The Steward Demonic Emperor Chapter 1, Nine Serenities Secret Records
Standing atop the highest precipice of Devil Peak, a man clad in black watched with intense focus.
High above the cloud layer, the sun and moon aligned, bathing the world in a contrast of scorching warmth and frigid starlight. The man expanded his arms, drawing in the celestial essence until the world seemed to fade into shadow.
A malevolent gale erupted, carryng the echoes of countless tortured spirits.
As the wind whipped his long hair, it unveiled a face that bore a distinctly demonic cast.
The celestial bodies dimmed as the man harnessed their power, soon accompanied by thick, swirling dark energy.
Encased within a veil of shadow from the biting wind, he exhaled, exposing a wicked, triumphant smirk.
Rumble!
The thunderous sound acted as a signal, triggering the four surrounding mountains to erupt while Devil Peak itself suffered violent tremors. Amidst this upheaval, the man finished absorbing the lunar and solar essences and finally opened his eyes.
With a series of sharp cracks echoing through space, seven streaks of light emerged. As the brilliance faded, seven figures were revealed, each emanating a terrifyingly ruthless aura.
The man’s brows twitched, and he spoke in a rasping, eerie tone, “What brings the seven of you here? Did you not always loathe our kind of demonic cultivators?”
“Humph, Emperor Zhuo Yifan, surely the reason for our visit is self-evident?” An elderly man stroked his white beard, his gaze filled with icy contempt.
Zhuo Yifan’s heart skipped a beat as he replied, “Geezer Sword Emperor, I have no idea what you are implying.”
“Stop the charade and surrender the Nine Serenities Secret Records,” a female Daoist stepped forward, her chin lifted in arrogant demand.
Zhuo Yifan felt the blood drain from his face.
It had been only one month since he recovered the ancient dwelling of the Nine Serenities Emperor. After nearly losing his life countless times, he finally attained the secret scrolls he had spent a lifetime seeking. How could these people have discovered his prize?
A sudden realization dawned on him, and his expression turned deathly cold.
“Zhao Chen, show yourself,” Zhuo Yifan roared.
A cheerful voice echoed through the desolate mountain forest. A handsome youth in white robes emerged from behind the group of seven, grinning. He offered a shallow bow to Zhuo Yifan and said, “Ha-ha-ha, Master, were you looking for me?”
Zhuo Yifan glared at the traitor with searing hatred, asking, “Is this your handiwork?”
“Exactly!” Zhao Chen replied with a bright smile.
“And did you sabotage the protective array as well?”
“Yes!”
“Why? I have never been anything but generous toward you,” Zhuo Yifan clenched his fist, murderous intent radiating from his eyes.
Though a demonic cultivator, he rarely killed without cause; to do so would contradict his nature. After all, the righteous sects would have hunted him down ages ago had he been a senseless murderer. Zhao Chen, specifically, was an orphan he had sheltered due to his latent potential. Yet, the day had come when this disciple betrayed him.
Despite his attempt to maintain a facade of calm, the overwhelming bloodlust from his master forced Zhao Chen to recoil, retreating closer to the seven experts behind him.
“Master, I acknowledge your kindness is as immense as the mountains. But that does not grant you the right to occupy the Eight Emperor seat and keep me suppressed under your shadow for eternity. Especially regarding the Nine Serenities Secret Records. Ever since you acquired it, you have practiced in total secrecy, fearing that I might even catch a glimpse of the contents.”
Zhuo Yifan’s heart stung at these words.
Zhao Chen would never know that he had shielded him out of concern. Lacking the necessary cultivation base, an impulsive dive into the Nine Serenities Secret Records would surely lead one to deviate from the Dao. He had intended to master the techniques fully before imparting them to his successor.
Now, all his careful preparations had been dismantled in a single month.
“Ha-ha-ha, very well done. Zhao Chen, you are truly a worthy disciple!”
Zhuo Yifan’s laughter soared toward the heavens, fueled by a deep, boiling rage, “Since that is the case, Master will grant you a demonstration of the Nine Serenities Secret Records.”
“Zhuo Yifan, this is no place for such insolence while we seven are present,” the white-bearded elder intervened, stepping in front of the youth.
