Great Demon Desolus

Clearing his throat, Elder Sheng leaned forward, the loose folds of his plain robe shifting slightly. "Forgive me, Venerable Patriarch," he began. "But this scheme with the Western wizards sits ill with me. To meddle in their affairs seems rash."

For a long moment, Zhi Yuandao was motionless atop the ornately carved throne, his milky eyes fixed straight ahead as if gazing upon some unseen realm. The gathered elders held their collective breath, the silence weighing heavy.

At length, the Patriarch released a weary sigh, and the elders instinctively leaned in, straining to catch his quiet words. "You speak from sensible caution, Elder Sheng - a virtue I too once embodied in my youth, before..." His voice trailed off, withered lips thinning.

Elder Yun shot Sheng a pointed look. "Patriarch? If this troubles your spirit, we would understand reservations about-"

"No." The authority in Zhi Yuandao's voice left no space for objection. "You deserve the full truth behind my choice." Steepling his wrinkled fingers, he seemed to drift back through faded memories. "In my youth, before finding this path, I attended Fenghuang Academy alongside a dear friend - Zhuang Li." A wistful smile ghosted across his weathered face. "We were inseparable, and united in our passion for learning whatever we could about qi and alchemy."

The elders exchanged puzzled looks, no doubt wondering where this tale led. Zhi Yuandao settled back, a faraway look in those sightless eyes.

"After graduating, Zhuang and I vowed to scour every corner of the world for lost lore, like drifting clouds blown by the winds of discovery. For years, we roamed province to province, following every rumour of rare knowledge. Glorious days of freedom and endless learning."

Pausing to collect himself, the Patriarch's expression subtly hardened. "But all journeys must end. Zhuang devoted himself wholly to alchemy's mystic arts, while I was recruited to join our esteemed predecessors here." 

A heavy silence blanketed the chamber as Zhi Yuandao's words sank in. Sheng leaned forward, brow furrowed in dawning realization.

"Surely you don't mean..." The elder's voice was subdued, almost reverent. "Zhuang Li, the infamous Crimson Alchemist?"

Zhi Yuandao nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Brilliant beyond me in alchemy, though also reckless in his pursuit of power. Over the decades, we drifted apart, save for the odd letter detailing his latest alchemical breakthrough."

The elders shifted uncomfortably, no doubt recalling the sordid rumours of Zhuang's notorious deeds that even reached their remote mountain - grave robbings, forbidden rituals, and worse.

"Until around eight years ago," Zhi Yuandao continued, undisguised grief aging his voice, "when dreadful news arrived from the West. Zhuang had been captured in Britain by Albus Dumbledore himself, accused of attempting to kidnap their Boy-Who-Lived and murdering Aurors." Weathered hands clenched atop the armrests, knuckles whitening. "I was tempted then to intervene by any means, demand his release. But I exercised restraint, trusting in the diplomatic overtures from the government."

The Patriarch's voice strained as his spiritual aura roiled with barely-leashed emotion. The elders recoiled instinctively, appearing their true frail ages before his internal turmoil.

"And then the deathblow - word that Zhuang perished in captivity, murdered by those arrogant Westerners!" The bellow exploded from Zhi Yuandao's lips, shaking dust from the ancient beams. Teacups clattered as the elders shrank back in terror. 

Zhi Yuandao surged to his feet, spiritual pressure swelling like a tidal wave as his fury found release. "My closest friend, his genius so casually snuffed out!"

The Patriarch's sightless gaze bored into each of them. "And now this...Voldemort moves against Dumbledore, the man who killed Zhuang?" A cruel smile curved his lips. "Then I shall gladly lend what aid I can to ensure his victory - consequences be damned!"

Chest heaving, Zhi Yuandao slowly reigned in his emotions through sheer force of will. The elders remained frozen, stunned and cowed before the force of his outburst.

"That is why I agreed to Zhang Yuan's proposal," he said, tone heavy with finality. "If providing the Jiangshi aids this Dark Lord's triumph over Dumbledore, so be it. Zhuang's restless spirit can finally know vengeance...and I can have closure over my dearest friend's loss."

Sinking back onto his throne, Zhi Yuandao seemed to age decades, a hollowed husk drained by his fury's force. A suffocating silence reigned in the wake of his impassioned confession.

