The Protagonist’s Sister Is Actually The Strongest [An Action-Packed LitRPG Transmigration and Progression Fantasy]

Chapter 239: Walking The Demonic Path

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The path of the Demon.

It doesn’t mean to become an actual Demon like the Death Apostles.

Though their doctrines and way of life are similar to the “Demon” meaning of Murim.

It means to be unrestricted by the law, to walk your own path, without morality to stop your conviction.

You kill if necessary, you steal, you destroy, and you crush, all to get to your goals. You don’t adhere to any laws; you don’t make friends... nor allies.

You’re alone in that journey—the ultimate “self-insert edge lord” trope!

And the reason why there’s a big cult following over cultivation stories with “morally ambiguous” to plain old “villainous” main characters.

Though, quite honestly, I don’t like those. There are very few that deal with philosophical aspects; they have degraded to just self-insert power fantasies with nothing else.

But this time it’s different; I am not looking at books to read inside a web novel app or something. I am looking at a true Heavenly Demon.

To him, the fictional tropes that I once read are all the truth, and he walked through such a path. But this time, it isn’t all awesome and "badass."  He suffered a lot, he cried, and he yearned for it all to end.

Yet he kept moving relentlessly because of his incredible perseverance.

But what did he want to accomplish at the end of the road? Supreme power to stand equal to heavens, or even surpass it?

It seems that despite the level he reached, he never could reach that high because of the Apocalypse and the Heavenly Empress stopping him.

So, compared to these other cultivation self-insert stories where there’s a ruthless, emotionless, villainous protagonist that becomes the Heavenly Demon later, it could be said that my master is a failure.

He failed to reach that trope; he broke it into pieces and decided to walk through another path when he was almost about to reach the pinnacle.

But why?

What made him change?

Was it… love?

Maybe that’s what his Lust Seal represents—the emotion of love he wanted to seal away.

“The Path of the Demon is a simple one. Some call it the “easy way out”… To not be avid by the rules of anybody, to grow stronger on your own accords, to kill, plunder, and progress.” He said. “That is the doctrine of the Unorthodox Faction, of the Demonic Faction. We are all criminals because we don’t want to follow the rulers and because we don’t want to kneel before heaven. We are rebels; we fight back against the system and against everything! We break the rules, we shatter traditions, we destroy righteousness… We forge a new path.”

“Anarchy, huh?” I wondered.

“What?” He looked me in the eyes. “Hah! Well, I suppose you could call me a damned anarchist then! But no, I wouldn’t go that way either. Although indeed there are aspects of it within our entire doctrine. The doctrine of the demons that do not want to obey the rules and will always fight back against heaven.”

“No, there must be something else about that…” I said. “Isn’t it?”

“…”

The Heavenly Demon walked towards the terrace, looking down at the large village surrounding his palace. The children playing on the streets, the families walking, carrying all kinds of harvested goods.

Despite serving a demon, nobody looked to be hungry; nobody seemed to be struggling; they had to work hard, yeah, but they had very good lives nonetheless. Fulfilling lives…

“Do you see this?” He pointed in the distance.

“The village?” I asked.

“These people are the descendants of beggars, thieves, and assassins.” He said. “Scum of the world, their lineages and families would have never been allowed to exist.”

“…”

“I took them in after their ancestors tried to kill me, to rob me, to betray me…” He said. “And I killed their ancestors too; yes, I did.”

“And you kidnapped their families.” I wondered.

“You could say that.” He nodded; he looked quite proud of that. “I took them in. I gave them a mission and then told them to work hard to live here. Before the Apocalypse, that world... It would have never welcomed them. The orthodox factions controlled everything, they would have been chased down and eliminated. Even the children.”

“Oh…” I muttered. “I know it’s a bit weird to say, but I think you’re doing a good deed here, despite the whole façade of wanting them to kill you or something… I can tell you’re actually helping them, letting them live in a world without the prejudices of the outside world. They still look to be working really hard to live, but it’s a free world nonetheless.”

“Hmph.” He smiled gently, looking at the thousands of people below. “I don’t know about the others… Some were just really selfish; others lived in luxury and only wanted more; but I… As a Demon, I lived a life of poverty and suffering. My family was killed when I was four years old. Both of them were beheaded. Do you know why?”