“Humph, the entire Sacred Domain recognizes me as one of the Eight Emperors. Do you think I fear you seven cowards even if you strike together?”
Without further hesitation, Zhuo Yifan unleashed a palm strike at Zhao Chen.
A dark, claw-like phantom manifested in the sky, lunging toward the youth.
Zhao Chen’s eyes widened with terror as he scrambled backward, paralyzed by dread.
In the face of the encroaching claw, the elder unsheathed his blade. A single sweep of his sword vanished the dark strike into nothingness.
“Humph, the Nine Serenities Secret Records is nothing to behold,” the old man sneered, his sword poised as he glared down at his opponent.
Zhuo Yifan smiled grimly and gestured with both palms, “Old man, do not be so conceited.”
Boom!
Like a thousand thunderclaps crashing simultaneously, the sky filled with thousands of massive, shadowy palms raining down upon the seven cultivators. Each strike was twice the size of the previous claw, possessing a level of power that left the seven rivals stunned.
“How is this possible? Has he reached the Sacred Stage?” The Sword Emperor gasped, cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
Confidence began to drain away as they watched. Even with seven Emperors united, they were no match for a true master of the Sacred Stage.
Zhao Chen, pale with regret, trembled as he realized that just one month of training had elevated Zhuo Yifan’s power to a realm beyond comprehension.
“Humph, insufferable traitor, your existence ends today,” Zhuo Yifan vowed.
Flash!
A radiant beam descended from the heavens, piercing the mass of black palms and striking straight at Zhuo Yifan. Caught off-guard, the beam tore through him instantly.
Blood sprayed from his lips, and the black palms dissolved into mist. Gasping for air, Zhuo Yifan looked up to see a middle-aged figure wrapped in a halo of holy light.
“A Saint!” Zhuo Yifan bit his lip in defiance, knowing exactly what the newcomer wanted.
“Demonic Emperor Zhuo Yifan, I represent the Sacred Domain to reclaim the Demon Emperor’s legacy. Surrender it now, and your life shall be spared.” The Saint spoke without emotion, barely deigning to look at Zhuo Yifan, his only interest lying in the Nine Serenities Secret Records.
To this ultimate practitioner of the Sacred Domain, even Emperors were merely insects.
With a bitter, fragmented chuckle, Zhuo Yifan pulled a shimmering, multicolored jade slip from his robes.
The artifact’s appearance instantly altered the expressions of those present, particularly the Saint.
Disdain etched onto his face, Zhuo Yifan mocked them, “What 'righteous cultivators'? What 'Saint'? Aren't you all merely thieves looting the possessions of another? I will never permit you to see a single word of the Nine Serenities Secret Records, even if I have to destroy it myself.”
He surged with a lethal, volatile energy.
“No! He’s going to initiate a self-destruction!”
The Sword Emperor screamed, retreating as fast as his feet could carry him. The other Emperors scrambled to follow suit, but the Saint erupted in holy rage, lunging toward his target, “Halt!”
With a defiant grin, Zhuo Yifan crushed the jade slip into dust right before the Saint’s eyes. The sight of such fury and thwarted greed on the Saint’s face elicited a final, mocking peal of laughter from the dying Emperor.
Boom!
His laughter was swallowed by a catastrophic shockwave that leveled every inch of Devil Peak.
When the dust and debris eventually settled, the Saint stood alone, his robes tattered and his face twisted into a mask of pure irritation.
“To think that even after such a devastating explosion, a Saint could remain completely unharmed,” the Sword Emperor noted as he bowed in reverence.
The Saint merely snorted and prepared to depart.
Suddenly, Zhao Chen stepped forward, “Please, Saint, wait. The Demonic Emperor is cunning and deceitful. If he chose to possess another, the secrets of the Nine Serenities Secret Records might eventually pose a threat to us all.”
“Humph, his self-destruction consumed his very soul. Possession is impossible.” With a disdainful flick of his sleeve, he vanished into thin air.
An uneasy tension lifted from the survivors. Given the presence of a Saint, it would have been impossible for any Emperor to preserve their soul during such a suicide strike. Still, the destruction of the legendary Nine Serenities Secret Records remained a bitter loss.
As the onlookers surveyed the scorched remains of Devil Peak, they felt a complex mix of relief, grief, and pity for the end of an era.