Chapter One: The Battle of Gods and Demons

At the dawn of creation, when chaos first parted and the world was formed, beneath the vast heavens teemed myriad beasts and birds. Mighty apes and fierce tigers roamed the mountains and rivers, their thunderous roars shattering the sky and shaking the heavens above. Kunpeng, dragons, and phoenixes soared amidst the white clouds and the endless firmament above the Northern Sea. The back of the Kun was like a towering mountain drifting through the ocean, its being eternal and indestructible—it would cultivate for a thousand years and with a single day’s transformation, become the great Peng bird.

Riding the whirlwind, it would ascend ninety thousand miles high, its wings stretching like clouds hanging from the sky, casting shadows that blotted out the sun, each beat of its wings tearing through the heavens. Beneath the firmament, there was nowhere forbidden to it. Dragons and phoenixes, side by side, rode the clouds and rose beyond the ninth heaven, gazing down upon all living things.

All manner of unique creatures were nurtured by the essence of heaven and earth, granted intelligence and awareness. As time flowed by, all beings developed independent thought, and thus the Art of the Way emerged beneath the vault of the sky.

Some, guided by this art, cultivated the Great Dao, earning the approval of the heavens. To them were granted countless celestial palaces in the Heavenly Court for their cultivation—these beings became known as gods.

Others, having grasped the Dao, refused to follow its natural course. They rebelled, taking a twisted path, reversing the laws of the Dao, breaking its rules. Blessed by the primordial chaos, they made their lairs in the Valleys of Demons and the Underworld—these beings became known as demons.

Still others, though enlightened, never found the true gateway to the Dao; their understanding never grew in all their lives. Occupying the rivers and lands, they received guidance from the gods, built countless palaces, and practiced lesser arts—these beings became known as mortals.

Gods, mortals, and demons each governed their own realms and interacted harmoniously, until conflict between right and wrong, and the clash of interests, sparked a great war among the Three Realms. Gods and demons clashed as the main force in battle, while the mortal world became collateral damage, swept into catastrophe.

It was from this war that the laws of the Dao—both demonic and celestial—fell to the mortal world. There, mortals spent their lives seeking enlightenment; if they succeeded, they would transcend mortality—ascending to become gods or falling to become demons. After the war, barriers were erected between the realms, making passage ever more difficult, and so came an age of armistice.

An old man, clad in a purple robe, sat cross-legged upon a stone atop a mountain peak. Beside him, a young child mimicked his posture, sitting with bright eyes full of curiosity for the world before him.

The elder gently reached out to stroke the boy’s hair. The child, propping his chin on his chubby hands, blinked with a pained expression. Seeing this, the elder lifted him onto his lap. The boy stretched and nestled into the old man's embrace, yet the look of distress remained on his face.

"Pingchuan, why do you look so troubled?" The elder pinched the child’s cheek. The boy squirmed away, rubbing his plump little face, lips pursed in a sigh, hands propping his chin as his eyes grew more puzzled.

"Grandmaster, I don’t understand why the Three Realms had to go to war. If there had been no war, no barriers, I could go see the heavens for myself." Jiang Pingchuan lifted his eyes to the blue sky and the clouds above, longing to visit the heavens, perhaps to find a thick cloud to nap upon.

To him, this was the greatest wish of his life. Yet now, he could not reach the celestial realm. Whenever he thought of this, disappointment clouded his small face, and he would spend his days gazing at the sky, sighing—though just three and a half years old, he appeared as world-weary as an old man.

"Pingchuan, do you truly wish to see the heavens?" The old man looked down at the melancholy face in his arms, then up at the sky. The mountain they sat upon was the highest peak in the entire northern region, yet even so, it barely touched the lowest stray clouds—still far from the heavens themselves.

"Yes. They say Grandmaster is seeking enlightenment, striving to break the barrier to the Celestial Realm and find the way to ascension. Could Grandmaster take Pingchuan to the heavens too?" Little Pingchuan gazed up at the elder with hopeful, pleading eyes.

The old man stroked his long beard and shook his head. Seeing his grandmaster so heartlessly refuse, Pingchuan's eyes reddened, tears welling and lips pouting in grievance, but the elder only smiled and shook his head.

"Pingchuan, to ascend the celestial way is not accomplished in a day. To dream of leaping to the heavens in one step is foolishness—but there are other paths to the sky." The elder fondly smoothed Pingchuan’s small braid, his eyes full of kindness. Hearing this, Pingchuan slumped in his lap like a deflated balloon, staring blankly at the sky.

"Grandmaster, the road to the heavens is too bitter and exhausting. You’ve been seeking the way for a hundred years since childhood and still haven’t found it. I’m not a fool—I won’t try. Why don’t you just tell me that story of the Three Realms?" Pingchuan sucked his finger and spoke in a buzzing whine.

He got a gentle rap on the head for his trouble. He looked at his grandmaster with a face full of injustice, but the old man put on a stern face. Pingchuan, however, only chuckled, for every time he teased his grandmaster about failing to find the celestial path after a hundred years, the old man would put on an air of seriousness—though always with a blush. Pingchuan knew why, but kept silent to avoid another knock on the head.

