the evolving sword tightly.

Twenty-four fragments.

Twenty-four enemies.

And when I claimed the last one—

The heavens themselves would fall.