The Usurper God of the Old World

Everyone knelt, but he squatted. On the day of worshiping the gods in the desolate city, ten thousand people knelt before the statue. Xie Wujian squatted at the edge of the crowd, using a knee injury as an excuse—squatting for seventeen years. Until that night, a dark red star fell into the barren mountain. The closed-eye mark on his chest, like a birthmark, suddenly burned like a branding iron. The mountain split. The secret realm opened. On the ancient stele were engraved words he could not understand but could read: "Here lies a person who did not want to die. His divine throne was devoured." The stele shattered. The broken sword emerged. As the rust exploded, the sword's cry shook the heavens—Questioning Heaven. The gods wanted to kill him. Because the mark on him was the only thing that the usurper gods occupying the divine thrones in the Nine Heavens feared. The gods said he was a remnant. He said: I am Xie Wujian of the Desolate City.