Dao God of the Demonic Path

Chapter 3 – Breaking out the Heavens grasp

After the first successful refinement of a lower realm’s blessed body constitution, Han Tian Yi felt it—

a subtle shift within him.

It was faint, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable.

He sat on the edge of his bed, closing his eyes. Fingers brushing over his palms, he focused inward, feeling the tremor in his veins, the slow uncoiling of stiffness in his bones.

“Hm… this is real.”

He murmured, voice low and cold.

“Unlike before, when elixirs and potions only burned through me… this time, it moves from the inside out.”

A glint of cold fire flashed in his eyes.

“If this truly works… then I am willing to risk everything. If I fail, I might as well vanish.”

The resolve behind his calm tone was terrifying.

This method was his last gamble to reclaim a life that allowed cultivation, a life that could rise above the heavens’ cruel design.

He had been gifted brilliance beyond most, glimpsing futures where he could stand at the top of all realms.

Yet the cursed body that bound him made each step torturous. Heaven had granted intelligence and stolen the flesh to wield it in.

At five, he had known he was meant for greatness. And yet, from the start, he was shackled.

But Han Tian Yi refused surrender.

---

After refining the Luo Clan’s heir, he ventured into the red district.

Night after night, he appeared, dressed in extravagant robes, tossing gold as though it weighed nothing.

Wine for the entire hall, five beauties at once, the most expensive escorts, excessive tipping, laughter loud and brash—it was a performance, a mask crafted to obscure the truth.

“I’m from a respectable clan… I heard your beauties were exceptional.” he would “boast,” slurring slightly for effect.

The tavern owners laughed. The girls adored him. The madams whispered. To them, he was just another foolish heir squandering wealth.

But behind closed doors, the drunken smile vanished.

“For now…” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “I cannot afford suspicion regarding the Luo Clan heir.”

Every coin, every indulgence, every rumor was a calculated distraction.

He had already spent one million gold coins to silence the Black Market Pavilion—an obscene sum that served both as bribe and warning: touch me, and you pay the cost.

---

The masked assassins arrived soon after. The conversation was brief, sharp, and cold:

“You dare increase the f*e?” one dared, a trace of defiance in his voice.

Han Tian Yi’s gaze cut like ice. “Tell your master—raise the price tenfold for each child. One hundred thousand gold coins per head. Do it, or leave. I will not repeat myself.”

A heartbeat of hesitation, then obedience. The balance had tipped; his wealth was now leverage that even the most blood-hardened killers could not ignore.

And so they moved. Swift, precise, unhesitant.

---

Inside the secluded room, Shen Tong worked.

The sixth child’s terrified cries echoed through the chamber, but Han Tian Yi remained motionless, eyes sharp, pulse steady.

Each scream was a note in a grim symphony—a payment to fate, a step closer to his goal.

“This Shen Tong is talented...”

He thought quietly, noting the mastery with which the demonic cultivator refined each child.

Six in total now, six hundred thousand gold coins spent, plus fifty per day as retainers—a fortune beyond imagination in the mortal world.

Shen Tong asked nothing.

He refined because he was paid, nothing more.

And Han Tian Yi? He swallowed the pills without hesitation, feeling warmth bloom slowly through his veins.

“One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… almost there.”

He muttered under his breath, fingers brushing the jade pendant at his chest.

Each pill brought him closer to breaking his cursed body, each coin spent was a calculated sacrifice.

---

Finally, after the tenth refinement, a shattering force coursed through him.

His Cursed Body Constitution fractured—not flesh, but essence—like stone crumbling to reveal new form beneath.

“HAHAHAHAHA—FINALLY!"

He laughed like a mad person.

"Didn’t I tell you?” Han Tian Yi roared, his eyes blazing. "I will defy heaven itself!”

His voice tore through the room, raw and unrestrained, yet measured in its triumph.

It was not for Shen Tong. Nor for the empty chamber. It was for the boy he once was—the self abandoned, doubted, and cursed.

But the victory was fleeting. The estate was suddenly encircled.

“Vile demon! Release our children!”

Powerful auras pressed down from all sides. Figures from the mortal world’s great clans formed a tight ring around him.

Han Tian Yi stepped outside, expression calm, voice light.

“Who are you people?”

“You—how shameless! Return our children!”

A woman screamed. Her eyes, wide with fear and fury, betrayed her maternal rage.

Han Tian Yi’s gaze remained steady.

“And what proof do you have?”

He asked, tone polite yet piercing.

“Search my residence. If nothing is found, your accusations end here.”

Doubt flickered in their hearts.

But they still searched.

Nothing. No children. Only empty shells of medicine, a few servants, two bodyguards, and Shen Tong, who had carefully hidden his cauldron.

“What now?” Han Tian Yi asked, cold. “How will you compensate me for wasting my time?”

The clan leaders faltered.

“We… apologize… We only… noticed children disappearing after your arrival…”

He seized the moment.

“AND WHAT WOULD I DO WITH THEM?!”

His roar split the air.

“Do you claim I ate them? GET LOST! Never return! HMPH! No wonder my father warned me against treating mortals as equals!”

The jade plaque at his chest gleamed, his clan mark undeniable. Fear rippled through them. He was no ordinary mortal.

They knelt, trembling, and fled.

An eerie smile curved Han Tian Yi’s lips. Shen Tong had served his purpose. Paid fully, dismissed without warmth.

---

Years passed in silence.

Within the walls of his estate, Han Tian Yi devoured forbidden texts, studied demonic records, dissected and reconstructed methods with unmatched intellect.

A Heaven-tier cultivation path emerged from the chaos of stolen, forbidden knowledge.

Only after his cursed body was shattered did he begin true cultivation.

Four years later, at thirty, he condensed the lowest-grade spiritual root in the lower realm—a pitiful level to outsiders, but proof to him that he had broken Heaven’s chains.

This world no longer held value.

He departed, climbing toward a distant mountain where a branch of his family was said to exist.

Wind tore at his robes; bloodshot eyes scanned the endless sky.

A soft, broken laugh escaped.

“The heavens… branded me a mistake. Took my talent, my future, my very right to stand… and still expect obedience?”

His fists clenched.

“No. If the path is blocked, I will carve it open. If the sky stands in my way, I will tear it apart.”

A bitter smile.

“One day, when I stand atop all realms, you will see—the mistake was never me. From the moment I was born, I was meant to defy you. All that you treasure… all you protect… I will erase. And when nothing remains… I will rule this world as a god.”

His laughter rose into the wind, sharp and unhinged—mocking Heaven itself.