When the first drop of blood fell into my pupil, I heard an ancient demon god whispering deep inside my skull.
The night I turned fifteen, when Xuantian Sect's sword pierced my father's chest, a scarlet fire ignited in my eyes. They say the strong rule all, but why could the cultivators who slaughtered my entire family still sit high above the clouds? The Blood Prison Demon Eye awakened from my hatred. Devouring, plundering, imprisoning: every wisp of stolen fortune was a declaration of war against the Cangxuan Continent.
When I first ventured into the martial world, I was nothing but a fugitive burdened by blood debts, struggling to survive amid the poisonous mists of Netherworld Valley. Then I met Luo Qingxue, a woman as pure as snow, yet destined to be entangled with me for the rest of her life. I locked her in a hidden chamber and forced her to witness how I tempered my power with her hatred. I maneuvered through the schemes of Yunhai City, using the greed of the four great clans as my pawns. I even joined forces with Netherworld Valley, all to tear away Xuantian Sect's hypocritical facade. Every use of my eye arts was a battle of spirit and reason: memory theft let me glimpse my enemies' deepest fears, while the Soul-Devouring Prison turned their convictions into blades in my hands.
But the price was never absent. On nights when my right eye bled without stopping, demonic markings spread across my left arm, and traces of existence were forcibly erased by my hand... Every time I used the “Eternal Night Eye,” I felt myself growing further from humanity. Wen Ruoli once warned me, “In the end, you'll become the very thing you hate most.” Ye Wushang only sneered. “In this land, who doesn't wear a mask?”
