Dao God of the Demonic Path

"Fairy Xin’er, have you heard?”

An immortal maiden drifted through the endless sky, her robes flowing like mist among the clouds. Her tone was light, almost playful.

“They say the Dao God was once a talentless mortal.”

Fairy Xin’er’s brows knit together in displeasure.

“What absurd rumor. A Dao God, talentless? Those fools truly have no sense.”

The other immortal let out a quiet laugh, though a trace of doubt lingered in her gaze.

“I thought so too. If such nonsense were true, then anyone could become a Dao God.”

Their laughter scattered across the heavens, casual and dismissive.

None of them noticed the figure standing beyond the countless realms.

A man with dim, unreadable eyes gazed down at the vast expanse of existence resting beneath his will.

His voice was calm. Too calm.

“I envied the gifted.”

“I resented the blessed.”

“I chased miracles… yet every one of them withered within my body.”

A faint breath escaped his lips.

“I cursed my fate. I cursed the heavens. I even cursed the blood that birthed me.”

Silence stretched across the void.

“And yet, I never stopped.”

His fingers slowly closed, as if grasping the very laws of existence.

“I wagered the only thing I ever possessed.”

“My humanity.”

His eyes reflected countless collapsing worlds.

“And in return… I obtained everything.”

The heavens trembled faintly.

“I do not regret it.”

His gaze grew colder.

“Even if time reversed, I would walk the same path again.”

A quiet pause.

“For I, Han Tian Yi, have never knelt. Not to heaven. Not to fate. Not even to death.”

The void shattered.

“WHYYY?! WHY CAN’T I GATHER SPIRITUAL ENERGY?!”

A child’s furious scream echoed within the training hall.

Ten-year-old Han Tian Yi stood trembling, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned pale. The cultivation manual in his hands fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Again.

Failure.

Always failure.

“No… no… this is wrong…”

His breathing grew uneven as he rushed toward the inner chamber.

“He cannot cultivate? Impossible!”

Han Fei Yu’s voice rang out like thunder.

“Our Han Clan has produced Immortals for generations. My son cannot cultivate?”

Divine physicians were summoned one after another.

Each examination took longer than the last.

Each result grew heavier than the previous.

Finally, the tenth physician stepped forward, his face drained of color.

“P-Patriarch… Young Master possesses a Cursed Body Constitution.”

The hall fell silent.

Han Fei Yu’s aura surged.

“Explain. Clearly.”

“T-This constitution prevents the formation of spiritual roots. No matter the method, no matter the resources… he will remain a mortal for life.”

The words struck harder than any blade.

Han Tian Yi’s pupils trembled.

“That is impossible!” he snapped. “My parents are both Immortals! Examine me again!”

They did.

Again and again.

The result never changed.

Cursed.

The heir of an immortal clan… born without the ability to cultivate.

“I won’t accept it,” he whispered.

From that day onward, the library became his prison.

Ancient records. Lost scriptures. Forbidden texts.

He read everything.

If one book failed, he opened ten more. If one method failed, he searched for a hundred alternatives.

Years passed like drifting dust.

Divine elixirs were consumed. Miracle medicines were swallowed. Secret techniques were tested in silence.

Nothing changed.

It was as if the heavens themselves had carved a seal into his flesh.

Mortals lived a hundred years at most.

Immortals lived for thousands.

For Han Tian Yi, that difference was more terrifying than death.

Ten years later, the clan welcomed a new child.

His younger brother.

Born with a heaven-blessed constitution.

A prodigy from birth.

Servants whispered in corners. Elders sighed in disappointment. Even his parents gradually shifted their attention.

The cursed elder.

The chosen younger.

A perfect irony.

“This is not fate,” Han Tian Yi muttered softly within the library, his eyes bloodshot yet steady.

“This is a cage.”

Instead of despair, something else took root.

Obsession.

He began deciphering ancient scripts untouched for centuries. Hidden sections of the library slowly opened before his persistence. Records forbidden even to core elders fell into his hands.

Light was no longer enough.

So he stepped into shadow.

A month later, the clan made its decision.

His title as heir was revoked.

Given to his five-year-old brother.

Han Tian Yi stood in silence as the decree was announced.

No outburst.

No protest.

Only stillness.

That night, he continued reading as if nothing had changed.

When his father personally came to offer him the position of strategist, the young man lowered his head respectfully.

“Do not worry, Father,” he said gently. “I will devote myself to the prosperity of the clan.”

Relief flashed across Han Fei Yu’s face.

But the moment the door closed, the gentle expression on Han Tian Yi’s face faded.

Coldness replaced it.

“A strategist,” he murmured.

A faint laugh escaped him. Quiet. Hollow.

“You truly believe I will remain beneath others forever.”

His fingers tightened around an ancient scroll.

“They took my title. My recognition. My future.”

His eyes stopped on a single hidden passage within the text.

A method.

A forbidden method to alter one’s cursed constitution.

But the requirement was simple.

And cruel.

To obtain the complete scripture, one must acquire the ancient archives of the Yu Clan.

The mortal enemy of the Han Clan.

Silence filled the room.

Then, slowly, Han Tian Yi smiled.

The heavens had sealed every path before him.

So he would carve a new one himself.

Even if that path was paved with betrayal.