Southeast Forest Sea.
At dusk, the endless expanse of forest was already sinking into gloom.
A Daoist in gray robes was running for his life, gasping for breath as he tore through gaps in the dense canopy.
The twisted shapes of branches and leaves cast chaotic shadows, like the outstretched arms of hungry ghosts, grinning as they tried to block his way. But each time they met his furious charge, they shattered, leaving behind a trail of glaring, broken marks.
His speed was not slow, but the path he left behind was far too obvious. Even a child who had just learned to think could follow it without effort, let alone the famous cultivators chasing him.
After another three to five li, the gray-robed Daoist could already hear the shrill whistling of something tearing through the air behind him.
He let out a strange cry, twisted his body in a roll, and the headlong force of his charge melted into something impossibly fluid. In a blink, he slipped like a phantom through gaps where there seemed to be none. A massive strike slammed in from behind, shattering two giant trees in his path, but he borrowed the force of the blast to shoot forward even faster.
"What a sly little demon!"
The pursuer let out a cold grunt, rising into the air. His hawk-like eyes swept the ground, locking onto the Daoist's trail. He didn't have to speak. Ahead of him, his companions were already sweeping in from both sides.
Moments later, the booming clash of colliding energies rang out again. Just like before, it flared up suddenly, then vanished in an instant.
High above, the man's brow furrowed and he shot toward the sound.
He had barely reached the spot when a cultivator came flying up from below, cursing under his breath. His shoulder was bare where his clothing had been shredded, and on his skin was a seared, blood-red finger mark.
"Fourth Brother, that brat's Blood God Calamity Finger is already two or three parts refined! I got careless for just a second..."
The man in the sky shook his head, cutting his companion off before he could finish. His eyes stayed fixed on the wound, his brow tightening, then easing. "The finger strike was firm at the start but weakened at the end. His injuries clearly haven't healed. He can't get far. Keep after him! The reputation of the Underworld Monarch Sect can't be ruined in the hands of the Eighteen Nether Generals. I, Song Yuanchi, won't be the one to disgrace it!"
His companion answered loudly, and the two of them plunged back into the mist rising among the trees. In a blink, they were gone.
Song Yuanchi? The Fourth Nether General?
The gray-robed Daoist lay curled up at the base of a tree, his form blending perfectly into the fog. The color of his robe matched the mist so well it was seamless, and with the two Nether Generals above never imagining he'd have the guts to hide so close, he'd managed to slip past their notice.
But that trick could only last so long. If he didn't get rid of these hanging-boot ghosts, there was no way he could survive in this endless sea of forest.
Damn it… I was too showy during cultivation, drew too much attention. If I'd finished the Thirteen Blood Pits and perfected the Blood Refining Art, I'd at least have a tenth or two of Blood Wanderer's skill. I wouldn't be skulking through the woods like a rat with everyone out to kill me.
He brooded for a moment, then another thought came to him. But if I can reach that place, who in the Tongxuan Realm could ever find me? Give me a hundred years there to complete my cultivation; when I strike, who under heaven could stop me?
It was that thought alone that kept him pushing forward in this forest full of killing intent. Yet as the days passed, more and more cultivators were coveting the treasure he carried. At this rate, how much longer could he keep going?
The sun sank, and as the long-awaited dusk spread over the forest, the gray-robed Daoist let out a long breath. His body moved like a snake slithering and a mouse darting, using the shadows of the trees to slip quietly in a certain direction.
Because he had to stay alert for pursuers on all sides, his pace was painfully slow. Not until half an hour later did the familiar scent of water finally reach his nose.
The view ahead suddenly opened up. Beyond the dense trees lay a vast lake, stretching for dozens of miles. The mist was just beginning to lift, and moonlight poured across the surface. The gray-robed Daoist slid into the water from the shore like a giant grass carp, his body flicking once before disappearing completely.
He swam in one breath to a small sandbar near the lake's center. Only then did he lift his head above the water, hiding in the shadow cast by the bar, his eyes darting toward a patch of darkness on the opposite shore. It was so different from the surrounding forest and rocks.
