I'm The Devil - Chapter 288

Chapter 288: Recruiting 1

The obsidian throne of Lucifer remained shrouded in the dim, flickering light of Hell’s eternal torches. He sat in silence, the weight of his thoughts heavy against the stillness of his grand hall. The name Nezha reverberated through his mind like the lingering echo of a bell. A tale of rebellion, sacrifice, and rebirth, so strikingly reminiscent of his own, yet so profoundly different. The Morningstar leaned forward, fingers steepled before his face, his crimson gaze distant as he allowed his mind to wander across the veil of reality.

—

The mortal realm, fragile yet brimming with vitality, was where the story of Nezha began. His origins were tethered to both the mundane and the extraordinary, a child born of flesh but destined for divine significance. His father, General Li Jing, was a man of great discipline, revered as a protector of his people. His mother, Lady Yin, possessed a gentle strength, her presence like the stillness before a storm. They were mortals, yet their lineage carried whispers of celestial favor—an unspoken blessing and a burden that would shape their lives in ways they could not foresee.

Lady Yin’s pregnancy defied the natural order. For three years and six months, the child remained within her womb, a period marked by portents and dreams of divine intervention. She often awoke trembling from visions of a radiant lotus blooming amidst tempests, its petals shining with a light that banished even the fiercest storms. Priests and scholars alike flocked to interpret these signs, each offering conflicting prophecies of glory or doom.

On the day of his birth, the mortal realm bore witness to an event that rippled across creation. The skies darkened with unnatural swiftness, the winds carrying the scent of lotus blossoms mingled with the metallic tang of approaching storms. Thunder rolled not in a chaotic cacophony, but in a steady rhythm, like the beating of a celestial drum heralding something profound.

When the moment came, Lady Yin gave birth not to a child of flesh and blood but to a luminous sphere of light, pulsing with energy that made the air hum with tension. The orb split open before their astonished eyes, and from it emerged Nezha. Even as an infant, his appearance was otherworldly—skin like polished ivory, eyes that gleamed with the light of dawn, and hair that shimmered faintly as if kissed by the fire of the sun.

—

Far beyond the mortal realm, the God Plane stirred at his birth. This domain, vast and incomprehensible, was the dwelling place of celestial powers, divine architects who wove the threads of reality itself. Here ruled the Jade Emperor of the Pangu Realm, sovereign over the countless deities and spirits who governed creation. His throne, carved from the bones of primordial dragons and veined with rivers of molten gold, sat at the heart of the Pangu Realm, a symbol of unyielding authority.

The Jade Emperor’s gaze was drawn to the mortal realm, his attention fixating on the luminous thread that had appeared in the tapestry of existence. This child, this Nezha, was no ordinary mortal. He was a nexus of power, a being who embodied both the mortal and divine in ways that threatened to unravel the delicate balance of the realms. The Jade Emperor’s expression remained impassive, but within his ancient mind, calculations whirred. A being of such potential could become an ally—or a threat.

He issued no decree, gave no sign of his thoughts, yet the celestial court buzzed with speculation. Deities whispered among themselves, some wary, others intrigued. For in the God Plane, where order reigned supreme, the arrival of an unpredictable force was both a curiosity and a warning.

—

Back in the mortal realm, Nezha’s early years were marked by a boundless energy that defied comprehension. By the age of seven, his strength and abilities had already outstripped those of mortal men. He ran faster than the wind, leaped higher than the tallest trees, and wielded powers that seemed to flow from the cosmos itself. Yet his innocence remained intact, his laughter as bright and unrestrained as sunlight through leaves.

It was during one such moment of childish exuberance that destiny took its first grim turn. Playing by the shores of the East Sea, Nezha twirled a golden hoop, a gift bestowed upon him by a wandering immortal. Unaware of the consequences, he struck the water with the hoop, sending ripples across the surface that grew into towering waves.

The disturbance caught the attention of Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East Sea, an ancient and prideful being who ruled over the ocean’s depths. To him, Nezha’s actions were not the innocent play of a child but an insult to his authority. Furious, Ao Guang sent his son, Ao Bing, to confront the boy and exact retribution.

The encounter was swift and brutal. Nezha, armed with his golden hoop and an unyielding spirit, fought with the instinct of a warrior. Ao Bing, though skilled and powerful, underestimated the boy’s raw potential. In a clash that churned the sea and shook the earth, Nezha struck down the dragon prince, the golden hoop tearing through scales and sinew with divine precision.

The sea turned crimson, its waves carrying the blood of Ao Bing back to the depths. As the boy stood amidst the carnage, the skies above darkened further, heavy with the weight of divine wrath.

—

The death of Ao Bing sent shockwaves through the realms. Ao Guang, consumed by grief and rage, petitioned the Jade Emperor for justice. His cries echoed through the Pangu Realm, and the celestial court convened to address the mortal child who had defied a god. The verdict was swift: Nezha must answer for his actions.

Yet Nezha, despite his youth, stood unflinching in the face of divine judgment. When emissaries from the God Plane descended to exact their punishment, he met them not with submission but with defiance. His loyalty to his family burned brighter than his fear of the gods, and he vowed to protect them at any cost.

In an act of ultimate sacrifice, Nezha took his own life, severing his mortal ties to shield his family from the wrath of the divine. His death was not a moment of defeat but a declaration of autonomy, a final act of rebellion against a system that sought to bind him.

—

But Nezha’s story did not end with his death. The immortal Taiyi Zhenren, moved by the boy’s courage and potential, intervened. Through rituals of unimaginable complexity, Taiyi forged a new body for Nezha, crafting it from the petals of a celestial lotus. When Nezha rose again, he was transformed—a being no longer bound by mortality, his powers refined and magnified.

His rebirth marked the beginning of a new chapter, one where Nezha became a protector of the mortal realm, a warrior who stood against tyranny and injustice, whether from the God Plane or the depths of the Pangu Realm. Adorned with his flaming spear and wind-fire wheels, he blazed across the heavens and earth, a figure of unyielding resolve and incandescent fury.

—

Lucifer’s thoughts returned to the present, his crimson eyes narrowing as he sat back in his throne. The tale of Nezha played like a melody in his mind, its notes resonating with echoes of his own rebellion. He too had defied authority, carved his path through fire and ruin, and emerged as a force that neither heaven nor hell could contain.

And yet, where Nezha had found purpose and balance, Lucifer saw only the endless cycle of defiance and consequence. A faint smile, cold and distant, touched his lips as he whispered to the shadows around him.

“Nezha… the lotus born of fire. Maybe it is time I begin gathering those guys.”

The hall grew silent once more, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Yet, deep within the shadows, something stirred—a faint, formless echo of rebellion, eternal and unyielding.