God-Tier Villain

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

"So big."

"It’s getting bigger and bigger."

"My whole body feels like it’s burning. I can’t take it anymore."

"If this continues, we’ll be devoured."

"The Heavenly Book’s riot means it is looking for a master. If we are devoured, we will be forced to become slaves of the Heavenly Book’s master."

"What if it’s a man..."

"No, absolutely not, I don’t want to serve a man!"

In a world filled with unknown mysteries, six young, beautiful women stood together with gloomy expressions. Their eyes were tense, each holding an obscure seal in their hands, as if conducting some sort of resistance and suppression ritual.

Floating before the six was a scroll radiating a milky-white glow. Eerie black iron chains and collars extended from within it, binding and trapping the six of them tightly.

The scroll absorbed their energy through the black chains and collars around their necks, rapidly growing even larger.

Cries of agony rang out. In the end, all six women were completely devoured by the mysterious scroll.

The space began to wither, gradually losing its light and color, replaced by deathly blackness as the six paths of order fell into complete chaos.

One after another, ancient races once sealed away by the six women broke out of their tombs, brandishing their claws and laughing maniacally.

"It’s actually the Outer Dao Heavenly Book!"

"Rumor has it that whoever gains the Heavenly Book’s recognition can conquer the myriad daos of the heavens and become an immortal, imperishable eternity!"

The moment those words fell, greed seized the crowd, the sky-blotting experts of the ancient races rushed toward the Outer Dao Heavenly Book like a swarm of locusts.

The next second, the Heavenly Book seemed attracted by something. It transformed into a beam of white light and flew toward a distorted space-time anomaly.

In the blink of an eye, it vanished without a trace.

Azure Spirit World, the frontiers of the heavens, shrouded in deadly miasma.

This was a legendary ultra-hazardous zone. Demonic beasts tread the earth, demonic birds flapped their wings across the sky, and an eerie, sinister aura permeated everywhere.

A sword light tore through the galaxy of mountains, instantly slaying tens of thousands of giant demonic birds.

A female empress in a red dress, wielding a longsword, led an army of human cultivators charging toward a towering, ink-black mountain.

Every cultivator’s eyes were locked on the exact same spot.

The summit. The Wind-Shelter Pavilion.

A handsome young man in a sleek black martial outfit sat upon an exquisite bone chair, legs crossed, he propped his chin on a clenched fist, elbow resting on the armrest, watching the hundreds of thousands of cultivators below.

To his left stood an emaciated old servant, barely a meter tall.

To his right loomed a bare-chested Minotaur with bulging muscles.

The red-dressed empress stopped first, and everyone followed suit.

A chorus of hateful, crusading cries rang out one after another.

"Demon! All three thousand disciples of my White Dragon Sect were slaughtered by you overnight, not even a corpse left behind. Today, you will pay in blood!"

"Demon! Over nine thousand nine hundred members of my Mountain Moon Cult had their spiritual energy drained to ashes by you. I swear I will pull out your tendons and peel off your skin!"

The red-dressed empress was as arrogant as an iceberg, her breathtakingly beautiful face nearly expressionless as she pointed her sword at the young man in black.

"Soren, you are bloodthirsty by nature, the countless innocent souls who died at your hands are beyond measure. I will join forces with everyone to eradicate a menace like you."

"Prepare to die!"

Soren sat in his chair, maintaining his posture.

On the surface he looked completely unbothered, but internally he was a mess.

What the hell is going on...

Half an hour ago, he had been just one of the many smut writers on Earth. Deep in the zone, fingers across the keyboard, he had just written the part where the male lead and his yandere senior sister were about to engage in something.

Then the sound of flipping pages echoed behind him, and an eerie explosion swallowed him whole.

While shuttling through a vast world of white light, he experienced a bizarre, dream-like scene.

A corpse that looked exactly like him, same height, same appearance, drifted past. In the blink of an eye, it rapidly disintegrated into particles.

It was as if some mysterious force was controlling him, seizing the corpse’s memories and dantian, devouring its essence blood and soul.

Every cell in Soren’s body was enhanced, even his hair grew to dozens of times its length back on Earth, he felt entirely reborn.

The next second, he broke through the white light world and crashed heavily onto a large bed in a dimly lit room.

Before Soren could figure out what was happening, the old servant and the Minotaur rushed in covered in dust, shouting that the humans were attacking.

Half an hour had passed, he had finally pieced it together.

He had transmigrated.

Other people experienced soul transmigrations, but he had physically crossed over.

From a weak, low-tier author, he had replaced a Demon Venerable of the Demon Race who shared his exact name.

Facing the clamor of these people, especially the shouting of that red-dressed empress, Soren felt deeply melancholy.

Because there had been a slight problem when he absorbed the memories in the river of space and time, he inherited a massive amount of irrelevant memories while completely losing all memories related to demonic cultivation techniques and martial skills.

The enemy consisted of twelve major sects and a hundred minor sects, numbering in the hundreds of thousands.

Under his command, besides a flock of demonic birds and beasts, he only had about a hundred people, most of them the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled.

For a grand Demon Venerable to end up in such a miserable state, Soren himself was dumbfounded.

He only understood after sifting through his new memories.

How was he a cold-blooded Great Demon? He was an absolute, unadulterated coward!

It was a cowardice brought out from the womb, the kind that couldn’t be cured by any panacea.

From childhood to adulthood, the thing Soren feared most was blood, let alone killing a person, he hadn’t even killed a chicken.

He had lived a pitifully cowardly life for over three hundred years.