Chapter Sixty-Four: The Demonic Cultivators Attack

“What’s going on?” Dugu Ling suddenly woke from unconsciousness. He sat up and looked around, realizing he was lying in an unfamiliar room.

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Dugu Ling, you’re awake? How are you feeling? Any better?”

Dugu Ling immediately turned toward the source of the voice—it was Ouyang Chi, who was approaching with a bowl in his hands.

“You should remain lying down and rest. This is a tonic soup; drink it before it gets cold,” Ouyang Chi said, setting the bowl down with a smile. He reached out to ruffle Dugu Ling’s hair, teasing, “First place in the Trial of Man, not bad at all.”

“What? First place? What happened? I can’t remember anything,” Dugu Ling said, rubbing his aching head.

“You don’t remember? Not surprising—you lost consciousness that day and collapsed, out cold for three days. Actually, it was quite an eventful day. Let me tell you what happened.” Ouyang Chi’s lips curled into a smile as he recalled the events, his voice drifting with the memory.

“That day, during the Trial of Man, for some reason, Master Hu didn’t gradually increase the pressure, but instead raised it drastically all at once. Many participants couldn’t adjust in time and sat down immediately. I think Master Hu wanted to filter out most people quickly and also instill in us the habit of being prepared at all times. Many people could have withstood greater pressure, but they assumed it would come slowly, so they were caught off guard.”

“After that, Master Hu kept increasing the pressure. Bo Junchen and I gritted our teeth and endured as long as we could, but the pressure finally became overwhelming. When we couldn’t hold on any longer, we both sat down, but fortunately, we made it into the top one hundred.”

“But you, you’re a real monster. Under such tremendous pressure, while I was already sitting and resting, you were still standing tall, your legs never buckling. You know how unbearable that pressure was for us.” Ouyang Chi looked at Dugu Ling with a hint of envy in his eyes.

“The trial went on. While I was resting, I saw more people give in one after another. In the end, only ten remained. That’s when I noticed you had actually cracked the marble floor beneath you. I wondered why only you experienced this.”

“Then, looking closer, I saw you still carried your two weapons on your back. Didn’t you realize that would increase the pressure you bore? Especially the heavy hammer—it was later said by the elders of the Hidden Spirit Pavilion that you endured a hundred times the pressure of the others.”

“I didn’t know,” Dugu Ling admitted, scratching his head sheepishly.

Ouyang Chi gave him a helpless look. “Of course you didn’t. I got up to tell you to remove your weapons, but by then you were barely conscious. No matter how I called out, you couldn’t hear me, and I couldn’t help you remove them either, or you’d lose your qualification for the exam.”

So that was it. Dugu Ling now understood why he’d vaguely felt Ouyang Chi shouting at him, though he couldn’t make out the words—it turned out he was being told to take off the weapons. How foolish of him not to realize it. He resolved to be more attentive in the future, lest ignorance cost him dearly again.

“But just then, something happened that you’d never expect,” Ouyang Chi said.

“What happened?” Dugu Ling asked, curiosity piqued. No wonder the pressure suddenly vanished before he sat down, even though he’d seen two others still standing. Something extraordinary must have interrupted the trial.

“What happened next was probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever witnessed, though it was dangerous. Watching such a spectacular duel was worth it. I’ve changed my mind—I don’t want to be just a minor city lord of Cold Moon City. I want to cultivate immortality and become a mighty cultivator myself,” Ouyang Chi vowed earnestly.

“That day, when you were about to collapse, only two others remained. Suddenly, a group of powerful demonic cultivators arrived at the Hidden Spirit Pavilion, shouting and provoking us. They called themselves the Blood Demon Hall from the northeast of the Hundred Beasts Mountains. It’s strange—though that place is a haven for demonic cultivators, they usually act alone. I’ve never heard of a Blood Demon Hall.”

“Blood Demon Hall?” Dugu Ling repeated inwardly, the name oddly familiar.

