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

The skeleton slowly rose and hovered in the void, ghostly blue flames burning in its empty eye sockets, and fierce flames that scorched the heavens and earth rose around it. All the disciples of the Jie Sect trembled, their teeth chattering, cold sweat soaking their backs, an overwhelming fear rushing to their heads, their limbs and bones stiff and cold as ice.

"What...what the hell is this?" A disciple's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice trembled, and his legs shook uncontrollably as the stench of death filled his nostrils.

"It's the Corpse Clan!" a female disciple screamed, her voice so sharp it was distorted, and she didn't even realize that her fingertips were digging into her palm.

"They really are zombies!"

………………

Upon hearing this, the surrounding disciples of the Jie Sect gasped in shock, their faces turning pale and their pupils contracting sharply.

The Corpse Clan were forged by the Holy Emperor Pangu himself, their immortal warriors crafted from chaotic corpse energy. Their combat prowess was astonishing, and they were renowned among the great powers of the heavens. Legend has it that the Corpse Ancestor once led his forces to sweep across countless realms, shattering galaxies and wiping out all life wherever he went; his ferocity still inspires fear. Although they vanished long ago, and the Corpse Ancestor has disappeared without a trace, everyone knows that this iron-blooded race has never truly perished, awaiting the day it breaks free from its seal.

"It's over, it's over, we're really going to die here this time!" The disciples looked ashen-faced and simply closed their eyes to await their death.

"What's the panic! Grit your teeth and hold on, victory is just around the corner!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs, trying to calm the troops.

But no one responded—it was nothing more than a fantasy he had conjured up in despair.

"Boom!"

The sky suddenly shattered, and a silver ray shot out from the depths of the blood sea abyss, like a divine sword cleaving through the eternal night. Countless rays of blazing light burst forth and surged, illuminating the world with a dazzling white light.

A blazing sun slowly rises, its golden flames soaring into the sky, dazzling as if molten gold has been poured out; closely following behind, a clear moon hangs suspended in the air, its silvery light flowing, cold as frost, yet containing a scorching heat that can burn everything.

"Where did those two sun and moon spheres come from?" a disciple asked in astonishment.

"Could they be the two ancient flames from the beginning of chaos?!" another person blurted out, trembling with excitement. "Yes! That's it! I saw a copy of it in the patriarch's notes years ago, there's no mistake!"

"No wonder his aura surged so ridiculously—he was hiding such a deadly weapon!" Someone suddenly realized, cold sweat beading on their forehead.

The Primordial Chaos Flame is an extremely malevolent flame nurtured by heaven and earth before the separation of the primordial chaos. It burns gods and destroys the Dao, and anyone who touches it will perish. At best, the primordial spirit is burned away; at worst, both body and spirit are annihilated, and one is forever plunged into nothingness. And this is before they gained sentience—if they truly developed intelligence, even a sage would have to retreat in fear.

At this moment, the two ancient flames were wielded with unparalleled skill by the mysterious figure, transforming into the sun and moon, their flames billowing forth. The golden chain twisted, melted, and peeled away under the intense heat, turning into specks of crimson stars that fell into the sea of ​​blood.

But he did not flee. Instead, he stood still, his gaze as cold and hard as iron, indifferently looking down. A dark light enveloped his body, as dark as an abyss, swallowing even the light itself; and behind him, a towering figure was slowly taking shape, its outline becoming clearer and more intimidating.

"This..." Everyone's pupils shrank, their throats tightened, and they even forgot to breathe.

The figure was tens of thousands of feet tall, with long, thick, jet-black hair that danced wildly in the wind; its muscles were bulging like the roots of an ancient pine tree, each muscle radiating primal brute force and wild tension; its arms and legs were covered in black armor, the armor plates layered upon each other, gleaming with a cold, hard, eerie light, as if forged from the remnants of stars.

"What a magnificent, towering structure!"

"That's too domineering!"

"He's practically a war god descended to earth!"

……

Exclamations of amazement rose and fell, and everyone's eyes burned with intense interest.

"roar--!"

The giant shadow roared violently, its sound waves stirring up blood-red clouds. Its claws tore through the void, and with immense force, it pounced down on the mysterious man!

"Bang!"

