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墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Yang frowned. The Old Man of Heavenly Secrets was an Extraordinary Person from over ten thousand years ago, who had never had any conflicts of interest with anyone in the Cultivation world. This individual was elusive, with vast knowledge that encompassed the past and future, and had been an object of reverence for people throughout the ages.
"The Central Sovereign rises, the Demon Moon falls," Zhao Yang murmured.
The first prophecy, "The Central Sovereign rises, the Demon Moon falls," had a straightforward meaning: it indicated the end of the Demon Moon Dynasty's rule, with the Central Sovereign emerging to overthrow it and take its place.
The second prophecy, "Shen Xiu ascends, the Monkey King descends," referred to Shen Xiu's crossing from another realm three thousand years ago and the event five hundred years prior when Sun Wukong was suppressed at Buddha's Palm Mountain. This prophecy spanned a full ten thousand years, leaving Zhao Yang shocked. Could there truly be such a person in the world?
Seeing Zhao Yang deep in thought, the Demon Empress spoke up, "The first two of the three great prophecies have already come to pass; only the third remains unfulfilled."
"The Rebel Son appears, a True Immortal descends."
Suddenly, Zhao Yang was struck with alarm as if he had realized something. He recalled that two individuals had mentioned the term "Rebel" in front of him before. One was when he first met Sun Wukong, who claimed to be a figure that defied fate. The other was the mysterious Heavenly Joy Sect Ancestor, who also referred to him as someone who defied fate. Could he be the Rebel Son?
The Demon Empress glanced at Zhao Yang and slowly said, "And this Rebel Son is you!"
"How can you be so certain, Demon Empress?" Zhao Yang retorted.
The Demon Empress replied, "Do not forget that I am the Queen of All Demons, governing countless demons across the world. Your human lifespan is merely a hundred years at best; even if one cultivates to transcend into the heavenly realm, they might live up to a thousand years—ultimately limited by their experiences and knowledge. However, demons are different; they encompass nearly all species within the Cultivation world. Strictly speaking, dragons are also considered a type of demon, and their lifespans can exceed ten thousand years. My wife, Azure Phoenix, has a lifespan of ten thousand years as well. Some plants that cultivate can live for tens of thousands of years or even longer—like the Heavenly Tree before you."
The Demon Empress pointed towards the Heavenly Tree that stood tall between heaven and earth, piercing through the clouds and reaching towards the celestial realm, instilling awe in all who gazed upon it.
Zhao Yang still remembers the time he flew for what felt like an eternity, following the Heavenly Tree, yet never reaching the top of that divine tree. However, he discovered the Heavenly Crystal growing there, along with the Ginseng King, who had awakened after countless failures of Transcend Tribulation over the millennia.
The Demon Empress may not have read as many ancient texts as Zhao Yang, but she had subordinates who informed her of many ancient secrets, including the three great prophecies of the Old Man of Heavenly Secrets. Her certainty that Zhao Yang was the Rebel Son did not come from the Heavenly Tree or anyone else telling her; it was a conclusion she reached on her own, and she was utterly convinced that Zhao Yang was indeed the Rebel Son foretold in prophecy.
The demon race also had High Sorcerers, skilled in profound arts, capable of divining fortunes and probing into the future.
The Demon Empress sent a message to summon the High Sorcerer.
The High Sorcerer was an elderly man whose age was hard to discern. He walked with a tremor, holding a strange and worn tortoise shell. He had no teeth and no eyebrows. He respectfully bowed to the Demon Empress and the Demon Queen before turning to Zhao Yang to recount what he had seen and heard.
From the moment he laid eyes on Zhao Yang, the High Sorcerer told the Demon Empress that this child possessed the most powerful fate known—a fate that could defy heaven and alter destiny. Once he matured, he could turn the world upside down, reverse yin and yang, and overturn all established rules since the dawn of creation. He could even resurrect the deceased, prompting celestial beings to sense his threat and descend to eliminate him, disregarding heavenly laws.
Such a fate that defies heaven has only appeared once in the history of the Cultivation realm. It was during its nascent stages when even the Mother of Demons was still a child. At that time, the Ghost Realm had not yet been destroyed, nor had the Demon Realm formed. There was no Demon Moon, no Central Sovereign, no Five Great Sects—there were not even immortals; only deities existed in those days.
And the master of this fate was a butterfly.
That butterfly was named Tearing the Sky.
The High Sorcerer's voice was slow yet powerful; his frail body made his voice sound even older. He held out the worn tortoise shell before Zhao Yang and said, "This shell is a remnant I shed after living for tens of thousands of years. Inside is a mirror that can reflect your past lives and future. If you drop a single drop of your blood onto it, you will see."
Zhao Yang took the tortoise shell with skepticism and squeezed out a drop of golden-red blood using his True Qi.
Ding!
The first sound in what felt like ten thousand years shattered the silence, and Zhao Yang's thoughts sank beneath the surface like water. He saw a small boy, around five or six years old, standing in front of him with a pout. The boy watched his companions playing joyfully, while he stood alone on the side, creating a stark contrast. It was evident that the boy was somewhat withdrawn and insecure; he remained silent and still for a long time before quietly turning to leave.
Zhao Yang found the boy somewhat familiar and quietly followed him. After a while, the boy entered a terrifying place known as the Black House. Outside, Zhao Yang heard heart-wrenching screams, and he saw an Evil Man with a horrifying face.
Zhao Yang frowned; this was his father from his previous life. Indeed, that man had become a shadow over him back then. However, now he had reached a level of cultivation that should have made such shadows irrelevant.
Yet, Zhao Yang wanted to go in and save his younger self but found himself traversing through darkness until he saw himself at eleven or twelve years old.
A quiet boy sat in the dilapidated Village Primary School, diligently reading and writing. He was alone in the classroom. Zhao Yang sat beside him, observing the boy's furrowed brow. He gently patted the boy's back, and it seemed to spark an idea that helped him solve a problem that had troubled him for days. The boy then looked up at his classmates playing outside before turning back to the next page of his book. His small hands were frozen, darkening to shades of black and purple.
Before long, several Rascally Boys ran over, snatching the book from the boy's hands and tearing it to shreds. They then punched and kicked him while hurling insults before leaving happily.
Zhao Yang noticed the boy suddenly glance in his direction, pouting slightly as he softly said, "I will make you all pay in the future."
"No," Zhao Yang breathed out. He couldn't remember this being himself, yet he vaguely recalled having experienced something similar. He wanted to change everything; if things continued this way, the version of himself in that dream would surely grow up filled with hatred.
But just as Zhao Yang reached out his hand, a thick White Mist enveloped him. After a moment, as the mist dissipated and sunlight streamed in, he found himself still seated, but now beside him sat another boy who looked much like him—only two or three years younger. Yes, this was himself at seventeen years old.
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