Crimson fire blazed fiercely across the fields, the heaps of straw crackling and popping within the flames. Beneath the pitch-black night burned blood-red fire; the deserted village was terrifyingly still, dark blood flowing quietly across the ground.
At its center stood a pitch-black stone altar, carved all over with dark-red incantations. Kneeling upon it were numerous men and women, all clad in Daoist robes, their throats pierced through by sharp magical artifacts as they slumped across the sacrificial platform.
Gusts of eerie, yin wind wailed and whined. Around the perimeter, nine piles of bones and corpses were arranged in neat order, some large, some small, mostly shattered into fragments. Seated cross-legged in the middle was a black-robed cultivator, his eyes closed in concentration.
Suddenly, this man opened his eyes, magical light swirling within them. With slightly brownish skin and loose, unkempt hair, he was actually a Shanyue tribesman. Rising to his feet and humming a tune, he picked up the ink-black gourd in his hand, glanced at the moonlight, and murmured softly:
"The moon reaches its zenith, yin qi at its peak. Excellent."
With that, he gently raised the ink-black gourd. The multitude of talismans carved across its surface lit up one by one with blood-red radiance. Giving it a gentle shake, he channeled the magical power in his hands and called out:
"Collect!"
From the surrounding piles of bones and corpses immediately rose plumes of black qi and streams of blood qi. Emitting piercing, mournful shrieks, they intertwined in the air like wisps of silk, darting toward the sacrificial altar like homing swallows before plunging into the tiny mouth of the gourd.
"Good, very good."
The black-robed cultivator waited for half an hour before the resentment and blood qi were finally drawn in full. The surrounding bones and remains shriveled and withered away, letting out crisp cracking sounds. As the blood light upon the gourd grew brighter and brighter, he finally lowered his hands in satisfaction:
"Over three thousand people, six Embryonic Breathing and Qi Refinement cultivators... goods of this quality should satisfy the Sect Master!"
The black-robed cultivator smiled with satisfaction. Glancing down at the ground, he pondered for a moment, then formed a hand seal. The blood on the ground suddenly came alive, swiftly coalescing into several large characters:
"The killer is Jiang Yan."
He examined his handiwork closely, forcing a chuckle from his throat. His black robe fluttered without wind as he clicked his tongue in admiration:
"The Sect Master's scheme is truly seamless!"
Just as the cultivator was marveling to himself, an eerie voice suddenly emerged from beside him:
"It truly is a fine scheme!"
"Who's there?!"
Snapping his head up, he saw the face of a youth appear beside him. With a faint, mocking smile and vermilion lips, the boy stared straight at him, laughing:
"Chi Zhiyun certainly made a fine calculation. Your Qingchi Sect collects the resentment and blood qi, while I, Jiang Yan, take the blame?"
"Jiang Yan!"
Scared out of his wits, the man blurted out in horror:
"Y-You... aren't you in Linghai Commandery?!"
Realizing the danger at once, magical light flowed through his eyes and blood qi erupted around him. Riding the wind, he turned on his heel to flee.
"No wonder so many demonic cultivators have suddenly appeared everywhere—turns out your Qingchi Demonic Sect is playing the thief while keeping watch!"
Jiang Yan sneered and made a pulling gesture with his hand. The man had just stepped into the air when he came crashing down with a thud. Yet, being a Foundation Establishment cultivator after all, he stamped hard against the ground and reached for the long whip at his waist.
Forming an incantation with his left hand, Jiang Yan pointed with his right. The man's robes warped and twisted, and the long whip at his waist stiffened. The talismans along the whip morphed into scales that bristled ferociously. The entire whip sprang to life, transforming into an ugly, pitch-black serpent that flicked its tongue and snapped at his hand.
"What kind of spell is this?!"
Utterly terrified, the man quickly formed a hand seal and struck the black serpent away with a palm strike. Before he could react, the nine surrounding piles of bones agitated violently, linking together into an enormous skeletal hand that reached out to grasp him from above.
"A Foundation Establishment cultivator, yet still using a Qi Refinement magical artifact!"
Jiang Yan sneered in mockery. Gathering a blood-red spell, the black-robed cultivator blasted a gaping hole through the giant skeletal hand in two strikes. Leaping upward through the rain of tumbling bones, he hurled himself directly toward Jiang Yan's face.
