Chapter 112: Continuing Forward

Every disciple from the Three Pure Mountains fighting these demonic cultivators shared the same feeling: these people were far too skilled in combat!

Although they were only at the first or second level of cultivation, their techniques were devious and their magic power remarkably deep. Moreover, they were unnervingly cautious; their flying swords could attack and defend with equal proficiency, and they frequently supported one another’s blades.

By comparison, the disciples of the Three Pure Mountains were fighting as individuals. If not for the fact that the demons relied almost exclusively on blood-light and flying swords while they themselves possessed a vast array of mystical techniques, they would have found the battle even more grueling.

However, if He Si had known what these disciples were thinking, he would have laughed out loud.

The righteous path truly sought immortality and the attainment of a position among the immortals. But what were his own people doing? Practicing the demonic arts! They sought only slaughter and the means to survive another day!

He Si mused on his own age—twenty-five? Twenty-eight? He couldn't quite remember. Yet, he looked fifty years old!

How many years of lifespan did these righteous disciples have? Eighty years? A hundred? Perhaps two hundred?

And how much time did he have left? At most, twenty years! The extension of life gained from breaking through realms could not even compensate for the exhaustion caused by burning his own essence and blood to refine his techniques.

How many of these righteous ones would ever reach the third level? He Si did not know. But he remembered his master saying that among the group they had sent into the subterranean caves, even one or two reaching the third level would be a pleasant surprise.

His master had said that the first generation was destined to be like this. Once the Blood God Sect secured its footing, the future disciples would not have to suffer so miserably. But He Si felt he would never live to see the day the sect flourished.

When these righteous disciples were drinking wine at banquets, he was struggling for his life in the caves; when they were refining pills and weapons, he was still struggling for his life in the caves; when they were wandering through mountains and rivers, he was still struggling for his life in the caves.

He Si could not remember how many people had died in those caves, but the bones and blood of the deceased were divided among the survivors and refined into "Bone-Blood Pills."

With his two-hundred-year lifespan compressed into these few decades, why should he lose to them when they were all under the third level?

He Si stared behind the mountain rocks. Wang Er had been with him the longest; he would surely cut off that man’s head to honor their fallen brother.

Someone emerged from behind the rocks.

Everyone’s expression shifted, whether in shock or joy.

Cheng Xinzhan walked out, safe and sound.

The disciples of the Three Pure Mountains breathed a sigh of relief.

In contrast, all the demonic cultivators were filled with disbelief. They had all seen the wound on Cheng Xinzhan's shoulder; why was he unaffected by the baleful light?

After appearing, Cheng Xinzhan scanned the battlefield. The leader, He Si, was pinning down Xiao Miaoyu and Yu Miaoyin, while a one-armed demon was holding off Zhu Jianrong and Xu Jishen single-handedly. The rest were engaged in smaller skirmishes: Zeng Jinian was protecting Zhu Jianmo while fighting two opponents, and Huang Miaoluo and Sun Miaoshu were each matched against one foe.

He quickly assessed the situation. Although He Si was holding off two opponents, it was only because his frenzied style had caught them off guard. Both of them were talented elites and were already adapting; they were not at a disadvantage and would soon turn the tide. The one-armed demon’s sword was fierce, but he was only barely holding his own against two opponents who were not particularly skilled at direct combat. Huang Miaoluo and Sun Miaoshu had already turned their defensive posture into an offensive one. Zhu Jianmo was injured, but Zeng Jinian was holding firm against two.

Seeing the situation clearly, Cheng Xinzhan immediately joined the fray to assist Zeng Jinian.

As soon as he arrived, he took on one of the demons. Zeng Jinian was immediately freed to focus on his remaining opponent. As a direct disciple of the Throwing Sword Mountain, Zeng Jinian had no reason to fear a member of the demonic sect when it came to a pure duel of swordsmanship.

Cheng Xinzhan faced the opponent who had been targeting Zhu Jianmo—a first-level demonic cultivator. Upon seeing Cheng Xinzhan approach, the demon panicked—after all, Cheng had already killed two of their own.

Filled with rage, Cheng Xinzhan unleashed sixty-nine fire talismans, then opened his mouth to exhale. The Sun-Fire essence stored within his heart surged up through the twelve-story tower of his meridians and poured outward.

Using the fire talismans as the skeleton and the Sun-Fire as the flesh, a thirty-foot-long fire dragon manifested before him in an instant. The Sun-Fire in his heart had become imbued with dragon might, and the resulting construct was lifelike, with clear horns and eyes burning with fury.

He quickly formed several hand seals and chanted:

"Sun-Fire essence, take the shape of a southern dragon, go!"

"Roar!"

The fire dragon let out a long cry and lunged at the demon.

The dragon’s might was like a mountain and an ocean. The demon, who had spent his life practicing in the underground, had never seen such divine power. Overwhelmed by the dragon, he lost all will to fight and turned to flee.

