Both elders shifted their gazes to Ye Chuxue, watching as she calmly processed the spirit herbs according to the prescribed steps. Their eyes lit up with growing admiration.
"This girl has considerable talent in alchemy," one of them said, his voice carrying faint excitement. "It seems she truly is the fated inheritor of Yaowang Sect. Let us wait a bit longer and see if she can pass every trial."
…
Inside the great hall, demonic energy surged wildly through Song Wanníng's body, battering her meridians and blood vessels from within.
Black mist coiled through her eyes, making her look like a demon straight from the abyss. Her presence was fearsome, almost unrecognizable.
To any outsider, she had already fallen into deep possession.
But Song Wanníng's mind was as clear as ever.
The demonic energy that appeared chaotic was, in fact, being directed under her control.
She had no intention of resisting her demonic nature. But if she was to fall into it, it had to be on her terms.
Under the Heavenly Dao's suppression, she chose to go against its flow, attempting to merge demonic energy with spiritual qi. She sought to forge her own path.
Having died once already, she feared nothing. Even if it cost her life again, it was a price she was willing to pay.
Inside her dantian, demonic and spiritual qi clashed like two armies fighting for dominance, each trying to seize control.
Song Wanníng's gaze burned with resolve. Bit by bit, she calmed the warring energies, guiding them into her meridians.
But the two forces were like unruly children, reckless and uncontrollable. They collided violently inside her core.
She doubled over, coughing uncontrollably, blood trickling from the corner of her lips. Her body slumped against the wall like a flower buffeted by storm winds, swaying yet unbroken.
And still, her eyes glowed with frightening clarity.
There was even a trace of madness behind them.
"She dares to try merging demonic and spiritual qi? Reckless fool," Mu Zixu sneered, his voice laced with disdain.
"She's attempting to walk a path no one has survived. Since the beginning of cultivation, no one has managed to cultivate both demonic and spiritual paths, let alone fuse them. How arrogant.
Not to mention her sword path is one of slaughter. She's already trapped by her inner demons. Any effort she makes is futile. Why bother struggling?"
In the lower realms, demonic cultivators were reviled, seen as enemies of righteousness. Their methods were cruel, often relying on blood sacrifice and soul extraction to increase their power at frightening speeds.
But such methods came at a price. With so much sin weighing on them, crossing the Heavenly Tribulation was nearly impossible. It was rare for any demonic cultivator to ascend as an immortal.
Few wanted to follow that path. But once their karma was sealed, there was no turning back.
The principles of Yaowang Sect stood in direct opposition to the killing path. Their aim was to heal and save, not to destroy. Naturally, Mu Zixu looked down on Song Wanníng.
"She must possess some exceptional qualities, if the inheritance hall chose her," Wang Yang offered, trying to mediate.
Mu Zixu's opinions were sharp, especially when it came to that girl. Still, Wang Yang admired the strength she showed. Even when trapped in such despair, she continued to fight her fate.
She had a strong heart for the Dao.
"Exceptional?" Mu Zixu scoffed again.
"I've already scanned her. That white-robed girl is carrying a strange poison. Embedded in the toxin is a tracking agent."
"You think she made it into the inheritance hall by skill alone?
She's nothing but a scheming little brat. No wonder she's been consumed by inner demons."
So what if she tricked her way in? Mu Zixu would make sure she walked away with nothing.
To manipulate the legacy of Yaowang Sect—she was asking for death.
"She's not even confirmed as your inheritor, and you're already so protective?" Wang Yang raised a brow but didn't argue.
If she truly used underhanded methods to gain entry, then yes, it was a problem.
"Hmph. What I detest most are people who rely on deceit."
Mu Zixu said nothing more, though inwardly, he had already accepted Ye Chuxue as the rightful heir.
Just then, Wang Yang's gaze flicked to a figure approaching in the distance.
He stood up at once and bowed deeply. "Immortal Lord Moyang!"
Mu Zixu's expression changed, and he rose as well, bowing low.
The newcomer wore a robe of black that fluttered like ink in the wind. He stood tall like a pine, his bearing elegant yet commanding.
His brows were sharp, his eyes deep as an abyss. When he glanced around, his gaze seemed to pierce through illusion itself.
At his waist hung a sword. Its hilt was ancient, but the blade shimmered coldly, exuding silent pressure. Sword energy flowed around him, forming a natural boundary that made the air itself tremble. He was none other than the famed Immortal Lord Moyang, the leading figure of Wujizong.
The immortal nodded slightly, about to leave, when his eyes swept across the water mirror nearby.
Two figures were displayed on its surface. His gaze fell on the one clad in black, and his sword trembled slightly before falling still.
His brow lifted, and he paused.
Wang Yang and Mu Zixu straightened, seeing him fixated on the water mirror.
Mu Zixu quickly explained, "That's an image from our lower realm sect's inheritance hall. Those two are contending for our legacy. The one engulfed by inner demons has already lost her way. Her future is forfeit."
He assumed the explanation would be enough and that the Immortal Lord would leave. To his surprise, Moyang stepped forward instead, heading toward the tree nearby.
The two elders froze. They exchanged a quick glance, then scrambled to produce a chair, setting it beneath the tree and inviting him to sit.
The Immortal Lord didn't refuse. He sat at the head seat, his eyes fixed on the water mirror, expression unreadable.
Mu Zixu felt restless. He couldn't fathom why this aloof immortal had chosen to stay today.
Normally, he would have vanished without a word.
Could it be that he had taken an interest in the potential inheritor?
Mu Zixu's eyes brightened at the thought. If their heir gained Moyang's favor, their future would be limitless.
Inspired, he tried to compliment Ye Chuxue.
"That white-robed girl is promising. She's patient, quick to learn. A good seedli—"
Before he could finish, Immortal Lord Moyang shot him a cold look.
Mu Zixu's words caught in his throat and were swallowed down.
Moyang's moods were impossible to read. One wrong word, and you risked offending him.
Mu Zixu pressed his lips together, pushing down the irritation, and turned his full attention back to the mirror.
By now, Ye Chuxue had cleared the first trial and entered the second room. In the center was a pill furnace, with several jade bowls arranged beside it, each filled with carefully prepared spiritual liquids.
Delighted, she strode forward with confidence and began studying the basics of pill refining.
On the other side of the hall, Song Wanníng was still locked in the first trial, struggling as demonic and spiritual energies battled within her.
She fought to contain them both.
The two opposing forces had split her features. One side glowed with demonic mist, the other with tranquil light, casting an eerie sheen across her beautiful face.