Watching his disciples toiling diligently and cultivating assiduously, Jiang Ling nodded in satisfaction.
Once they had laid a solid foundation, they would be able to exchange for more advanced cultivation techniques in the Scripture Pavilion.
To allow his disciples to practice higher-level techniques and advance quickly, the contribution points required for each technique were not high.
At first, he had considered having the sect fully provide techniques, spirit stones, and pills, so that the disciples could focus solely on cultivation without having to do anything else.
But later, he discarded that idea.
The reason was simple—it was like raising a child. If adults did everything for them and the child never had to lift a finger, that child would grow up to be a flower in a greenhouse. Not only would they be unable to withstand the hardships of the world, but they would also easily become ungrateful. The slightest dissatisfaction would make them want to take revenge on society.
Hua Yuntian was a perfect example.
In truth, Jiang Ling saw everything, but he didn't care in the slightest.
As long as the man didn't cause trouble or betray the sect, he could hold all his resentment in as much as he liked—Jiang Ling would even let him be Jincancan's punching bag for fun.
If he couldn't even pass the test of the Scripture Pavilion's spirit, he would never have a chance to obtain the *Supreme Unfeeling Sword Scripture* in this life.
However, just as the sect was developing steadily, this peace was soon shattered by a roar from outside the mountain gate.
"Scum of the Primordial Beginning Sect, come out and die, old man!"
The voice boomed like rolling thunder, and the terrifying pressure of a mid-Golden Core cultivator surged forward like a tsunami—yet it vanished without a trace the moment it touched the mountain gate archway.
In the sky, several streams of escaping light approached, thick with killing intent. Leading them was an old man with disheveled hair and beard, his eyes bloodshot with rage—it was Cloud Ji Zhenren, the Golden Core ancestor of Cloud Mist Sect!
Behind him stood Sect Master Yun Tianxiong and several Foundation Establishment elders, all with murderous looks and overwhelming hatred in their eyes.
Inside the Primordial Beginning Sect, the newly recruited disciples trembled with fear.
Feeling the Golden Core pressure in the sky, Hua Yuntian's expression changed slightly—but at the thought of the immortal formation, he felt a little relieved, and even looked forward to watching the show.
Jiang Ling walked slowly out of the main hall, looked up at the aggressive Cloud Mist Sect members in the sky, and showed a "kind" smile on his face.
"Oh, isn't Fellow Daoist Cloud Ji? What brings you here? And with so many people—are you planning to send gifts to my Primordial Beginning Sect to celebrate me just taking a new disciple?"
"Cut the crap!" Yun Tianxiong's eyes were bloodshot with anger. "The hatred of killing my son is irreconcilable! How dare you kill my son Yun Chen—today is the day the Primordial Beginning Sect is wiped out! Father, kill him!"
"Bah! A mere mortal handyman dares to call himself a fellow daoist with our ancestor?!" Another Foundation Establishment elder sneered unceremoniously, not giving Jiang Ling an ounce of face and directly pointing out his background.
In the distance, the onlookers stirred with commotion.
"This is that handyman sect? He looks quite graceful—doesn't seem like a handyman."
"What do you know? It's like a poor man suddenly getting rich—he has to wrap himself up nicely to avoid looking weak."
"But…"
"But what? This Sect Master Jiang is a mortal without a spirit root. Otherwise, the former sect master would have taken him as a disciple long ago, and he wouldn't have been a handyman all this time."
"Now that you mention it, it's true. It looks like the Primordial Beginning Sect is done for…"
Discussions abounded, but no one was optimistic about Jiang Ling and the Primordial Beginning Sect.
Jiang Ling's face darkened slightly.
These blind fools dared to mock him!
He was a Nascent Soul powerhouse—with a wave of his hand, he could slap all these people to death!
[Ding! Sect crisis detected. Emergency mission issued: Sect Crisis!]
[Mission Content: The Eighth-Rank Cloud Mist Sect, seeking revenge for the death of their core disciple Yun Chen, is leading an attack led by their Golden Core ancestor, Cloud Ji Zhenren! Please resolve this crisis, Host!]
