Chapter 20

Northern part of Coldlight Province.

Within the province, blessed immortal mountains and sacred lands were scarce, scattered across the east, west, south, and north. Various immortal mansions and noble clans claimed territories based on their strength, turning those mountains and waters rich in spiritual energy and fertile earth veins into their own domains.

The Fourteen Provinces did not compare in size or resources to the Five Regions, and the situation was generally similar everywhere.

In Coldlight Province, the Zhou family was among the most powerful and prestigious clans.

They had carried on their legacy for over a dozen generations, with a long-standing history. Within the clan were dozens of masters at the Upper Seventh Realm. Although far from the might of the Five Regions’ great powers, in a place like Coldlight Province, such strength was enough for them to dominate a territory.

The Zhou family’s estate was nestled atop a northern immortal mountain.

As night deepened, snow and wind whipped around the mountaintop, shrouded in swirling clouds and mist. Layer upon layer of barrier formations concealed the lofty pavilions, terraces, and water pavilions of the estate.

Within the main hall of the residence, an atmosphere of solemnity prevailed. The walls bore ever-burning lamps casting a faint glow. Deep inside the room stood a colossal bronze altar, intricately carved with elaborate patterns shimmering faintly with flowing light.

Above the altar floated hundreds of memorial plaques, each inscribed with the names of deceased Zhou family members.

Most were ancestors from earlier generations, with a few belonging to young members who had died prematurely.

A man stood before the altar, his gaze fixed on the plaque of Zhou Ziheng, his expression grave.

“Is he still saying nothing?”

Besides him, over a dozen people gathered in the hall, whispering among themselves, remaining silent, or bowing their heads to study jade slips.

One who had just entered shook his head in response, “He insists he saw no one that day.”

“Uncle,” another stepped forward, “We’ve held that demonic cultivator captive for half an hour now. If the Sweetwood Spirit Orb were on him, we would have detected it by now…”

The man sighed, reaching out to touch the plaque. “You all only care about the treasure, not that my son was murdered, nor that my eldest and second sons were injured by Xu Ling and are still recuperating…”

The other frowned, “If the Sweetwood Spirit Orb isn’t in the hands of Immortal Yu Chen, then with his temper, if our eldest sister or second brother had spoken nonsense in front of him, he surely wouldn’t have tolerated it. Frankly, we ought to apologize to the chief of Weiyun Peak. What good comes from offending him? Immortal Chongyun’s power is unfathomable, and with Immortal Chaohua returned, even if we were to confront Tiandu…”

“That’s enough!”

The man’s voice turned cold. “Who do you think you are, to speak so freely here?”

“Hah? We went through all that trouble to catch that demonic cultivator, and it’ll take at least ten days, maybe half a month, for my wounds to heal. You keep talking about avenging your son, yet you don’t act yourself?”

The other was no easy-tempered man either and sneered, “If Auntie weren’t stuck in the Central Domain, who gave you the right as an outsider to make a fuss here? You’re just the same realm as me—”

“You volunteered to capture him yourself, you know why. You hope the Sweetwood Spirit Orb is on him so you can get it first.”

The man’s anger flared, ready to explode, but he forcibly restrained himself and cast her a disgusted glance. “What use am I if I go?”

“Oh right, Uncle, you’re a pure pill alchemist with hardly any sword techniques or spells. Going would be pointless, so could you please say less? Auntie only entrusted you with the secret talisman for safekeeping, not to act as clan head.”

“You—”

“...Enough, brother-in-law, Zinan, stop arguing.”

Those nearby finally couldn’t bear it and stepped forward to calm them. The clan head’s husband—Zhou Ziheng’s father—was born from a third-rate family, his cultivation mediocre, and his family’s influence far inferior to the Zhou clan. Few held him in esteem here.

He hadn’t intended to seize power while his wife was absent; if not for the news of the youngest son’s death, he wouldn’t have wanted to see these Zhou clan members at all.