The fire dragon’s movement was so significant that everyone noticed. Seeing the demon flee, He Si cursed loudly, "Fool!"

His flight shattered the coordinated formation they had used to compensate for their lack of numbers. With two already dead, losing another would leave them at a severe disadvantage.

No matter how fast the demon ran, he could not outpace the fire dragon. The dragon caught him and coiled around his body. The blood-light surrounding the demon was no ordinary barrier; it flared brilliantly, managing to briefly hold back the flames while he directed his flying sword to strike at Cheng Xinzhan.

Cheng Xinzhan ignored the incoming sword, changed his hand seals, and intensified his focus, chanting rapidly:

"Red Emperor Dragon King, lend your power to your descendant, heed my command, eradicate the demonic pestilence, respond!"

The sixty-nine talismans, inscribed with dragon seals, suddenly blazed with light. The formation tightened like a chain, crushing the blood-light and binding the demon.

"Aaaah!"

A shrill scream rang out. The flying sword aiming for Cheng Xinzhan fell from the sky.

The raging Sun-Fire engulfed the demon. Each talisman glowed red, pressing into the demon's body like a branding iron.

Thick white smoke rose, and the demon’s screams gradually faded.

By now, the others had adapted to the Blood God Sect’s tactics and were gaining the upper hand.

"Xinzhan, here!" Sun Miaoshu called out.

Cheng Xinzhan steered the fire dragon over. The demon, released by the dragon, was long dead, his body covered in talismanic brands, falling to the ground as a charred lump.

Sun Miaoshu’s opponent was a second-level cultivator, but he was shaken by the gruesome death of his companion. Seeing the fire dragon approach, he refused to engage; after forcing Sun Miaoshu back with a sword strike, he attempted to retreat.

Sun Miaoshu, however, would not allow it. He chanted:

"Void spirit, borrow the power of heaven and earth, capture!"

Cheng Xinzhan had first seen this "Capture Curse" used on Gouteng Street during his early days of energy absorption, but performed now by a true disciple from Purple Smoke Mountain who had mastered the Void Arts, it was a different matter entirely.

The fleeing demon found himself being dragged backward, as if being fed into the mouth of the fire dragon!

He screamed in despair, controlling his sword to strike the dragon. But the talisman formation was not as simple as he had imagined. When the sword pierced through, Cheng Xinzhan shifted his hand seals, and the formation dissipated, only to re-form and bind the demon once the blade had passed.

On the other side, Huang Miaoluo used a deft maneuver to knock a bone sword away, pinning it deep into the mountain rock. She stepped forward, closing the distance. The demon released a cloud of poisonous miasma from his blood-pouch to shroud her, but Huang Miaoluo had been waiting for this exact moment. She flipped her left hand, producing a teapot. A flash of spiritual light emerged from its spout, and the miasma was sucked inside. Catching the startled demon, she performed a divine step and thrust her sword like lightning, piercing his chest and twisting the blade to create a gaping hole.

Huang Miaoluo had cultivated sword energy, which was no less formidable than the demonic baleful light, and she instantly extinguished the demon's life.

Zeng Jinian had held the upper hand from the start; his swordsmanship was even sharper than his opponent's. Previously, he had been helping others, but now, in a one-on-one duel, he steadily reduced his opponent's room to maneuver until he forced the demon into a corner and decapitated him.

Zhu Jianrong was not adept at combat, but Xu Jishen grew stronger with every exchange. He used his divination skills to predict the trajectory of the flying swords, leading Zhu Jianrong to dodge in advance. As they grew more proficient, he began to counterattack. Aside from divination, he practiced the art of Falling Stars.

Xu Jishen scattered a handful of star sand into the high sky and infused it with magic power. The sand transformed into giant boulders suspended in the air.

"Purple Star Emperor, cast the stars, descend!"

The boulders fell one by one. The demon tried to dodge, but the rocks seemed to anticipate his movements, landing precisely where he intended to flee. The demon was forced to use his flying sword to strike the boulders, but they fell like rain. He could not destroy them in time and was smashed into the ground, then crushed into pulp.

Xiao Miaoyu and Yu Miaoyin were also beginning to exert their full strength. One flipped through a talisman book while the other struck a thunder bell. However, when He Si saw his companion abandon the formation out of fear of the fire dragon, he realized the battle was lost. He had been holding back his full strength, but seeing his opponents gaining the upper hand and his comrades being killed one by one, he used his flying sword to distract them and retreated from the battlefield. Seeing that all his fellow disciples were dead, he let out a mournful howl over the body of his younger brother and transformed into a streak of blood-light to escape.

"Do not pursue!" Xiao Miaoyu shouted.

They were on the enemy's mountain, after all; they knew nothing of potential traps.

The group understood and did not give chase, instead gathering together.