“You missed a spectacular scene when you fainted—what a regret,” Ouyang Chi said, his face alight with excitement.

“What happened? Tell me!” Dugu Ling urged eagerly.

“The Hidden Spirit Pavilion has stood for a thousand years for a reason. There’s a protective barrier enclosing the whole place, and the Pavilion would never allow these demonic cultivators to run rampant. The intruders must have known this, so they only provoked from outside, probably to make a show of force.”

“And then?” Dugu Ling pressed.

“Master Hu wasn’t about to let them go unchecked. He strode through the barrier alone, looking every bit the hero. The demonic cultivators, seeing him approach, fell silent and scattered. Then, an old man with a face full of red hair stepped forward from their ranks.”

“They spoke, but I was too far to hear. At first, Master Hu looked shocked, then the two started fighting. It was an earth-shattering duel! The red-haired old man summoned eighteen blood flags, raising a sea of blood thick with the stench of death. They say this blood sea can burn flesh and dissolve bone—touch it and you’re wounded, get trapped and you’re dead.”

“But Master Hu, worthy of his title ‘Sentimental Sword Sage,’ wielded his ‘Heartless Sword’ with such skill that the blood sea was rendered useless. Then, using some unknown technique, he shattered the blood sea with a single strike, broke through, and gravely wounded the old man. The demonic cultivators retreated, taking the red-haired elder with them.”

Dugu Ling listened intently, picturing the ferocity of the battle from Ouyang Chi’s brief account. “And after that? Did Master Hu not pursue them? What about our exam?”

“For some reason, Master Hu didn’t give chase, though he could have. He just reassured us that the entrance ceremony would proceed as normal, then left in haste.”

“Is that so?” Dugu Ling mused. Something significant must have happened, for Master Hu to be so shocked and to let the demonic cultivators go. Why did they choose the entrance ceremony to provoke the Pavilion? Why didn’t Master Hu pursue them? Strange. But what did it matter to him?

“Then, one of the Pavilion’s elders announced that the last thousand people to sit down had passed the Trial of Man.” Ouyang Chi lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Although you three were the last standing, those two weapons you bore gave you an edge. After you passed out, I couldn’t lift your black iron hammer—neither could the ordinary disciples. Only one of the Pavilion’s elders could lift it, and you should have seen his face when he did! The Pavilion never announced it, but all the new students know you’re the real champion of the trial.” He gestured toward Dugu Ling’s weapons in the corner.

“You’re famous among the new students now. You even have a nickname—the ‘King of Strength.’ Fitting, considering your monstrous power.”

“Because of what happened, the Pavilion postponed the earth trial. Those eliminated were safely sent back to their homelands in groups, while the rest remained. You slept for three days straight. Rest well—three days from now, the earth trial begins. I’ll leave you to it; I need to check on Bo Junchen—he’s still recovering. Honestly, you’re a freak. After such serious internal injuries, you woke in only three days. The Pavilion thought you’d need a week.” With that, Ouyang Chi, seeing that Dugu Ling was all right, turned and left.

After Ouyang Chi departed, Dugu Ling closed the door, sat on his bed, and took out the High Immortal Relic from his Void Ring. Staring at the relic, which Brother Yuan Tianci had exchanged his life for, Dugu Ling’s heart ached with grief and regret—anger at Tumen Fu, and remorse for his own lack of strength. He called into the Void Ring, “Cangcang, come out. Tell me how to use this. I want to get stronger as soon as possible.”

Cangcang slowly emerged from the ring, her attitude indifferent as ever. “Why?” she asked, clearly disinclined to help him grow stronger.

It was hard to blame her—she disliked her master, and the more Dugu Ling advanced, the harder it would be for her to escape his control.

Dugu Ling gazed at her, and suddenly the room seemed to grow quiet and oppressive. He said softly, “Because at the Trial of Man, I saw many people, even Ouyang Chi and Bo Junchen, able to manipulate the pure energies of heaven and earth. Though I can’t, I can feel it—they’re not true cultivators yet, but at least they’re quasi-cultivators. I know nothing. I want to become strong, to place in the top ten of the earth trial, to enter the inner court—and only then can I truly avenge Brother Yuan.” Tears shimmered in his eyes as he spoke.