Demon Thunder Monastery… can I really find what I'm after in there?
For a brief moment, he lost himself staring at that unreachable goal. But the sudden sense of danger from above snapped him back. He had sensed it. But it was too late to move. All he could do was freeze, listening intently as two people landed on the sandbar.
The nearest of them was no more than ten paces away.
It seemed they were only stopping to rest, not aware of him. That was thanks to his unique constitution: of the Five Elements, his affinity with water was the strongest, and his Water Escape technique was the most refined. In a lake so heavy with mist, it was as if he had a natural shield. But it would not last forever.
The voices carried clearly across the sandbar. He recognized one of them. Yuan Shuo, ranked fifteenth among the Eighteen Nether Generals, famous for his shrill voice. Judging by the tone of their conversation, the other must also be one of the Nether Generals.
Yuan Shuo was saying, "....Just for a lone wandering ghost, we've already sent seven of the Eighteen Nether Generals. And now even Yuan Nan is coming? If he shows up, where does that leave our dignity?"
The other man's voice was deep and solid. "He's a Great Lord after all. And the truth is, we haven't exactly done well so far. Who would've thought that Xiao Zhongzi could be such a difficult one to deal with?"
For a Nether General, so famously arrogant, to give such an assessment was enough to make the gray-robed Daoist, known to them as Xiao Zhongzi, feel a small surge of pride. But the moment he heard the name Yuan Nan, his chest tightened. "Yuan Nan? The 'Ghost-Bound Spirit Lord'?"
The very mention of that name, renowned across the Profound Realm, sent a chill down his back.
The Underworld Sect's most famous masters were grouped into three "formations." The first was the Eighteen Nether Generals, who were now playing this game of hide-and-seek with him. The second was the Seven Nether Star Envoys, feared for their world-shaking combined battle techniques. And the last was the Five Spirit Lords, unmatched in individual combat power.
Yuan Nan was one of the Five Spirit Lords, second only to the Sect Master, the Endless Nether Lord. He was among the strongest True Person level cultivators in the entire Tongxuan Realm.
What could he possibly have done to deserve Yuan Nan stepping in personally? And if Yuan Nan really showed up, how was he supposed to handle it?
He was still without a plan when Yuan Shuo spoke again. "Is that information reliable? Don't let us catch that brat only to find we've been played. Then what about all the time and effort we've wasted here?"
The other Nether General replied, "That piece of news alone is worth the effort. Even more so when it's been confirmed by the Sect Master himself. That's nothing for us to worry about. The real issue is what happens after this news… the Succubus Sect...huh? Did you—"
In the next instant, Yuan Shuo's true breath surged violently, but it was silent as it swept across the lake. A chilling whistle rose and fell almost instantly.
Ten feet away, Xiao Zhongzi froze, his mind blank. And only then did Yuan Shuo's unfinished sentence resume, "—hear anything just now?"
Yuan Shuo's method, striking first, then speaking, was venomous in the extreme. Yet once the whistling passed, Xiao Zhongzi realized with surprise that he was completely unharmed. A heartbeat later, he heard both men on the sandbar spit in disgust, cursing the lake's infamous winged vipers for being such a nuisance.
He let out a long breath in secret. His mood had been through a wild swing, and even though he was soaking in water, cold sweat still streamed down his back. He'd almost collapsed from the strain.
With that interruption, the two people on the sandbank naturally couldn't go back to their original topic. After chatting idly for about twenty minutes, the other Nether General said he had to cross the river to arrange the defenses and left first.
Catching sight of the man flying farther away from the corner of his eye, Xiao Zhongzi relaxed a little. But his mood inevitably sank again at the mention of "The Succubus Sect."
So the news really did come from the Succubus Sect. But why does it have to involve the Underworld Monarch Sect too? And maybe even the Rogue Cultivators' Alliance… What am I supposed to do?
Regret crept in. Back then, out of sheer greed, he had taken the "Cloudmist Stone," offending two major powers in one move. In the five years since, he hadn't gained even the smallest benefit from it. Instead, he'd had to live in constant fear, hiding from place to place.