The youth looked up and exhaled a deep cloud of black mist to intercept the black-robed cultivator's spell, yet he still found the leisure to ask with a smile:
"Master, what immortal foundation does this man possess?"
From within the black mist slithered that ferocious black serpent. Flicking its tongue, it spoke in an aged, weathered voice:
"'Drinking the People's Blood'... He was likely once one of Duanmu Kui's men from Mount Wu who defected to the Qingchi Sect."
Seeing Jiang Yan address the black serpent transformed from the magical artifact as Master, the black-robed cultivator felt his heart turn to ice. He muttered in disbelief:
"Jiang... Jiang Boqing... How is this possible?! You weren't taken by the people of the Underworld... How can this be?!"
The black serpent chuckled darkly. The flesh and bones all around swirled like a whirlwind, suddenly surging forth and sprouting small hands that reached for the black-robed cultivator's face. The black serpent hissed with laughter:
"I never cultivated the Purple Palace or Golden Core in the first place, and my name was never on the register. What could they possibly use to catch me?!"
The black-robed cultivator could no longer speak. As Jiang Yan chanted incantations below, the onslaught of flesh and bone grew ever more ferocious, battering him into a pathetic state. Yet he still inwardly rejoiced:
'Fortunately, I collected the blood qi and resentment beforehand. Otherwise, this spell would likely be far more formidable!'
Looking up once more, he saw that the black serpent had vanished. The black-robed cultivator's heart skipped a beat. Extending his spiritual sense in all directions, he called out deferentially:
"Lord Jiang, our lineages are closely aligned, both stemming from the arts of immortal talismans and incantations... I have long admired you..."
Even as he spoke words of pleading, a sinister voice sounded right beside his ear:
"Where is *Replies to the Beggar Under the Mulberry Tree*?!"
"I... I do not know!"
Upon hearing the name of this secret scripture, *Replies to the Beggar Under the Mulberry Tree*, the terror on the black-robed cultivator's face seemed ready to spill over. Trembling all over, he stammered:
"Not only the Purple Palace masters of the Three Sects and Seven Gates... even Lushui..."
"Silence!"
The black serpent's scales flared, its round eyes glaring wide as it snarled, "You dare speak it aloud? Have you lost your mind? This isn't Duanmu Kui's Mount Wu... You dare speak That Person's name within the territory of the Qingchi Demonic Sect?!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
The black-robed cultivator stammered in compliance and continued:
"Even... even the True Sovereign personally visited Mount Wu, and it truly was not there! If there is a single false word in what I say, let me be struck by five bolts of thunder and denied reincarnation forever!"
"Hahahahaha... You are clever indeed."
The serpent's voice carried a raspy hiss as it mocked sinisterly, "In this day and age, what use is an oath? Since the True Sovereigns all went in person, could they not deduce it through fate, or search and seize his soul?"
Channelling his immortal foundation, the black-robed cultivator desperately held out against the assault of the bones, his eyes bloodshot, each vein standing out in stark relief. He stammered:
"Senior, please do not test me... Duanmu Kui met an immortal, leaving his fate completely tangled and chaotic. Even if there were an angle to grasp, who would dare divine it? Immortal grace is as vast as the sea, and immortal might as grim as a prison—not even a True Sovereign would dare test it!
"As for searching and seizing his soul... Duanmu Kui failed his breakthrough and transformed into a Huaiyin Ghost! Where could anyone possibly go to search his soul?!"
The black serpent fell silent, its voice laden with unwillingness as it hissed:
"You cultivated on Mount Wu for many years. Did you ever see that secret method?"
"Never, not once..."
The black serpent said no more. The black-robed cultivator thought, *Disaster!* He knew that Jiang Boqing was intent on killing him, yet trapped by Jiang Yan's bone spell, he could not break free. Gritting his teeth, he barked:
"I pray to the Exalted Xuanming True Talisman: Here are evil ghosts and wicked heretics, who disorder the law with flesh and blood and obstruct my path... Respectfully I invite the Xuanming True Law—"
Before his shamanic incantation could finish, the black serpent burst into raucous laughter and struck like lightning, sinking its fangs toward his neck, its voice echoing in the air:
"Where would you go to invite it?!"
Chapter 288