"How is Miaoyuan?" Xiao Miaoyu asked, looking toward Zhu Jianrong and Cheng Xinzhan.

Zhu Jianrong shook his head, saying nothing. Cheng Xinzhan remained silent as well.

"It is my fault," Xiao Miaoyu said.

He was filled with regret. The demon had feigned an attack on Yu Miaoyin to catch Wang Miaoyuan off guard. He had failed to see through the ruse, had not intercepted the sword, and had failed to give a warning. As the team leader, his poor judgment shamed him.

"It is time, and it is fate," Cheng Xinzhan repeated Wang Miaoyuan’s words. Looking back at the battle, they had actually held the advantage. It was only during the initial clash that they had been caught off guard, not expecting the demonic sect to possess such refined swordsmanship and high-quality weapons. Wang Miaoyuan had died in that brief window, struck by the baleful light before he had even opened his heart-portal; had he done so, there would have been a high chance of saving him.

"What now?" someone asked.

Xiao Miaoyu replied, "We must get Jianmo back to the main camp. Jinian, you make the trip. We will wait here for you. Tell the others who haven't left yet about the demons' tactics. We will wait for your return, then continue our reconnaissance."

"Xinzhan, what do you think?" Xiao Miaoyu asked after finishing his instructions.

Cheng Xinzhan’s performance had opened everyone’s eyes. If they hadn't known better, no one would have believed he was only at the first level of cultivation. His ability to adapt to the battlefield was faster than anyone else’s. No wonder the head of the sect took such an interest in him.

Cheng Xinzhan nodded; the arrangement was sensible.

Zeng Jinian took Zhu Jianmo down the mountain, while the others hid nearby to recover their magic and reflect on the battle, contemplating their own shortcomings.

Cheng Xinzhan personally burned the corpses of the demonic cultivators—since they practiced the Blood Demon path, he couldn't risk the possibility of a fake-death technique.

Once the bodies were reduced to ash, he collected the dropped bone swords and examined them carefully.

The bone swords were like jade, shimmering with baleful light. They were indeed good materials, but since they were crafted from others' bones, they were inconvenient to refine. He handed them all to Xiao Miaoyu to be counted as battle contributions to be settled after returning to the sect.

Huang Miaoluo did the same, using her teapot-like treasure to collect the blood-pouches.

Before long, the scout waiting at a high point called out, and Zeng Jinian and Feng Jihu returned.

Feng Jihu did not mention Wang Miaoyuan, so everyone knew that he was truly gone.

Zeng Jinian said, "After returning to the main camp, we learned that the losses across all groups have been significant. Our one injury and one death are actually the lightest losses. One seven-man team from Mount Wutai was completely wiped out.

"The leaders of each sect are in an uproar, investigating the background of the Blood God Sect. They believe the demons' secret treasures and flying swords demonstrate a highly advanced method of weapon refinement. Although bloody and filthy, it is not something an ordinary demonic sect could devise. Furthermore, their mastery of flying swords is not something typical demonic cultivators would touch. The elders suspect that a great master of the righteous path has defected to the demons."

Everyone was stunned by this. Even Cheng Xinzhan found it hard to believe: a righteous master defecting?

"Moreover, when it comes to flying swords, everyone first suspected Emei. But the strangest part is that given Emei’s temperament, if they had been slandered, they would have raised hell. Yet this time, while they denied it, their tone was weak. And in this campaign, Emei was the first to arrive, with a major figure like Daoist Jian presiding over it. The atmosphere in the camp is very strange."

Zeng Jinian brought back news that no one had expected.

The other piece of news directed their next move: "The mountain master said that as we ascend, we should move north. The pressure there is immense."

No one had any objections.

The group moved north. The mountain had no vegetation, only stone and snow, and the wind howled fiercely.

Because they had lost a comrade, no one was in high spirits. They remained silent, searching for traces of the demons. While their resolve to eradicate the demons had only hardened, the high-spirited excitement they had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet, grim determination.

Cheng Xinzhan felt this most deeply. On the southern frontier battlefield, he had mostly been an observer, watching the minor sects of the Miao border fight the demonic sects of the Southern Wasteland. He had spent far more time in the bustling Qilihe Market than on the front lines. Even on the front lines, it had been the lowest level of combat, where injuries were common but deaths were rare; the wounded would recover in ten days and be as good as new.

The greatest loss he had ever witnessed was his first foray into Rotten Peach Mountain.

But here, just after climbing the mountain, he had lost Brother Miaoyuan. They had drunk wine and admired the moon together; they had sat and discussed the Dao together; they had entered the Ming Imperial Mausoleum together and traveled to the White Jade Capital together. He had had a bright future, yet here, he had been struck down so easily by a demon.

This made him realize that slaying demons was not the beautiful, heroic tale that young wanderers bragged about; it was a brutal, life-or-death struggle.