After a brief disturbance,

“The chief of Weiyun Peak personally went to Blood Maple Mountain but only brought back this ring.”

The man’s voice was heavy. “With his cultivation, stealing the corpse, even if incomplete, even just one or two pieces, should not be difficult. Do you really believe he didn’t do it deliberately?”

The Zhou clan elders exchanged glances.

One shook his head. “Brother-in-law, he didn’t even know at first that Ziheng went out to meet a Soul Devourer Cult demonic cultivator. Except for Liu, he’s not close to those disciples. How could he immediately realize Ziheng was murdered? He probably just thought Ziheng went there himself…”

“True. Su Zhen is a hundred-year-old Divine Transformation master; few in the Nine Realms compare. See how he reacts? If it were others, they’d probably carry their disciple around constantly, nurturing them with all their heart. Instead, he only cares about his youngest apprentice.”

Moreover, Zhou Ziheng’s talent was inferior to Su Zhen’s.

As for temperament, Su Zhen was hardly amiable, but Ziheng was even worse.

Though unspoken, the Zhou clan knew this well.

“Therefore, Immortal Yu Chen’s temperament likely makes him unwilling to retrieve any bloody limbs. Among those disciples who died in the great sects, how many had their remains recovered? Many have nothing left but relics.”

Zhou Ziheng’s father sighed again. “No matter what we say, without flesh and bone, we can no longer verify whether he was enchanted before death. Immortal Yu Chen claims my son was bewitched by a demonic mind-control secret technique, but how do we know if that’s true? If he wanted us to believe it, he should have brought back more than just this ring—”

Another, ill-tempered, sneered, “He’s an Immortal; what are we? Brother-in-law, he doesn’t care what we think. He doesn’t even know who’s behind us, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t believe it.”

He wanted to retort but found the truth irrefutable and grew more frustrated.

The father cared about how his son died; others cared more about the whereabouts of the Sweetwood Spirit Orb. After some discussion, they decided to visit the demonic cultivator.

The Zhou clan had paid a price to locate the Soul Devourer Cult follower and finally captured him alive; he was now locked in a prison.

This man was at the Earth Immortal realm. The Zhou clan had several at similar levels, so capturing him should have been straightforward.

Yet the demonic cultivator’s treacherous methods were endless, nearly allowing him to escape and severely wounding several guards.

The prison was built inside a mountain cave. After climbing many steps, darkness deepened. The walls shimmered with dense talismans, layered barriers interwoven.

Even if the captive broke free, escaping alone would be nearly impossible.

Moreover—

Deep inside, in a large cell, a naked, heavily scarred man was chained to a stone pillar.

A soul-piercing stake was driven through his back, piercing the spine and anchoring his primordial spirit firmly within his body.

Chains encircling him and the pillar behind bore intricate sealing incantations, adorned with dozens of golden talismans.

His exposed chest was crisscrossed with blood-red markings forming a skull-like pattern, surrounded by secret demonic runes.

The Mark of the Demon God.

A symbol of demonic cultivators.

As a disciple of the Blood Sacrifice Demon God, his mark was drawn in blood and bone, symbolizing their creed of offering life and death to please their lord.

Because of this captive’s special identity, even heavily suppressed by seals, the Zhou family dared not be negligent and maintained guards.

When the group arrived, the original sentries slightly bowed and quietly stepped outside.

One elder frowned at the unconscious captive. “This person should not be kept long.”

“What do you mean, fourth sister?”

Zhou Ziheng’s father snapped angrily, “Are you suggesting we release him?”

“Even if we kill him, he should be moved elsewhere.”

The elder shook his head. “Brother-in-law, you know little of the demonic path. Though Soul Devourer Cult disciples may not share much camaraderie, holding him in our territory will ultimately invite calamity.”

“How long have we had him? What’s the harm in waiting a bit longer?”

Zhou Ziheng’s father gritted his teeth. “How does he know my son possessed the treasure?”

