Mu Nanfei was the 1,653rd generation disciple of Dayan Blessed Land. From the moment he entered the sect, he had displayed cultivation talent far beyond the ordinary, earning the attention of the sect's higher-ups, who paired him with distinguished teachers for meticulous guidance and nurturing.
He was a diligent one too, approaching his cultivation with tireless dedication. He never failed to meet the expectations of his elders, and in the eight hundred years since entering the sect, he had advanced directly to the Sixth-Order Open Heaven.
The day of his promotion should have been the moment the sky opened wide for him to soar—an opportunity to spread his wings and pursue grand ambitions. But that very day, a sudden upheaval struck the sect.
News arrived from the Ink Battlefield: Dayan Pass was under siege by the Ink Clan's great army, on the brink of collapse. Dayan Blessed Land scrambled to mobilize reinforcements.
He remembered that day with perfect clarity. Every Open Heaven Realm cultivator in the sect—regardless of cultivation level, regardless of age or gender, whether High-Order or Low-Order Open Heaven—assembled together.
Led by numerous Eighth-Order Divine Monarchs, tens of thousands of Dayan Open Heaven cultivators marched out of the sect in a mighty procession, heading for Dayan Pass and stepping into the Ink Battlefield.
When they arrived after a circuitous journey, the situation was far worse than anyone had imagined.
Vicious energy fluctuations rippled through the distant void—that was the Dayan Ancestor battling the Ink Clan's King Master. But fighting two opponents alone, having already suffered grievous injury from an enemy ambush beforehand, her aura had grown feeble to an extreme degree.
Outside Dayan Pass, the Ink Clan's offensive surged like a tide, and the defenders suffered devastating casualties.
There was no time to rest. Every disciple who had come from Dayan Blessed Land as reinforcements threw themselves into the battlefield immediately. For these newcomers who had never faced the Ink Clan before, this war was unbearably brutal. Many were obliterated the very instant they set foot on the battlefield.
Mu Nanfei's companion—a gentle woman who had been at his side for five hundred years—lost her life in that battle.
He fought until his eyes turned red with blood, losing all rationality, until he was utterly spent.
He had forgotten how that battle ended. All he knew was that when he woke up, Dayan Pass had fallen, and every defender, starting with the Ancestor, had perished to the last.
Except for those like him, who had been corroded by the power of Ink and converted into Ink Servants.
From that day on, thirty thousand years passed in the blink of an eye.
The newly advanced Sixth-Order of those years was now an Eighth-Order. Moreover, his Eighth-Order was different from ordinary Ink Servants. Because he had advanced directly to the Sixth-Order, his own natural limit was the Eighth-Order—he did not need to borrow the power of Ink to break through his shackles.
In truth, he was a genuine Eighth-Order Open Heaven cultivator, hardly inferior to the human race's Eighth-Order Garrison Commanders. In one-on-one combat, even Domain Lords might not be his match.
Thirty thousand years as an Ink Servant had been an almost unbearably monotonous existence—until the human army arrived to reclaim Dayan Pass.
The bloody battlefield of thirty thousand years ago played out once more, though this time it was the Ink Clan that was faltering. The humans reclaimed Dayan Pass, inflicting devastating losses on the Ink Clan, who were forced to retreat into their Royal City, even losing an entire Domain Lord-level Ink Nest.
The King Master was furious. The Domain Lords felt deeply humiliated and swore that they would make the humans voluntarily abandon the captured Ink Nest, no matter what it took, lest unfavorable news spread.
Progress on obstructing the humans from occupying the Ink Nest had gone smoothly at first, because to use the Ink Nest, the humans had to establish a mental link with the Ink Nest's will—and within the Ink Nest's space, the Ink Clan held an overwhelming advantage.
Several human Eighth-Orders had been driven off previously, and even the human Ancestor's visit had yielded nothing. The Domain Lords had begun to believe the humans were out of options.
Until a peculiar human suddenly burst in.
After two consecutive strikes, four Domain Lords were either dead or wounded. And in the face of what every Domain Lord assumed was a death sentence, he actually attacked a third time.
Two more Ink Servants perished because of him.
The Domain Lords had been locked in a stalemate with him for three years now.
That man was protected by the Warm Divine Lotus, so even the Domain Lords could do nothing against him. All they could do was wait for his Small Universe to be devoured and drained dry by the Ink Nest, which would in turn cause his divine soul to collapse and perish.
But after three years of waiting, Mu Nanfei and the other Eighth-Order Ink Servant could hold on no longer.
In this final moment of their waning lives, the two Ink Servants seemed to share a silent understanding. They opened their eyes at the same time.
Four eyes met, and both saw the same question reflected in the other's gaze.
What had they been doing all these years? Why had they been willing to become the Ink Clan's claws? Why had they been willing to turn their blades against the human race?
Their lives were drenched in sin—could death alone wash it away?
Without a word, without discussion, the two Eighth-Order Ink Servants blazed with the most brilliant radiance of their entire lives in their final moments.
Their impossibly weakened divine soul power suddenly ignited in that instant. Supporting each other, they transformed into a streak of brilliant light and charged straight toward one of the Ink Clan's Domain Lords.
The Domain Lords had not been guarding against them at all. Every ounce of their attention had been focused on the Warm Divine Lotus—or more precisely, on the human Seventh-Order hiding within it.
Over these past years, that Seventh-Order had periodically spouted a string of irritating chatter. Utterly grating!
Annoying as it was, what gave the Domain Lords a sliver of hope was that the fellow's voice seemed to be growing weaker with each passing day, carrying the air of someone on death's door—as if he might die at any moment.
And yet he stubbornly refused to die, clinging on with sheer defiance.
The Domain Lords were thoroughly disgusted. If you're going to die anyway, why not just get it over with?
When the two Eighth-Order Ink Servants burned the last of their divine soul power and hurtled toward them, the Domain Lords had no time to react.
It was only when the streak of light slammed into Huandi that he whipped his head around, his face contorted with fury: "What are you doing?!"