Imperador Demônio Devora-Céus

Nestled among the mountains, a small stream wound its way between the peaks. At that very moment, perched upon a rock in the middle of the stream, a pitch-black toad sat in a daze, staring blankly at two pieces of milky-white stone before it.

“Half a year!”
“An entire half a year—do you have any idea how I’ve managed to survive these six months?!”

Mo Fan’s heart cried out in anguish, and his bulging toad eyes brimmed with unshed tears of excitement. He had been in this world for exactly half a year. From the moment he first hatched as a tiny tadpole in search of his mother, only now had he finally begun to understand the purpose of the coin imprinted in his mind.

On the stone before him lay a golden coin. It was round with a square hole in the center, inscribed with four intricate characters that looked almost like arcane runes—symbols Mo Fan did not recognize. The coin had come with him to this world, his one steadfast golden finger of hope.

Yet in all these months, aside from discovering that the coin could be summoned into his mind at will, he had unearthed no other wondrous abilities. Mo Fan was not one to give up easily; he refused to accept that he was destined to live out his days as an ordinary toad. He had even contemplated ending his own life, but his cowardice prevailed, and in the end, he decided that a miserable life was better than a noble death.

After all, if he had to be a toad in this world, then he might as well be one that could feast on swan meat—only then would his life not be in vain.

And so, for six months,