Ascension of The Unholy Immortal

The land was barren and lifeless.

Cracked earth stretched in all directions, and the sky above was a dull, choking grey. A thick, poisonous mist clung to everything, laced with Yin Qi that chilled to the bone. The air was heavy, filled with the stench of rot and death. Scattered bones lay half-buried in the dirt—silent reminders of those who had fallen here long ago.

In the middle of it all stood a man.

He was tall and lean, dressed in a tattered robe, with long white hair flowing behind him like silk in the wind. His face was calm, almost cold, and his pale eyes showed no fear—only quiet confidence. He carried no sword, no weapon of any kind. He didn't need one.

Four Heavenly Corpses stood before him, radiating death and malice. Their rotting armor clung to decaying bodies, eyes glowing with a sickly purple light. They looked less like corpses and more like walking calamities, pulsing with Yin energy that twisted the air around them.

One lunged forward—fast, brutal, claws reaching for the man's throat.

But the white-haired man moved faster.

Boom.

His fist struck the corpse's chest. Bones cracked, and the creature was sent flying, carving a deep trench in the dirt.

Another screeched and struck from behind, but he turned slightly, dodging with ease. His palm lashed out, tearing off the corpse's jaw in a burst of black blood.

The last two attacked together—one casting a wave of black mist, the other summoning ghostly hands that clawed at the air. The man took a single step forward. The ground cracked beneath his feet.

He spun low, dodging the mist, and drove his elbow into one corpse's chest. The armor crumpled, and the corpse dropped. His leg swept out, catching the last attacker mid-charge and sending it crashing away.

The poisonous mist surged with rage, twisting wildly, but the man stood untouched. His breathing remained calm. His fists dripped with dark blood—but none of it was his.

The Heavenly Corpses groaned, twisted, and rose again. Their torn flesh pulsed with dark energy, bones snapping back into place through sheer hatred. Ancient runes lit up across their forms—marks of death laws etched deep into their flesh.

"You... you are no ordinary body-refining cultivator," the first corpse spat, its expression ugly. "To crush us with fists alone—what are you?"

The second, face half-destroyed, laughed grimly. "Flesh is still flesh. Spirit is still spirit. Consuming him will be very beneficial."

The third raised its arms. Black lightning crackled overhead as ghostly hands clawed their way up from the earth.

The fourth stepped forward. "Enough warm-up. I'm already starving."

The land darkened.

A dome of black Qi surged up, sealing the battlefield in shadow. Inside, the Yin Qi thickened into razor-thin needles slicing through the air. The corpses' bodies twisted, bulking up with death power. Their auras skyrocketed. They were no longer generals. They were Death's wrath incarnate.

The first corpse lifted its claw. "Let's tear your soul to pieces."

But the man remained still.

The ground beneath him cracked as a deep pulse echoed outward. His eyes dimmed—then burned crimson. His breathing deepened. A thick black fog rolled off his skin, swirling like a storm.

Boom.

Devil Qi erupted, blasting the dome back. The miasma recoiled. The ground quaked.

His body changed.

Muscles bulged. Bones shifted. He grew, skin etched with crimson lines. Massive devil wings burst from his back. Horns curled from his temples. His face became something divine and terrifying.

Behind him, space split open. A colossal manifestation emerged—three heads, six arms, formed of golden devil light. Each hand held an ancient mudra. Its eyes shone with fire, darkness, and gold—a trinity of rage, calm, and destruction.

The Heavenly Corpses froze.

A heartbeat passed.

Then chaos.

The first corpse vanished, reappearing behind the devil-form man. Its claws tore through space, rifts screaming as they closed.

The second leapt high. A black sun formed above its head, packed with screaming Yin souls. With a roar, it hurled the orb downward. The land wailed as it fell.

The third slammed its hands into the earth, chanting. Skeletal obelisks erupted, runes draining life and Qi. Space and time locked. Escape was sealed.

The fourth stood silent. It raised its arms, birthing a massive, flaming lotus of decay. Petals wide as buildings, wreathed in black flame.

But the devil-being stood firm.

His three-headed manifestation moved. Mudras formed—ancient and forbidden.

Heaven-Shattering Seal.

Soul-Breaking Wheel.

Abyssal Flame Sutra.

Devil Qi surged. One mudra split the sky. Another fractured souls. The last summoned a flame blacker than Yin Qi. The dome trembled. Space fractured.

The first corpse struck—

Clang!

Its claws shattered on impact. The manifestation's arm moved.

Heaven-Shattering Seal fell.

A golden palm crushed the corpse. A crater remained—nothing more.

The second's black sun plummeted—

But the devil-being raised a finger.

Abyssal Flame Sutra roared. A shadow dragon of karmic sin erupted. It wrapped the sun—then devoured it.

The sun imploded. Phantoms screamed as they were torn apart. The shockwave rolled outward. The devil-being walked forward, crushing bones with each step.

The third corpse faltered. The obelisks pulsed—resisting their master.

Soul-Breaking Wheel turned.

An ancient wheel spun behind the manifestation—golden bone, fiery chains. With one turn, the battlefield's runes shattered.

The obelisks exploded!

The fourth corpse's lotus bloomed.

Flames of unreality surged forward.

The devil-being raised both hands.

A final mudra formed.

Devil Void World.

Light dimmed.

A black-gold circle spread beneath him, runes shifting in unknown tongue. It lifted into the air, warping space into a perfect void.

The lotus flames twisted, caught mid-bloom. Then, slowly, they turned—devoured by the void they came from. Petals shriveled. The corpse was consumed, silent to the end.

The shadow dome shattered.

The mist fled. The sky cleared—briefly, revealing cold, eternal heavens. Then the gloom returned.

Only the devil-being remained.

He exhaled, long and slow. The manifestation behind him faded, golden particles scattering across the wasteland. His body shrank, horns and wings vanishing. The crimson glow in his eyes dimmed.

His face was unreadable.

He looked upon the battlefield.

"Not enough," he murmured. "Still far from enough."