As the number one war god in the immortal world, I always accept disciples as I please. Until that day, I randomly picked up a boy who was born with demonic bones. Immortals all say that if I raise a tiger, I will cause trouble, and sooner or later, it will bite the master. I smiled but said nothing. After all, there was a gap in the way of heaven, and it needed to be filled with demonic bones. A hundred years later, he washed the immortal sect with blood and pointed his sword at my throat: "Master, I know you left me as a cauldron." I raised my eyes lazily: "My good disciple, did you know that the sky-repairing stone requires a living sacrifice?" He dropped his sword to the ground, knelt down and kissed my fingertips: "Then please master... Refine me with your own hands." When the altar was dyed red with demonic blood, Heaven trembled and wailed. But he tore the sky apart with a smile: "What is the way of heaven? What the master wants, the disciples will take it!"
