Chapter 15: The Wisdom of the Elder, The Reversal of Ten Thousand Demons

The mountain wind wailed mournfully, human skins fluttering and drifting across the slopes, rendering the scene incomparably eerie.

The group exchanged glances, until finally the middle-aged scholar was the first to speak: “The formation remains unbroken, and none of the skins bear wounds. Many even wear smiles upon their faces, proving that the members of the Nangong family were all slain in an instant, utterly unprepared.”

“To accomplish such a feat, it could only have been someone from within the Nangong family,” another quickly added as soon as the scholar finished.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Now that the culprit was confirmed to be one of the family’s own, the investigation became straightforward. Comparing the skins one by one with the family register, it did not take long to single out Nangong Yan.

With Nangong Yan identified, it was easy to surmise Old Ancestor Nangong’s reason for summoning everyone—matters concerning the Supreme Demonic Sect.

“Bring me all the information you have on the Supreme Demonic Sect.”

...

Mount Luoyun.

“If not now, when will the banner rise?” As Chen Yang spoke in a low, clear voice, Nangong Yan, who had sent the essence of his entire family to empower Chen Yang’s demonic banner, became nourishment himself, adding yet another brick to the foundation of the Supreme Heavenly Demon Banner.

The banner’s demonic power grew ever more formidable, casting an oppressive shadow across several dozen miles; whether immortals or mortals, all felt an unspeakable weight upon their hearts, as if a boundless storm cloud pressed down.

Within the banner, the spirits and demons grew more ferocious, even beginning to stir against Chen Yang himself, their demonic lord.

This was a sign that the banner’s cultivation was incomplete—it lacked proper refinement, or, in other words, discipline.

Opening his mouth, Chen Yang spat forth a tongue of demonic fire, incinerating the newly forged formless spirits within the banner until they wailed and begged for mercy.

Once these spirits had been subdued, he stowed away the demonic banner and summoned Fat Xu, instructing him: “The Supreme Demonic Sect is no place for idleness. I pass on these mystical arts so they may be of use to me, not so that I may nurture layabouts. Now that these disciples possess some measure of power, it’s time to put them to use. Establish some rules and send them all out to gather news of the treasures of pure yang and rare spiritual herbs for me.”

“At your command,” Fat Xu replied, bowing low.

Chen Yang waved him off, indicating that he could leave, but to his surprise, the fat man remained, hesitating.

“Is there something else?”

...

Fat Xu bowed again and reported, “Master, the Four Seas Merchant Guild has sent a message, wishing to request an audience with you.”

Chen Yang narrowed his eyes, regarding his respectful subordinate with a cold chuckle. “It seems you truly wish to be turned into one of my playthings. Very well, I’ll oblige you.”

Fat Xu’s hair stood on end, and he dropped to his knees, begging for mercy: “Spare me, Master! I am utterly loyal, with no thoughts of betrayal. The Four Seas Merchant Guild not only sent their message, but also delivered over one thousand three hundred kinds of spiritual herbs you required—including the rarest, the Other Shore Flower...”

Hearing that his needed herbs had arrived, Chen Yang’s expression softened. He instantly understood the guild’s intent: either they wished to lure him into a trap, or they had been so terrified by his annihilation of the Nangong family that they dared not make an enemy of him and instead sought to curry favor with these offerings.

He nodded. “You still have your uses. This time, I’ll let it go.”

After a moment’s thought, he added, “Accept their gifts, but there’s no need to meet. Tell them the matter is settled.”

“Thank you, Master. I take my leave.”

“Go on.”

After Fat Xu departed, Chen Yang could not contain a laugh.

“The wisdom of the elders holds true—even in another world, facing so-called immortals, it remains effective. Strike first, so you don’t have to strike a hundred times later—how true.”

Had he not decisively forged all his demonic cultivation into the Supreme Heavenly Demon Banner, then used its power to corrupt Nangong Yan and annihilate the Nangong family with thunderous means, this would not be the Four Seas Merchant Guild seeking peace—it would be their Nascent Soul masters gathering to slay Chen Yan, the Demon Lord.

...

Though Fat Xu harbored some attachment to his former master, his ability to execute tasks was beyond reproach. In just a few days, he established a system of rewards and punishments, sending all the disciples of the Supreme Demonic Sect out into the world.

The Divine Strength Demonic Arts were only mystical techniques, not an ultimate path to immortality. Though powerful, they did not prolong one’s lifespan; in fact, the more potent the technique, the greater the loss of years. Thus, the disciples still relied on their original cultivation methods for hopes of longevity.

With the sect’s internal affairs settled and no external enemies thanks to the Four Seas Merchant Guild’s submission, Chen Yang could finally focus on comprehending the “Nine Heavens Mysterious Scripture.”

Whether the treasures of pure yang or the Elixir of Pure Sun, Chen Yang valued them, but he did not pin all his hopes on their acquisition.

...

After all, these things depended on fortune’s favor. To seek understanding from one’s own learning and create a method of resurrection was to place true power in his own hands, untouched by external forces.

Especially now, having committed all his demonic cultivation to the Supreme Heavenly Demon Banner, the path of self-created methods had become his most promising route to success.

In his secluded chamber, Chen Yang pored over the world’s scriptures, comparing them to his own knowledge, seeking to unravel the mysteries of the Nine Heavens Mysterious Scripture.

As the Emei Sect’s foundational text, the scripture’s profundity was unparalleled. Even with his current cultivation, he found the first fifteen chapters manageable, but from the sixteenth onward, each step became more arduous. By the twentieth chapter, the teachings grew so obscure that every verse seemed to harbor countless interpretations.

The deeper his understanding, the more his demonic nature receded, and his Dao heart began to form, which in turn caused all the demons within to riot.

Whispers and howls of myriad demons assaulted his ears, visions layered upon visions, each trying to drag him back into the demonic path or turn his own power against him.

In truth, among Daoism, Buddhism, and Demonism, the demonic path was the most tragic.

To enter demonhood from Dao was easy—there was barely a threshold; to fall from Buddha to demon was even easier, since Buddha and demon are but two sides of a thought. But to ascend from demon to Dao, or from demon to Buddha, was a hundred times harder.

To become a Buddha from demonhood required twisting the scriptures with demonic logic, and doing so convincingly enough for the world to believe. The threshold was daunting, while to fall from Buddha to demon needed but a single lapse.

Thus, the threshold for demon-turned-Buddha was already high; for demon-turned-Daoist, it was tenfold higher. One must endure the tribulation of ten thousand demons before one could cross from demonhood into the Dao.

In the past, Master Lianshan, with his profound cultivation, had sworn a mighty oath to forge a path for all the unorthodox sects, practicing demonic arts to blaze a trail. Entering demonhood from Dao was easy, but when he sought to return from demon to Dao, to open the way for the demonic sects, he was devoured by the ten thousand demons within and ultimately perished on Moon Island.

This could not be helped. Compared with the Dao Ancestor and Shakyamuni, Mara was simply incompetent, causing all his demonic descendants to suffer.

Anyone who truly understood demonism aspired to become the Demon Lord themselves and dethrone Mara, the so-called Demon King.

The tradition of slaying one’s master in the demonic sects originated from this.

Now, Chen Yang faced the same trial of ten thousand demons that once beset Master Lianshan.

Yet, what was a tribulation for Master Lianshan was to Chen Yang as a breeze caressing his face—he could scarcely be bothered.

Though his power and cultivation were far inferior to Master Lianshan, his comprehension and mastery of the demonic path surpassed him tenfold, a hundredfold.