He slammed his fist down, sending the mysterious man flying like a kite with a broken string. His armor shattered inch by inch, his sternum caved in into a bowl shape, and blood gushed out, staining half the scorched earth red.

"How fierce!" Everyone gasped.

"Nothing special!" The mysterious man's lips curled up slightly, his smile tinged with icy coldness.

"Boom!"

He stomped his foot on the ground, causing the mountains to tremble. Nine massive pillars of black iron burst from the earth and roared, carrying wind and thunder as they crashed into the figure.

"Pfft—" Blood mist exploded, and three disciples of the Jie Sect were trampled into mincemeat.

The figure's eyes blazed with crimson flames, and a beast-like roar echoed from its throat as it charged forward recklessly, its fists and palms like knives, each move a desperate attack.

The two forces clashed fiercely, blinding light tore through the sky, and violent shockwaves caused the world to lose its color—space twisted and cracked like thin ice, as if it would collapse inch by inch at any moment.

The onlookers were terrified and felt a chill run down their spines.

The mysterious figure maintained a firm advantage, forcing his opponent into a retreat. As expected of a Demon Lord-level figure, though not yet having reached the Saint Realm, he already surpassed ordinary Immortal Emperors, his power terrifying.

Even with the Corpse Clan before him, he remained unfazed.

"Hahaha—I've got this in the bag!" The figure roared to the sky, the sound sending rocks flying, his arrogance almost burning through the clouds. He was covered in blood, his armor shattered into dust, dozens of deep gashes splitting open on his bulging muscles, blood trickling down like countless red snakes writhing between his flesh. But he didn't care at all, instead laughing even more fiercely, as if victory was already etched into his very bones.

"You are pitifully weak." The mysterious man's voice was low and sharp, like a rusty blade scraping against a stone slab, his sarcasm penetrating to the bone. Blood was still flowing from the wound on his chest, but his eyes were bottomless black, cold and devoid of any life. The inky flames that enveloped his body pulsed silently, like the abyss breathing.

"Come on! I'll take this!" he roared, coughing up blood, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists, his muscles taut like a bowstring, brimming with destructive power.

"Boom!" He transformed into a blood-red afterimage and pounced forward. Wherever his fist passed, the air was forcibly plowed into a vacuum crack, and the shrill whistle was deafening. The surrounding disciples of the Jie Sect were blown back by the force of the wind, their faces drained of color, leaving only panic and despair.

"Fool, you dare to shout?" The mysterious man sneered, his figure vanishing in an instant. When he reappeared, he was already three zhang away, his footsteps as elusive as mist and smoke.

The more fiercely the figure attacked, the more turbulent the heavens and earth became—the wind howled, the clouds scattered, and even the earth groaned under the unbearable weight. The disciples of the Jie Sect felt their hearts tighten, as if gripped by an invisible giant hand, fear tightening around their throats like vines.

In an instant, the dark clouds in the sky surged and boiled, pressing down with an oppressive blackness that swallowed up even the light. Lightning bolts danced wildly deep within the clouds, poised to strike. Suddenly, a massive, silvery-white bolt of lightning tore through the heavens, crashing down like a dragon, carrying immense divine power!

"Look at the sky!" someone shouted, their finger trembling as they pointed to the blade of light that tore through the darkness, a faint flame igniting in their eyes.

At this moment, Chen Yu stood atop the precipice, his robes fluttering in the wind, his eyes blazing like torches. An overwhelming power surged from his dantian, as if a thousand thunderbolts were roaring and flowing through his veins. He slightly raised his palms, and spiritual energy gathered like a tide. As the Daoist aura flowed, mountains, rivers, grass, and trees all seemed to bow down to him.

"It's my turn," he said softly, each word ringing out like a bell, resonating deep within my heart.

A flash of lightning appeared in his palm, as thin as a spider's thread, yet pulsating with the vitality to tear through chaos. As his thoughts surged, the serpent of light suddenly extended, condensing into a lightning spear—the spearhead hummed, the air swirled, and the light was so blinding that one couldn't open their eyes.

"Go!" Chen Yu shouted, and his spear shot out from the sky like the wrath of the heavens, carrying immense force, straight at the blood-red shadow that was rushing towards the mysterious man!

"Awooo—!"