Elder Yun was the first to gather her courage, inclining her head respectfully. "You honour us with the truth behind your motivations, Venerable One. Clearly, great personal anguish underpins this decision regarding the Western wizards." Her graceful features softened with sympathy. "While unorthodox, we cannot dismiss the gravity of seeking justice for your fallen friend."

Zhi Yuandao released a weary sigh, some of the fire draining from his sightless eyes as he slumped back against the throne. "I appreciate your understanding, Elder Yun. My bond with Zhuang Li was...profound in ways few could comprehend."

Shifting uncomfortably, Elder Sheng cleared his throat.

"With respect, Patriarch, even accepting this...personal stake colours your judgement, can we truly afford entangling ourselves with these Western affairs?" The wizened master spread his hands pleadingly. "Our isolation from the outside world has preserved the Yellow Mountain Sect's sanctity for many centuries. One rash action could expose us."

"You think I arrived at this decision lightly, old fool?" Zhi Yuandao's voice contained weary disdain. "I have agonized over the implications and weighed every potential consequence."

Leaning forward, the Patriarch pinned the elders with his blind stare. "But some grievances rise above even our most deeply-held principles of neutrality. What Zhuang suffered at Dumbledore's hands was an injustice that cuts to my very soul." His tone hardened to adamant resolution. "If unleashing the Jiangshi upon those arrogant British wizards aids this Dark Lord's ascension - and by extension, Dumbledore's downfall - then so be it. The scales shall be balanced, one way or another."

A tense silence stretched as Zhi Yuandao's words sank in, the elders exchanging loaded looks. Finally, Elder Ren, a stout, severe-looking woman cleared her throat.

"You are certain of this path, then?" Her tone remained carefully neutral, though her gaze sharpened speculatively. "Even knowing the potential consequences should our involvement be discovered?"

Zhi Yuandao was silent for a long moment, perhaps contemplating her implied warning. After a while, he nodded, resolve clear in his eyes.

"The Yellow Mountain Sect has remained insular and aloof for too long," he declared in a steely rasp. "Our power and influence has stagnated, our wisdom and knowledge going ignored by the outside world." His sightless eyes seemed to bore into each of them. "Perhaps some...calculated risks are required to restore our pre-eminence and bring the foreign powers to heel before our might."

Concern and fear etched the faces of the gathered elders as they whispered softly among themselves. Not one dared to contradict the Patriarch openly. Observing this, Zhi Yuandao smiled thinly, recognizing their silent acceptance.

"Then it is decided," he intoned with an air of finality. "Zhang Yuan shall have the Jiangshi at his disposal for his mission. And should he succeed..." His expression took on a sinister cast. "Albus Dumbledore will sooner or later die."

oo0ooOoo0oo

The sickly-sweet stench of vomit and stale alcohol assaulted Jiang Chen's senses as he slowly drifted back to wakefulness. His head throbbed in time with his pulse, each beat like a sledgehammer driving through his skull. Groaning, he cracked open bleary eyes, instantly regretting the dim candlelight that stabbed like needles.

What...what happened? His mouth felt like a desert, tongue thick and heavy. Squinting against the spinning room, he tried to recall how he'd ended up in this sorry state.

Shattered memories flickered through the haze - drowning his sorrows in cup after cup of potent rice wine, mourning Lian Fen's cruel rejection. Her haunting visage lingered in thoughts, those beautiful features twisted with disdain as she turned her back on him. On them.

A ragged sob tore from Jiang Chen's throat as the anguish welled up anew. She'd been his world, his everything since they were children who began their studies at the Outer Court together. How could she just cast him aside like a broken talisman for that arrogant Zhang Yuan?

The mere thought of that pompous prodigy's smug face was like a white-hot iron driving through Jiang Chen's chest. Of course the great Zhang Yuan would take any opportunity to rub his superiority in the faces of lesser disciples. As if his natural genius wasn't enough to lord over them.

Jiang Chen's fingers clenched into trembling fists, nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood. He had tried sensing the ritual engraved upon his soul for years but made little progress. He didn't know what to do... He could still hear Zhang Yuan's mocking laughter echoing through the courtyard as he pinned Jiang Chen to the ground with his overwhelming spiritual force.

