"Robbing you? Hah, this price is already generous."
The City Lord of Stone Lake countered coldly.
"What if they have wasted roots? Throw them a fast-track demonic art, burn their lifespan for twenty years, and they'll still produce resources worth at least a thousand spirit stones. Can't afford it? Don't buy. There are plenty of other Demonic Sects eager for the deal."
At those words, the black-robed man's tone shifted instantly. A servile smile spread across his face.
"Come now, City Lord—no need to get angry. First-time trade, after all. Got to test the waters a little, eh?"
He chuckled, lowering his voice.
"How about this: five spirit stones per wasted root, forty for a mixed root. However many Stone Lake City can supply, my Reverse Blood Sect will take them all. What do you say?"
The City Lord hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Deal. But in return—I want a single Reverse Blood Pill from your sect."
The black-robed man laughed. "That's easy enough. If the City Lord can pay the price, I'll bring one next time."
"How much?"
"Five thousand spirit stones."
"We'll trade at next year's Spirit Testing."
The City Lord of Stone Lake was a cultivator at the Peak of Qi Refining. If not for the fact that Stone Lake City sat atop only a first-grade low-tier spiritual vein, the position of City Lord wouldn't even have fallen to him.
The lifespan of a Qi Refining cultivator was about one hundred and fifty years. He was already over ninety. If he tried to build his foundation past a hundred, his chances of success would drop to almost nothing.
To break through to Foundation Establishment, one required a Foundation Pill. The highest-grade ones sold for over ten thousand spirit stones—rare beyond measure, almost impossible for someone of his standing to obtain.
The Reverse Blood Pill was a lesser-grade Foundation Pill—far weaker in effect, but it could still increase the odds of success by twenty percent. Failure, however, meant instant death, body and soul annihilated.
Still, he wanted to gamble one last time.
A cultivator could attempt to break through without a pill, but the odds of success were pitifully low. Anyone with the means would choose to use one.
The deal struck, the City Lord's mansion soon sent out more than a dozen Qi Refining cultivators. Every youth from that day's Spirit Testing who fit the "criteria" was quietly seized and taken away.
Night.
The wheels of the iron carriage clattered over the uneven ground, jolting violently as they hit stones, nearly toppling more than once. The iron bars were close-set—narrow enough that one could barely fit a finger through.
The chorus of insects filled the night—cicadas, frogs, and the distant chirping of birds.
Wang Yu stirred, groaning as he regained consciousness. His memory was hazy—he recalled being stopped at the city gate after leaving home. A dark shadow had blown a puff of mist at him... and everything went black.
"This is—"
Could it be Wang Wu? No, impossible. The Spirit Testing wasn't even over yet—there was no way Wang Wu could command the cultivators of the Lingjiu Sect.
He turned his gaze around. In the silvery moonlight, he saw others locked inside the same carriage—faces he recognized from earlier that day. Every single one was either a wasted root or a mixed root.
There were ten carriages in total, each filled to the brim—over a hundred captives, limp and weak, all clearly drugged.
The scenery outside was familiar—it was Stone Lake, the body of water that gave the city its name, a place where nobles often came to relax and sightsee.
Each carriage was chained to the next, forming a long convoy. At the front rode a black-robed man astride a monstrous horse, scales glinting along its flanks, horns jutting from its head.
When the convoy reached the lake's edge, the leader whistled—a sharp, coded sequence of three long notes and one short.
Within seconds, more than ten black-robed figures emerged soundlessly from beneath the lake, surrounding the entire convoy in an instant.
Some of the captives had begun to wake as well, their voices trembling with fear.
"Who are you people?! This is the territory of the Lingjiu Sect! Kidnapping spirit root candidates is— is a crime!"
"Hahahaha!"
"What a fool," one of the black-robed men sneered. "You've already fallen into the hands of the Reverse Blood Sect, and you still think shouting about the Lingjiu Sect will scare us?"
Reverse Blood Sect?
The name sent a chill through Wang Yu's chest.
