Everyone holds the Ten Thousand Souls Banner? In our great nation of Yanhuang, everyone is a demon c

The sky was dark and gloomy, the flames of war shimmering beneath the heavens, the vast black clouds as dark as ink, and the thunder deafening. At this moment, every cultivator on the primordial land was filled with surging emotions, for they were all acutely aware of one fact—their own future had fully arrived, and everyone understood at this moment what constituted their best self.

A long howl shattered day and night, shaking the entire land, as sword energy and magical techniques intertwined and flew about. Humans, demons, the Heavenly Court, the Underworld... mortals striving for immortality, demons and monsters, all went to war, yet deep within their hearts, they all heard similar voices: What kind of person should I become? To which era do I belong? The answer to this moment had already been laid out in destiny.

Chen Xiu stood atop a jumbled cliff, his dark armor reflecting the wind and clouds in the night. He looked up at the crack in the sky, his cool voice echoing in the wind: "Today, what we are witnessing is not simply victory or defeat, but the formation of destiny. Those who have prepared for their era in advance have already stepped into their own future; those who hesitate will taste the bitter fruit of defeat in the smoke of battle."

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone looked around—the chaotic battlefield instantly dissipated, numerous battle formations and lights were reshaped, and rivers of destiny light appeared. In those rivers of light, everyone's fate had been solidified into a clear trajectory: some would become sword qi, some would become demonic fire, some would become dragons roaring over lakes and seas, and some would become the light of the starry sky.

“Look—” Chen Xiu pointed to the river of light ahead, “This is proof that your era has come to pass. Your future is no longer a goal, but a verifiable path through time.”

The general of the Northern Desert Iron Cavalry was at the forefront, his armor stained with ice, his horse's hooves shattering ice crystals. He raised his head, his voice deep and firm: "This is my destiny—to sever all paths with icy blades, to shatter the Northern Desert with iron cavalry, and ultimately become the Ice Profound Saint!" With that, he stepped onto the icy river of light, step by step, into the future.

Within the South China Sea Dragon Clan, the throne of the Dragon King is being contested. The dragon warriors gaze at the surging magical formations erupting in their respective river channels—each a crucial juncture in their destiny—some bowing in reverence before the radiant light of the Starry Dragon Soul; others leaping atop the waves, roaring as they soar. They all know in their hearts: what kind of dragon general will truly be the Dragon King who opens the door to the future?

The same was true of the cultivators of the Eastern Wilderness Demon Clan and the Nine Li Secret Sect: a demonic warrior pointed to the fiery red track ahead: "The True Essence of Fiend Blood is the anchor of destiny that our race looks up to"; a Yin Curse Master gazed at the channel of ghosts: "The summoning of ghosts is the source of our race's power." In the end, they found their place in their respective tracks, knowing who they were and who they wanted to become.

The Nightwalkers of Xiqi, however, chose their future between starlight and shadow, and the darkness of blades. In the river of light, a ghostly glow, a tapestry of shadow magic and daggers, flickered. This was summoned from the deepest recesses of their cultivation, the trajectory of the new era they had chosen. They knew that only by becoming the Lords of the Night could they command the winds and shadows in the chaos, becoming an unfathomable being.

“At this moment, many people see failure.” Chen Xiu’s voice seemed to come from the void. “Failure is not because you are inadequate, but because you failed to prepare for your era in advance—failed to recognize your own destiny and were swept away by the tide in chaos and hesitation.”

Sure enough, beyond the River of Light, many cultivators remained uncertain. Their destinies were unclear, the riverbed cracked, branching out or bursting apart and disappearing. They wandered between the two tributaries, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating, ultimately being dragged into the void beyond the River of Light, as if they had never existed.

Those who resolutely stepped into their own river of light felt a leap forward in their souls amidst the resonance of chanting, faith, and laws. Their physical energy surged, their incantations shattered the light barrier, their divine souls merged into the river, gradually dissipating into the depths of the galaxy, leaving behind an arc of light illuminating the future. "What is the best version of yourself?" Chen Xiu's tone was low and slow, yet contained the overwhelming pressure of the primordial Dao. "It is the self that steadfastly walks through the river of time; it is the self that has already seen the path ahead when others are still lost; it is the self that remains unwavering and forges ahead regardless of how drastically the outside world changes!"

At this moment, a sudden burst of war drums resounded, and the light and shadow of the four battle formations merged—the remaining forces of Heaven and the Underworld jointly trapped some who had not yet entered the River of Light, attempting to win them over. However, among those who had not yet chosen their path, many more faced temptations or changed their goals for short-term gains, ultimately being captured and drawn into the allied forces' formation. But the allied forces, under the combined efforts of Chen Xiu and the practitioners of the River of Light, were instantly torn apart—for the will of those who truly control destiny is stronger than any system.

In the River of Light, countless figures flashed by in the radiance: the Sword Master of the White Deer Sect ascended, the Dragon King of the Jiao Clan arrived, the Demon Lord of the Demon Sect reconstructed his body, and the Shadow Warrior of the Nightwalkers' soul glowed faintly. There were also those who had vanished from the River of Light and reappeared in various realms—they stepped into different fields, becoming the creators, guardians, and kings of their respective eras.

"The war is not over yet, but at this moment, you have fully embraced your own future." Chen Xiu stood in the void, his eyes like stars. "Countless people yearn for their own era, but only by truly stepping onto that path can they make the future their own; countless people hesitate on this, but can only lose themselves in the flames of war."

The sounds of wind, drums, starlight, and embers danced together, and the world fell into solemn silence. One after another, portals of light appeared atop mountains, along coastlines, in the netherworld, and in the void. Each portal led to the entrance to an era whose destiny was sealed. Those who had not yet entered still hesitated; while those who had discerned the path first leaped into the portals and vanished into the chaotic world.

“Remember this moment.” Chen Xiu’s voice echoed through the heavens. “Your future cannot be recovered after regret; your true self will not appear later. It is you, your choices, and your perseverance at this moment that will determine who you truly are.”

A sudden silence fell over the world, leaving only endless starlight and afterglow floating across the battlefield. Battle flags fluttered, broken blades gleamed, but in this place where ruins and brilliance intertwined, the river of destiny for a new era had already begun to flow. Every one who stepped onto this river of light would become the eye of the storm on its course, no longer drifting with the current, but leading the era, standing tall between heaven and earth.

The curtain of the future has been raised, and the true era is just beginning to be defined by them—the new primordial era will illuminate the eternal chapters of all beings because of their choices and perseverance.

Before dawn, the earth remained shrouded in the long night, with smoke billowing and war drums thundering. Thousands of figures stood on the desolate battlefield, some clad in armor, some wielding spears, others holding magical weapons, each with a solemn expression, yet an unwavering resolve—for almost everyone was acutely aware of one fact: their future had been irrevocably determined in this catastrophe, and only in this moment could their "best" selves be revealed. (End of Chapter)