"Know your place, insect," that hateful voice sneered, fangs of jealousy sinking deeper into his psyche. "Lian saw your true colours - a petty, jealous child unfit to walk the path of spiritual power."

Bitter bile rose in Jiang Chen's throat as the memory's sting intensified tenfold. He was nothing, less than nothing compared to Zhang Yuan's peerless talent. The truth was inescapable - he'd never be anything more than a pathetic Outer Court trash, doomed to scrape at the dregs the great ones discarded.

Another mournful keen slipped free as Jiang Chen curled into a ball on the bare floor, cradling his head in shaking hands. His eyes burned with unshed tears as his future spiralled away into endless darkness, swallowed by light years of doubt and self-loathing. What was even the point anymore?

Reaching blindly, his fingers closed around the familiar ceramic curves of a wine jug. Yanking it close, Jiang Chen unstoppered the vessel and tilted it towards his cracked lips, desperate to drown his torment in that beguiling oblivion once more.

The first few mouthfuls were pure agony, fiery liquid searing his already-abused throat. But he persevered, swallowing with frantic determination until the world began its telltale spin. Blessed relief crept in, the razor edges dulling to a numb throb as his mind mercifully slipped its moorings.

As the jug emptied, Jiang Chen felt his eyelids growing heavier by the second. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his muddled consciousness, a tiny voice warned that he'd gone too far this time. But the siren's call of total oblivion was too powerful to resist as the darkness tugged him under once more.

Just...let me sleep. Maybe I'll wake up from this nightmare...

His eyes slid shut with a weary sigh.

Only to snap wide a heartbeat later, every nerve ending screaming in primal terror. Jiang Chen jolted upright with a strangled cry, chest heaving as he whipped his head around in blind panic. Sweat slicked his brow, plastering wet strands of hair to his clammy skin as he stared about the cramped chamber with wild, unfocused eyes.

"G-Great Demon!" he stammered hoarsely, hands clawing at the floorboards as his gaze darted frantically. "Where...where are you, monster?"

His heart thundered in his ears, each ragged gasp tearing at his abused throat. Jiang Chen's trembling fingers scrabbled weakly against the floor as searing afterimages burned through his psyche.

The desolate, ash-choked battlefield stretched before him, littered with corpses in mangled heaps as far as the eye could see. And dominating it all high in the sky floated the imposing figure of Desolus, the Great Demon - his form surrounded by massive serpents made out of various elements and his red eyes blazing like twin black holes devouring all light and hope.

Jiang Chen clung to the last tattered shreds of his composure, but the mere thought of that dreaded name shattered his fragile grip. His stomach roiled with nausea as the hideous memories resurfaced, each one more horrific than the last.

He saw Beijing again, once a proud, gleaming metropolis reduced to a skeletal, scorched wasteland by Desolus's devastating attack. The Great Demon's cruel laughter rang out, echoing across the ruined cityscape as his mastery over the elements unleashed an unstoppable barrage of destruction.

Towering tornadoes, their winds whipped into frenzied maelstroms by Desolus's will, tore through the city streets like ravenous beasts. Skyscrapers groaned and twisted, their foundations ripped asunder by the cyclones' fury before collapsing in thunderous clouds of dust and debris. Anywhere the twisters passed, only flattened ruin remained - the once-mighty towers reduced to jagged fields of rubble.

As if the tornadoes weren't devastating enough, the very earth itself turned traitor under Desolus's command. Fissures split the ground, widening into gaping maws that swallowed entire city blocks whole. Subterranean rumblings built to a terrifying crescendo as tectonic forces warred, triggered by the Great Demon's power over the terrestrial sphere.

Then, like the hammer of an angry god, the earthquake struck. The ground bucked and heaved, shockwaves rippling outward as buildings crumpled like houses of cards. Towering monoliths of glass and steel twisted into mangled heaps, raining lethal shards in every direction as their foundations liquefied beneath them. Vast chasms opened up, swallowing once-pristine roads and parks into bottomless pits of churning earth.

But Desolus's onslaught didn't end there. Even as the quake's devastation reached its apex, a new horror loomed on the horizon - a titanic wall of frothing water surging towards the crippled city. The Great Demon had called forth a tsunami from the depths, a towering behemoth of liquid fury that dwarfed the tallest buildings remaining.

