Their child had just turned three.
The air was filled with laughter and warmth.
Their hearts nearly stopped.
An uninvited guest sat leisurely in their living room.
He reclined in their chair, sipping from a crystal goblet.
His black hair flowed down like a shadowy river.
And his golden eyes... glowed like dying suns, swirling with an ocean of bloodlust.
Without a word, they knew exactly who he was.
The father began to sweat profusely.
He forced a trembling smile. "It’s... a joyous moment... for the Butcher to visit us."
A deep, manic laugh that echoed like a death knell, shaking the walls, chilling their souls.
He released his killing intent—thick, suffocating, monstrous.
It weighed down like a mountain of corpses.
He had killed hundreds of thousands.
His aura alone screamed of massacre.
"Don’t you remember me?" Daniel said, removing his mask.
The moment they saw his face—even after twenty years—they recognized him.
The same golden eyes.
And in that instant...
Dread and terror consumed their hearts.
"You—how are you still alive?!"
The father roared, a mix of confusion, fear, and dread trembling in his voice.
But Daniel didn’t flinch.
There was another revelation Daniel had discovered:
It was this very family who had sent the group that enslaved him...
Who sold him to the demons.
"It seems you recognize me," Daniel said with a soft, dark chuckle, his golden eyes locked on the terrified faces before him.
They had been enjoying life—safe, pampered, complacent—
While he had been clawing his way up from the abyss, enduring, suffering, evolving.
The mother gasped, her voice trembling.
But then she composed herself—barely—her eyes filled with fear as they locked with Daniel’s.
And in that moment, they all realized...
This wasn’t the same Daniel they had beaten, mocked, or discarded.
This was The Butcher—
The name that sent shivers through entire nations.
The name etched in blood and fear.
Across the continent, races had placed him among the Top Ten Most Dangerous Demons alive.
They knew—they stood no chance.
But the father, desperate, still clung to hope.
He called out, summoning their clan’s Ancestor to protect them.
Daniel made no move to stop him.
He merely leaned back—watching.
From nowhere, a golden light exploded into the room, illuminating the air with divine pressure.
A golden-haired old man, eyes burning like suns, his presence exuding terrifying strength.
"Who dares try to annihilate my clan?!"
The old man’s voice roared like thunder.
His gaze scanned the room—
Until it locked onto Daniel.
The quiet, monstrous pressure beneath Daniel’s composed exterior.
Though it lay dormant, it was undeniable.
This man was dangerous.
Then Daniel slowly peeled off his mask.
And the old man froze.
A chill ran down his spine.
"It’s been... a long time."
Cold. Knowing. Vicious.
The others looked toward the Ancestor in confusion.
How did he know the Butcher?
Then, pieces clicked.
They remembered—the Ancestor had once returned abruptly from the Fallen Gorge, bruised, silent, claiming urgent matters at home.
Daniel asked, his grin sharp like a blade.
Their Ancestor laughed stiffly.
"It’s... healing well."
What they didn’t know...
Was that the Ancestor had fled the battlefield, grievously wounded—
Wounded by the very man now sipping blood in their living room.
Daniel’s tone turned grim.
"Me and your clan... we have history.
And it’s an irreconcilable one."
The Ancestor’s face darkened.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Daniel didn’t answer.
Instead, the others began to explain in fragments—how they had wronged Daniel, how it had started years ago.
The Ancestor listened.
Daniel simply leaned back, sipping his blood wine, calm as a storm on the horizon.
When the explanation ended, silence followed.
The Ancestor stood there—pale, shaken—
For now, he knew the truth.
He knew there was no way to plead for mercy.
Not from The Butcher.
The Ancestor stared at Daniel, heart heavy with resolve.
He knew there was no escaping this.
He could never abandon the clan—especially the three-year-old girl behind him.
Daniel smiled coldly, eyes gleaming with golden malice.
"I wasn’t planning to spare you... whether you ran or not."
With a flick of his hand, a sharp whistle sliced through the air—
And the Ancestor’s arm was severed cleanly.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
The Butcher’s strength...
It had grown exponentially—far beyond what he’d ever imagined.
Before he could even react—
The next thing the Ancestor saw...
Was a headless body standing before him.
It took moments—moments drenched in horror—before realization struck.
Fear and terror surged through his fading consciousness—
And then, everything turned dark.
The entire hall trembled.
Terror bloomed in the hearts of everyone present as their Ancestor’s headless corpse crumpled to the floor.
"Hm... delicious blood, indeed,"
They heard Daniel murmur, licking his lips with twisted satisfaction.
Then, his eyes turned to the rest of them.
"Now... to take care of you."
The once-proud estate was drowned in red.
Blood flowed like rivers, painting the walls.
A mountain of corpses littered the ground.
Daniel had massacred the entire clan.
Babies. Children. Adults.
Slaughtered in a fiery storm of hatred and vengeance.
As if the world itself had recoiled.
Daniel’s golden-red eyes faded, returning to their pure golden hue.
He looked around—at the carnage.
And suddenly, it was as if a veil had lifted from his soul.
"...When did I become ?"
He stared at his own bloodstained hands, disbelief crashing down on him.
The weight of his actions—of how many he had killed—began to crush him.
Life... meant nothing anymore.
The soft, broken sob of a child pierced the silence.
Daniel’s head snapped up.
In a flash, he appeared before the sound—
A little girl stood beside her mother’s corpse, eyes brimming with tears.
She was the three-year-old daughter... the one from that cursed family.
Daniel stared at her.
He wanted to kill her—
She had no idea what her parents had done.
No blood was on her hands.
Then Daniel saw something unexpected.
As a seasoned cultivator, his eyes perceived truths hidden to ordinary sight.
He focused—and gasped softly.
She was born with the rarest of gifts.
A child with such veins was favored by the heavens—
Blessed with immense potential, destined for greatness.
She could become a hegemon of the world.
The little girl turned toward him—her tiny body trembling.
But her eyes burned with hatred.
Grasped a broken sword beside her mother’s corpse—
Blood trickled from the wound.
"That’s it, little girl.
Keep the hatred burning.
Make sure you grow strong enough...
And with that, Daniel disappeared—
Leaving behind the stunned child, clutching her blood-stained blade.
Were etched deep into her soul.