Chapter 88: The Demon’s Sword Ritual, The Endless Cycle (Third Update)

While everyone was striving to better themselves, Qing, far away in the wilderness, also arrived at his “second life.”

Yes, he had died.

His death came from blood loss, and later, the Ancestor Luo guided his soul and found a pregnant demon, allowing Qing to inhabit the unborn child.

With a new body, he could once again grow strong.

This time, he no longer possessed three heads; he had only one. It wasn’t a conscious choice on Qing’s part, but rather an instinct that arose from the manner of his previous death. The lesson was clear: he must not stand apart as an anomaly, but blend in—dragons give birth to dragons, phoenixes to phoenixes, rats are born to burrow.

Thus, born among the Pi beasts, he inherited their long faces, sharp teeth, large pointed ears, broad bodies, three legs, and six tails. Though he still looked eccentric, his appearance matched those around him, and he no longer attracted calamities without cause.

Yet, the celestial signs still followed him. This time, dark clouds rolled in, storms raged, and rain poured from the heavens. Such weather was not uncommon, so no demon found it remarkable. The rain was heavy, flooding many Pi beast dens.

The civilization of the demons was still primitive; they lived in caves and nests, sometimes like wild beasts, sleeping wherever they lay, earth as their bed, sky as their cover. Issues of propriety and etiquette mattered little to them. They could speak, they could think, they possessed magical arts—but that was all.

Within the world of the gourd, “demons” was a designation given by the human and barbarian races; in truth, there was no unified race among them. Their appearances varied, and even if they were grouped as one, they themselves wouldn’t accept it.

Thus, demons were divided into countless tribes, each defined by appearance and form. Sometimes, even if they belonged to the same race, differences in region and lifestyle led them to become distinctly separate tribes. There were at least three thousand demon tribes in the wilderness.

It was no small feat for the Barbarian Sovereign to unite so many demons and lead them eastward—a testament to his remarkable skill.

Unfortunately, the demons eventually turned back and abandoned the cause, leaving the barbarians to face the humans alone. The Barbarian Sovereign was besieged and killed, and the barbarians never recovered from the blow.

Because the demon tribes varied greatly, some had advanced civilization. At least, they didn’t merely dig holes or nest; they built houses and cities like the humans and barbarians, wore clothing, kindled fires, and cooked meals.

One tribe claimed no kinship with the other demons, calling themselves the Celestial Clan. Born of heaven and earth, naturally gifted, their wisdom far surpassed other wilderness demons. They considered themselves unique, the only children of the heavens.

They had mastered the art of slavery, subjugating other demons for their own use—as mounts, livestock, and even food.

Yet they, too, worshipped the “Lord,” and had moved their entire tribe to the foot of the sacred mountain. They believed the “Lord” was heaven itself, and they were heaven’s sole progeny.

Their strength was undeniable; demons were not weak or timid, and any forced into slavery would surely resist, but every uprising was ruthlessly crushed.

The so-called Celestial Clan emerged only after the Barbarian Sovereign’s eastern campaign failed and the miraculous stone fell into the wilderness.

Besides the Celestial Clan, there was also a tribe of proto-humans—ape-like in appearance, but far taller, at least nine meters high, possessing immense strength. Their awakened magical abilities far surpassed the norm, and they were fond of erecting monumental structures; if one chanced upon a hundred-meter-tall, bizarre tower in the wilds, it was surely built by the proto-humans.

The proto-humans disliked mingling with demons, disdained the barbarians, and cared little for humans. They wandered the wilderness, hunting giant beasts.

And so must be mentioned the giant beasts of the wilderness—mindless but massive, some as large as hills, others at least thirty meters tall, often with strange abilities. Most demons and barbarians avoided them and rarely hunted them.

Only the proto-humans, confident in their strength, considered hunting giant beasts an honor.

Yet, in battles between proto-humans and giant beasts, it was often the proto-humans who fell, becoming the beasts’ meal. Despite their combative spirit, the proto-human population remained small.

As for Qing’s tribe, the Pi beasts, they were quite “eloquent,” but Qing cared little for such matters. Having died once and again, he now sought only a peaceful life, hoping to survive to adulthood—then, he would make his change.

Years passed swiftly; three years went by, and Qing grew stronger, while the humans still found no peace.

Gu was now the longest-lived host of the Barbarian God Hammer.

Many worried over this, but it didn’t affect one particular matter.

This matter concerned Qing.

The Ghost Immortal Yang quietly emerged from seclusion, unknown to all, left Boyang City and headed straight for the western wilderness.

He carried the Purple Ying Sword westward, cutting into the wilds, slaughtering demons, barbarians, and giant beasts, stirring a thousand storms in the wilderness.

His methods were fierce; no demon could stop him. Even the proto-humans who tried to bar his way were cut in two with a single stroke.

Qing’s Pi beast tribe was directly on Yang’s path.

And so, he arrived.

After a month of slaughter, news of him spread throughout the wilderness. The great demons, at the barbarians’ urging, gathered in the Pi beast settlement to block Yang, hoping to turn the place into his grave.

But Yang cared nothing for how many demons gathered to trap him; he was delighted—so many demons to sacrifice to his sword, no need to hunt them in the wild.

The wilderness was not all desert and grassland; there were rugged mountains and ancient forests. The Pi beast tribe dwelled in a lush, scenic area, occupied only because their chieftain possessed power rivaling a human sun deity.

Yang passed through without pause, not even stopping to admire the scenery. He unleashed a single sword strike, sending out hundreds of thousands of sword energies.

With that strike, he drew out all the lurking great demons from the mountains.

“Twenty-six,” Yang said coldly, uttering a chilling number.

The deeper he ventured into the wilderness, the more alarmed he became. Humans now clung to a small corner, while the wilderness stretched vast and boundless, teeming with countless hidden demons. He hadn’t expected so many great demons.

Great demons were masters among the demons, equal to human sun deities. The humans now had at least fifty sun deities, and Yang himself was among the top experts, yet these great demons were likely only a small fraction of the demons concealed in the wilds.

“Quite a number,” Yang said, a trace of resolute determination on his hard face.

With those words, his sword moved.

Sword energy crisscrossed like a net, demon aura surged like a mountain range. Both sides fought ferociously, blood and flesh flying across the battlefield.

The battle lasted a full day.

In the end, twenty-six great demons perished, and Qing died along with his Pi beast tribe.