Chapter Forty-Seven: Under My Protection

Back when he was with Li Fusheng, Wang Changsheng had learned quite a few secrets from the cultivation world. Of course, even now, he couldn’t tell if those tales were true or false—he suspected most were likely fabrications. Especially regarding Cloud Palace Peak—Li Fusheng had spun countless stories about it.

But what intrigued Wang Changsheng the most was the Corpse Refining Sect.

According to Li Fusheng, this sect was like a cheat code—its cultivators didn’t rely on spirit stones for their practice, but refined corpses instead. And not just the dead—even the living! In other words, wherever there were people, dead or alive, the Corpse Refining Sect could find a way to advance. Most astonishing of all, they needed no spirit stones or elixirs at all!

Wang Changsheng couldn’t help but envy them. If you could cultivate without any resources, wasn’t that as good as cheating?

He had asked Li Fusheng at the time, “Does that mean there are lots of Corpse Refining Sect disciples?”

“Very few. Extremely few!” Wang Changsheng still remembered Li Fusheng’s answer.

In fact, the opposite was true—not only were there not many disciples, but those who ventured into the cultivation world were almost nonexistent. The reason was simple: the sect’s methods were considered abhorrent, violating the very laws of heaven. Should one appear in the world, they’d be hunted like rats in the street, reviled by everyone. Thus, Corpse Refining Sect disciples rarely showed themselves, and most cultivators didn’t even know the sect existed.

“But remember,” Li Fusheng had cautioned, “any Corpse Refining Sect cultivator who dares walk the world is terrifyingly powerful!” Li Fusheng’s face had grown grave at the mention of them. “But it’s fine—the sect has been sealed away for years. In the Shentian Realm, you won’t find them.”

Back then, Wang Changsheng hadn’t known Li Fusheng’s true strength. He’d thought Li Fusheng had fled to the Shentian Realm out of desperation, so he hadn’t paid much attention to the man’s solemnity. But looking back now, Wang Changsheng understood: for a man who’d dared steal from Cloud Palace Peak’s vaults to fear a sect so much—how powerful must they be?

“Why?” he had pressed.

“No reason,” Li Fusheng had replied simply. “The weak ones were all killed.”

Now, recalling those words, Wang Changsheng felt a deep despair.

“This isn’t a pitfall—it’s the nethermost hell itself...” he muttered hopelessly.

“Old Wang, where are you going?” Old Mou called out as Wang Changsheng turned to leave for his room, clearly displeased. He’d finally had a chance to prove his cleverness, but his sole audience was about to walk away—how could he show off now?

“I’ll tell you—I’ve remembered which sect this is!” Old Mou hurried on when Wang Changsheng didn’t stop. “It’s the Corpse Refining Sect!”

At those words, Wang Changsheng froze, rooted to the spot in utter shock.

Stunned. Dumbfounded.

Standing there motionless, Wang Changsheng’s face was the picture of despair. Even though he’d already suspected it, he’d clung to a shred of hope that he was wrong. Now, Old Mou’s words confirmed his worst fears.

It really was the Corpse Refining Sect.

“Damn it...” Wang Changsheng was on the verge of tears.

He’d managed to survive the journey from the Chengtian Realm to the Shentian Realm, not dying at the fangs of monsters, only to fall into the hands of the Corpse Refining Sect—and become an offering at that. His mood was as foul as if he’d swallowed filth.

But what could he do about it?

Ignoring Old Mou, he returned to his room, sat cross-legged, and mechanically took out spirit medicine and stones to cultivate.

“Resist?”

That path was clearly blocked. Even Li Fusheng had warned him: if you ever encountered a Corpse Refining Sect cultivator in the cultivation world, run as far as you could. Now he’d landed right in their lair.

Wasn’t this hell itself?

Boom—

Spiritual energy raged within Wang Changsheng’s body. By the time he recovered his senses, that energy had already burst through several of his meridians.

“Pff!”

A mouthful of blood spurted out before he finally came back to himself.

“Why?” Wang Changsheng was on the verge of tears.

With no way out, all he could do was heal himself—and fatten up.

Thanks to the accumulation of spirit medicine, Wang Changsheng had indeed grown plumper. The only thing left was to grow paler...

After nursing his meridians back to health, he gave up on further cultivation. He’d realized that the more he practiced, the stronger his blood and energy, the sooner he’d be chosen for sacrifice. Especially since the longevity technique he practiced made his vitality even more vigorous than other methods. How could he risk it now?

He stepped outside—only to see the same gloomy sky, echoing his mood.