Cangcang was silent, her thoughts unreadable. Then she opened her mouth. “You’re not a cultivator yet, not even a quasi-cultivator, and so you can’t manipulate the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. That means you can’t unlock the later pages of the Chaos Codex. As you know, though it’s the greatest treasure in the world, without sufficient strength, some pages remain sealed.”

Cangcang floated up before Dugu Ling. Although she looked like a mere girl, her form was perfectly proportioned. Dugu Ling, facing her at such close range for the first time, blushed deeply. Cangcang, seeing his red face, snorted with laughter. “Idiot.”

She reached out her ivory-white arm to her left chest. Dugu Ling, not knowing what she intended, watched as she drew a drop of fresh blood from her heart—her heart’s blood. She smeared it on Dugu Ling’s forehead, where it slowly seeped into his skin and vanished.

“Though unlocking the Chaos Codex’s latter pages requires power, with my heart’s blood you can access it without restriction. In the final pages, there’s a technique for devouring relics. I need to sleep for a while now—you won’t see me for some time. Take care of yourself.” With a complex look, Cangcang vanished, returning to the Void Ring.

As soon as she returned, her face went ashen and she fell into a deep sleep, waves of colored light radiating from her. She had paid a steep price to help Dugu Ling, but why she changed her mind, no one knew.

Outside the Void Ring, Dugu Ling took out the Chaos Codex. As expected, he could now flip through it freely. He turned to one of the final pages, where four bold characters read: “Great Absorption Technique.”

...

Meanwhile, inside a secret space within a mountain behind the Hidden Spirit Pavilion, Master Hu was kneeling before an old man with silver-white beard and immortal air who sat cross-legged, looking as if he were asleep, a horsetail whisk in hand.

Suddenly, the old man opened his eyes, a sharp gleam shooting forth as he stared at Master Hu. “Rui Ming, what’s so urgent you would rouse me from meditation?”

So Master Hu’s name was Hu Rui Ming. “Ancestor, this matter is of great importance—otherwise I wouldn’t have come to you.”

Ancestor? Wasn’t the Pavilion’s founder said to be dead? How could he still be alive?

“Oh? There are things you can’t handle now? Don’t tell me the three old monsters from the Three Immortals Sect are causing trouble. But they know I’m alive—they wouldn’t dare act rashly.” As he spoke, the ancestor glanced toward the heart of the Hundred Beasts Mountains where the Three Immortals Sect lay, his expression unreadable.

“It’s not them. Over the years, the Three Immortals Sect has vied with us in secret, but outwardly we remain allies. The trouble is, in the northeast of the Hundred Beasts Mountains, the scattered demonic cultivators have united to form a sect called the Blood Demon Hall. They actually came to provoke us during the entrance ceremony.”

“What?” For the first time, the ancestor’s stoic face changed.

“You know the northeast is a haven for demonic cultivators. No one knows their true numbers, but generally they act alone. This time, someone has managed to unite them into a sect. Conservative estimates put their numbers at fifty thousand.” Master Hu’s voice trembled—that number was greater than the combined disciples of the three great sects.

“Could it be the reclusive old demon lords?” the ancestor asked, anxiety in his tone.

“No,” said Master Hu.

The ancestor sighed in relief. Those old devils weren’t present—no matter how many lesser ones there were, they posed no real threat.

“But those old demon lords are said to have joined this sect,” Master Hu added, word by word.

“What!” The ancestor paled with shock. “What did they say?”

“They said only this: ‘The Demon Son is born; the Three Realms shall bleed; Heaven and Earth shall shatter; the Nine Heavens shall fall. All demonic cultivators will follow the Demon Son to glory.’”

“What?” The ancestor’s eyes widened in disbelief.