My little sect, which disappeared a thousand years ago, has become a sacred site!

Gu Changyuan quietly watched the scene before him, seeing these ten disciples who were just teenagers when he took them in back then, now grown into demon ancestors capable of suppressing an entire realm.

He watched them kneeling before him, their posture as devout as when they first entered the sect a thousand years ago.

A barely perceptible hint of gentleness flashed across his eyes.

Then, he clapped his hands lightly.

"Slap. Slap."

The applause wasn't loud, but it clearly echoed throughout the entire Heavenly Demon Sect.

Get up.

His voice was calm, neither too loud nor too soft, yet it clearly reached the ears of every disciple.

"Let's go inside and talk in detail."

Having said that, he casually waved his right hand.

The gentle force that had been supporting the Heavenly Demon Sect disciples behind them suddenly released, sending them to a spacious plaza on the ground where they landed steadily.

Then, he moved slightly and headed towards the top entrance of the largest and oldest main coffin below.

The ten Demon Ancestors rose in unison and followed closely behind, filing in one after another.

The dozen or so disciples who had narrowly escaped death and stumbled upon a tremendous secret had barely landed when—the next second—

"Buzz!"

He was instantly surrounded by a dense crowd of Heavenly Demon Sect disciples and elders, all with gossipy expressions, leaving no room to move.

Countless curious, excited, and shocked gazes were fixed on them.

After all, they were among the first to come into contact with the sect leader today.

......

Upon entering the top floor, the view is completely different from the somber atmosphere outside, as if stepping into another world.

Gone is the ever-present, leaden gray of the outside world, gone is the suffocating, oppressive atmosphere; instead, there is a brightness and warmth that relaxes the mind and body.

The walls were no longer the cold, dark black of the coffin walls, but were covered with a layer of moon-white spiritual material.

Against the wall, several emerald green plants, rarely seen elsewhere, are planted in jade pots, their leaves spread out, full of vitality.

In the corner, there was even a small pool of fresh water, the water of which was crystal clear, and several silver fish swam leisurely.

In the center of the lobby, there is a huge green table, big enough for eleven people to sit together.

Gu Changyuan's gaze swept over his surroundings, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

This was the requirement he left behind back then.

When he first entered the Demon Realm, he disliked the endless darkness of the sky.

The outside environment is dark and gloomy, that's the way of the demon realm, but why should my own inner dwelling continue to be dark?

Therefore, the reason why the exterior could maintain the coffin-shaped architecture that conformed to the temperament of the Heavenly Demon Sect was that it was the "Netherworld Coffin Palace" given by the system—one main building and three auxiliary buildings, forming a complete system, which was both the sect and the sect's most precious treasure.

But the interior must be decorated according to his preferences.

At that time, Gu Changyuan's strength had increased by more than one level compared to when he first entered the Nine Heavens Realm, and the system had also unlocked more functions.

This residence, which houses the core of the sect, was a gift from the system.

Gu Changyuan took his seat in the main seat.

Mo Yinglu naturally came to his right, while Mo Yingyue sat down on his left.

The remaining eight disciples took their seats in clockwise order, according to the order in which they entered the sect.

Eleven figures sat around the long table once again after a thousand years.

Starting from the right of Mo Yingluo, the first one is Gu Changyuan's third disciple, Jiu Mian, from the Ghost Clan Rakshasa Clan.

He was burly, dressed in a tight black outfit, with a thick, long sword at his waist, its blade pitch black.

What's most striking is his face—no, it should be said, the black mask on his face.

The mask's material is unknown; its surface is smooth and without patterns, except for two points of dark, gleaming light visible around the eye sockets.

The reason he is named Nine Faces is because during battle, he can conjure nine different ghost faces: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, grief, fear, surprise, evil, and desire. Each ghost face corresponds to a completely different attack characteristic.

The fourth disciple, whose bones blossomed with flowers.

He sat beside Jiu Mian, but his figure was in stark contrast to Jiu Mian's—thin and tall, like a bamboo pole that could be broken by the wind at any moment.

But no one dared to underestimate him, because he was one of the most bizarre races among the demons—the Bone Demon.

The fifth disciple was Yin Wugou.

He looked no different from an ordinary human youth, with regular features and a gloomy expression.

However, upon closer inspection, one will notice that the edges of his figure are somewhat blurred.

His race is the Cursed Nightmare Clan, which was wiped out by other demon clans, and it is unclear how many remain today.

The sixth disciple, Han Shuang, is also a member of the Soul Clan, but is a Snow Maiden.

Her skin was so white it was almost translucent, and her long hair was pure white.

Occasionally, tiny ice crystals would fall from the ends of her hair, only to dissipate into mist before touching the ground.

The seventh disciple was Xie Yunjie.

He is human.

He was also the most scholarly-looking person at the table—wearing a simple, moon-white robe, his hair tied up with a jade hairpin, his face refined, and his eyes carrying a gentle warmth.

If someone who didn't know his background saw him, they would only think he was a young master from a noble family who was studying diligently, or a wandering scholar.

He had several calligraphy brushes hanging from his waist, the brush handles made of black jade, but the brush tips had an eerie dark red color.

That was his natal magic weapon, and the foundation of all his killing techniques.

The eighth disciple, Mu Qinghe.

He was also human, but his temperament was completely opposite to Xie Yunjie's.

Wearing a short-sleeved shirt and trousers, her exposed arms showed faint crisscrossing scars.

He has an ordinary appearance, the kind that you wouldn't notice if you threw him into a crowd.

He had a nonchalant and somewhat fearless demeanor.

However, at this moment, a brown lizard was crawling on his leg, and he was gently stroking it with his left hand.

The ninth disciple was Chu Jing.

She looked like a human-shaped mirror.

It's not that her appearance is like a mirror, but rather that her entire presence is extremely faint, as if she could blend into her surroundings at any moment, or as if she herself were a reflection.

Her face was blurry, her features were indistinct, the only clear thing was her eyes.

Those were eyes that could reflect everything. When you looked at her, you could see your own reflection in her eyes, as clear as looking at yourself in a mirror.

The Mirror Spirit race is born with the ability to copy, reflect, and even distort all attacks.

Her very existence is a manifestation of a "mirror".

The tenth disciple was Huo Guhong.

He sat at the end of the table; he was the youngest junior apprentice in this generation.

Dressed in a black, close-fitting outfit, his figure was as upright as a drawn sword, his face was cold and stern, and his brows carried the sharpness of years spent with killing.

On his back, a jet-black greatsword was slung diagonally, its blade so wide it almost covered half of his body, and dark red strips of cloth were wrapped around its hilt.

Eleven figures, eleven different temperaments, yet all possessing terrifying cultivation levels capable of shaking an entire realm.

It's been a thousand years.

Finally, everyone was there.