And the Succubus Sect? Ever since the Ghoul-Devouring Sect split off from the Shadow-Devouring Soul Sect, the Succubus Sect had stood unchallenged as the number one demonic sect. Its leader, Old Demon Luo, had held the title of the top master in the demonic path for over a thousand years. And he had gone and offended a sect like that.
And the Rogue Cultivators' Alliance? Since its founding sixty years ago, this seemingly loose organization had become the most dazzling force in the Tongxuan Realm.
Jade Wanderer, Demon Phoenix, Qing Luan, King Kunpeng… Just a string of these top Grandmasters and great demons' names was enough to make anyone look up in awe.
Even with the fierce internal conflicts it faced, you only had to think of the Hundred Beasts Sect. In five thousand years, it was the first sect ever to be struck from the rolls, proof enough of how fearsome the Alliance was. And he had gone and offended this power too.
Looking back now, his so-called "dream" was certainly beautiful, but with those two towering mountains standing in his path, the road to achieving it had stretched impossibly long. So long it filled him with despair.
Anxious thoughts churned in his mind, and his attention was no longer on the sandbank. After a brief spell of dazed distraction, he suddenly remembered that a deadly enemy was still close by. Yet when he looked toward the sandbank, it was silent and still. He could not tell whether Yuan Shuo had left or was still there.
Nothing was harder on the nerves than uncertainty like this. Xiao Zhongzi waited a while longer, feeling his whole body grow stiff and sore. Even his not-yet-healed wounds began to show signs of flaring up again. The worse it got, the less he dared to move so much as a finger. He could only stay there in the water, waiting for fate to make its move.
Just then, a flicker of movement appeared in the distance. The Nether General who had just left was somehow flying back again, landing on the sandbank in the blink of an eye.
"Yuan Shuo, why are you still—"
He cut off mid-sentence. A low, muffled grunt followed.
Being close, Xiao Zhongzi caught the faintest ripple of primordial qi,, there for a breath before it vanished. Heavy, chaotic footsteps sounded on the sandbank, then a hoarse cry tore through the air. Over the vast lake it carried only a short way before fading to nothing.
The next moment, the world darkened in front of Xiao Zhongzi as a figure suddenly fell, plunging into the water so close it nearly brushed his face. The shock snapped the taut string of his nerves. He cried out and pointed with a finger, releasing the Blood God Calamity Finger, which had already refined to several parts of its full power.
The strange, demonic force pierced through the figure as if through thin paper, exiting cleanly from the back. Wherever it passed, the victim's blood boiled, and the effect spread like a plague, flooding through the body in an instant.
In that single heartbeat, seven or eight tenths of the man's blood simply vanished into steam. Along with the massive draw of primordial qi, no matter how strong the target had been, he was utterly dead.
Only as the man died did Xiao Zhongzi get a clear look. The clothes… without a doubt, belonged to a Nether General.
He could hardly believe he had killed a Nether General so easily. But before he could make sense of it, the earth and stone above his head suddenly split open, and a razor-sharp chill pressed against his scalp.
At the same time, a voice rang clearly in his ear.
"Nice technique. Who might you be?"
The tone was calm and unhurried, carrying a certain authority. But more pressing was the weapon poised above his head that could kill him in an instant, radiating a cold so sharp it seemed ready to freeze his very brain.
In such a situation, he had no choice but to answer. He swallowed hard and replied hoarsely, "Xiao Zhongzi."
There was a brief silence overhead. Then the voice spoke again, slow and measured.
"Xiao Zhongzi? I've heard of you. They say that to cultivate a demonic technique, you've been hunting rogue cultivators here in the southeastern forest sea, using them as your furnace for cultivation… Is that true?"
Something stirred in Xiao Zhongzi's mind. From this person's tone, he could detect no hostile intent toward himself, nor the righteous posturing so common among defenders of the righteous path. Coupled with the earlier eerie, deadly attack, this man was likely a fellow traveler on the same demonic path. If so, there might still be a chance.