DEMON EMPEROR

A thick mist perpetually hung in the Valley of Silence, a name that now sounded ironic. Long ago, it was here that a mid-tier White Stream Sect once stood, where a child named Ba Bel first found his destiny. However, sixty years ago, this valley became the epicenter of a war that marked the beginning of the Age of Darkness. Since then, the Valley of Silence slowly became known as the Valley of Skulls, holding millions of buried corpses—silent witnesses to ambition and bloodshed.

After decades of neglect, today, the Valley of Skulls once again became the stage for a great battle. Under a fiery twilight sky, an orange-red glow enveloped the mountaintops and barren trees. A middle-aged man stood firm. His hair, which should have been entirely gray, was only partially whitened among strands of black, reflecting his true age of 101 years, despite his appearance being only in his 50s. The man was Ba Bel, bearing the title of Demon Emperor, standing alongside his only trusted disciple, Zhou Tu. They were both surrounded by dozens of other martial artists, eight of whom were titled Emperors from the White Stream.

Ba Bel’s eyes swept over the faces around him, each filled with greed, fear, or hatred. He had seen these expressions thousands of times throughout his long life. This was not merely a battle; it was a sacrificial ritual disguised as justice.

“Demon Emperor! Hand over the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture, and we will let you live!” shouted a burly Emperor, his voice thundering throughout the valley, shattering the oppressive silence.

Another Emperor, a man with a thick beard, added in a disgustingly persuasive tone, "Senior Ba, we know that you and your disciples have never killed White Stream martial artists, nor ever caused trouble. However, the cultivation method you developed is highly heretical. For the good of us all, hand over that Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture to me. I guarantee you'll be the only surviving Emperor from the Black Stream!"

Ba Bel smirked. Empty promises. He had lived for over a century. He knew that among those present, some still regarded him as a monster, others saw him as a threat, but most were simply blinded by pure greed. They did not desire peace; they desired the limitless power promised by the scripture.

“Demon Emperor, don't think you're invincible just because you possess the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture!” a third Emperor, a woman with sharp eyes and a gleaming sword, retorted. “We eight Emperors have you surrounded! It’s impossible for you to leave this place alive if you resist!”

Another Emperor chimed in, his voice filled with arrogance, “And don't ever think we'll let your heretical Sect survive. Even if you have eradicated all the Black Stream sects, with the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture you’ve studied, your sect remains a part of the Black Stream. We eight Emperors will not let you live if you continue to possess that heretical scripture.”

One by one, the Emperors tried to persuade, threaten, and manipulate. Ba Bel listened patiently, his heart filled with scorn. He knew that out of the eight Emperors present, at least three would lose their lives, and the other five would suffer severe injuries that would permanently hinder their cultivation. For among all the Emperors in the martial world, he, the Demon Emperor Ba Bel, was the strongest. No Emperor could win if they dueled him one-on-one. That was why they had all agreed to surround and kill him together. Even if he surrendered the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture, they would never let him go.

The only Emperor not present was the Ice Island Emperor, Xiao Yue, the second strongest Emperor after himself. The woman Ba Bel had saved years ago was likely far to the North now, unaware of the fate that awaited him.

“Master, what should we do? We are surrounded by eight Emperors from the White Stream!” Zhou Tu’s anxious voice, his beloved disciple, broke the silence. Zhou Tu was an orphan whom Ba Bel had taken in since childhood and raised as his own son. In Ba Bel’s eyes, Zhou Tu was the only family he had left.

“Are you afraid to face your death, Zhou Tu?” Ba Bel asked, his tone calm, almost mocking. He wanted to see steadfastness in his disciple’s eyes, a reflection of himself.

Zhou Tu did not answer. He took a few steps back, his hand reflexively drawing the treasured sword tucked into his waist, his eyes cautiously scanning his surroundings. Anxiety radiated from his every movement, impossible to conceal. A flicker of disappointment touched Ba Bel’s heart. This beloved disciple, whom he had always protected, did not seem to possess the same steadfastness.

Ba Bel took a long breath, scrutinizing every face around him. “If only I had the chance… five more years, no, even two more years to heal my injuries from the battle against ten Black Stream Emperors decades ago. Surely, killing these eight impostor Emperors wouldn't be this difficult.”

Ba Bel could only sigh. All of this began when he was sixty years old. At that time, he failed to kill one of the Black Stream Emperors and had to flee into a forbidden forest filled with Level 15 Spirit Beasts. Level 15 Spirit Beasts were highly troublesome opponents even for an Emperor-level martial artist. Legend says that deep within that forest, legendary Spirit Beasts like Qilin and Kupeng, the Emperors of all Spirit Beasts, still lived. It was in that forest that he found the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture.

He closed his eyes, his breathing slowly decelerating. He understood that today, he would not be able to leave this place alive. Although the eight Emperors and dozens of martial artists saw Ba Bel close his eyes, not one of them dared to attack him. The aura of the Demon Emperor was still too daunting.

“Today, heaven and earth bear witness as blood once again stains this valley,” Ba Bel said, his eyes opening, gazing at the eight Emperors and hundreds of martial artists with a cold, chilling stare. “And there are no such things as Black Stream martial artists or White Stream martial artists. All humans will eventually be blinded by the ambition for power. Hahahahaha!” Ba Bel laughed loudly, his laughter echoing through the Valley of Skulls, ironic and bitter.

Then, he retrieved a book from empty space. The eyes of all the Emperors and Sect leaders focused on the book Ba Bel held. They were certain it was the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture.

“This is the scripture you desire, isn't it? Take it.” Ba Bel said, his tone calm yet full of menace.

Ba Bel hurled the scripture into the sky. Before the eight Emperors and Sect leaders could react, Ba Bel unleashed his Demonic Flame Skill, releasing incredibly powerful internal energy, aimed directly at the scripture.

“No!” one of the Emperors cried out in panic, his face deathly pale.

“Are you insane?!” another exclaimed in disbelief, as if witnessing a madman before them.

Although the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture was indeed the most potent of the four peerless scriptures that had shaken the martial world, it was made of ordinary paper. The formidable internal energy released by Ba Bel immediately pierced through the scripture, instantly incinerating it into dust, leaving no trace.

“You want the Nine Demonic Transformations Scripture? I will never let you have it, not even in your dreams!”

Having said that, Ba Bel, with a deep breath, charged at the eight Emperors and Sect leaders. His movements were as swift as lightning, leaving a purplish trail of demonic energy around his body.

Thanks to his immense internal energy, Ba Bel possessed a profound lightness skill, making his movements incredibly agile and swift. In a matter of a few breaths, he had already arrived among the eight Emperors and Sect leaders, as if piercing through their thick defensive wall. Ba Bel unleashed several lethal internal energy strikes, each blow carrying mountain-shattering power.