The Asura That Devours Heaven

The world was nothing but darkness.

Bai Yunfei lay on his back, his vision blurred, his breath a thin whisper of life. The ground beneath him was jagged and uneven, radiating an eerie warmth. It pulsed, as if alive. The Abyssal Wasteland—where all who were cast down were fated to perish—had swallowed him whole.

His body was in ruin.

His meridians, once vast rivers of spiritual energy, were now shattered, leaking what little Qi remained in him. His dantian, the core of his cultivation, was an empty husk, drained of its golden brilliance. Even if he somehow survived, he would be nothing but a cripple—a man who once touched the heavens, now destined to crawl in the dirt.

But death would not claim him yet.

Something ancient and waiting stirred beneath him.

A pressure—subtle at first, then suffocating—wrapped around his body like invisible tendrils. It did not crush him, nor did it consume him immediately. Instead, it lingered, watching… waiting.

Then, a voice.

Low. Abyssal. It slithered through the cracks of his mind, as if it had been whispering to him his entire life.

“You do not wish to die.”

Bai Yunfei’s fingers twitched. Even the smallest movement sent waves of agony rippling through his broken body. He felt hollow, as if something vital had been torn from him. Yet, beneath the pain, something deeper burned—rage.

He had lost everything. Not to an enemy on the battlefield, not to a trial of the heavens—but to his own master. A betrayal that cut deeper than any sword. The sect he had once bled for, the brothers and elders he had once revered… they had cast him aside like refuse.

Was this justice?

No.

This was weakness. His own weakness.

And weakness… could only be burned away.

His breathing grew heavier. His throat felt raw, but he forced the words out, broken as they were.

“I… will… live.”

A ripple spread through the wasteland. The presence surrounding him quivered, as if amused. Then, it pressed deeper.

“And what will you do with this life, mortal?”

Bai Yunfei’s lips curled, his teeth stained with blood.

“…I will take back everything they stole from me.”

A chuckle. Deep. Amused. And then—pain.

His body arched as fire surged through his veins, an inferno unlike any Qi he had ever known. It was not the golden light of righteous cultivators, nor the refined energy of spirit beasts. It was raw. Primordial. Dark.

It did not flow like normal Qi—it ravaged.

His shattered meridians, once fragile and ruined, were being torn apart further—only to be remade, forcefully reconstructed by the searing energy. It was like reforging broken steel, melting it in hellfire, hammering it into something new. His bones cracked under the strain. His muscles spasmed violently, as if rejecting the transformation.

And his mind—his mind burned with something beyond pain. A second presence, cold and abyssal, merged with him.

For a moment, he was no longer Bai Yunfei.

For a moment, he was something else.

Then, it ended.

He gasped for air. His body was still ruined, but his meridians—though cracked—had not collapsed. Something foreign was now inside them, reinforcing them, making them stronger than before.

Yet, the transformation was not complete.

The voice returned, deeper than before.

“You have taken the first step… but you are still fragile, mortal.”

Bai Yunfei’s vision cleared. For the first time, he could see where he had fallen.

The Abyssal Wasteland—A Graveyard of Gods

What lay before him was not just a barren wasteland. It was a sepulcher—a place where the remains of forgotten creatures lay, bones the size of mountains protruding from the obsidian earth. The sky above was not a sky at all—it was a vast ceiling of black mist, writhing like an endless storm.

The ground pulsed with life, but it was not the life of mortals or beasts. It was something older. Something that had once fought against the heavens themselves.

And then he saw it—the corpse.

It was enormous. A colossus, hunched over a ruined altar of black stone. Its bones, as dark as the void, exuded an unnatural presence—one that should not have existed in this world. Two massive horns curved back from its skull, jagged and cracked. Its ribs jutted from its decayed form, like the remains of a long-forgotten warlord.

And at its core—a pulsing red gem, lodged in its chest cavity.

Bai Yunfei did not need to be told what this was. He could feel it.

The heart of an Asura.

The ancient war fiend that had once waged war against the heavens.

The source of the voice.

His body still trembled, barely holding together. But his instincts screamed at him. That heart—if he could absorb even a fraction of it, he would not just recover… he would surpass what he once was.

But this was no normal cultivation. This was no refined Qi absorption. This was something far more dangerous.

“Devour it,” the voice whispered. “Or perish.”

Bai Yunfei's fingers twitched. Cultivation required order. Discipline. One gathered Qi from the world, refined it, and merged it with their dantian. But this… this was madness.

This was raw consumption.

The Asura’s power would not flow into him like a gentle stream. It would tear into him like a raging flood, trying to overtake his soul, crush his will, and consume him instead. If he failed to control it…

He would cease to exist.

But there was no hesitation in his heart.

Bai Yunfei forced himself upright, blood dripping from his lips. He reached forward.

The moment his fingers touched the heart, his world was consumed by fire.