[Mission Reward: 5000 Points, one Sect Building - Martial Arts Field. (Note: The Martial Arts Field can improve disciples' actual combat experience and cultivation speed. 10 Random Profound-Rank Magical Artifacts!]
"Tsk, this is a reward delivered to my door."
Jiang Ling raised his eyebrows, swept his divine sense over the scene, and felt no waves in his heart—he even wanted to laugh a little.
He accepted the mission without hesitation, wondering whether to stretch his muscles or simply activate the immortal formation for convenience.
At that moment, under the mountain gate archway, two figures who had been holding back for a long time moved.
Black Rock Demon Lord shifted his huge body into a more comfortable position leaning against the pillar, picked his ear with his little finger, and asked in a deep, muffled voice beside him:
"Great Sage, did you hear that? There's a dog barking outside—seems to be calling someone scum, and even saying he's going to slaughter the sect? What was his grandson's name again? Yun… Yun what?"
Scarlet Sun Demon Sage had been counting the ants on the ground out of boredom. When he heard this, his movements stopped.
Yun Chen?
That guy he crushed to death?
His blood-red eyes narrowed.
"Which blind beast dared to do it? Killing my grandson Yun Chen! Come out! Old man will wash the Primordial Beginning Sect in blood today—no chicken or dog left alive!" Cloud Ji Zhenren roared in anger.
Yun Chen was his only grandson, with decent talent, and he had high hopes for him.
Now that Yun Chen was killed, how could Cloud Ji Zhenren not go crazy?
"Yun Chen?"
Scarlet Sun Demon Sage repeated the name in a low voice, not loud, but filled with a bone-chilling murderous aura.
"Yes! It's Yun Chen, my own grandson!" Cloud Ji Zhenren pointed angrily at the mountain gate, his momentum climbing to the peak. "Speak! Who is the murderer?! Let him…"
"Oh."
Scarlet Sun Demon Sage nodded expressionlessly, interrupting him. "I crushed him to death."
The air fell completely silent.
At this moment, a disciple rushed out from the Cloud Mist Sect group, pointed at Scarlet Sun Demon Sage, and shouted loudly: "Ancestor! It's him! He's the one who killed the young master!"
The rage on Cloud Ji Zhenren and the others' faces froze instantly, as if they had been cast with a body-freezing spell.
They had imagined countless murderers—maybe a certain disciple, maybe a hidden expert—but they never expected it to be this bald gatekeeper who looked like a refugee.
And he admitted it so casually, so… nonchalantly!
"W-What did you say?!" Cloud Ji Zhenren thought he was hallucinating, and his Golden Core pressure pressed down on Scarlet Sun Demon Sage like a tangible force.
Scarlet Sun Demon Sage didn't move an inch—not even the corner of his robe fluttered.
His blood-red eyes stared at Cloud Ji Zhenren, and the resentment he had been holding back for a long time exploded like a lit powder keg!
"I said…"
Scarlet Sun Demon Sage's voice suddenly rose, like the cold wind blowing from the netherworld. "That ant named Yun Chen—I crushed his head, just like this!"
Before he finished speaking, Scarlet Sun Demon Sage's palm, as big as a palm-leaf fan, shot out suddenly!
A plain, ordinary grab.
But in Cloud Ji Zhenren's eyes, that hand seemed to turn into a cage of heaven and earth.
His proud mid-Golden Core cultivation and body-protecting spiritual light were as fragile as thin paper under this hand!
He wanted to move, to escape, to resist—but he found that the space around him had solidified, his mana was stagnant, and he was like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered!
"Father!" Yun Tianxiong's eyes were bloodshot with rage.
"Ancestor!" The elders roared in despair.
"Squelch!"
A dull, heart-palpitating crunch sounded.
Cloud Ji Zhenren's head, along with half of his torso, was instantly crushed to pieces.
Red and white splattered everywhere!
Cloud Ji Zhenren, the Golden Core ancestor of Cloud Mist Sect, who had appeared for less than half a cup of tea and spoken fewer than ten lines, was dead!
He died extremely shabbily, extremely aggrieved—without even casting a decent spell.