Chapter 26: The Demonic Cultivator—Former Grandmaster of the Pre-True-Refinement Era

Cliff Valley Mountain lay seventy miles outside the marketplace, one of the few towering peaks in the vicinity, rising over a thousand zhang high. The auction was most likely arranged here to escape the influence of the families and sects within the market.

With the help of the Swift Talisman and Spirit Sense Talisman, Shen Lian soon reached a spot ten miles from Cliff Valley Mountain, slipped into a wild stretch of hills, and activated a Concealment Talisman. This top-grade first-rank talisman could mask a cultivator’s aura according to the surroundings and greatly reduce the chance of being detected.

Of course, once the talisman was activated, he couldn’t move at all—one had to stay as still as a tortoise.

Concealed in the shadow of a massive boulder, Shen Lian surveyed his surroundings, quietly sensing whether any spiritual awareness fell upon him.

After a quarter of an hour, all was still and undisturbed.

It seemed no one had followed him, or any pursuers had been left behind.

The Swift Talisman had proven its worth.

With a De-Miasma Pill between his lips, Shen Lian moved cautiously along the mountain’s contours, observing the land around him.

In the wilderness, mountains abounded.

A glance revealed thick, rolling miasma, with many towering peaks lost in its choking embrace. Cliff Valley Mountain rose among them, a crane among chickens.

Having located his destination, Shen Lian circled the undulating hills around Cliff Valley Mountain twice, finally selecting two particularly perilous spots.

He first entered a valley with a bend at its heart, a passage running north to south for more than three miles—southward, it led to the mountain; north, to Yunmeng Market.

Shen Lian plunged into the valley.

After half an hour, he emerged, slipping through the forest for several miles before entering a dense stand of ancient trees shrouded in miasma.

...

At the same time, in another dense forest beyond Cliff Valley Mountain—

A hidden cave mouth, masked by rotting vegetation, led into a darkening tunnel that widened as it wound ever deeper. Several turns in, a ghostly red glow shimmered in the gloom.

Delicate threads of this red light merged with the stone walls, not glaring but oddly harmonious amid the darkness. Occasionally, the spectral glow flickered, betraying the workings of an array.

Within the formation, the air was thick with the stench of blood.

Hiss, hiss—

A mottled demon-serpent lay coiled, body upright, tongue flickering. Its triangular eyes, suffused with crimson, reflected the figure cultivating at the center.

There, seated cross-legged in the heart of the array, was Yang Li, surrounded by the bones of fellow cultivators.

The fresh blood seeping from these corpses traced intricate runes, converging at the very spot where Yang Li sat.

Buzz—

The blood flowed into Yang Li’s body, which shuddered with each surge, flashes of scarlet flickering across his form.

His aura soared to its peak, and his body swelled larger than before.

Boom—

A violent surge erupted from Yang Li, and the blood from the corpses was drawn into him in a rush. His cultivation leapt from the sixth to the seventh layer of Qi Refinement.

After a long while, Yang Li opened his eyes, feeling the change within him, his face alight with excitement.

He had advanced to the late stage of Qi Refinement.

Once, that had seemed an unattainable realm.

“To think mere advancement in Qi Refinement could make you so giddy?”

Yang Li’s excitement was cut short by a cold voice, and he shuddered involuntarily.

“Ancestor.”

“All of this is your gift, Ancestor. The grace you have shown me cannot be repaid, not even with my life a thousand times over.”

He dropped to his knees with a thud before the demon-serpent, bowing his head to the ground.

The serpent’s gaze was icy as it watched in silence.

“Hurry up and suppress the stench of blood about you.”

“Yes, yes.”

Yang Li scrambled to his feet, circulating his cultivation technique to quell the demonic aura that had surged during his breakthrough.

After a long effort, his crimson pupils faded back to black and white, and the blood fiend’s aura was pressed down.

Yang Li bowed again, terror filling his heart anew.

After years together, he still knew little about the demon-serpent before him—only that it was once a human cultivator of the demonic path, who, after a failed soul transfer, became fused with the serpent’s body.

This demon cultivator styled himself the Ancestor of Alchemical Truth.

In the cultivation world, one who dared to call himself “Ancestor” was at least a false core cultivator.

With the dual nature of a demonic soul and a serpent’s body, the Ancestor’s temperament was wildly unpredictable; at the slightest provocation, he would inflict secret demonic arts upon Yang Li, leaving him in agony.

Yang Li dared not disobey.

“Ancestor, I have already suppressed the blood fiend aura. I can now seek new blood sacrifices for you.”

Over the years, the Ancestor’s requirements had risen—from cultivators at the middle stages of Qi Refinement to those at the late stage.

“Very well.”

The Ancestor nodded his serpent head.

Before he could speak further, Yang Li hurried to flatter him: “I understand. The Ancestor needs late-stage Qi Refinement cultivators skilled in fire arts.”

“Mm.”

Sensing the Ancestor transform into a streak of blood light and merge into his chest, Yang Li exhaled in relief.

The old monster was not easy to serve.

No one could know what he had endured over these years.

From hunting early-stage cultivators, to those in the middle stage—he had watched, one after another, as they were hollowed out, their organs devoured.

He never dared to ask why.

He never dared to speak of it.

He could only guess that the Ancestor was cultivating some forbidden demonic art, requiring the organs of cultivators of all five elements, from low to high stages. Now, the demand had reached the late stage of Qi Refinement.

Back in the market, when their power was weak, the Ancestor had been cautious, methodically eliminating all risk of exposure when hunting. But now that he needed late-stage organs, remaining in the city was no longer safe—those cultivators dwelled close to the law enforcement teams in the central areas.

Thus, they had begun to hunt in the wilds beyond the market.

Now that the Ancestor’s power had recovered to the ninth layer of Qi Refinement, and the initial danger had passed, he no longer needed to be so careful.

Yet late-stage cultivators were far fewer than their junior counterparts, and finding all five elemental types was even harder, slowing their hunt.

After restoring his energy, Yang Li emerged from the cave, carefully concealing the entrance once more.

“Cliff Valley Mountain.”

Murmuring to himself, Yang Li hurried toward the largest peak ahead.

He could only hope to find several suitable cultivators this time. The thought of the Ancestor’s punishments made him tremble as he ran.

...

Beneath Cliff Valley Mountain—

Shen Lian arrived at a brisk pace. At the foot of the mountain, he could see a sprawling cave, its entrance guarded by vigilant cultivators.

Everyone moved with heightened caution—the memory of the Miasma Cloud Mountain incident still fresh, its aftereffects lingering.

The auction was to be held within this cavern.

Since Shen Lian had yet to reach the late stage of Qi Refinement, he was stopped at the entrance, then led to another cave, where he was required to prove his status as a high-grade talisman master before being allowed entry.

All in all, the event felt quite high-end.

Inside, the cave opened into a vast chamber, with rows of stone chairs prepared on all four sides and a stone platform in the center.

Shen Lian found a seat toward the back, sitting as quietly as a stone himself.

Most other cultivators were heavily cloaked. A few, more indifferent, showed their faces openly.

Within a short time, with the Spirit Sense Talisman active, Shen Lian sensed several strands of spiritual awareness probing him.

His face was half-covered by a veil, a bamboo hat pulled low. Shen Lian’s eyes scanned the crowd from beneath the brim.

“Hmm...”

Soon, his gaze sharpened.

At the entrance, Yang Li strode swiftly inside.