Countless warships and immortals drift across the pitch-black night sky, like a river of stars surging toward the abyss.
Though separated by two utterly different worlds on either side of South Heaven Gate, from the mortal realm one could still look up and see the myriad stars slowly shifting across the sky.
Such a spectacle had never been seen before; no one could have imagined that this grand scene signaled the collapse of the Heavenly Court.
In a shabby pigsty, a group of well-fed piglets nestled against their mother, snoring and dreaming sweetly. Not far away, a thin little piglet gazed up at the star-filled sky, all alone.
Outside the pigsty, an ordinary rural couple watched it in puzzlement.
The farmer scratched his head and said, "What's up with this little thing? Can starlight fill its belly?"
As he spoke, he looked up at the sky.
"Could it be sick?"
"Sick? Hmph, people can see a doctor when they're ill, but what about livestock? I've raised pigs most of my life—I've seen plenty that eat but never grow, but I've never seen one that isn't greedy for food." Sighing helplessly, the farmer said, "If we keep letting it go like this, even if it doesn't die, there won't be much meat left on it."
"Why not slaughter it tomorrow? It's been ages since we've had meat at home."
At these words, the piglet shuddered, staring at the couple in terror. The husband and wife, caught by its gaze, were also startled.
"Hey," the farmer’s wife tugged her husband’s arm, smiling. "Do you think it actually understood?"
The farmer found it strange too, and chuckled, "Best if it can. Anyway, if it still hasn’t learned to nurse by tomorrow morning, we’ll just slaughter it!"
The two quietly watched the little piglet.
After a while, the piglet slowly raised its head and resumed gazing up at the sky, as if nothing had happened.
Disappointed, the farmer’s wife shook her head and said, "Looks like we were overthinking it. Let’s just slaughter it tomorrow."
"Better sharpen the knife tonight."
With that, the couple turned and went inside. Soon, the harsh sound of a knife being sharpened echoed from the house.
Listening to that grating noise, the piglet slowly glanced back at the sleeping sow and its siblings, squeezing out a bitter smile on its tiny face.
Fairy Nisha, Skyward, Skyler, Nate… the Heavenly Fleet, people and memories from a former life remained vivid. The Heavenly Court was defeated—if Heaven truly fell, would anyone remember them?
No one would remember that they had existed, had fought, had loved…
After a long time, a faint breath of mist escaped its mouth and drifted into the air. In human speech, it sighed softly, "A lifetime spent slaying demons, and in the end I become a pig demon myself. So this is... Heaven’s Way? Heh heh heh... Heaven’s Way..."
Its tiny hooves kept trampling the muddy ground. Lowering its head, it watched closely as tears fell one by one.
In that moment, it truly wanted to die—wanted to surrender like an ordinary piglet, end its life, and let everything be finished. But… it couldn’t die yet. Because it had to remember for this world, to keep alive those memories, those people, and those stories…
Slowly raising its head, it struggled to stand, limped over to the sow, and with great effort knelt before her, whispering, "Thank you for giving birth to me. By rights, Marshal Silver should call you Mother. Thank you, my mother. Marshal Silver has no power to save you—I must flee for my life. Take care. May your next life not be as a pig."
From today onward, Marshal Silver will live for those he loves, and for himself. Forget justice, forget Heaven’s principles—even if it means becoming a demon, so be it.
With that, Marshal Silver turned and walked to a corner of the pigsty. Using his tender hooves, he dug desperately at the wooden fence, just two inches above the ground. Only when all four hooves were swollen and red did he finally manage to open a tiny passage.
He looked back one last time, bowed deeply, then turned and crawled out of the sty, vanishing into the boundless night, never looking back.
Thus began his cultivation—a newborn piglet setting out on a long, lonely road, just like that young soldier a thousand years ago who never looked back.
But there was a difference: that young soldier had set out with hope for his beloved and for the world, while this piglet carried only despair.
......
High above in the Twenty-First Heaven, from afar, General Curtin finally spotted the Jade Emperor’s floating flagship, with its golden banner marked 'Heaven.'
He paused in surprise, gripped his Demon-Subduing Staff, and leaped toward the floating ship.
Seeing the disheveled, dirt-streaked Curtin, the Skyward Legionnaires on deck were instantly alarmed, raising their weapons and shouting, "Halt! Who goes there? State your name at once!"
Every bow and crossbow was drawn to full tension, aimed at Curtin.
Every pair of hands trembled slightly. At this moment, the Skyward Legionnaires were as skittish as startled birds.
Curtin halted, quickly clasped his hands and said, "I am the Curtain-Raising General before His Majesty. Is the Jade Emperor well?"
"Curtain-Raising General?"
A Heavenly General pushed through the crowd, squinted at Curtin for a long moment, then finally relaxed and said, "Lower your weapons—he really is the Curtain-Raising General."
"Is it really the Curtain-Raising General?" The Skyward Legionnaires exchanged glances. "Wasn’t he still locked up in Heaven’s Prison?"
When the Heavenly General didn’t react, the Skyward Legionnaires slowly relaxed their bowstrings and lowered their crossbows.
Under their uneasy gazes, Curtin leapt down to the deck and asked the Heavenly General, "Where is His Majesty?"
The Heavenly General sighed and replied, "His Majesty is in the cabin."
Curtin glanced around, then pulled the Heavenly General aside and whispered, "Could you help me request an audience with His Majesty?"
"Request an audience?" The Heavenly General gently freed himself from Curtin’s grip, resting a hand on his sword and said quietly, "You’re still under indictment... Things are chaotic now, so no one’s making trouble, but seeing His Majesty might not be appropriate. Is there something urgent? I can report it for you."
Curtin licked his parched lips and said, "How is the Marshal? I... I want to plead for him."
The Heavenly General gave a bitter laugh, sighed deeply, and looked at Curtin: "The Marshal has already been sent down the Beast Path."
It was as if lightning had struck on a clear day—Curtin was stunned, and after a long time, forced a smile: "The... Beast Path? That... that’s impossible. The Heavenly Court has never sentenced an immortal to the Beast Path. At most, it’s the Exiled Immortal Well... You must be joking."
Staring wide-eyed at the Heavenly General as if to pierce him with his gaze, Curtin finally saw there was no joking in his eyes. The forced smile faded, and he muttered, "His Majesty... His Majesty always said the Marshal was one of Heaven’s most loyal subjects. How could he send him to the Beast Path? Was it the work of traitors?"
The Heavenly General gave a helpless smile: "Don’t overthink it. I was present for the Marshal’s sentencing... Grandmaster White didn’t speak. Not just him, even those immortals who wanted the Marshal brought down said nothing in the end. It was His Majesty..."