“No wonder it’s always overcast here. How could a sect like this ever see sunlight?” Wang Changsheng muttered to himself.

“Huh? Old Wang!”

No sooner had he left his room than a voice called out—Old Mou again.

“Old Mou!” Wang Changsheng greeted him in turn.

It was no mystery how Old Mou recognized him—the sign beside Wang Changsheng’s door said it all: “Me, your neighbor, Old Wang next door.”

It had been more than ten days since Wang Changsheng last questioned Old Mou. Rarely did he see Old Mou leave his room, let alone sit in the little courtyard.

Wang Changsheng walked over and asked quietly, “Old Mou, how long have you been in the chores hall?”

Old Mou looked thoughtful. “Seems... it’s been a long time...”

“I don’t really remember!” Old Mou frowned.

“It’d be odd if you did,” Wang Changsheng said with a faint, bitter smile.

“I do recall,” Old Mou went on seriously, “when I first came here, there were twenty or thirty people... but they all went off to serve the elders. I just wasn’t so lucky...”

“You mean you were too lucky,” Wang Changsheng thought.

Old Mou was clearly lacking in vitality—his cultivation was much higher than Wang Changsheng’s, yet he was all skin and bones, his life force weaker still. The Corpse Refining Sect’s people probably had no interest in using someone like him as an offering.

Back when Old Mou arrived, there’d been two or three dozen others, but he’d never been chosen. Even now, when offerings were running short, he’d been overlooked. That was luck of the highest order!

“Don’t worry, your luck will turn one day!” Wang Changsheng said with a wry smile.

“Of course!” Old Mou declared. “Those old fogies—having someone as clever as me serve them tea and water would be a blessing, but they don’t want me!”

Wang Changsheng could only sigh. This Old Mou, after surviving so long, was still disgruntled—calling even the elders “old fogies”!

Was he tired of living?

“I say, Old Mou, when’s the next time to collect rations?” Wang Changsheng asked.

“Soon, just a few days,” Old Mou replied. “Why, have you finished yours already?”

“Almost...” Wang Changsheng said softly.

But as he spoke, he looked at Old Mou with shock. “You remember?”

He’d thought Old Mou was a bit scatterbrained and wouldn’t recall such things. Yet here Old Mou was, remembering the spirit stones and medicine he’d given him. How could Wang Changsheng not be startled?

“Of course I remember!” Old Mou laughed. “Who am I? Who in this world can match my wits?”

Looking at him now, Wang Changsheng truly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

It was clear Old Mou’s mind was perfectly sound. He’d just been toying with him all along!

“So you were messing with me...” Wang Changsheng said helplessly. “Was it on purpose when you hit me? Or when you broke my room?”

Even knowing Old Mou had been making fun of him, what could he do? He couldn’t beat Old Mou—he could only stare helplessly.

“What? I hit you?” Old Mou slapped the stone table and exclaimed, “Impossible! How could I hit you? We’re neighbors! If I broke your room, how would we stay neighbors?!”

Wang Changsheng was speechless.

Seeing Old Mou’s righteous indignation, Wang Changsheng understood—his mind really did have problems. Selective, intermittent amnesia!

He’d forgotten every mean thing he’d done to Wang Changsheng.

“There’s such a thing as this...” Wang Changsheng felt utterly defeated.

“Fine, I must have remembered wrong!” he said with resignation. “By the way, Old Mou, could you take me with you the next time we go to collect rations?”

Now that he knew this was the Corpse Refining Sect, it made no difference whether he died sooner or later. In fact, Wang Changsheng wanted to see things clearly before the end. If he was doomed, he might as well get a look at the legendary, mysterious sect.

“You want to go too?” Old Mou frowned.

“Why, is that a problem?” Wang Changsheng asked. “I’ve been here so long and never even left this little yard...”

“Why haven’t you left?” Old Mou immediately asked.

Wang Changsheng was momentarily speechless, unsure how to answer.

“Did you think I didn’t want to?” he fumed internally.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—he didn’t dare! If any of those Corpse Refining Sect cultivators took notice, his life would be forfeit.

So ever since arriving, Wang Changsheng hadn’t set foot outside the little courtyard. Now, with all hope lost, he might as well see for himself what the legendary Corpse Refining Sect was really like before dying.

“Well, seeing how pitiful you are, I’ll take you out in a few days to broaden your horizons,” Old Mou declared grandly. “You have no idea how high my status is here. Just mention my name—everyone gives me respect!”

“From now on, I’ll look after you here!” Old Mou boasted.