The Third Year After the Immortal Venerable’s Death - Chapter 1

Demon Realm, Fuyu Mountain.

The Black Sun, hanging high in the zenith, spat tongues of flame, igniting the drifting clouds in the sky. The clouds were scorched charcoal-black, trailing long tails as they plummeted into the great river below like black meteors. On the river, the Holy Fire that powered the Demon Realm flickered unstably.

At the summit of the mountain, hidden amidst dense forests, a pool of blood-colored warm water steamed, weaving heat like a curtain. Behind layers of blood mist, Wu Youqi lay sprawled in the water, the ripples swaying and nestling against his full, muscular chest. This square pool was too shallow and narrow for him; unable to fit his long legs, he simply let them extend past the edge, resting them carelessly on the blue stone.

Wu Youqi leaned against the pool wall, eyes closed, seemingly dozing. However, his hand hanging outside the pool was clenched into a fist, the veins on his neck bulging, his lips pressed thin, and his brows tightly furrowed. Accompanied by the gurgling water, wisps of black energy emerged from his body, eventually condensing into a thick, dark cloud that hovered over the blood pool.

There was no wind in the mountains, yet that dark cloud was dragged by an invisible force, slowly floating toward the Mohaluo Spring. The spring gushed forth like a greedy, starved beast; a pillar of water suddenly shot into the sky, swallowing the dark cloud whole. As the black cloud dissipated, the great river connected to the Mohaluo Spring began to bubble and steam, and the dim Holy Fire on the river brightened instantly. At the same time, the Black Sun in the heavens finally stopped self-combusting, withdrawing its flames and radiating bursts of golden light.

The golden sunlight filtered through the dark forest, spilling onto Wu Youqi’s face through the gaps in the leaves. He unclenched his fist, letting out a soft sigh of relief in his heart.

Just as he was about to relax his features, he heard hurried footsteps approaching from the cloud bridge, the sound causing the iron chains on either side to rattle.

“Report—!” “Your Majesty, the Gu family from Liuren City has… has broken in again!”

The demon soldier ran to the side of the square pool, prostrating himself and panting to steady his breath before continuing: “Just like before, they’ve brought heavy gifts and are clamoring to see you.”

Liuren City is a major cultivation sect in the human realm, comprised of six or seven families including the Gu, Shen, Ye, Jiang, Bai, and Chu families. Unlike other sects, their City Lord is replaced every hundred years; whoever wins the great competition in the city may lead their clan into the Inner City. The difference between the Inner and Outer Cities is as vast as heaven and earth: the Inner City has spiritual veins and endless spiritual stones, while the cultivators in the Outer City must not only support the families in the Inner City but also compete with cultivators from all over the world for resources.

“Tsk.” Wu Youqi opened his eyes and casually brushed the damp, curly hair from his forehead.

The demon soldier shivered, burying his head lower. “Your Majesty, please contain your anger. It is our incompetence.”

Wu Youqi chuckled, “You are indeed quite incompetent.”

He rose from the pool, grabbing a bath towel to wipe the red water stains from his body. “The previous two times, you always had many excuses. Counting this time…” He refused the attendants who rushed over to serve him and took an ink-colored undergarment to drape over his shoulders. “Three strikes and you’re out. Tell me, what happened this time?”

“Returning to… your words, the Gu family has broken into the Demon Realm time and again, so they have some understanding of our military layout.” “Cultivators are incredibly cunning. This time, they took advantage of the General’s departure to the North Yu Realm to suppress a rebellion. They found the perfect timing and suddenly broke in from a well. The guards there were caught off guard, which allowed them to…”

“Oh? So, are you implying there is a traitor in the military, colluding with the cultivation world—so that the Gu family could know of our General’s movements in advance, and thus sneak in?”

The demon soldier gulped, eyes wide, finally realizing he had spoken out of turn. He hurriedly kowtowed to the ground. “This subordinate would not dare!”

Wu Youqi gave him an indifferent look, tied his inner sash, and put on his outer robe. “Forget it, send them away as you usually do.”

The reason the Gu family kept coming to the Demon Realm was simple: they were begging him to save their Young Master. It was said that this person was gifted and promising, capable of winning the upcoming Liuren City competition and leading the Gu family into the Inner City. However, he had been infected with the “Dark Surge” (闇湧) and was on the brink of death. Only then did the Gu family remember Wu Youqi, leading them to break into the Demon Palace time and again to seek an audience.

“But…”

“If you cannot handle a small family from the cultivation world with all your combined strength, you need not serve in the palace any longer. Request a transfer to guard the border yourselves.”

The demon soldier licked his lips and could only clumsily accept the order.

“In the future, handle such matters yourselves. Do not bother me with these trivialities; Sanzhi is not there just for show.”

Besides, the Dark Surge… Ever since that person blew up his own spiritual core three years ago, it stood to reason that there should be no Dark Surge left in the world. The Gu family’s claims were hard to verify, and he did not want to deal with it.

After speaking, Wu Youqi stepped forward to leave, but after only one step, he felt a strange wind sweeping up from the foot of the mountain. Along with the wind, a loud voice echoed over the mountains:

“Demon Lord!” “The Gu family of Liuren City requests an audience! We implore you to grant us a meeting!”

The speaker was a middle-aged man, pouring his spiritual power into the transmission, which covered the entire Fuyu Mountain and set the leaves by the square pool rustling. The Demon Realm was full of demonic energy, especially Fuyu Mountain, which was the center of the realm and the location of the Holy Fire. If a cultivator with insufficient cultivation stumbled in, it wouldn’t just be suppression of their cultivation; their spiritual power would be drained, and their Dao heart could shatter, leading them to fall into demonic possession.

