I Really Am A Villain Chapter 2 - What Is An Emperor?
Previously on I Really Am A Villain...
He appeared just like a common mortal anywhere in the realm, featuring a plain face, with long hair cascading down his back and loosely bound at the top. Gray strands had begun emerging at his temples.
Yet it was his eyes that truly commanded notice. They appeared to encompass the stars of the whole universe. A mere glimpse caused even Zhang Zhongtian, a cultivator in the True Meridian Realm, to feel his very soul icing over.
This spoke volumes, for a powerhouse at his stage to feel so powerless—this was precisely what they called each step on the Dao path akin to ascending the heavens.
“You’ve grown up,” Xu Qingshan said with warmth.
His son’s composure mildly astonished him. True strength demanded mastering isolation and quietude.
“You’ve aged…” Xu Zimo responded, voice quivering as he gazed at the silver threads in his father’s hair.
In that instant, a flood of feelings surged within him. In his previous existence, he’d forged a three-year agreement with protagonist Chu Yang for a duel at Nether Dragon Ravine. Yet at the appointed hour, defeat hurled him into the depths.
Seeking vengeance, his father rallied the full might of True Martial Sacred Ground to pursue Chu Yang. None foresaw the protagonist’s explosive rise.
Time after time, Chu Yang slipped away, returning each occasion more formidable. At last, gripping a three-foot longsword, he assaulted True Martial Sacred Ground head-on.
Legends claimed that clash rattled the skies and cleaved peaks. The heavens darkened. Rivers burst apart.
Xu Qingshan fell to Chu Yang in the end. Only the Sacred Lord’s timely intervention halted the bout, sparing Xu Zimo’s father from certain death.
The ordeal shattered him utterly. In a single night, his locks turned fully white. He retreated from society, vanishing into seclusion amid the peaks.
None realized Xu Zimo hadn’t perished in Nether Dragon Ravine. Rather, fortune had smiled upon him there.
From that point, his path of cultivation ignited in earnest, fueled by an unquenchable thirst for power.
He ascended to the God Meridian Realm at last, poised for retribution against Chu Yang.
But the protagonist’s might proved insurmountable, his hidden aces inexhaustible. That confrontation demolished every shred of Xu Zimo’s arrogance.
…
Returning to the now, Xu Qingshan passed him a token and murmured gently, “You’ve reached adulthood. The moment has come to select a cultivation technique from the Scripture Vault.
This token opens the highest level, housing the authentic legacies of the four Grand Emperors. The decision rests with you.”
Xu Zimo accepted the token and nodded resolutely. In truth, he’d perused the four Imperial arts in his former life.
Yet certain formalities demanded observance. Revealing his rebirth remained impossible. The sphere’s mysteries eluded him still.
“I won’t meddle in your cultivation,” Xu Qingshan continued. “Whichever art you pick is your call. Ultimately, each must tread their unique Dao.”
After a brief silence, he went on, “At present, you resemble a cart balanced precariously on a precipice’s brink. My role is merely to caution you—avoid the plunge.”
“As for the cart’s direction—east, west, south, or north—that lies wholly in your hands.”
Xu Zimo nodded, grasping his father’s intent fully.
Be it a paramount Grand Emperor’s legacy or a mundane technique, the distinction faded in the end.
Every soul forges their own martial Dao. No matter the might of inherited arts from predecessors, they never align flawlessly with another.
“Head out now. Your mother has departed for your grandfather’s abode. Word is the Ten-Meridian Fruit nears maturity. She seeks one on your behalf,” Xu Qingshan remarked smilingly. “Cultivate diligently, don’t fail me.”
“Fail you…?” Xu Zimo whispered to himself. Then came his steadfast nod.
In his prior life, disappointment had indeed marked his legacy for his father.
Prior to tumbling into Nether Dragon Ravine, cultivation held no sway over him.
He wallowed in debauchery, encircled by empty indulgences of his crafting. As crown prince of True Martial Sacred Ground, sycophants fawned and groveled like faithful hounds.
Wants evaded him entirely. So what need drove cultivation?
Only later did clarity dawn: tranquility never endures. Another simply bears the load in your stead.
…
Departing Green Mountain, Xu Zimo made directly for the Scripture Vault.
Gazing upon the majestic edifice shrouded in majestic haze, this site transcended mere fable—it pulsed as the vital core of a legendary, mighty Sect.
True Martial Sacred Ground surpassed ordinary Sects. It stood as an Imperial Lineage, birthplace of four Grand Emperors.
What defined a Grand Emperor?
They reigned as the era’s supreme existences.
Rumors held that every age birthed a Heaven’s Will. The figure emerging from billions to claim it ascended as Grand Emperor.
…
A hundred thousand years prior, Primordial Heartlands lingered in its Desolate Era, when humanity ranked as puny as insects, ephemeral as motes of dust.
A man named Zhen Wu advanced one day, sword gripped tightly in hand. He endured countless brushes with death, kindled his divine flame, crafted his imperial throne, and shouldered the Heaven’s Will.
From the summit of the heavens, he proclaimed:
"The Heaven’s Will is mine alone!"
On that day, the Desolate Era concluded. Humanity ushered in the unparalleled Imperial Era.
Grand Emperor Zhen Wu became the pioneering Grand Emperor of this era. He drew open the vast curtain of a legendary, monumental epoch.
“We acknowledge you as the strongest,” countless voices roared, bowing low beneath his supreme power.
…
Upon bearing the Heaven’s Will, Grand Emperor Zhen Wu journeyed to the Western Region of the Eastern Continent and established the True Martial Sacred Ground.
The day of its founding saw throngs arriving from every direction to offer homage. The four seas submitted in reverence. Millions battled desperately for the opportunity to enter.
Countless sects implored to serve as its subordinates.
From that point forward, the expansive tens of thousands of miles in the remote west fell completely under the sect’s control, holding firm even until now.
…
Thousands of years onward, another figure emerged from the True Martial Sacred Ground.
His name has faded into obscurity long ago, yet all recall the three long sabers slung across his back.
“Slay Immortals. Butcher Demons. Face Myself.”
These three blades allowed him to conquer his entire age.
He ranked as the seventh Grand Emperor of the Imperial Era, the second Grand Emperor hailing from the True Martial Sacred Ground.
The world knows him as the Grand Emperor San Dao.
…
Another ten thousand years slipped by, birthing the sect’s third Grand Emperor.
The Grand Emperor Shen Xing.
Among every Grand Emperor in history, the Grand Emperor Shen Xing shone not the brightest.
But in speed, he outpaced all others without question.
During the twilight of his rule, he peered deeply into the far horizon and bequeathed one parting phrase:
“With these feet, I shall cross every shining river, behold all fleeting beauty, and walk to the peak of sun and moon.”
Then he faded away, leaving behind solely the indelible vision of his mythic silhouette, forever carved into memory.