The courtyard was silent. Ten corpses lay strewn across shattered stone, the air thick with blood, death qi, and the aftermath of carnage. Jin’s chest heaved, crimson light still burning faintly in his eyes. Every muscle screamed in exhaustion, but the fire in his veins had only grown sharper.

  The final horned guard had fallen. His head rolled across the courtyard with a wet, echoing thump.

  The system’s notification cut through the tension like a cold blade:

  【System Update Complete】

  Total mastery points accumulated: 1,125,450

  Demon God Cultivation Pill available for purchase.

  Jin exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the carnage. He could feel it—the vibration of the blood, the lingering qi of death, the pulse of life leaving the world around him.

  “Let’s stabilize this chaos,” he muttered, placing the points into a Demon God Cultivation Pill, swallowing it without hesitation.

  Instantly, he felt Vorgath, the Grim Warden, stir within his consciousness. Not fully materialized, not yet—but alive. A spirit older than empires, a predator that had once been feared by gods.

  It whispered to him, only Jin could hear:

  "Boy… centuries I’ve waited for this moment. Let’s see if your heart is worthy of my blade."

  Jin smiled faintly. “I trust you.”

  And with the pill, his body stabilized, his ki harmonized, and his realm solidified: Peak DAO Embodiment Realm. Every muscle, every nerve, every inch of him thrummed with raw, disciplined energy. He had transcended the limits of mortal core formation, standing now as a being approaching the threshold of The Sovereign Realm.

  Before he could savor the silence, the ground trembled.

  A deep, cruel laughter rolled across the night, echoing from the heights of the Heavenly Demon Sect. The very stones of the courtyard seemed to bend under the sound.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Azrael Noctis Vael, the Heavenly Demon Lord, appeared.

  He hovered above the battlefield, his cloak snapping in unseen wind, his eyes glinting like twin eclipses. Clapping slowly, mockingly, he spoke, voice sharp as obsidian:

  “Did I miss the fun, or did you really think the War of Heirs would prepare you for this, Jin Valentine?”

  Every step he took reverberated through the courtyard. His aura eclipsed the lingering death qi, radiating a power so immense it nearly shattered Jin’s equilibrium. Jin did not rise—he simply lay there, his body still humming with exhaustion, Esdeath resting on the ground beside him.

  Azrael’s smile widened. “Ah… to kill you myself, to test if the boy can become worthy. But the game is cruel, isn’t it? You think you’ve survived the sect… and yet you’ve only awakened my attention.”

  The system, almost nervously, issued a new notification:

  【Quest Activated】

  Quest: Ascend to the Throne of the Heavenly Demon Lord

  Reward: Hidden

  Jin’s lips curved into a slow smile. He had expected this. The War of Heirs had been merely a prelude—a taste of the cruelty, manipulation, and chaos of true power. But he was ready.

  Azrael descended, every movement impossibly fast, yet deliberate. Jin could barely see the blur of his descent. Lysandra, who had watched the carnage from the sidelines, rushed forward, trying to intervene.

  “Jin!” she screamed. “Step back! Don’t—”

  Too late.

  Azrael’s speed was FTL. A kick of air sent Lysandra crashing into the wall, leaving a streak of blood and bruised stone. She tried to rise, but the sheer power of his presence kept her pinned.

  Jin groaned, lying on the ground. His limbs were sore, but not broken. His mind was clear. Every sensation, every vibration of the courtyard, was feeding him insight. He did not flinch as Azrael reached down, trying to lift Esdeath.

  The blade didn’t budge.

  Even the Heavenly Demon Lord, in all his fury, could not lift the first Supreme Sword.

  Azrael’s eyes narrowed. “Clever boy… but cleverness alone will not save you.” He drew his sword—black as a void-sky, humming with demonic aura.

  The arc of the blade was swift, precise, and deadly, descending toward Jin’s chest.

  Time slowed.

  Jin heard a voice, deep and resonant, cutting through the tension:

  "Boy… it’s been centuries since I last had a fight. If you let me handle this, it will also help you."

  Jin’s crimson eyes flared. “Is that… real?” he muttered, looking to the system. No answer came.

  A grin crept across his face, slow and predatory. “Very well. Do as you will.”

  The sword pierced the air.

  But Jin was gone.

  Azrael’s gaze darted around. His attack had connected with nothing. The ground where Jin had lain was empty.

  Then, a low, rumbling voice echoed from behind him:

  "Oh… so this is the Heavenly Demon Sect. I must say… it’s mediocre."

  Azrael spun around, eyes wide.

  A shadow smiled.

  Dark, eternal, and terrifying.

  VORGATH.

  The Grim Warden had materialized, leaning casually on a massive blade that hummed with the silence of eons. His aura was suffocating. His grin promised death, judgment, and a chaos older than the sect itself.

  Azrael’s eyes narrowed, rage flickering across his features. “What… what is this trick?”

  Vorgath stepped forward, voice a low rumble:

  "No trick. I am what you have awakened. And tonight… I decide who sits in the throne of the damned."

  Jin’s lips moved just slightly. A whisper only he and Vorgath shared:

  “Take the lead.”

  Vorgath’s eyes glimmered with centuries of malice and fury. The air itself seemed to shrink around him, constricting the Heavenly Demon Lord’s immense presence.

  And for the first time, Azrael Noctis Vael, the fearsome lord of the sect, felt hesitation.

  The battlefield—the same courtyard that had witnessed slaughter, chaos, and betrayal—now waited for the next act.

  The moon bore witness, the stones soaked in history, and the night itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Jin Valentine, lying calm, had summoned an ancient predator, and Vorgath—the first demon’s executor—smiled.

  The Heavenly Demon Lord turned, and saw him.