Chapter 5: All Things Ultimately Meet Their End

Luo Yun Sect.

As the local power and original master of the market, Luo Yun Sect was the first to sense something amiss there.

Within the Ancestral Hall, the sect’s middle and upper ranks were locked in heated debate over attacking the Supreme Demon Sect to reclaim their lost territory.

The argument grew fierce. Some believed that since Chen Yang dared to found his so-called Supreme Demon Sect on their turf, he must be a formidable outsider and not to be taken lightly. They urged caution, suggesting they wait until their Golden Core Patriarch emerged from seclusion.

Others insisted that one could not allow another to sleep soundly beside one’s pillow—every day of delay diminished Luo Yun Sect’s prestige and invited the other two sects and outside forces to meddle in their affairs. Now was the time for a decisive strike, to prevent the Supreme Demon Sect from gaining a foothold and growing stronger.

Each side clung to its reasoning, the debate descending into chaos.

In a shadowy corner, the Luo Yun Sect disciple who had escaped from the market wore a strange smile—the kind he himself didn’t notice—watching the quarrel unfold.

...

Everything that happened in Luo Yun Sect and among the smaller local powers was as clear as day to Chen Yang, though he could not be bothered to intervene.

If he wished, with his mastery of the demonic path, he could plant seeds of dark corruption, let them take root and blossom into fiends. These secret agents of his would then infect family and friends, disciples and kin, sparking a bloodbath where rivers of gore would be the least of it—if even one in a hundred survived, they would be fortunate.

But such an action would bring calamity upon all living things in this world.

Chen Yang was ruthless, but not devoid of humanity. These so-called “chickens and stray dogs” were not worth such destruction.

As for these cultivators—those at higher levels he had not yet encountered and thus withheld judgment—but the likes of Qi Refiners, Foundation Establishment, and even the Purple Mansion stage now arguing in Luo Yun Sect, in his eyes, they were all rubbish.

Even without resorting to secret demonic arts, Chen Yang could slaughter them all with his Heavenly Demon Bloodblade. If one came, one would die; if a pair, both would fall; he would kill as many as dared approach—no more, no less.

When he first arrived at the market, he would not have dared boast so. But now, after more than half a month of growth, having gathered over a hundred formidable demon spirits and newly forged twelve white-boned demon gods to form the Twelve Celestial Fiend Array, and having further refined the Bloodblade—

With all these combined, he could now merge blade and body, flying through the heavens and vanishing into the earth.

At this point, the subtle sword techniques he once struggled to wield were now unhindered.

The demonic path advanced swiftly, especially in a world where he could unleash his full power without restraint—a dragon returned to the sea, a tiger roaring in the wild.

Moreover, his understanding of the demonic way was profound, among the few who had truly mastered it.

If not for encountering the True Twofold Dust Array reinforced by the Supreme Pure Talisman, he would have had no fear facing Qi Shuming directly. But his opponents refused single combat; three immortals, two elders, and Qi Shuming’s wife beset him at once, wielding overwhelming might, with hidden Buddhist masters lurking behind the scenes.

Shameless, truly.

Of course, Chen Yang understood the reality: his own cultivation simply did not match theirs, and they had calculated his every move.

In Shu Mountain, while magical power mattered, true contests were decided by cultivation itself. Lacking sufficient foundation, unless one possessed enough might to overturn the heavens, destroy worlds, and upend the game entirely, one would find oneself beset by endless calamities and diminishing fortune. When fate was exhausted, death would come unbidden, its cause inscrutable.

He himself had a high realm, already a top-tier loose immortal. Even without the rapidly progressing demonic path or dual cultivation of the Five Terraces, with pure refinement alone he was confident he could form innate true qi within one or two years, command flying swords, and earn the title of Sword Immortal.

In fifty or sixty years, he could rebuild his soul, restoring the power and cultivation of his past life.

After all, for a reincarnated immortal, such progress was only natural.

“These so-called cultivators are nothing but locusts—do they know nothing of sustainable development?”

Crushing the Ledger of Myriad Spirits in his hand, Chen Yang was consumed by anger.

Under the locust-like ravages of these cultivators, many spiritual medicines had long since vanished. Though he had refined his recipes and lowered his standards, some ingredients were simply extinct, others so rare as to be legendary.

Those that had perished could only be replaced by laboriously combining hundreds of other herbs to extract the trace of desired essence.

But this could not be done for everything.

He had but three years; not only was time needed to gather the ingredients, but if he had to concoct every legendary herb in this way, there would not be enough days left to finish his elixirs.

“Damn it all—the immortal way claims to nurture life, yet the great Dao delights in slaughter; all things end in destruction. These locusts, stealing the Dao and clinging to life, have so ravaged the world against the will of heaven that now I am trapped, neither advancing nor retreating. They deserve nothing less than death.”

As Chen Yang’s murderous intent surged, the radicals of Luo Yun Sect finally overwhelmed their opponents. They resolved to muster all their Purple Mansion elders and strike the market with lightning speed, aiming to slay him—the so-called culprit.

He let out a cold laugh. Since the urge to kill was upon him, he might as well slaughter a few locusts to vent his vexation.

“Where does the Sect Master intend to go?”

Just as he was about to ride his blade-light to kill, Fat Xu entered the courtyard.

This rotund man exuded fortune, and fortune favored him. When Chen Yang first arrived, he had been chosen at a glance, receiving a slap on the shoulder—after which all the market’s Foundation Establishment cultivators perished, while he alone survived.

The demonic path cultivates the self’s desires; only by indulgence can one reach the middle realm.

Yet no matter how one indulges, one must not lose their humanity. To lose it is not to cultivate demons, but to be cultivated by them.

This distinction could only be grasped by those who had truly mastered the demonic way.

Red Lotus, his nominal master, was in her youth a wanton and unrestrained villain, nearly meeting the same fate as the infamous Lord of Lust, Cha Shuangying, executed by the heavens.

After understanding the Dao, she established the Red Lotus Palace and kept three thousand demon consorts. Many were demons drawn from the realm of desire, but the rest were lured into depravity by various temptations.

Those who failed to grasp this truth, or lacked true transmission, believed that the more cruel and inhuman their deeds, the more demonic their path. In reality, they were fools who had not even crossed the threshold.

Such people meet but two ends: either consumed by external calamity, their souls scattered, or devoured by their own backlash, their souls twisted into demons and bound by demon kings for eternity—a fate far worse than annihilation.