Lu Sang knelt before his Cultivation Great Sage, eyes filled with reverence and curiosity. The air around them crackled with dark energy as he asked, "Great Sage, where did my demonic sword truly come from?"

  His mentor, draped in flowing robes of midnight bck, gazed at him with an expression of knowing. "Your sword, Lu Sang, originates from the Chaos Realm itself. It is a weapon unlike any other. The offerings that empower it are not mere material sacrifices, but the sins you have committed. With every sin, the sword grows stronger, evolving across dimensions. It is both your greatest strength and your heaviest burden."

  Lu Sang absorbed the words, gripping the hilt of his sword. He could feel the hunger within its dark bde, a thirst that could only be sated by more transgressions. With renewed purpose, he turned and set off towards his homend, where he had first begun his cultivation journey. However, his return did not go unnoticed.

  As he traversed through the nds, two figures materialized beside him. The first was Wilith, Queen of the Succubi, her beauty enchanting, her presence overwhelming. "Lu Sang, embrace the pleasure and power of the abyss. Give in, and I shall make you a king among demons."

  The second figure was even more sinister—his own demonic self from another dimension, the very manifestation of his dark cultivation path. It sneered. "Why hesitate? You are already bound to this path. Deny the weak morality of mortals and embrace what you are meant to be!"

  Before Lu Sang could respond, a distant observer took notice of his presence. Mei Hua, a devoted disciple of the Holy Sword Sect, clutched a glowing pill of faith and began her prayers, sensing the sinister aura surrounding him. Her mentor, An Yang, approached cautiously, bowing slightly. "Mei Hua, may I enter and see the one you pray for?"

  Mei Hua nodded, stepping forward into Lu Sang’s home. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, An Yang’s expression twisted in horror. "Leave now! This is a demonic cultivator! We must take action before the Fanism Empire falls further under corruption!"

  Mei Hua gasped and leaped away from Lu Sang’s home, her sudden movement breaking the tension between the two demons arguing over Lu Sang’s fate. Their attention shifted, curiosity glinting in their eyes. Who would Lu Sang ultimately serve?

  As Lu Sang awoke from his meditation, he instinctively drew his demonic sword, sensing danger. Mei Hua stood before him, her holy bde gleaming. Without hesitation, the two engaged in an intense battle. Their swords cshed, sending shockwaves through the nd. They fought tirelessly for seven days and nights, neither giving an inch.

  As dawn broke on the eighth day, their exhaustion became apparent. Mei Hua, determined to finish the fight, swallowed a healing pill and unched herself back into battle. But this time, Lu Sang fought back with renewed vigor, his demonic sword humming with dark energy. For fifteen minutes, they exchanged ferocious blows, neither gaining the upper hand.

  Just as Mei Hua prepared to strike a decisive blow, a force unlike any other intervened. From the distant pace of the Fanism Empire, Pan Lian, the newly ascended Emperor of War, had finished her cultivation. With a single step, she leaped from her pace deck, covering thirty kilometers in three seconds. With a powerful punch, she sent Mei Hua flying, the force causing her to cough up a pool of blood.

  Struggling, Mei Hua hastily consumed fifteen healing pills and an equal number of meal pills to stabilize herself. She gred at Pan Lian and demanded, "Why do you protect a demonic cultivator?"

  Pan Lian’s eyes burned with authority as she stepped forward. "Lu Sang is my general. The fate of this nd is mine to decide, not the Holy Sword Sect’s. Tell An Yang to stay away from Lu Sang unless he wishes for me to march upon the Holy Sword Sect Mountain and reduce it to rubble."

  A heavy silence fell upon them. The fate of Lu Sang was no longer just his own—it was now intertwined with the will of an empire and the ire of the holy sect. The path he would walk had never been more uncertain.

  Lu Sang knelt in the dimly lit chamber, his breath ragged, his wounds deep. The battle with Mei Hua had left him battered, his body barely able to support itself. Yet, he had one st resort. He reached within himself, summoning the power of his demonic dimensional self.

  "Heal me," he whispered into the abyss of his soul, knowing the price that would come with it.

  A dark energy coiled around him, its presence suffocating yet intoxicating. His flesh stitched itself together, his bones realigned, and the pain faded. But something else changed—his eyes. No longer the stormy gaze of a warrior, they deepened into an abyss darker than night, their crimson irises burning like twin infernos.

  Lu Sang rose from the ground, his resolve absolute. He had no more doubts, no more hesitation. He stepped forward and issued the challenge.

  "Mei Hua! You and I settle this now—one will live, the other will perish! A life-or-death duel!"

  Mei Hua stood upon the moonlit cliff, her expression unreadable. She had known this moment would come. Drawing her bde, she nodded. "Then let fate decide."

  The battle ignited like a storm. Steel cshed against steel, the air crackling with the force of their strikes. They moved like specters, faster than the eye could follow. For three days and nights, they fought, neither willing to fall.

  Their surroundings bore witness to their ferocity—forests burned, rivers ran red, mountains crumbled under their might. Lu Sang’s new power surged with every strike, pushing Mei Hua further into desperation. Finally, as the dawn of the fourth day crested the horizon, Lu Sang found his opening.

  A single, decisive ssh.

  Mei Hua's head separated from her body, her eyes frozen in shock. Her form colpsed, lifeless, onto the shattered earth.

  Lu Sang stood still, his bde dripping with the life he had taken. His heart pounded, not with triumph, but with sorrow. Slowly, he knelt and csped his hands together in prayer.

  "Aros, Creator of the Multiverse," he murmured, his voice steady yet filled with grief. "Grant her soul peace. Let her find her way to the heavens. May she walk in light, free of the burdens of this world."

  The wind carried his words into the vast expanse of the sky, as if the cosmos itself listened. With a final breath, he turned to Pan Lian, his queen, who had watched from afar.

  "What now, my queen?" he asked, his voice tinged with the weight of his actions.

  Pan Lian, ever wise, met his gaze with unwavering calm. "Take her body to the Holy Sword Sect in the northeast. They must see her honored, lest we invite a war that could consume us all."