The colossal wave crashed over Beijing with immense force, a relentless torrent that scoured the metropolis clean. Any structures still standing after the quake's fury were simply swept away, reduced to flotsam in the raging torrent. Entire districts vanished beneath that churning, merciless tide, the unlucky souls trapped within drowned like rats in a burrow.

And through it all, Desolus reigned supreme - a vengeful god of destruction made flesh. His amplified laughter mocked the pitiful struggles of the fleeing masses as they tried in vain to outrun his wrath. With a mere thought, he conjured fresh nightmares to unleash upon them.

Gargantuan spears of blue fire, each one spanning over five hundred meters from root to blazing tip, materialized amidst the devastation. The twisted, ethereal constructs burned with searing cold, their mere presence flash-freezing anything within a thousand-meter radius into lifeless husks of ice. One by one, the spears rained down from the heavens in blazing arcs, shattering what few structures remained with apocalyptic force.

Those unlucky enough to be caught in the blue fire's path were frozen solid in an instant, their agonized screams cut short as they were encased in gleaming tombs of ice. Those who managed to avoid the initial freezing blasts fared little better - the spears' impacts triggered catastrophic chains of explosions that spread outward in towering waves of frost and flame.

Anywhere the blue fire touched, it consumed utterly. Towering infernos roared to life amidst flash-frozen wastelands, an endless cycle of immolation and glaciation that left the very bedrock scarred and twisted. Within an hour, what had once been a thriving city of millions lay in smouldering, frozen ruin while the remnants of the Resistance watched helplessly from far away in the skies.

Jiang Chen retched violently, stomach clenching as a foul stream of vomit spewed from his lips. Gasping raggedly, he hugged himself as violent tremors wracked his frame.

"No...no, no, no," he whimpered like a frightened child, rocking back and forth. "It can't be...I was there, on the battlefield. He...he killed me!"

The memories crashed over him in a suffocating tidal wave, each one more horrific than the last. The Great Demon's red eyes boring into his soul, stripping away every flicker of hope and courage with their sheer, overwhelming malice.

"You should've fled when you had the chance..." Desolus's voice echoed in the fractured remnants of his psyche, dripping with sadistic amusement. "Not that it would've saved you from me."

Jiang Chen shuddered, fingers clawing at his scalp as the phantom pain of Desolus's tortures resurfaced. The merciless tearing of flesh and sinew as his tendons were ripped free one agonizing strand at a time. The scorching, all-consuming agony as that crimson inferno washed over him, reducing his form to smouldering cinders.

And through it all, the Great Demon's laughter, mocking his pitiful struggles against the inevitable. Those hateful, pitiless red eyes watching impassively as he died a thousand deaths, only to have his soul torn back from the void's brink to begin the cycle anew.

"My...my soul," Jiang Chen whispered, a broken whimper slipping free. "He...he captured my soul. Trapped it in...in that endless hell!"

A frantic, desperate sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh bubbled up through his raw throat. "But...but I'm here!" His shaking hands mapped the contours of his face, traced the outline of his body as if to reassure himself of its reality.

"My body...it's whole again. Restored!" Lurching unsteadily to his feet, Jiang Chen spun in a drunken circle, taking in every detail of the cramped chamber with wild, haunted eyes.

This...this is the Yellow Mountain Sect! My old quarters from when I was just a disciple!

The realisation hit like a thunderbolt, stealing what little breath remained in his lungs. Is this...is this some sort of sick illusion cast by that demon? A fresh torment designed to unhinge what tattered remnants of his sanity still clung on?

Jiang Chen staggered towards the window, shoving aside the silk curtains to gaze out over the sprawling mountain vistas beyond. Familiar pine-cloaked peaks stretched to the horizon, serene and utterly unchanged from how he remembered them in his youth. A crisp, clean breeze wafted in, carrying the unmistakable fragrances of moss and wildflowers.

No, this is too real...too visceral to be some twisted mirage. He struggled to make sense of it all. Then, like a thunderclap, the only possible answer struck him with numb, dizzying force.

"Did...did I travel back in time?" The words slipped from numb lips in a hoarse whisper. "Back before...before Desolus destroyed the Huangshan Mountains? More than fifteen years back…?"

