‘I suppose that granting blessings with my shackled spark is still a bit too much for my mortal body to bear. Never mind, a ten-tailed white fox is worth the pain, and the rewards for this slaughter will make up for it all.’
Xinzi’s thoughts stopped here, and as the Soaring Crane mountain elders lay groggily under impending tribulation lightning, our monk cracked his neck, then swept the mountain disciples with his enhanced spiritual sense.
“Ladies and gentlemen of this dying force. As evidenced by the tribulation clouds and other disturbing phenomena you now confront, the Soaring Crane mountain elders have committed no end of sins and incurred Heaven’s wrath. As we speak, your patriarch is getting torn into pieces by the White Immortal sect, and soon you will follow him to the grave. I am here to ensure that. But it doesn’t have to be so. Kill your most senior elders, the mastermind behind all these vile plots, and I will ensure that the White Immortal sect absorbs you instead,” Xinzi said, and a pause followed—disturbed only by the 15 elders’ struggles.
“What…what should we do?” For a second, the disciples weighed their options, their loyalties, and all the things that ever mattered to them.
Betrayal, kinslaying; these were blemishes that no man, cultivator or not, wanted to carry. Yet, the same men could end up confronting times where any concerns for image or face would fade into the background—replaced only by a singular thirst to survive.
Some glanced at one another. Others directly looked at their elders. Then, it was like tumbling embers meeting a pool of oil. Dozens of ravenous disciples rushed up the mountain peaks, their faces twisted in frenzied grimaces as they charged their struggling elders with crude knives raised. The first to make their moves triggered a chain reaction, and while some tried to stop the betrayal, others stabbed them all the same—the rest pretended to see nothing. In the blink of an eye, the 15 senior elders had more knives staring at them than body parts to fit them with.
The disciples and clansmen they so desperately tried to save rammed their blades into every available inch of their wrinkled bodies, making their blood burst, and their screams vanish under the relentless stabbing of their beloved kin.
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” Some said, but still they stabbed. The two golden Nascent Souls tried to force their way out of their crumbling mortal bodies, but tribulation lightning struck them down, giving the frantic disciples the once-in-a lifetime opportunity to stab a Nascent Soul to death. Alas, the souls were too resilient for their own good and, too weak to escape, lay there, abused to near-extinction by measured doses of heavenly lightning.
The breath of Evil Qi pervaded the land, bringing delight to Xinzi. His lips stretched into a broad, fiendish grin, and as his damaged hand rested on his thigh, our monk aimed the left at the Soaring Crane mountain and said:
“The Golden Lotus be praised. Fellow disciples, kill them all. Till their blood covers the land, and the night snuffs their screams out, I forbid you to stop. The Soaring Crane mountain…vanishes now.” Xinzi let his voice spread out—to the Soaring Crane mountain disciples that tried to not look at their butchered elders, to the disciples that carried out the butchering, to those that got stabbed trying to stop the madness—all heard the order, and all quivered the same.
“You…you said! Faithless bastard, you said!”
“Indeed, the Dong clan’s dogs can’t be trusted!” A barrage of insults rose in protest. Some still tried to plead their case, but their pleas fell on deaf soldiers, the insults were music to our monk’s ears, and as the troops’ axes rose, the chariots charged into the defensive barrier which—without Nascent Soul to operate it—collapsed like a castle made of sand.
The barrier’s fall choked all the Soaring Crane disciples’ words. Their eyes widened—stretched to the limit by the destruction of their last defenses. Undisturbed, the 500 war chariots carried on. The gilded spears protruding at their fronts fired a deluge of sharp rays that rained on the disciples and skewered hundreds to the ground in one salvo. The ax-wielding soldiers followed suit, dropping like synched platoons following the lead of their respective chariots. Their blades swung in that same perfect sync. Radiant half-moons rained in the thousands, lopping heads off and crashing buildings within a breath.
“No!”
“Help! I don’t want to die!” For a moment, the screams wouldn’t stop. The loyal cranes rose to their masters’ aid, but were of little help against Xinzi’s armada. They died all the same, their feathers and severed necks joining the feast of gore, with nothing to show for this sacrifice.
The corpses piled up—adding in mangled and disordered carcasses while the blood…oh the blood, streamed up and down the mountainous streets. The chariots landed, bulldozed their ways through hundreds of struggling foes, and commanded the soldiers under them to kill with a surgical precision. Flesh and bone debris everywhere, sanguine pools as far as the eyes could see, and the Soaring Crane mountain…returned to peace.
Within the Funerary Rite, all White Immortal sect disciples were like robots united and piloted by Xinzi’s brain. They had no individuality and only operated according to his will. This made many things simpler and nullified his need to behave like the good little monk that the Dongli state expected him to be. The Immemorial Blood Gu in Xinzi’s main heart trembled in euphoria. His Klesha Heart also beat frantically.
Our monk stretched his hands out, activating the Swallowing Skill and bringing forth vast devouring powers on the Soaring Crane mountain.
The souls of the deceased and the Evil Qi pervading this land all rose under Xinzi’s command to fuel his depraved organs and nefarious soul with a massive rush of Evil Qi and Soul Force. Two broken to resist, the two battered Nascent Souls flew towards him as well. Xinzi dared not refine them, instead storing them in his soul world.
“Package the heads. We will send them to Burning Spear supercity. I am expecting a payout by midnight. Don’t forget to collect all the treasures as well. We will need them in the future,” Xinzi said, flicked his tongue across his lips, and entered digestion mode. The monk lay his back on his palanquin, settling in a groggy haze.
The food, the rush, was too strong, too good. It fueled the demonic organs with so much satisfaction that they threatened to push Xinzi into addiction. Addiction for more souls, for more slaughter and Evil Qi. His Soul Force rose exponentially, leaving Xia Hu’s in the dust, and even outpacing the average Golden Core elders. This would be more than enough for our monk to make his official breakthrough into a profound-grade formation master. At the same time, the Evil Qi nourished his Blood Gu. But in the blur of the moment, Xinzi couldn’t care for that.
“Demonic cultivation…is so dangerous.” Xinzi recognized the pitfalls of this most heinous of cultivation paths. At the same time, he felt his chains tremble, and these tremors were worth every bit of demonic infusion. The fear that he’d lose himself in the waves of intoxication retreated into the shadows of his mind, and he sang the Mantra of Indulgence.
‘Master, I am confused. Are you…a God?’ Tusha’s voice echoed in Xinzi’s mind—taking him out of his trance.
‘Nope.’ Xinzi replied directly—leaving no room for doubt. But this reply only made the infernal nun more confused. No Divine Spirit could grant Divine Blessings. This right belonged to Gods only. If Xinzi wasn’t a God, the fox’s fate made no sense. But at the same time, the Great Desolation world only had two Gods. Where would Xinzi’s divine throne come from?
There were certain things that talent couldn’t explain. The nun wanted an answer, but knew that she’d find none in Xinzi today, so she let the matter rest. Ignoring her all the same, our monk aimed his palm at the sky, and the glints of dementia flashed in his eyes. “Bit by bit, I will claw at these chains. Bit by bit, I will regain my freedom. And when I achieve my Liberation you—YOU—will be the first to die.” Xinzi pledged to the unknown enemy. The cracks on his right hand closed, and for a second, it morphed back into its mutant shape. Xinzi’s Silkshifter abilities kicked in, and he forced the mutant limb back into a flawless human arm.