I felt shocked at how he was talking about his family dying in such a calm and composed manner.

It truly revealed to me how old and wise he was to speak of matters that would make most people break down into tears with a nonchalant, expressionless face.

Or perhaps… He was just insane.

“Why?” I asked gently.

“Because of how we were born.” He said. “Black feathers like the night, black scales like obsidian, sharp claws, long, black beaks… And red eyes.”

“…”

Yeah, I remember reading about that in his summary—how he was the last of his kind.

“We were known as the Red-Eyed Black Crows; we were descendants of a tribe of powerful and evil shamans that conjured the powers of darkness and spiritual ki to kill people.” He said. “We were employed by ancient Kings and Emperors to create deadly poisons and curses against their foes. Our strongest ancestor, the Cursed King, was known for being a ruthless demon feared by everyone. As long as he lived and fought with his sect, our people were respected and even feared.”

“But once he fell...”

“Indeed, once he fell, once he was captured and slain, what do you think happened to our people. To the countless descendants he left behind,

“They were… blamed for something they didn’t do?”

“That’s how the orthodox faction works. They must always eliminate evil by the ROOT. If they don’t kill every single member of an evil sect or of a family that belonged to it, they will live knowing that one day the children of those evildoers will come after them to kill them or stab them in the back.” The Heavenly Demon sighed. “And so they chased my people. Every single one. Women, men, children, and even the elderly. Some fought back; the stronger ones died first. The weakest scattered like cockroaches, trying to survive in the confines of the world.”

Slowly, he looked into the skies, his sharp red eyes squinting in silence.

“I think our family was the last one… Mother and Father hid me and my older sister at the end of the world, on this very island.” He laughed.

“Wait, the island where we are right now?!” I asked.

“Indeed…” He smiled. “There, they lived in peace and harmony with the natives. They thought that because we were so far away from Pangea, the only continent, we would be fine… But they were wrong.”

“People learned about them; the words were spread. And they came for us. The orthodox faction, the members of the Heavenly Alliance, direct servants of the Holy Court.”

He grasped his claws tightly.

“They found us after relentlessly looking everywhere. They were obsessed. They didn’t stop until they chased us to the end of the island, the cliff that led to the storming seas below.” He said. “My father fought them; he died. I saw him die. First, his arms were cut, and then he was beheaded in cold blood. My mother then told my sister to protect me as she went to fight them.”

He gnashed his beak.

“She told us everything would be okay and that we had to run. She tried to buy time; she put herself in front of them and their blades. She died gruesomely. The bastards enjoyed killing my mother. They tore apart her wings, they crushed her arms, they kicked her face and broke her beak, and then they kept stabbing her back, over and over and over and over again…” He looked at the sky. “The screams of my mother slowly recessed as the rain continued pouring down, the lightning relentlessly striking the storming sea.”

His red eyes shone brightly.

“And as they approached to kill us, my sister grabbed me, covering my face with her wings, and threw herself into the storming sea. With nowhere else to go, we both decided to kill ourselves instead of dying against their ruthless swords," said the Heavenly Demon.

“But you…”

“I survived.” He smiled. “I woke up the next morning on the shores of the northern regions of Pangea, and the ocean carried us there. My sister… her body was tightly holding me, covering my mouth with her feathers, which prevented the water from entering my mouth. But her body was cold and lifeless. That was the day I lost my entire family and started my journey at the age of four.”

Oh my god…

“I-I’m so sorry…” I sighed, trying to reach out a hand to him. “I-I didn’t know you went through that; I knew that you were… orphaned, but this…”

“No need to pity an old man like me; I wasn’t telling you this so you could think of me as a poor bastard.” He said. “I am explaining to you the foundations of my own strength. Those images I remember vividly now—the scent of my parent’s blood, the coldness of my sister’s body.”

“How are traumas your strength?” I asked.

“It is part of the Inner Understanding and the Inner Enlightenment that Cultivators must practice as they advance and progress.” He said. “We all chose our paths; sometimes they come as elements, other times as emotions. I possessed an incredibly strong Trauma. The Trauma transformed into my doctrine, into what I was, into what I practiced, and into what I became. I became a demon.”