Trembling fingers carded through his dishevelled hair, tracing the unfamiliar contours of a youthful face unmarred by the ravages of aging.

Judging from his body, he should be around 16 years old right now. That means the Mundane World should be in total chaos right now. Desolus would've become famous five years ago when he destroyed all of the major oil refineries of the entire world, and hundreds of millions of Mundanes died of starvation and conflict.

The Cold War between America and Russia would've intensified greatly, and soon after they launched nuclear weapons at each other. All of Russia's major cities were wiped off the map, and multiple key cities of America were destroyed as well.

Jiang Chen clenched his hands tightly into fists. He cursed the heavens for not putting him back earlier into the timeline. If he were put back when he was still a young child, he might've had a chance to kill Desolus before he became such a great threat.

How could he possibly overcome one whose power surpassed every being on the planet? Desolus had proven himself utterly unstoppable, a force of nature beyond anyone's ability to defy.

Unless...

Feeling for his soul, he couldn't help but let out a wildly satisfied laugh. All of his skill has been sent back to the past! It wasn't surprising, since his soul must've travelled back in time, and that naturally meant the well-developed ritual engraved upon his soul was sent along as well.

Jiang Chen's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. There was still a chance, a sliver of opportunity to prevent the catastrophic future he had witnessed. He knew where Desolus would go for the next seventeen years, and if he could ambush the Great Demon through an assault on his soul...

Desolus, for all his overwhelming mastery over the elements, was still almost entirely clueless to the true power of the soul at this point in time. And in the next couple of years, the Yellow Mountain Sect would have its first direct conflict with the dreaded human calamity. Their Patriarch had nearly succeeded in ending Desolus during that initial encounter, exploiting a crucial vulnerability - the Great Demon's peculiar soul aura.

It was well-known within the sect that Desolus's soul was an anomaly, fragmented into two distinct essences. The primary aspect radiated an aura of pure, unadulterated malice - a yawning void of darkness that consumed all in its path. But a smaller, isolated fragment seemed to belong to an entirely different being, resonating with deep despair and sorrow.

When the Yellow Mountain elders had targeted that strange dichotomy, lashing at the connection between Desolus's two distinct soul aspects, he had proven uniquely vulnerable to their soul-rending techniques. For all his overwhelming might, that singular flaw had nearly led to his undoing.

"The Yellow Mountain Sect's techniques...our mastery of soul energy..." Jiang Chen inhaled a shuddering breath, steeling his resolve as a spark of hope flared to life within his chest. "That's your greatest vulnerability, monster. One I aim to exploit to the fullest!"

Pivoting on his heel, he walked towards the door with renewed purpose. Sliding it open, Jiang Chen stepped out into the cool mountain air, a gentle breeze caressing his face. All around him, disciples in simple robes of muted earth tones went about their daily routines—some practicing martial forms, others hurrying to and fro with armfuls of books and artifacts.

But something felt...off. Jiang Chen's brow furrowed as he took in the carefree atmosphere, the air of lightness that seemed to fill every corner of the sect. Even the youngest disciples, barely out of childhood, moved with an unburdened spring in their steps, their round faces split by naïve grins.

It was a far cry from the grim, haunted expressions he remembered from his own time - the ever-present dread that hung over the sect like a shroud as Desolus's reign of terror in the outside world grew with each passing day.

Have they truly not felt the results of that monster's actions yet? Jiang Chen wondered, unease coiling in his gut. The sect's protective barriers were strong, but surely even they couldn't completely insulate the disciples from the chaos engulfing the outside world.

And yet, as he extended his spiritual senses, Jiang Chen could detect no trace of the fear or unease that should have been present. Instead, the disciples' soul auras radiated a pure, almost innocent contentment - untainted by the horrors he knew all too well.

Thoroughly baffled, Jiang Chen made his way across the courtyard towards a familiar figure seated beneath a gnarled plum tree. Guo Peng, an Outer Court disciple a few years his junior, looked up at his approach with a welcoming smile.

"Jiang Chen!" the younger boy called out, his youthful features alight with open friendliness. "I'm surprised to see you up and about so soon after... well, you know."