From what he'd read, the Lingjiu Sect resided in the Taihu Spiritual Domain—a land blessed with rich waterways and fertile earth, home to billions of mortals.
The entire Taihu Domain was righteous territory—sect-ruled lands arranged around spiritual veins.
The Demonic Path, by contrast, occupied the neighboring Red Kite Demon Domain—its name sinister, but its land no less fertile or vast.
Beyond that, Wang Yu's knowledge grew thin—his readings hadn't covered such distant places.
Still, from the name alone, the Reverse Blood Sect was clearly a demonic sect. To be abducted by them…
It wasn't hard to imagine their fate.
They wouldn't take him as a disciple.
Two words—not qualified.
Even demonic sects didn't waste effort nurturing those with wasted roots. Wang Yu understood this well.
No one spoke further. The black-robed cultists took to the air, each unfurling a black talisman cloth that expanded under spiritual power, lifting the prison carriages into the sky.
The sudden ascent sent terrified screams echoing through the night. Some captives curled up like frightened rabbits, trembling uncontrollably.
They were still within the Taihu Domain—a land crawling with righteous cultivators. To soar through its skies so blatantly was like spilling ink across pure white parchment.
Between the two domains lay a chain of border passes and perilous lands—regions nearly impassable to ordinary cultivators. To fly straight across was suicide.
The Lingjiu Sect stood on the eastern edge of the Taihu Domain, bordering the Red Kite Demon Domain. The nearest border fortress was known as Black Mountain Pass.
To its left stretched the perilous Withered Leaf Marsh, and to its right, the monster-infested Black Mountain Forest.
Black Mountain Pass was garrisoned by cultivators from numerous righteous sects across eastern Taihu. The Lingjiu Sect was among the weakest of them.
There were stronger sects, of course—the Thunderfire Temple, the Azure Cloud Sect, and the Moonwatch Palace—each home to Nascent Soul True Monarchs.
The pass itself was permanently guarded by at least one Core Formation Real Person.
Yet, what the captives saw next froze their blood.
The leader of the Reverse Blood Sect's squad—only a ninth-layer Qi Refining cultivator—was stopped at the pass.
He smiled. Produced a jade token.
Then tossed a storage pouch heavy with spirit stones.
And just like that—
The stationed cultivators let them through.
They let them through!
Through!
The cries of despair and disbelief from the captives went unanswered. The guards turned away, pretending not to see.
A cold wind howled across the mountains. Wang Yu's heart sank like a stone—he suddenly felt the same bleakness as a lone warrior marching toward certain death.
For sixteen years, his life had been anything but smooth, yet it had never felt this hopeless.
Now, abducted to the Red Kite Demon Domain, he didn't even know what fate awaited him. He could only pray it wasn't as food or sacrifice for some blood demon's cultivation.
Once they crossed Black Mountain Pass and entered demonic territory, silence reigned. The captives' faces were pale, heavy with despair.
The black-robed escort kept them alive—each day distributing three coarse buns and a bag of water per person. Enough to survive, not to thrive.
When they stopped to rest and recover their spiritual energy, the prisoners were forced to relieve themselves under watch—no one allowed out of sight.
A few tried to flee midway. Their legs were broken, their bodies thrown back into the carriages—where they rotted alive.
After that, no one dared try again.
Wang Yu, seeing it all, abandoned even the faintest thought of escape.
They flew for an entire month.
At long last—
They arrived.
The Reverse Blood Sect.
Wang Yu had never heard of this sect before, but one look at its mountain gate chilled him to the bone.
Nine colossal peaks towered skyward, their roots intertwining like gnarled trees, reaching high into the clouds.
Each peak was separated by vast spaces, connected through hanging bridges, iron chains, and suspended cloudways. Pavilions, pagodas, and palaces dotted the jagged cliffs in eerie, twisted beauty.
At the heart of the nine peaks was a hollow space—within it floated a massive ritual construct, glowing faintly with crimson light.
(End of Chapter 2)