A single kowtow before the devil, three thousand years pass; looking back at the mortal world, I refuse to become an immortal, all for her... to grasp the rise and fall of fate!

The Meaning of "Pursuit of the Devil"

The word "pursuit" has two meanings: one is to beg, the other is to seek.

"Pursuit of the Devil" takes the second meaning! But at the same time, it also contains other connotations. I searched through many words, but only this "pursuit" comes close to my heart.

Let’s further discuss what is meant by "devil." I suppose everyone thinks a devil is simply a bad person, someone who is utterly devoid of conscience, who will stop at nothing for success, even cultivating demonic arts—a great demon lord.

Like in the martial arts novels I read as a child, cultivating the "Purple River Chariot," or acts of utter inhumanity.

But, is that truly a devil?

I once told a friend that I wanted to write about a devil—a true devil—not the crude, dark demon lord seen through the eyes of later generations as time passes, but a devil!!

A weighty word, reflecting a person's entire life.

What I want to write is: before him, there were no devils in the world! After him, there will never again be a true devil!

What I want to write is a story with emotions different from those in "Renegade Immortal," but even more moving!

What I want to write is James Walker standing atop a mountain peak, gazing at heaven and earth, carrying a sense of desolation and sorrow, murmuring words that no one cares to hear.

"Since the world calls me a devil, then so be it. From now on, I, James Walker... am the devil!"

Volume One: If Life Were Only as It Was at First Sight

Prologue to the Devil

"Crack..."

"Crack... crack..."

It’s hard to tell what this sound is. When it reaches the ears, it seems to pierce the body and rush into the soul, making one involuntarily shiver several times in the cold snowy night.

The desolate northern wind whimpers through the world, flurries of white snow dance with the wind, shattering the sky into fragments, layer upon layer blanketing the earth. From afar, it looks as if the land is draped in silver, desolate everywhere.

This is not the dead of night, only dusk, but the dimness of the sky is no different from night, giving a heavy feeling, as if pressing on the chest, making it hard to breathe. On that silver earth, a massive outline can be seen—a majestic city, like a giant beast looming in power.

At the center of the city stands a towering, tower-shaped altar, heptagonal in form, pitch black throughout, piercing the clouds, standing tall and unmoving amidst the raging wind and snow. In the wailing wind blowing across the altar, the crackling sound is mixed in, spreading into the distance, carrying a primitive ruggedness and a unique charm.

"Is there still hope... is there..."

A hoarse murmur drifts from the altar in the wind and snow, as if merging with the wind, becoming indistinguishable.

"If there is hope, then where is it? If there is no hope, then why let me see it!!" The voice is almost mad, nearly hysterical, roaring and echoing through the heavens.

Below the altar, countless figures in straw raincoats stand silently. From afar, there are hundreds of thousands of them, men and women alike, encircling the altar, densely packed. Though unmoving, a fanaticism emerges, as if with just a word from the person atop the altar, they would give everything.

The snow falls even harder.

"Since you let me see it, there must be hope. But hope... where is it!" The hoarse voice atop the altar is tinged with bitterness and sorrow, lingering for a long time.

"Today, the bright yellow returns in error, the Three Tais open the wilderness, the snow wind arrives, the ages are forged anew, this old man will once again divine the barbaric heavens!" Suddenly, the voice grows louder. Who knows what method is used, but the wind and clouds in the sky change color, and all the falling snowflakes abruptly freeze, then all at once reverse course, whistling from all directions, converging together, making heaven and earth tremble!

No more snow falls from the sky; all the snowflakes gather to form a gigantic snow-colored mysterious dragon. As soon as this dragon forms, it immediately raises its head and lets out a mournful wail, the sound so piercing that all who hear it are shaken to their core, as if their very souls are being torn apart.

Streams of shocking blood ooze from the snow dragon, quickly spreading over its entire body, turning it into a blood dragon. Its mournful howl, struggling body, suddenly shoots toward the sky like a wild meteor, as if to punch a hole through the heavens, to open a path of hope.

Its speed is so great that in the blink of an eye, it becomes boundless. Amidst the roaring echoes, it seems to crash into some invisible barrier, making heaven and earth tremble, a buzzing sound spreading in all directions. The blood dragon screams again in agony, its body collapsing layer by layer at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Just as it is about to shatter completely, the hundreds of thousands of silent people below the altar all form hand seals, bite their tongues, and spit out a mouthful of blood. The blood, as if drawn by some force, shoots upward like a sea of blood rising to the sky, rushing toward the collapsing blood dragon. After merging with it, the dragon's collapse slows, and it charges even higher into the sky.

All eyes are fixed on the blood dragon as it soars higher and higher. But at that moment, the blood dragon suddenly shudders, lets out a piercing wail that echoes for tens of thousands of miles, and can no longer resist its collapse, dissolving into countless blood-colored snowflakes that drift down, turning the world into a crimson underworld.

And at that very instant, as the blood dragon collapsed, a sound completely different from its mournful howl came from its mouth!