Jiang Chen froze mid-step, a wary frown tugging at his lips. "After what, exactly?" he asked carefully, trying to recall any recent events that might have laid him low. But his time-displaced memories yielded nothing but fog and confusion.

Guo Peng's smile faltered, replaced by a look of awkward concern. "Why, after you stood up to Zhang Yuan in front of the whole sect, of course! I mean, it was a brave thing to do, but... well, you must have known he would put you in your place without even trying."

Jiang Chen could only stare at the younger disciple, his mind reeling. Zhang Yuan? The arrogant prodigy who delighted in grinding his lessers beneath his heel? He had always avoided him and had a neutral relationship with him.

"I... I don't..." he began, only to trail off as Guo Peng forged ahead, apparently taking his silence for chagrin.

"Look, I get it," the boy said, his tone turning sympathetic. "Lian Fen meant a lot to you, and seeing her choose Zhang Yuan over you must have been a real kick in the teeth." He reached out to pat Jiang Chen's shoulder, his expression earnest. "But trust me, you're better off without a girl who'd throw you over for some resources. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, you know?"

Jiang Chen could only gape at Guo Peng. Lian Fen, betraying him? Abandoning him for Zhang Yuan's favour? The very idea was so ludicrous, so utterly alien to everything he knew, that he couldn't even form a coherent response.

In his time, Lian Fen had been his rock, his constant companion through every trial and hardship. They had clung to each other as the world crumbled around them, drawing strength from their bond even as friends fell to Desolus's wickedness. The mere thought of her turning her back on him was... unthinkable.

And yet, Guo Peng spoke of it as if it were common knowledge - a simple, if painful, fact of life. The disconnect was so jarring, so fundamentally wrong, that Jiang Chen felt like he'd been plunged into an icy lake, the shock driving the breath from his lungs.

"That's... that's not right," he managed at last, his voice sounding distant and hollow to his own ears. "Lian Fen would never... we were..."

He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. This whole conversation felt like a fever dream, a twisted mirror image of the reality he knew. And at the centre of it all, the looming spectre of the one who had shattered his world beyond repair.

"Guo Peng," Jiang Chen said abruptly, cutting off the younger disciple's well-meaning platitudes. "What do you know of Desolus?"

The other boy blinked, nonplussed by the sudden change of topic. "Desolus?" he repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Who's that?"

For a moment, Jiang Chen could only stare at him, certain he must have misheard. How could anyone, even a sheltered Outer Court disciple, not know the name that had become synonymous with death and destruction across the globe?

But then, a flicker of recognition lit Guo Peng's eyes, and he snapped his fingers. "Oh... you mean Dark Lord Desolus that died a couple of years ago in Afghanistan by the International Confederation? That was such a messy affair, wasn't it? I heard from some new disciples from the outside world that he was hired by famous families from somewhere in the Middle East to destroy those Mundane facilities that caused such chaos for them."

Jiang Chen could barely process what he was hearing. Great Demon Desolus who had laid waste to the entire world... reduced to a mere footnote in the sect's gossip? A two-bit mercenary who'd met his end at the hands of the authorities?

It was absurd. Laughable, even. The Desolus he knew had been an unstoppable force of nature, a being of such terrifying power that even the mightiest Magi trembled at his name. The idea that he could be brought low by such means was... unthinkable. Even five years ago, when Desolus was still in his youth and as such a lot less powerful, it still seemed improbable.

And yet, the proof was right there in front of him - in the carefree laughter of the disciples, the unburdened lightness of their auras. In Guo Peng's casual dismissal of the greatest threat the world had ever known as a mere curiosity, a bit of foreign trivia to be bandied about and then forgotten.

Slowly, haltingly, the pieces began to fall into place in Jiang Chen's mind. The strange inconsistencies, the nagging sense of wrongness that had plagued him since he'd awoken in this familiar-yet-alien world.

I'm in a different timeline, he staggered against the plum tree in shock. A... a parallel world, where Desolus must've decided to hide for some reason… There's absolutely no way he died that easily!

It was the only explanation that made sense - the only way to reconcile the vast gulf between his memories and the reality he now found himself in. Somehow, impossibly, his desperate move to escape the Great Demon's clutches on his soul had flung him not just into the past, but into an entirely different universe altogether.