Watching several green leaves slowly drift into the blood pool, Wu Youqi raised an eyebrow, offering no response.

“Mr. Wu!” The transmission changed its address. “The Gu family is not a clan that causes trouble without cause. Breaking into the palace is not our wish; we are truly forced and have nowhere else to turn, so we have come to pay a visit!” “If our Young Master can be saved by your hand, the Gu family is willing to pay any price and agree to any of your conditions! We beg you to have mercy and save him!”

Fuyu Mountain was not only the center of the Demon Realm but also its highest peak. The square pool was at the summit, thousands of feet away from the palace complex at the mountainside. To transmit his voice like this, he was certainly damaging his own spiritual power.

Wu Youqi shook his head with a sneer, spread his palms to form a seal, and gathered demonic energy. Several ice lotuses appeared at his fingertips, and he was about to cast a silence-sealing restriction. The Gu family head at the foot of the mountain seemed to sense this, suddenly roaring with rage, shouting a name:

“Immortal Venerable Qing Yi!”

Wu Youqi’s feet faltered.

That shout was infused with his full spiritual power. It was the Gu family head’s final trump card, cast without considering the consequences. If he were to strike now, the man would surely die or be crippled, even suffering from a shattered spiritual core—a perfect opportunity to eliminate a future threat.

But Wu Youqi stood as if petrified, motionless.

“Mr. Wu, do you not want to take your revenge?”

Revenge?

Wu Youqi narrowed his eyes, a dark moon-shaped mark suddenly bursting onto his forehead, and his figure vanished instantly from the edge of the pool.

The maids and demon soldiers following him struggled to keep up, forced to stumble by the crushing pressure radiating from him. The cloud bridge connecting the square pool to the palace was shattered instantly. The maids looked down at the bottomless abyss beneath their feet with lingering fear, feeling that the Gu family head deserved to die—the master hated the two words “Qing Yi” more than anything in his life, yet the man had dared to touch this reverse scale.

Blood Flame Flowing Cloud Palace, the residence of generations of Demon Lords.

It was a magnificent palace with black walls, golden tiles, and cinnabar pillars. In the open area in front of the main hall, there was a large plaza decorated with a map of the thirty-six realms of the Demon Realm. At this moment, the plaza was packed with alert demon soldiers, surrounding a group of cultivators.

The cultivators were protected by spiritual light; though dressed in silk and satin, they were haggard and miserable, each bearing wounds. The leader was a man with white hair and a youthful face, holding a black sword that flashed with golden light, though the tip of the sword was pointed downward, used as a cane to support his frame. Behind him, more than twenty people some with low spiritual power had already fainted, leaving the other cultivators to form seals to protect them as they sat around a sedan chair they had brought. Around the sedan were many large wooden chests, from which spiritual light flickered, likely containing rare treasures of the world.

After waiting for a long time, the Gu family head received no reply. He coughed violently, his eyes red with unwillingness as he looked up:

“Mr. Wu! Three years ago, Immortal Venerable Qing Yi blew up his spiritual core to seal the Dark Source, and his passing left you with no path for revenge. Do you not resent… Ah, ugh!!”

He could not finish his sentence; a pale, slender hand had clamped onto his throat with such force that even the nearby Gu family members could hear the crackling of his throat bones.

“Family Head!” “Old Master!”

They struggled to rise, wanting to approach, but the pressure from Wu Youqi with his scattered ink-black hair and robes was too great. As soon as they got close, their legs began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Please have mercy! Please have mercy! The Family Head did not mean to offend you!”

Wu Youqi acted as if he hadn’t heard them. His fingers slowly tightened, gripping the old man’s jawbone and lifting him like a chicken. He watched as the family head turned purple in front of him, his feet kicking like a dying beast awaiting slaughter.

“Who gave you the gall to mention him in front of me?”

The Gu family head’s face flushed red, his mouth opening as if to explain something, but his constricted throat could only emit a hissing sound. He grabbed Wu Youqi’s arm with both hands, channeling spiritual power to try to break free, but the force of his blows was like mud cows entering the sea. The fear of suffocation and impending death made him struggle incessantly, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, his mouth gradually covered in saliva.

The Gu family members kneeling on the ground were all pale with fright; even their kowtowing stopped, and they stared in horror. Watching the family head’s struggle weaken and his eyes roll back, finally revealing the whites, one member of the Gu family stumbled to his feet, his gaze firming.

This small movement did not escape Wu Youqi’s notice. But he hadn’t even cared about the family head, who had the highest cultivation in the Gu family, let alone these small fry. Yet, after rising, the man did not draw his sword as Wu Youqi expected; instead, he ran desperately toward the sedan chair they had been protecting:

“Demon Lord! Turn around and look! Who is this!”

Oh, a final trick? Was this some great power of the cultivation world they had prepared to cause him trouble?

Wu Youqi turned his head with interest, only to see a young man inside the sedan chair dressed in a cyan-green Daoist robe.

His ink-black hair was half-loose, his head adorned with a lotus crown. His phoenix eyes were closed, his long, curled eyelashes resting against his lower lids. The light and shadow in the sedan passed over his high-bridged nose, casting a virtual shadow on his fair face, his thin lips curved like a crescent moon.

Except for the absence of the dark red tear mole on his left cheek, he looked exactly like his Master the one who blew up his spiritual core to seal the Dark Source and protect the common people, but who had been the only one to treat him with cruelty:

Immortal Venerable Qing Yi.