Primordial Era: Starting with Self-Created Mythical Great Luo Law

Chen Yu stared at Zhao Feng for a long time, his gaze like an ice blade scraping across his face, his voice low and sharp: Zhao Feng, your rebellion ends here.

Before he finished speaking, he flicked his sleeves, and dozens of demon disciples surged out like a black tide, instantly surrounding Zhao Feng and his companions.

Zhao Feng's lips curled into a mocking sneer. His spiritual pressure exploded outwards like a thousand-pound thunderbolt crashing down on the mountains and fields—the wind from his fists tore through the air, his sword energy shredded ancient trees, rocks crumbled like paper, sand and stones flew through the forest, and birds and beasts were terrified.

During this battle, Chen Yu stood on the edge of the cliff and watched silently, his knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white. He knew that the victory or defeat was not a matter of personal honor or disgrace, but a matter of life and death for the Jie Sect.

If he were to side with Zhao Feng today, the foundation of the Jie Sect would surely suffer a backlash, and he would become a traitor despised by all, to be punished by both the righteous and the evil.

If I were to align myself with the Tongtian Sect Master, I would have complete control over cultivation techniques, secret treasures, elixirs, and spiritual materials; achieving the Golden Core stage would be within my grasp, and I might even have a chance to unlock the Nascent Soul stage. What should I do? Chen Yu's heart churned with turmoil.

"Master, no matter how strong Zhao Feng is, he's still all alone! If we join forces, we might be able to kill him!" A demon disciple gritted his teeth and growled, his eyes bloodshot and burning with killing intent.

No—Chen Yu slowly shook his head, his voice as cold as frost: the gap cannot be bridged by numbers. He held the two immortal swords, Qingming and Duanyue, in his hands, and even before he unleashed his sword intent, it was already making the Golden Core cultivators breathless.

Not to mention he possesses the "Devouring Abyss Technique," a secret technique of the Heavenly Demon Sect lost for a hundred years, and is a master craftsman capable of forging the Nine-Turn Thunder Pattern Sword—in the Desolate Secret Realm, he is a living killing trap. You... are truly no match for him.

The demon disciples exchanged bewildered glances, their Adam's apples bobbing, but no one dared to speak. They didn't want to believe it, yet they dared not disbelieve it.

Chen Yu gazed at the silent faces, a slight tightness in his chest. He sighed softly, "That's the truth. Further words are pointless. Step down." He waved his hand decisively, without the slightest hesitation.

"Yes!" Everyone responded in unison, bowing and retreating. "Senior brother, what should we do now?" Tongtian Sect Leader asked in a low voice. "Let's avoid them for now, and decide what to do after they've gone far away."

Chen Yu frowned, his tone leaving no room for argument. The Tongtian Sect Leader nodded, said nothing more, and led his disciples quietly into the depths of the dense forest.

Only after the last figure disappeared into the mountain mist did Chen Yu truly turn around, his gaze piercing Zhao Feng's eyes: Zhao Feng, I understand the anger in your heart.

But the universe has its own order, and the great way has its own rules—the demon race belongs to the demon race, and the Jie Sect belongs to the Jie Sect; they have never been on the same path.

Ha... Zhao Feng laughed, his laughter dry and broken like a withered branch.

He stared at Chen Yu, enunciating each word clearly: "Master is right. But don't forget, the blood shed before the Jie Sect's mountain gate hasn't even dried yet. Between us, it's already a fight to the death!"

"Zhao Feng, stop!" Chen Yu shouted sharply, his sleeves fluttering in the wind.

Zhao Feng's eyes turned cold, and a black flame seemed to ignite deep within his pupils: I want revenge, and I want the entire demon race to pay for their blood debts!

You—! Chen Yu's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart trembled. He had never expected that this young man harbored such a world-destroying volcano within him.

"Master, rest assured, I will personally carry out the tasks you entrusted to me—leaving no one behind." Zhao Feng's tone was calm, yet sharper than a blade.

You… sigh. Chen Yu closed his eyes, but ultimately said nothing more.

He gave Zhao Feng a deep look, leaving only the words: "The demon race has a profound foundation; do not underestimate them." Then he turned and, with the remaining disciples, rode away on the clouds.

Ha! As the demon figures completely vanished into the sky, Zhao Feng roared to the heavens, his voice shaking the peaks. His eyes flashed with crimson light, like two clusters of burning will-o'-the-wisps: Chen Yu! I, Zhao Feng, swear that I will slaughter all your disciples!

