Chapter 10: Pressing Forward Relentlessly

Three days later.

Two cultivation teams arrived almost simultaneously, one from the southeast and the other from the northwest.

Both teams spared no effort in grand displays—exotic beasts pulling their carriages, Purple Mansion cultivators clearing the way, and female Foundation Establishment disciples serving at their sides.

Standing before the Demonic Hall, Chen Yang found it hard not to laugh. The more elaborate their show, the more it revealed their insecurity.

Outside the mountain gate, disciples of the Supreme Demon Sect were tasked with guiding the two sects’ parties to the Demonic Hall.

It wasn’t long before Elder Jin of the Yin-Yang Sect and Master Tianxing of the Tianshu Sect arrived together.

Their pomp and circumstance, of course, was left behind at the foot of the mountain.

“Please, friends, come in!” Chen Yang smiled, inviting them into the hall.

Upon seeing the Supreme Demon Lord who had destroyed the Luoyun Sect and slain Elder Luo, revealed as merely a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy, both men were shocked.

At first glance, they had assumed Chen Yang was an attendant to the Supreme Demon Lord, but now it was clear he was the Lord himself.

They exchanged a look, each reading astonishment and disbelief in the other’s eyes.

Chen Yang paid them no mind and entered the hall, seating himself cross-legged on the cloud bed.

Suppressing their shock, the two followed into the hall.

Seeing Chen Yang seated above, with only two fragrant grass cushions below, they frowned slightly.

Chen Yang was well aware of their thoughts and had arranged this deliberately.

“Please, take a seat,” he gestured to the two cushions directly opposite him, deepening their frowns.

He urged them no further, nor did he speak, simply gazing at them in silence.

The atmosphere quickly grew oppressive. After a brief standoff, the two finally lowered their heads, muttering, “You are rather domineering, friend.”

Xu Yang smiled faintly. Once they were seated, he drew from his sleeve the “Proposal for the Construction of the Sacred Alliance,” which he had compiled over the past few days, and tossed it to them.

“Friend?” the two looked confused. Chen Yang said nothing, signaling them to read first.

Annoyed by Chen Yang’s lofty attitude, yet helpless, they picked up and opened the proposal.

From the moment they entered the mountain, forced to abandon their displays, they had already stepped into Chen Yang’s magical domain. The first compromise inevitably led to a second and a third. Once they entered the Demonic Hall and compromised again, they found themselves deeply entangled, unable to extricate themselves.

In direct contests of magical power, demon magic was indeed inferior to the cultivation methods of the Mystical Sect, but it was strange and elusive, excelling at stirring thoughts and transforming them into demonic intent.

Anger or frustration—any emotion was fuel for those adept in higher demon magic.

Without sufficient cultivation, unwavering resolve, or a protective treasure, these emotions could be exploited, layer upon layer of demonic barriers erected, leading one ever deeper, destroying their path and spirit, until they were lost forever.

“This... this...” The more the two read, the paler their faces became, white with anger.

For if the alliance were formed as proposed, their sects would essentially become vassals of the Supreme Demon Sect.

How could they accept this?

Even if you were a true dragon crossing the river, this was not the way to do it.

Elder Jin, once the foremost figure of Zhangze County, though wary of Chen Yang, was infuriated by the harsh terms of alliance and stood up, shouting:

“We came with sincerity, yet you make matters so difficult, this is truly excessive…”

Before he finished, a white shadow flashed behind Chen Yang.

The Bone Demon God, sensing the disturbance, appeared instantly behind Elder Jin, its bone-white claws extending.

Elder Jin was terrified, his Golden Core magic surging as he layered defense spells around himself.

But the demon’s claws pierced through the defenses as easily as bursting bubbles, landing with immense force on his shoulder and pressing him back onto his cushion.

“If you wish to speak, do so calmly. Why get agitated?” Chen Yang remarked.

Meanwhile, the Bloodblade of Demonic Transformation flew from his sleeve, transforming into a streak of blood-red light and hanging beneath the hall, its sharp aura pressing upon their brows.

Already weakened in spirit by Chen Yang’s manipulations, the two felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over them, rendering them speechless.

“These terms are truly too harsh. Please, friend, show some leniency,” Master Tianxing, the weakest of the three sects in magical power, finally broke under the pressure and was the first to compromise.

“You two are being unreasonable. I am merely proposing, not dictating. Since it is a proposal, it can naturally be discussed,” Chen Yang replied.

Elder Jin, still pinned by the Bone Demon God, looked grim but dared not move.

Hearing this, he felt a flicker of hope, thinking Chen Yang might be domineering but not entirely unreasonable.

Chen Yang, highly sensitive to shifts of thought, immediately sensed Elder Jin’s change of heart. He waved his hand, dismissing the Bone Demon God, and smiled:

“That’s better! Speak plainly. If you act like Elder Jin and get agitated at every disagreement, as elders of our sects, wouldn’t the disciples below mock us?”

Though stung by Chen Yang’s words, Elder Jin, his spirit broken, dared not retort. He could not admit defeat openly, so he merely grunted.

Chen Yang was unconcerned and asked:

“Which parts of the alliance proposal do you find unsatisfactory? Speak freely.”

Elder Jin kept his head down, unwilling to speak, his pride still in the way.

Master Tianxing glanced at Elder Jin, then at Chen Yang. After a brief hesitation, he carefully said:

“Your magical power is extraordinary, and it is only right that you serve as alliance leader. But the matter of stationing your disciples—can this be discussed?”

Chen Yang played with the Bloodblade in his hand and shook his head:

“Stationing disciples is for ease of communication and unity; this cannot be changed. But the number can be negotiated—let’s settle on three.”

Though the provision wasn’t removed, the number dropped from one hundred to three. Master Tianxing, invigorated, found this acceptable and looked to Elder Jin.

Elder Jin nodded gloomily, indicating agreement.

When pushed to the wall with no room to retreat, a slight concession makes previously unacceptable terms tolerable, preventing a desperate struggle.

Demonic magic is not only about spells; manipulation of human hearts is magic as well.

Once they accepted one term, the rest followed easily. Where Chen Yang conceded slightly, they felt uplifted; where he stood firm, though harsh, they consoled themselves and eventually accepted.

The negotiations were swift; within half an hour, the alliance was settled.

The Supreme Demon Sect would serve as alliance leader, overseeing all external affairs for the three sects, with all contacts and intelligence shared.

The core was simple: internal autonomy for the two sects, but externally, all matters would be led by Chen Yang.

The pact was sealed, and oaths sworn.

Thus, the Sacred Alliance, centered around Chen Yang, was formally established.