"Pingchuan, though it's a story, it concerns the forbidden laws of heaven. I’ll tell it to you, but you must never repeat it or spread it as gossip—do you understand?" The elder watched as Pingchuan nodded solemnly, then smiled in satisfaction.

He drew an ancient book from his robe and laid it before them. Pingchuan stared in confusion at the yellowed pages, lines of strange symbols etched upon them.

"Pingchuan, the story is long. While you listen, you must also study the symbols on this title page—understood?" The elder set Pingchuan before him, so they sat face to face.

Pingchuan picked up the book and peered at the densely packed symbols. His mind buzzed, but he gritted his teeth and nodded, "Grandmaster, I understand." Seeing the elder smile, he lowered his head to focus on the symbols. The elder, pleased by his earnestness, stroked his beard and fell into memories of that distant tale.

Before the war among gods, mortals, and demons, the celestial and demonic realms were not divided. Both sides were enlightened beings, closely connected. The Celestial Emperor and the Demon King were the closest of friends.

At that time, the Celestial Emperor had two sons. Both were gifted from birth. The elder son devoted himself to the study of the Dao, earning the approval of the gods and the title of Little Celestial Emperor. The younger, though mischievous, was no less talented than his brother. While the elder immersed himself in celestial arts, the younger wandered with the Demon King, paying no heed to the affairs of the gods or the opinions of others. Because of his love for travel, he was well-liked in both realms.

The elder, Xiao Jiuhuang, cultivated the Dao for sixteen years and received its full inheritance. The younger, Xiao Wudi, traveled and trained for fifteen years, gaining much insight and the respect of countless gods and demons. He even found the Divine Beast cub, the Redcloud Tiger of the Demon Realm, which the Demon King tried to give him as a mount.

Xiao Wudi shook his head and refused, keeping the little Redcloud Tiger as a companion instead. Meanwhile, Xiao Jiuhuang followed the Celestial Emperor, learning the ways of governance. In the Emperor’s eyes, only Xiao Jiuhuang was fit to succeed him, while Xiao Wudi was forever the playful child.

During their travels, the Demon King suddenly comprehended the Boundless Dao and departed in haste, seeking the place his heart desired. With the Demon King gone, the once peaceful Demon Realm fell into chaos as the subordinate Monster Realm seized the opportunity to rebel.

Some demon generals led their armies to defect, plunging the Demon Realm into turmoil. Members of the Monster Realm, in the confusion, invaded the Mortal Realm, bringing untold suffering to its defenseless people.

Xiao Jiuhuang, by the Celestial Emperor’s command, led the heavenly soldiers to assist the demons in quelling the chaos. Victorious in seven of nine battles, he was finally trapped in the monster formation, his strength spent and his life hanging by a thread.

Yet the Celestial Emperor made no move to aid Xiao Jiuhuang. When Xiao Wudi heard of his brother’s peril, he hurried to the Celestial Court and volunteered to rescue him. The immortals all shook their heads at Xiao Wudi’s carefree manner.

All wondered where Xiao Wudi found the courage to request the mission. The Celestial Emperor hesitated, then handed him the token to command the heavenly hosts. Xiao Wudi weighed the token, smirking with a hint of mischief, then tossed it back to his father.

The Celestial Emperor and the immortals looked at him in confusion. Xiao Wudi straightened his dark hair, a mocking curve on his lips.

"To quell the chaos of the demons, what need is there for heavenly hosts? Xiao Wudi alone is enough," he declared, ignoring the ridicule, leaving just those arrogant words as he swept out of the temple in his crimson robe.

All knew that though the Emperor’s younger son was talented, he had never seriously studied the celestial arts, only wandered with the Demon King—Xiao Wudi was the notorious prodigal of the Celestial Realm.

The only one who enjoyed his company was Sunny, the little immortal of Clear Laurel Palace. Except for Sunny, no one in the Celestial Realm wished to befriend Xiao Wudi. His brother, in contrast, was renowned for his righteousness, warmth, and humility, earning the title of Little Celestial Emperor.

Xiao Wudi, with his yet-unawakened Redcloud Tiger, set off alone for the battlefield. Clad in his crimson robe, wielding the Azurewood Divine Spear, he swept the field—breaking the monster formation with three strikes and rescuing Xiao Jiuhuang.

Seeing his brother’s bedraggled state, Xiao Wudi only smiled and then flew to another battlefield. Through this war, Xiao Wudi proved the fruits of his fifteen years of learning. Though not a master of every art, he was a peerless youth with myriad skills, his strength far surpassing Xiao Jiuhuang.

After this battle, Xiao Wudi was hailed as the God of War. Wherever he went, monster and demon blood flowed for a thousand miles, the sky crimson with their demise. The legend of the Crimson Robe of the Five Emperors sweeping away ten thousand monsters, and the Azurewood Spear subduing the world, spread far and wide.