They considered two possibilities.

One: Zhou Ziheng was killed, and the Sweetwood Spirit Orb revived him. Though it would lose power after one use, the murderer might have taken it for study.

Two: The murderer somehow learned of the treasure on Zhou Ziheng before the orb’s power was consumed, controlled him, and took the treasure.

Yet both scenarios held perplexing flaws.

“If Ziheng offended him with rude words…”

“Ziheng wouldn’t be so careless…”

“He was at odds with his senior sister and never provoked that Su. Su merely didn’t flatter him, yet he offended this person early on, ignoring his talent and background…”

Before long, the captive demonic cultivator began to awake, lifting his gaze to stare at them.

His spiritual pressure shifted, sensed by all present, silencing them.

“Fools,” the demonic cultivator croaked, “This isn’t our first deal. If I’d known your family had treasure worth taking, would I have waited until now?”

“That’s because you didn’t know earlier!”

“...If I killed him, I would have hidden. Do you think I’m easy to find?”

An elder sneered, “Who is Immortal Li? When you slaughtered Green River Town, from old women to infants, you burned them alive as sacrifices to the Demon God. Since then, you haven’t…”

“They were mere mortals!”

The demonic cultivator seemed dumbfounded by the stupidity, trembling violently as chains rattled.

“Killing is killing; why hide? You’re no different. Your family has six or seven cultivators at my level, some even stronger by one or two realms!”

“What use is questioning him?”

Zhou Ziheng’s father said coldly, “If he erased the memories involved, no amount of words will help. I say we use the Soul-Shattering Talisman to make him suffer.”

The demonic cultivator cursed loudly, uttering vile obscenities, “I am a Blood God believer, not some petty thief or rat. Memory erasure? Those low-grade tricks—I couldn’t care less—”

His curses were cut off by the barriers.

An elder winced in pain. “No! The Sweetwood Spirit Orb’s whereabouts remain unknown. Even if he tampered with his memories, we’ll find traces.”

Zhou Ziheng’s father’s face darkened. “You all only think about—”

Before he finished, a loud explosion came from above.

Everyone’s expressions changed instantly.

Only the demonic cultivator looked stunned briefly, then broke into wild joy.

A terrifying, unfathomable spiritual force surged like a raging tide, shattering the prison’s layers of barriers.

At the same time outside, several Zhou clan cultivators’ spiritual pressure extinguished like candles in a storm.

They were dead.

The prison’s soundproof barrier shattered, and the demonic cultivator’s joyful voice rang out, “Senior Brother—”

“Greetings, Zhou Immortals. Long time no see.”

Suddenly, a ghostly figure appeared in the cell, blocking their path to the captive.

He was tall and slender, with handsome, delicate features. Draped in a bright crimson robe with wide sleeves, he appeared frail at first glance.

Yet his skin was pale as death, his lips coral red, and his thick white hair streaked with strands of blood-red, loosely braided down his back.

Strung through his hair were beads of blood jade and mutton-fat jade, their colors contrasting with his hair, giving him an eerie, seductive aura.

“That this guy was captured here is due to his own inadequacy,” he said without looking back at his sealed junior brother. “But… what exactly do you intend to do?”

The Zhou clan’s faces turned ashen.

Even Zhou Ziheng’s father, who had been furious before, now showed only fear.

They all knew this demonic cultivator’s identity and roughly understood his power. No one could stand against him without the clan head’s return.

Even together, they were no match.

Unless the other was heavily injured, a Golden Immortal realm expert in full strength was undefeatable by a group of Celestial and Earth Immortal cultivators.

Moreover, this was a Soul Devourer Cult demonic cultivator, skilled in all manner of deadly secret curses.

Righteous cultivators only dared to fight demonic cultivators when they held a clear advantage.

Now, their combined force was merely a sacrifice.

Coldlight Province lacked any great sect; only a few second-rate factions existed, whose leaders were also Golden Immortal realm.

