In parts forever unknown to the maps of men, a figure of many trades sat on a hardwood floor. He was a grandmaster, of both blade and limbs. He was a scholar, of mysteries that so easily eluded those who sought to understand them. He was a father, to a child who shared neither his blood nor his name, but his spirit. And he was a warrior, for both goodness and savagery. He was Ishin - the Demon King.
Outside, the wind raced through the farm he had cultivated, and though his robes billowed from the breeze that came through the window in a sweeping rush, Ishin sat still. Hands on his lap, legs crossed, and sword at his side, the Demon King surrendered to the call of higher worlds, and entered a trance that drew his spirit out it's prison of flesh and bone. His spirit soared through the sky, nudged not by wind, but an energy known to many and mastered by few - ki. Like a dragon with a flame, it guided his spirit, and in the ticks between seconds, his spirit had reached it's destination.
A public park to the modern world, but a cherished memory to the Demon King. Thousands of years before bulbs of artificial light were as plentiful here as the trees, it was where Ishin had met a woman he held dear to his heart; Zhu, the Phoenix. Generation after generation, they'd return to Primrose Hill. And thousands of years later, Ishin returned alone, finding company in the memory of a simpler time. For he had sensed the cosmic tides shifting towards the apocalypse. He came seeking peace, for there would soon be none. The end was nigh, and Ishin was ready to duel the gods of fate.