Chapter 7: Those Who Follow Will Prosper, Those Who Oppose Will Perish

This Golden Core cultivator is indeed remarkable—no wonder he dares call himself Patriarch. His power surges like a tide, spells at his fingertips, and the treasures he’s refined with the essence of his core, though simple in function, wield unimaginable might. With a single strike he could level mountains and erase cities—no idle boast.

Though only a realm apart from the Purple Mansion stage, the gulf in strength is even greater than that between mortals and Purple Mansion cultivators. In terms of raw power alone, Chen Yang lags far behind him, but what of it? If strength alone decided everything, what need would there be for arcane arts or wondrous treasures?

“Hold it right there, you little thief!” Crimson blade-light soared skyward as Patriarch Luo gave chase without a second thought.

Chen Yang chuckled, “Luoyun Mountain is already mine. Since you’ve destroyed it, I’m rather pained. Let’s settle this above the clouds!”

“You seek death!” Patriarch Luo, incensed, attacked with increasing savagery.

Yet the more frenzied he became, the more composed the crimson blade-light seemed—moving freely among spells, as if strolling through a garden, coming and going at will.

“Your wit is lacking, my friend. You repeat yourself, the same few phrases over and over.” The blade-light danced through a dozen spells, circled Patriarch Luo, and left behind a peal of laughter.

His fury mingled with cold sweat as Chen Yang’s exquisite swordsmanship took him by surprise.

But Chen Yang gave him no respite, goading him with words and sorcery, stirring his emotions. Desire and passion magnified; the curse of confusion grew ever stronger. When any one of the seven emotions or six desires slips from one’s control, that is the path to inner demons.

Rational thought was slowly overwhelmed by insanity. Though his spells grew ever more formidable, they lost any threat to Chen Yang.

As reason slipped further, Patriarch Luo’s vitality drained away, his spells exceeding the bounds of his own realm. Purple Mansion cultivators were nothing to Chen Yang, but even he had to admit that a Golden Core cultivator, while not truly formidable, stood on a tier of existence beyond the lesser ranks and would require some effort to subdue.

But it was no great trouble.

After an hour of fierce battle, Patriarch Luo—who, though white-haired, had not looked especially aged—was now a withered husk, deep wrinkles scoring his face, senile spots blooming, and the sour stench of decay clinging to his flesh.

“That should suffice. Such fine divine-demonic material can’t be wasted.”

The bone ring spun from his hand and became a half-formed Bone Demon. In a flash, sensing its master’s will, it appeared behind Patriarch Luo.

A single, bloodcurdling scream split the air.

The demon’s bony claws tore through his protective arts, ripped out his heart from the back, and chewed it with relish.

The Bone Demon cackled, plunged a hand into his spine, and fished out a dim but still plump core—the Golden Core, forged over centuries by the union of spirit, energy, and will.

It devoured the core as well. With each piece consumed, the Bone Demon’s lower body began to take shape. By the time it had scooped out all his organs, it stood complete—a towering figure of pure white bone, gleaming as jade, and shrieking with a piercing demonic cry.

The disciples of Luoyun Sect turned deathly pale.

...

In the marketplace, Fatty Xu, whom Chen Yang had appointed as steward for the Four Seas Trading Company, was taking inventory when a burly man burst in and barked, “The headquarters is moving to Luoyun Mountain. Bring everyone.”

He did not recognize the man, but those eyes, that tone—uncannily reminiscent of Chen Yang.

A chill ran down Fatty Xu’s spine. He knew Chen Yang’s abilities were vast, but never imagined he could control others from a thousand miles away.

Did this mean that after a single day away, Luoyun Sect—with its Golden Core Patriarch and its dominance over Zhangze County—had already fallen?

“Your humble servant obeys.”

Having devoured all the essence of a Golden Core cultivator, the Bone Demon’s power soared. With a single shriek, it could terrify all the Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment cultivators, infecting their thoughts with terror and dread, rendering them limp and powerless.

Slay the Golden Core Patriarch; use the Bone Demon to cow the masses; enlist three Purple Mansion elders as guides. Though resistance was not absent, Chen Yang encountered little real trouble subduing Luoyun Sect. Those who remained loyal to the end, having grown up within the Sect, earned his respect and he personally sent them on their final journey.

It was a pity—such steadfast will was rare, and with proper guidance they might have become truly exceptional. But time was short, and Chen Yang had no mind for patient indoctrination. It was simply: submit and prosper, resist and perish.

His most urgent task was to consolidate these forces for his own use, to ensure his physical resurrection. As for this so-called Supreme Demon Sect, it was nothing more than a tool at his disposal.

So long as his goals were achieved, it mattered not if the Supreme Demon Sect flourished or fell. He harbored no attachment to its fate.

He passed down the methods for the Titan Demon Art, then waited for Fatty Xu to finish inventorying the treasury.

The marketplace was a thousand miles from Luoyun Sect. Chen Yang could traverse the distance with ease, but Fatty Xu and the others were not so capable. Though it irked him to waste time on such matters, he had no desire to personally manage these trifles, and so endured.

During the wait, he reforged the Bloodsoaked Blade and the Bone Demon, and wove the soul-threads he’d accumulated into a soul-banner for future use.

At last, half a month later, Fatty Xu arrived with the disciples of the Supreme Demon Sect and all valuables from the marketplace.

The Supreme Demon Sect was merely a tool—he had no intention of managing it well. The marketplace, too, had no reason to continue existing.

Inside the Demon Hall—the former ancestral hall of Luoyun Sect—Chen Yang sat cross-legged upon a cloud bed, while Fatty Xu reported the assets.

Upon hearing the report, Chen Yang cared little for the details. Matters of commerce were best left to professionals. He instructed, “I know nothing of these affairs nor wish to be burdened with them. You will handle all dealings with the Four Seas Trading Company, and have full authority over the sect’s resources. I have but one request: do your utmost to acquire the spiritual medicines I require.”

“Your humble servant obeys.”

Fatty Xu was overjoyed. Though he dared not embezzle, such business dealings always yielded benefits for those in charge. Moreover, his position would help avert any conflict between his ruthless master and his former employer, the Four Seas Trading Company.

As for the other powers in the marketplace—like the Seven Immortal Alliance—whose assets and people had been seized, he cared not at all.

With such a domineering, ruthless master, whatever caught his eye was his.

Fatty Xu withdrew, grinning ear to ear. At last, one of the Purple Mansion elders from the former Luoyun Sect, surnamed Yu, stepped forward and announced, “Patriarch, both the Yin-Yang Sect and the Celestial Jade Sect have sent letters congratulating the founding of the Supreme Demon Sect. There is also a personal letter from Ancestor Jin of the Yin-Yang Sect for your attention.”