The Zhou family was far from them, and this demonic cultivator had not attacked their ancestral estate, so naturally, those factions would not intervene lightly for the Zhou family.

“We only invited Immortal Li to speak a few words. Those young clan disciples sent to do the task misjudged the situation and offended Immortal Li.”

An elder braved the words, “Besides, we didn’t know Immortal Li was your senior brother. We will punish them severely and offer compensation and apologies—”

Before he could finish, the demonic cultivator stepped forward and pressed his hand to the elder’s forehead.

The movement was slow and deliberate, yet none nearby reacted in time to stop him.

The elder’s eyes rolled back as memories flooded his mind.

“Tch.”

The demonic cultivator smiled. “The only one who can fight is still in Tiandu. Well, that makes things easier.”

Before anyone could speak, blood-red light rose from the prison floor. Strange, sinister crimson runes bloomed and spread, quickly forming a massive formation.

Above the formation, blood mist swirled as countless pale hands emerged, each arm sprouting more hands with claws sharp as steel hooks.

Hundreds, even thousands of arms reached out from the red mist, gripping the Zhou cultivators tightly.

From the moment the formation appeared, they were pinned to the ground. Some tried abandoning their bodies to flee with their spirits but failed.

One by one, they were seized by the arms, limbs and necks crushed, instantly torn to pieces, reduced to scattered severed limbs and flesh.

Their radiant primordial spirits stripped away, also held firmly as countless claws pierced them, rapidly draining their spiritual energy.

In the blink of an eye, the once vibrant spirits dimmed and shattered into light particles.

More than ten Upper Seventh Realm cultivators died silently and without a sound.

The instigator stood in place, catching a wooden carved sphere falling from the air.

Because the sacrifice was directly to the Demon God, the revival power within the Sweetwood was useless.

He toyed with it a moment, then slowly turned to look at his bound junior brother.

“I’ve seen the memories of that man just now,” the demonic cultivator smiled. “The chief of Weiyun Peak said Zhou Ziheng was bewitched by a mind-confounding secret curse. If true, the attacker was likely a disciple of the Thousand Chariots Sect, trying to pin the blame on you.”

The captive ground his teeth. “The Law God believers are nothing but scurrying vermin—”

The demonic cultivator seemed intrigued.

He did not hurry to release his junior brother, but raised a hand and flicked his fingers. A mottled dark green and white ring rose from the blood pool.

“Look, this mustard jade was cleansed of spirits to prevent its owner’s death from being traced by magic…”

He smiled with crescent eyes. “If it were a Thousand Chariots Sect disciple, disguising their appearance, who would recognize them? Only their moves or words could leave clues. The Zhou family might know them, so the killer left this ring to avoid being traced.”

The captive hesitated. “Why not just destroy the ring?”

“Of course that’s possible, but if the person isn’t powerful enough, destroying it would take time. Also, without the ring’s protection, the jade slip might be destroyed by Blood Maple Mountain’s demons, never reaching Immortal Yu Chen. How would you prove Zhou Ziheng colluded with demonic cultivators then?”

They exchanged a glance.

“The rest is none of your concern.”

The demonic cultivator stepped forward, standing before his junior brother. “I’m in a good mood now. Since you’re useless, I’ll let you serve one last purpose.”

He pressed his hand to his junior brother’s forehead.

The latter stiffened as fine blood-red patterns spread over his face.

He trembled violently, as if inside a furnace, flesh melting and primordial spirit shattering, indescribable agony tearing him apart.

“Good, good!”

Yet his expression held no fear or anger—only utter madness and fanaticism. “Soul Sacrifice Altar, Blood Offering to the Divine Lord—”

As his words fell, he exploded. Blood mist filled the prison, thick and pungent.

Only one remained inside the cell.

The demonic cultivator toyed with the ring in his hand and glanced down with some interest.

“I’ll go see you now.”