Damn it! Let's smash the darkness together!

On the tenth night of the end of the world, the sky cracks like old porcelain and gods spill out of the wounds.

Outer Gods mutter in languages that drive people mad. Cursed cultivation manuals pass from bloody hand to bloody hand. Martial artists who once split mountains now wake to discover their strength rotting faster than their bones. Above, distant deities circle like vultures; below, alleyways fill with ghosts that refuse to lie still.

Xu Shu arrives in this ruined era with nothing but the Primordial Scroll pressed to his chest and a coarse tongue he never bothers to tame. Inside the Scroll waits a "game"—a brutal, meticulous simulation where he can live and die and live again, chasing rare achievements like fragile sparks in the dark.

In one run, a ten‑day cataclysm, a Dragon King clawing his way back from oblivion, a dead lover breathing again as the world is dragged back from the brink. In another, Xu Shu fights with a wide-open heart and wine‑red eyes, all while carrying the quiet weight of a father who once held a child that never cried.

He tells himself it’s only data, only dreams—until the Female Void Palace seals itself overnight because a true disciple wakes up pregnant with a stranger’s destiny. Until the long‑buried master of White Jade Capital rises, sweeps aside enemies like dust, and proves the Dao of an Emperor. Until a shepherd boy named Ye Su knocks on the Holy Temple’s gate, and a young man riding an old cow leaves Hangu Pass, unrolling a scroll that declares:

The human race will stand on its own feet.
We can respect power without kneeling to it.
We will drag false gods down ourselves.

As Xu Shu’s simulated lives bleed into reality, people whisper his words around bonfires and in shattered temples. The Outer Gods, once wild and fearless, begin to remember what it felt like to tremble.

He dies by the thousands on that long, ragged climb toward ascension. Each death is another turn of the Primordial Scroll, another night of grinding teeth and muttered apologies to fairies and ghosts alike. When he finally looks back, the heavens are cracked, the earth is split—and a single crude man has left handprints all over the face of destiny.

Damn it. If the darkness won’t move, he’ll break it with his own two hands—and drag everyone willing to fight right through the wreckage with him.