He was once the supreme chief of the Dragon Seat Society, able to make all immortals bow with a flick of his fingers.
Cursed by the Heavenly Dao to “die before the age of twenty-five,” he willingly retreated to a run-down alley to sell charcoal.
But when disciples of the Immortal Sect kicked over his charcoal cart and called his feverish daughter a “bastard”
he crushed the dragon-engraved jade token he had kept sealed away for ten years.
That night, the nine seat lords set up an Immortal-Slaying Formation, only to see him stride through the blood rain with a smile: “I sat at the head seat back then, and today I can ascend to the imperial throne.”
When the ten great immortal sects had been reduced to scorched earth, he carried his daughter toward the pinnacle of the Dragon Seat Society: “Daddy will take you to see the fireworks at the very top.”
Ten years later, with the Heavenly Dao in his hands and all the immortals and demons of the myriad heavens kneeling before him, he placed a phoenix crown on his wife’s head:
“I’ll repay the grand wedding I owe you with all the worlds.”
It feels pretty good, but it feels a little strange. I don't know why.