Chapter 49: Slaying the Great Demon with a Cup of Tea

The Golden Monkey brandishes the mighty staff, clearing the heavens of ancient dust. Although Chen Yang lacked such prowess, a single sweep of the Supreme Spirit Banner was enough to dispel the demonic aura across hundreds of miles. The multicolored mist receded in waves, and where a dense mass of monstrous beasts once swarmed, now there was emptiness. A drop of bewitching, fragrant blood-water dripped from the banner, caught by a crimson sword-light emerging from his sleeve; the sword-light absorbed the droplet, growing slightly more substantial before withdrawing.

“Innate slaughter is insufficient, so must acquired carnage make up the deficit?”

Hundreds of thousands of beasts had been slain—some managed to escape into the deep sea, but those felled by his hand numbered well over a hundred thousand if counted for quantity rather than quality. Yet this immense slaughter merely strengthened the killing sword by a slender thread. To fully refine the sword through acquired carnage, the number of living creatures required would reach into the billions.

“Is it truly necessary to annihilate an entire realm of life for this sword to be fully forged? Even I, a demon among demons, find that too ruthless.”

When the sword was first forged, the accumulated aura of slaughter in this world spontaneously flowed into it. Lacking a concrete measure, Chen Yang believed that once refined, this sword would surely surpass the Twin Swords of Purple and Azure. Yet today, after slaying a hundred thousand beasts and witnessing the actual effect, he realized that the ferocity of the Yuan Tu Sword defied description.

This sword was born from innate slaughter, inheriting the grand fate bestowed by the cosmos. Should it be truly completed, the Twin Swords would not even suffice to serve at its side.

“Liu Jiye, Courageous Commander of the Great Tang (Chen Da), pays respects to the senior.”

“Changsun Yan of the Heavenly Palace pays respects to the senior.”

Both were clad in gleaming armor, with straight swords at their waists, exuding an air of martial valor—not like cultivators, but rather like generals of the mortal realm. The other, Changsun Yan from the Heavenly Palace, appeared more typical, indistinguishable from ordinary cultivators.

“Great Tang? I like that name. Is your emperor surnamed Li?” Chen Yang waved his hand, half in jest.

The three were a bit taken aback, unable to keep pace with Chen Yang’s train of thought. They forced awkward smiles and replied, “Our sovereign does indeed bear the surname Li,” before inviting Chen Yang and his disciple to their camp.

On the way, Chen Yang inquired about the beast situation, and the three described the plight facing Eastern Victory Continent. Unlike human cultivators, whose longevity was limited and who fled the realm if able, the demon race enjoyed lengthy lifespans. Those who had fully transformed at the Divine Transformation stage typically lived over ten thousand years. Although individually less versatile than human cultivators of the same level, their numbers, built up over time, far exceeded those of humans.

After occupying the Northern Giant Continent, freed from the restraint of their natural enemies, the dragon whales, the demons had grown rapidly in power over six centuries, encircling Eastern Victory Continent. If not for their fear of Ye Fa and three other Divine Transformation experts, unwilling to pay too high a price, the demon race would already hold absolute dominance in terms of raw strength.

Within the camp, the three did their utmost to host Chen Yang and his disciple, while secretly informing Luo Shangshan, the one responsible for defending this region. Their actions and intentions were transparent to Chen Yang, but he said nothing. Having learned the situation, he wished to meet the true pillars among the cultivators of this realm.

Perhaps due to six hundred years of tempering in blood and fire against the demons, the people of Eastern Victory Continent were markedly different from those Chen Yang had encountered in Baohua Continent. Though cultivators, they were strictly disciplined; tens of thousands drilled in formation, gathering a bloody aura that unified their strength, amplifying their power tenfold or more beyond scattered fighters.

This was only natural, given that the beasts outnumbered cultivators by hundreds of times. Without true ability, mere reliance on so-called Divine Transformation experts would not suffice to defend this vital land of humanity.

Listening to tales of their survival struggle against the demon race, Chen Yang remained noncommittal, but his foolish disciple was stirred to fervor, looking at his master with words he dared not voice.

“Old Daoist Luo Shangshan, greets the esteemed guest.”

Before the man arrived, his voice preceded him. The tent flap opened to reveal a venerable Daoist, with white hair and beard, hands clasped in greeting.

“Heavenly Master.”

Liu Jiye and the others hurriedly rose to pay their respects. Chen Yang returned the gesture with a smile.

“Daoist friend, your condition does not seem favorable.”

Chen Yang's discerning gaze saw immediately that Luo, the Heavenly Master from Baohua Continent, had little life left; in fact, his lifespan had long been exhausted, sustained only by secret arts that forcibly delayed the end. The price was that he would have no future lives—though this world lacked the concept of sixfold reincarnation, the notion of rebirth persisted. Luo had severed all possibility of his own future.

Luo Shangshan was well aware of his situation, yet cared not at all. He smiled, took a seat opposite Chen Yang, and said, “Daoist friend, you have keen eyes.”

He then asked, “What business brings you to Eastern Victory Continent? Should you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

Though Chen Yang appeared as a young man, he was a true old fox of several centuries. In Shushan, he dealt only with seasoned old demons; few matched him in cunning. Every move by Luo Shangshan since entering the tent was clear to him, and he understood the old Daoist’s intentions.

“This old Daoist truly disregards himself, unlike those petty schemers of Baohua Continent,” Chen Yang thought, nodding inwardly.

He spoke, “My disciple needs to cultivate a great method and must borrow the blessings of your land.”

“Oh! That is a trifling matter. Any renowned mountain or blessed place you favor is yours to use,” Luo Shangshan agreed without hesitation. He turned to Chen Yang’s disciple, Guo Xiaoshan, with a smile. “Such a promising youth. I left in haste and brought nothing of value; this jade seal is a trinket I keep at hand—let me gift it to you.”

He unclasped the jade seal from his waist and tossed it gently, letting it hover before Guo Xiaoshan.

Guo Xiaoshan made no move to accept it, nor did he speak, instead looking to his master.

Chen Yang laughed and nodded, “One must not refuse a gift from a senior. Since Daoist Luo offers it, you should take it.”

Hearing his master speak, Guo Xiaoshan bowed and accepted the jade seal.

[Heavenly Master’s Imperial Seal—To see it is to witness his presence]

Upon receiving the seal, Guo Xiaoshan noticed the small inscription and was startled.

Chen Yang waved to him, then poured himself a cup of tea and smiled, “I dislike owing favors. As it happens, this tea is too hot and unpleasant. Daoist friend, wait a moment; I will be right back.”

Before the words had finished, Chen Yang transformed into a streak of light, shooting out of the tent and vanishing over the horizon.

The others were stunned, unsure of his meaning.

The tea’s steam rose, but after a short while, it ceased. At that moment, the tent curtain fluttered—a flash of light heralded Chen Yang’s return. He sat down, lifted his cup, and took a sip.

“Just right,” he remarked.

In his other hand was a verdant, blue-glimmering demon core, surging with demonic energy—a core from a Divine Transformation level demon.