In a world where it never stopped raining…
A boy was digging a grave.
Not for a stranger.
Not for an enemy.
For his mother.
The rain was cold. The mud was thick. His hands were bleeding. But he kept digging, silently, as if he had done this many times before.
His name was Chen Mo.
And today, he buried the last person who had ever been kind to him.
A World That Eats the Weak
Chen Mo lived in a very small, very cruel world.
In this world, there were cultivators, sects, nobles, and clans.
And then there were people like Chen Mo.
People with no talent.
No money.
No family.
No future.
His mother worked until she died from exhaustion and illness, just to keep him alive.
And when she died—
The landlord came the same day.
"You have three days to leave," the landlord said coldly.
"This house now belongs to the Wang Clan."
Chen Mo did not argue.
He did not beg.
He just nodded.
Because this was how the world worked.
The strong took everything.
The weak lost everything.
The Beginning of Hatred
That night, Chen Mo sat in the empty house alone.
No lights.
No food.
No sound.
He just sat there in the dark.
And for the first time in his life—
He felt something growing inside him.
Not sadness.
Not fear.
Not despair.
Hatred.
He looked at his hands and spoke quietly:
"If this world only respects the strong…"
"Then I will become strong."
"And when I become strong…"
"I will make this world pay."
At that moment—
Something appeared on the table in front of him.
A black book.
The Great Demonic Script Appears Again
The book was old. Ancient. Covered in strange black symbols.
Chen Mo stared at it for a long time.
He did not touch it immediately.
He was poor.
But he was not stupid.
"Books don't just appear out of nowhere," he said quietly.
The book opened by itself.
And on the first page, there was a sentence:
"The world is unfair."
"So rewrite it."
Chen Mo's eyes did not move from the page.
The second sentence appeared:
"Heaven helps the chosen."
"I help the abandoned."
Chen Mo slowly asked:
"…Who are you?"
The pages turned.
And new words appeared:
"I am Mo Wudao."
"And I am the enemy of Heaven."
The room became very cold.
Chen Mo should have been scared.
But he wasn't.
Instead, he asked a different question:
"…Can you give me power?"
The book replied:
"I can give you power."
"But power always has a price."
Chen Mo asked:
"…What price?"
The answer appeared slowly.
"Everything."
Silence filled the room.
Anyone else might have hesitated.
Anyone else might have been afraid.
But Chen Mo just nodded and said:
"…Then take it."
The Birth of the Third Demon General
Far away, in the endless void, Mo Wudao suddenly stopped walking.
He looked down at the Demonic Script and smiled slightly.
"Interesting," he said.
"Very interesting."
Most people who opened the Demonic Script asked for revenge.
Most asked for power.
Most asked for a better life.
But this boy—
He asked for power without asking what kind.
Mo Wudao spoke into the void:
"What is your name?"
In the small dark house, Chen Mo heard a voice in his head.
"…Chen Mo," he replied.
Mo Wudao closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he said:
"From today onward…"
"You are no longer Chen Mo."
"Your new name is…"
Mo Chen.
At that moment, the black book exploded into black light and entered Chen Mo's body.
He fell to the ground, screaming.
His bones began to change.
His blood turned black.
His mind filled with thousands of cultivation methods.
Demonic cultivation.
Forbidden techniques.
Soul techniques.
Blood techniques.
War techniques.
Everything.
He screamed for a long time.
But when he finally stood up again—
His eyes had turned completely black.
A Different Kind of Demon
Mo Chen did not laugh.
He did not shout.
He did not go crazy with power.
He just stood there quietly.
Then he said one sentence:
"Where is the Wang Clan?"
Mo Wudao's Smile
In the void, Mo Wudao smiled again.
"Lin Ye is the sword."
"Wu Ming is the mind."
"Mo Chen…"
"Will be the shadow."
He turned and looked at the endless universe filled with stars.
"Now," he said,
"The real game begins."
In the dark, rainy night, Mo Chen walked toward the Wang Clan alone.
And as he walked, he said quietly:
"This world buried my mother."
"So I will bury this world."