The life after becoming an immortal

There exists a kind of person in this world who is born extraordinary. At three years old, he learned to forge swords; at five, he began practicing swordsmanship; by six, he had already shown glimpses of brilliance. At seven, he left home to seek masters across the land, yet true masters were not easily found. The renowned swordsmen known to the world could not teach him for even a month. By eight, he had defected from dozens of masters, left destitute in the wilderness, living a primitive life of survival. Taking nature as his teacher, he studied the movements of birds and beasts, creating his own body techniques, footwork, and swordplay. After five years, he finally emerged from the wild mountains, gripping a three-foot blade, challenging warriors across the land. A hundred battles, a hundred victories—he became the unrivaled prodigy among young swordsmen. At sixteen, he challenged the legendary martial arts master, the Sword Demon Dugu Baitian, and tasted his first defeat. At seventeen, reflecting on all the martial knowledge he had acquired, he created the *Annihilation Demon Scripture*. In a cave, observing the swaying bamboo, he comprehended the *Willow Catkin Drifting with the Wind* movement technique. With this skill, he challenged the Sword Demon once more and finally defeated him. The martial world bestowed upon him the title "Wind God," elevating him to the ranks of the top masters. In the five years that followed, he defeated countless veterans of the martial world until no rivals remained. Lonely at the pinnacle of the martial world, he sought an opponent but found none. Left with no choice, he turned himself into his own adversary, mastering the art of dual-handed combat. After three years, he achieved this rare skill, ascending to yet another level of martial prowess. In the next three years, he ceased using swords altogether—every blade of grass, every twig became a weapon in his hands. Two years later, he forgot all the martial arts he had ever learned. Only then did he truly step into the hall of martial mastery. At thirty, he faced warriors of the world with his sword, and none dared claim victory over him. At thirty-three, he shattered the void, ascending in broad daylight, leaving behind only the *Annihilation Demon Scripture* and the *Willow Catkin Drifting with the Wind* technique for those destined to inherit them. Yet, after his ascension, the legacy of his martial arts sparked three decades of bloodshed in the martial world. —*Chronicles of the Martial World: Biography of the Sword God Fengyun Wuji* —Penned by Bai Xiaosheng *"If ascending in broad daylight is the end of martial arts, then I have already reached that end. Yet when I stood at the pinnacle, I realized—everything had only just begun."* —Words of Fengyun Wuji --- "Welcome to the Primordial Era. In the past 12 trillion years, you are the 17,894,564th ascendant. As your guide, I hope you can survive in this cruel age and truly become one of us." Before he even opened his eyes, Fengyun Wuji heard a hoarse, aged voice above him. The ordeal of transcending the heavenly tribulation had drained every last drop of his energy. An unprecedented exhaustion weighed on him—he couldn't even muster the will to stand. Gasping for breath, he inhaled a musty, ruined scent that made him frown. "Is this not the Immortal Realm?" he asked, clinging to one last shred of hope. "No. There has never been an Immortal Realm," came the blunt reply. "As the first ascendant in ten thousand years, you are granted three chances to ask me anything. You've just used one." Finally regaining some strength, Fengyun Wuji opened his eyes. Before him stood a gaunt old man, his forehead etched with the marks of time, standing silently in the desolate, broken world, watching him with indifference. Glancing around, Fengyun Wuji was stunned. This place bore no resemblance to the paradise of blooming flowers and singing birds he had imagined. Instead, devastation stretched as far as the eye could see, as if countless catastrophic battles had raged here. After a moment of shock, he composed himself. After a brief silence, he used his second opportunity: "Tell me what I need to know." A glimmer of approval flashed in the old man's eyes, followed by a deep loneliness. With a long sigh, the old man suddenly asked, "In your world, are humans not the pinnacle of creation, with all other creatures beneath them?" "Of course. Is there any doubt?" "Then I must regrettably inform you of the truth: humans have never been at the top of the food chain. On the contrary, in this multiversal cosmos, humans are among the lowest of beings." The old man's words struck like thunder. "There has never been an Immortal Realm. It was merely a lie we crafted to motivate you—a lie to help you break free from your cage." "What?!" Fury and betrayal surged through Fengyun Wuji's veins, choking him like a vice. After a brief silence, he shot to his feet, grabbing the old man by the collar. "Why? Why?!" "Does that count as your third question?" The old man remained eerily calm, as if unfazed by the hands around his throat. Hearing this, Fengyun Wuji released him as if burned. "When I first learned the truth, I was just as lost as you are now," the old man murmured, his eyes filled with pity for the young ascendant. "The law of the universe is simple: the strong prey on the weak, and only the fittest survive. Humans… are far too fragile. To expand our race, we had no choice but to create this cage. Those within it could never perceive the truth. Do not shake your head—yes, the human population is pitifully small and weak. The ordinary people from your world? They are not truly acknowledged by us, though we were once like them." "Remember what I told you earlier? You are the 17,894,564th ascendant. That number may seem vast, but the truth is, it is negligible. Whether it be demons, monsters, or those feathered angels—their populations number in the hundreds of billions, even trillions. Worse still, demons and angels are born vastly stronger than humans. Do you still feel joy in your ascension now? Or do you think I jest?" "I regret to say this is reality. For the next three years, you will receive any assistance you require. Do not think this period short—it was only granted after immense sacrifice on our part. If, in these three years, you cannot become a true warrior… you will be culled. The demons will not hesitate to devour a genuine human. And that would be… most unfortunate." "Now, you may ask your third question." The young ascendant remained silent, as if still contemplating. The old man waited patiently. "If this world follows the law of the strong, and demons feast on humans… then tell me: how has humanity, with only tens of millions in number, survived here at all?" What seemed a simple question was met with prolonged silence. When Fengyun Wuji looked up, the old man wore a strange expression—part reminiscence, part admiration, part awe. With another sigh, the old man fixed his gaze on the young ascendant. "I pray your arrival may improve humanity's plight. As for your question… every race has its titans. To such beings, annihilating an entire world like yours would be effortless. And humanity… is no exception." "You have exhausted your three questions. Now, remain silent. Until we reach the Martial Sanctum, you are forbidden to speak unless I permit it." With that cold command, the old man seized Fengyun Wuji's arm and soared into the sky. Wind roared in their ears as they streaked across the heavens. Glancing down at the primordial forests below, Fengyun Wuji saw monstrous demons clashing with colossal beasts, while others gathered in small groups, feasting on bloody chunks of flesh.