Chen Yu's back stiffened, and his steps faltered slightly—in that instant, he clearly felt a chilling killing intent, like a venomous snake coiling around his neck, icy and bone-chilling.

Zhao Feng, go ahead and do it. But you have to walk this path yourself. Chen Yu sighed silently, neither turning back nor stopping him. I... will make you regret it on your knees! Zhao Feng clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

Chen Yu's figure swept across the clouds, and in an instant he stood on the high steps of the Jie Sect's main hall.

"Chen Yu! You're finally back!" The Tongtian Sect Leader stepped forward, his face beaming with joy, though his voice was filled with lingering fear.

Chen Yu looked up at him, his expression calm: "Master, something terrible has happened."

"What is it?" The Tongtian Sect Leader was taken aback, noticing the strange expression on his face.

Chen Yu took out a plain piece of paper from his sleeve, his fingertips slightly heavy, and handed it over—the ink on the paper was as hard as iron, and there were four words in bold: Heavenly Court.

The Tongtian Sect Leader's gaze met the words, and his brows furrowed immediately: What do these two words mean?

"The demon race has sent envoys from the Heavenly Court," Chen Yu replied in a low voice.

"Demon race? Whom did they send?" The Tongtian Sect Leader's pupils contracted, his voice slightly deep. "Are you really certain that these four words came from the hands of the demon race?"

I saw it with my own eyes and verified it with my own writing—the two characters "Heavenly Court" are written with unruly strokes and rugged, angular lines, definitely not the claw-like engravings commonly used by demons. Chen Yu's tone was firm, his gaze like a nail, his eyes fixed on the ink on the paper.

The Heavenly Court? The Tongtian Sect Leader's throat tightened, and his brows furrowed abruptly. Where did those two words come from? He pressed on urgently, his knuckles unconsciously tapping the table.

Chen Yu shook his head with a wry smile, lightly tapping the paper with his fingertip: "It was indeed written by the demon race, but the words contain the Dao, and the ink contains the laws—every stroke stirs the pulse of heaven and earth, and even faintly reveals the aura of immortals!"

"What?!" The Tongtian Sect Leader abruptly stood up, his sleeves flipping over the incense burner, causing the green smoke to swirl wildly. He never expected that a demon could write words imbued with the lingering charm of immortals! He couldn't believe that this aura actually flowed from the brush of a demon.

"Could it be... that the demon race has also intervened?" His voice tightened.

Chen Yu nodded: "The demon race sent an envoy who specifically requested to establish a blood pact with our Jie Sect."

The Tongtian Sect Leader silently accepted the thin paper. The paper was slightly cool, but the two words "Heavenly Court" felt like a branding iron burning his hand. He ran his fingertips along the ink marks, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper—this sudden invitation was like a red-hot coal, making his heart pound with anxiety.

Chen Yu looked down at his tense jawline, already seeing through the surprise and doubt surging beneath that calm exterior.

He took a breath and said in a deep voice, "Zhao Feng, the Holy Son of the Demon Clan, has already broken through the ninth level of tribulation in his cultivation. If we refuse the alliance, I'm afraid we won't be able to sign the contract today, and tomorrow we'll massacre the sect. But if we agree... we might be able to open a path to survival for the Jie Sect."

The Grand Master of Heaven remained silent for a long time, the candlelight in the hall flickering. Finally, he closed his eyes, sighed, and slowly nodded: "Very well. I will immediately send someone to the appointment to discuss the terms of the alliance in detail."

Chen Yu smiled slightly, bowed deeply to him, and walked away with steady steps.

Thousands of miles away, Zhao Feng clenched the jade slip in his hand, cracks spreading like a spiderweb—he stared at the four words "Intercepting Sect Responds to the Alliance" on the secret report, his teeth clenched so hard they tasted blood, his cold laugh laced with venom: "Wait, I'll make you kneel on the alliance platform and swallow this bitter pill!"

As the day drew closer, the entire Jie Sect was on high alert. Bronze bells hung from the eaves of the main hall, silent in the wind, yet like taut bowstrings.

The auspicious hour arrived. Bells and chimes rang out in unison, incense smoke swirled, and the covenant was laid out on the black iron table.

The Tongtian Sect Leader and the demon clan envoy stood side by side, the cinnabar ink barely dry before their oath was uttered, causing dust to fall from the beams.