I Really Am A Villain

New Novel🪶

The blood-red sky churned violently as winds howled and clouds twisted together, forming an enormous vortex that devoured everything in its reach.

The surrounding spirit energy surged toward it like a tidal wave, pouring endlessly into that spinning abyss. In the forest surrounding the Violet Mist Holy Lands, colossal ancient trees were torn from the ground, as though the entire world were being refined within that vortex.

Even the Ancestral Warden felt the immense pull, a devouring force that seemed intent on swallowing him whole.

He Changkong snorted coldly. He raised his hand, and a surge of sword intent erupted skyward.

From deep within the Violet Mist Holy Lands, a streak of flowing light shot out. It blazed like dawn’s first glow, scattering darkness across the land. As the radiance grew clearer, it revealed the form of a longbow.

The bow’s body was forged from golden material, curved like a crescent moon, its frame aflame with divine brilliance, and its bowstring stretched ten thousand feet long.

He Changkong gripped the bow with one hand, turned his body half a circle, and drew it back in a smooth motion.

The bow required no guidance from him, when he pulled the string, the power of heaven and earth converged upon it, naturally forming a radiant arrow of pure light.

“What is that?” the Ancestral Warden asked, narrowing his eyes as he felt the overwhelming force emanating from the weapon.

“It’s merely the Violet Dawn God-Light,” Xu Zimo replied casually.

Although he had not fully integrated the memories of the Infernal Lord, he had already absorbed part of them.

Those memories were vast, far more than a single lifetime’s worth. Each generation of the Infernal Lord inherited not only his predecessor’s memories, but also the recollections of all Infernal Lords before them.

In other words, however many times the Infernal Lord had reincarnated, so many lives and experiences were now etched within that collective memory.

If Xu Zimo were one day to fall to Heaven’s will, like his predecessors before him, he too would pass his memories, his entire existence, on to the next Infernal Lord.

It was an obsession, eternal and indestructible.

“The Violet Dawn God-Light?” the Ancestral Warden repeated softly.

He was no more than a Grand Emperor; his knowledge was broad but not limitless. Yet this was something he had never even heard of.

“There are two supreme essences born from the sun,” Xu Zimo explained idly. “One is the True Sun God Flame. The other is the Violet Dawn God-Light. This bow was forged from condensed Violet Dawn God-Light, combined with countless rare materials. It may not rank among the Grand Thousand Treasures, but in truth, it surpasses them.”

At those words, the Ancestral Warden’s eyes widened slightly.

The Grand Thousand Treasures were the most direct measure of artifact hierarchy across the Nine Heavens.

Of course, that list was not immutable. Whenever a peerless treasure was forged, the rankings would be revised.

For countless cultivators, having their weapon listed among the Grand Thousand Treasures was the highest honor, a glory that spread their name across all realms.

But people like He Changkong cared little for such recognition.

The longbow curved like a serpent, and the Violet Dawn God-Light shone once more.

Suddenly, within the blood-red void that had been slowly refining the world, an explosion of pure radiance tore through the sky.

The beam shot into the vortex overhead. At first, nothing happened.

Then the void began to crack apart. The devouring vortex shattered into fragments.

The heavens burned with an unnameable fire, and the source of that fire was the World-Weary Rope itself.

“What, what did you do?” World-Weary Immortal shouted in panic.

He tried to summon the rope back, but the connection between his spirit and the weapon had already been severed.

“I told you,” He Changkong said calmly. “You’re not qualified to fight me. Have your master come out.”

His gaze didn’t linger on World-Weary Immortal for even a moment; the man was nothing more than an insect in his eyes, unworthy of attention.

He stared instead at the Mountain of Samsara. When it remained still, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“If you refuse to come out,” he said, “then I’ll strike until you do.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the longbow in his hand gleamed once more. The Violet Dawn God-Light condensed into form again.

A brilliant flash burst forth.

World-Weary Immortal didn’t even have time to react before he was blasted away.

The Mountain of Samsara shook violently, followed by an explosion that shook the heavens.

The ground split open, leaving behind a vast, bottomless crater.

Then a cold, thunderous snort resounded through the world.

The sound alone was enough to make the hearts of all who heard it tremble. He Changkong himself staggered back several steps under its force.

As the dust settled, the great mountain trembled on the verge of collapse.

From within the ruin, an ancient figure slowly emerged.

In that instant, the world fell into silence.

The man’s presence seemed to traverse countless epochs; his eyes alone carried the weight of endless reincarnations.

“A mayfly shaking a tree, merely an ant,” the figure said softly.

He Changkong narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the man who had stepped forth.

It was a tall man in a simple robe. There was no overwhelming aura about him, only the quiet, infinite flow of reincarnation encircling his form.

Each step he took seemed to make the heavens themselves cycle, the sun and moon reversed, and the cosmos trembled.

His ancient robe draped over his broad frame, long hair drifting behind him. On his back was a massive millstone, its surface weathered by the passage of ages, as though it had always been part of him.

“The Samsara Saint Sovereign,” the Ancestral Warden said, enunciating each word.

Even though he was born of the Ancient Demon Realm, he knew full well the strength of this man.

Aside from the two ancestral Infernal Archons, there was almost no one in existence who could rival the Samsara Saint Sovereign.

It was a bitter truth for the Ancient Demons.

In all the endless eons, even a pig could cultivate itself to sainthood, yet their own Saint Sovereigns never lived long.

Had they survived through the ages, the accumulated might of the Ancient Demon Realm would have been unimaginable.

The more the Ancestral Warden thought about it, the deeper his resentment toward the Heavenly Court and High Heaven itself grew.

When he had been part of the system, he had never questioned it. But now, seeing from the outside, he realized the Ancient Demons’ tragic fate, they were livestock bred for slaughter, nothing more.

“Don’t get worked up,” Xu Zimo said with a smile. “This is the Violet Mist Holy Lands’ business, not ours.”

“Does the Lord think He Changkong can win?” the Ancestral Warden asked softly.

In truth, he didn’t believe the man stood a chance.

“Death,” Xu Zimo said, smiling faintly, “is not always the only way.”

He clearly knew something, but kept it to himself.

the Ancestral Warden didn’t dare to pry, so he remained silently watching.

Before the Violet Mist Holy Lands, the Samsara Saint Sovereign regarded He Changkong with cold detachment.

“Not just you,” he said, “even if your Violet Mist Saint Sovereign himself were resurrected, he would not dare be so insolent before me, boy.”

Between Saint Sovereigns, fear did not exist.

Seeing He Changkong remain silent, the Samsara Saint Sovereign continued, “Do not say I bully the younger generation. I’ll give you the first strike.”

“Who said I intended to fight you?” He Changkong said with a faint laugh.

“You killed the Holy Son of my Ancient Samsara God Realm,” the Saint Sovereign said coldly. “That is not something you can simply walk away from. If this were merely a dispute among juniors, it would be one thing, but you… you insult the very honor of my God Realm. Do you think we have no one left?”

“No,” He Changkong replied, shaking his head. “You misunderstand. I only want you to stay quiet for a while.”