He showed me his hands; dark purple, black, and red Ki surged from his hands, sometimes oozing like blood, other times looking like miasma, and other times dissipating like black fog.

“Everyone in this world comprehends and understands the Heavenly Dao in their own ways.” He said. “The Heavenly Dao then divided itself into countless elements, first Yin and Yang, and then Darkness, Blood, Shadows, Light, Life, Holy, Nature, Earth, Metal, Fire, Illusion, Dreams… And so on. I comprehended the Heavenly Dao on my own path. The suffering I felt and the emotions I felt became stronger, festering, putrid and furious, endless and all-encompassing; they fed me their hatred; they fed me their ire. And in exchange, I cultivated them, refined them, and sealed them.”

So this is how he obtained the tremendous power of the {Seven Cursed Seals Arts}! They are personal martial arts shaped after his own traumas and his own, festering emotions. The ones he let run rampart as he lived, drowning in his own hatred, greed, suffering, everything.

And when he sealed them, because they couldn’t release their festering powers, they only continued growing stronger and stronger, so when he finally unseals them to fight, they release their power explosively.

The secret of the Heavenly Demon...

His own past traumas…

It’s so painful to learn such a thing.

Yet at the same time, it kind of makes sense, as cruel as that might sound.

“Those are the foundations of my personal martial arts, the {Seven Cursed Seals Arts}.” He said. “Although they might represent every sin, even now, it feels incomplete. Why? Because I often times always lean towards Wrath, my strongest Sin. I just recently discovered that the {Seven Cursed Seals Arts} are meant to be completed by someone else, over time, by many disciples. They cannot be perfected only by me. They require to learn from the experiences, from the suffering, and from the trauma of many souls.”

“Y-You’re saying I should add my own traumas to the technique?” I asked. “How… do I even do that?”

"First, you must practice intense physical exercise and combat.” He said. “While being below the influence of Demonic Ki. Your first step is to train while eating this Black Demonic Grass.”

He showed me a bag full of pitch-black grass; it had a weird, sulfuric smell.

“This grass will awaken your most painful memories, and you will then have to refine them into your power. To let them flow through your Ki, to let them erupt out of your fists, out of your kicks!” He roared. “So? Are you willing to do this or not? I won’t ask you again. This is your very LAST chance to walk away.”

“…”

I have attained my own martial arts and everything, but even now, after hearing everything and analyzing my own powers.

They’re lacking.

It feels like they were made to absorb other powers and abilities.

And because Myriad Self Arts seem to be based on my various Egos, representations of my own inner psyche…

Then it means I must train my own emotions and my own sense of self.

And my traumas might be a big part of why those separate Egos exists, aside from Skills.

It is because my own sense of self is shattered.

I never truly realized this, but I don’t feel complete with my current self.

I feel broken down and stitched together.

My past life as that reader and my current life as Anna.

And everything in between.

They still feel oddly disconnected and disjointed.

A crack can spread into countless more cracks.

And the result is why I have so many Egos now.

As painful as it might be, I must take on the challenge.

And honor my master’s legacy.

“I will.” I nodded. “I will do my best to learn your legacy, master.” I bowed. “Please accept this humble disciple under your tutelage.”

He looked at me with sharp red eyes, nodding.

“You seem to have a rough past yourself too.” He said. “Eat this grass, and channel your Ki while doing so. Do you see that dummy? It is made of the hardest wood in the entire world and has been reinforced for a thousand years. It won’t break; hit it. The more intense your blows, the more your traumas will pour out. I will tell you when to stop or continue.”

“…Very well.” I nodded.

I looked at the black grass and put it in my mouth.

It was bitter, salty, and citric, all combined with a disgusting, sulfuric smell that filled my nostrils.

And then I felt it through my entire body and soul.

Memories.

Countless memories rushing out; the power of this grass dug the deepest, most painful ones.

A cursed grass, without a doubt...

Those memories that I had thought I had forgotten already.

The day changed everything.

When the First Awakening began.

The fear and despair I felt…

The horror.

The feeling of powerlessness.

It’s all coming out now.

“Face your fears!” Roared the Heavenly Demon. “And assimilate them! Make them your strength!”

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