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墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Yang closed the entrance to the Haotian Secret Realm amidst a chorus of curses, feeling quite pleased with himself. He turned to face the large crowd behind him, revealing an innocent smile.
"You idiot! Do you realize that by closing the entrance to the Haotian Secret Realm, not only can we not get out, but we also can't hand over the treasures and Spiritual Fruits to the Sect? We will only be automatically transported out once we all reach the Core Formation Stage, and the destination won't necessarily be the entrance of the Haotian Secret Realm; it could be anywhere in the outside world!" someone scolded, explaining.
"What?" Zhao Yang was taken aback. He glanced at the chairs prepared behind him and muttered, "If that's the case, then there’s no such thing as an exit from the Haotian Secret Realm. I was planning to block the entrance and collect interest, but fine, I'll just take matters into my own hands!"
Zhao Yang was unaware that his actions brought immense joy to countless Loose Cultivators. Without external constraints, they could fight freely and recklessly.
He looked up at the Divine Serpent Saint Child, who was eyeing him with ill intent but had yet to make a move. This wasn’t because the Divine Serpent Saint Child was helping him; rather, it was a deliberate attempt to provoke those outside. The Divine Serpent Saint Child wanted Zhao Yang inside for a simple reason: to see him live in fear until he perished, especially since he had criticized Zhao Yang's lack of hygiene!
Then, amidst a sea of confusion, Zhao Yang suddenly vanished as if he had evaporated into thin air.
The dark crowd outside was merely a fraction of the hundreds of thousands of cultivators who had entered. As Zhao Yang moved through, he noticed many Spiritual Fruits had already been picked clean, and some herbs on the ground had been uprooted. Clearly, this place had been looted more than once.
In the distance, dozens of cultivators were engaged in fierce combat over a Yuan Yang Fruit Tree that bore a few unripe Yuan Yang Fruits. The Yuan Yang Fruit was a Little Sacred Fruit that not only increased cultivation but also restored one's essence and activated Spiritual Root attributes. The conditions for growth in the outside world were particularly poor; even a slight exposure to wind and rain could ruin them. In contrast, within the Haotian Secret Realm, Spirit Energy was abundant and free from natural disasters.
Zhao Yang calmly walked over and picked the last few Yuan Yang Fruits from the tree. He wiped them clean and popped them into his mouth to savor.
"Delicious and sweet, with an aftertaste that lingers," Zhao Yang couldn’t help but exclaim, his face filled with delight.
"Chirp Chirp!" The Little Beast woke from its slumber, crawling out of Zhao Yang's arms and lazily reaching out for a Yuan Yang Fruit. Zhao Yang chuckled as he handed one over. The Little Beast nibbled on it slowly, devouring it piece by piece without leaving any skin behind—unlike Zhao Yang, who finished eating before spitting out the skins. If others saw how they consumed these Holy Fruits, they would surely cry out in shame for wasting them and then pick up the skins for alchemy use.
The fighters heard someone speaking behind them and turned around in anger.
"You despicable creature! You took advantage of our battle to steal our Little Sacred Fruits!" a Sister shouted furiously as she lunged forward with her sword aimed at Zhao Yang's face.
Zhao Yang did not dodge or evade; instead, he simply pinched the tip of her sword between two fingers. Chaos True Qi surged violently, causing her hand to shatter under the force. The sword slipped from her grasp and shattered into several pieces.
Zhao Yang stepped forward toward her. Terrified, she fell backward on the ground, scrambling away while looking at him with fear-filled eyes. "Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!" she cried out.
Zhao Yang glanced at everyone present but chose to ignore them as he turned to leave.
"Wait! You ate our Holy Fruit and injured my junior sister yet think you can just walk away?" a furious young man shouted from the crowd.
Without responding, Zhao Yang appeared before him like a flash of light and threw a punch. The young man instantly shattered into countless pieces like blood rain, splattering onto those around him. He had no interest in allowing anyone else to play hero by saving their damsels in distress.
"Are you the Holy Son?" someone exclaimed. The title of Holy Son is a prestigious honor bestowed upon the most outstanding talents of the Cultivation world, a title that ordinary geniuses could never hope to attain.
The crowd dispersed in a hurry, realizing that the gap between their abilities and Zhao Yang's was insurmountable. If he was indeed the Holy Son, then they were in trouble; they stood no chance against him. Zhao Yang was not someone who sought out trouble, but in the Cultivation world, life was often at stake. He had merely eaten a few fruits, yet his opponent had attacked without a word, aiming for his life. In such circumstances, there was no need for him to hold back.
Once one entered the Cultivation world, they could no longer indulge in petty mischief like stealing cucumbers and tomatoes from their aunt's garden back in the countryside. There, the worst that could happen was a scolding for being greedy; no one would slap him or threaten his life. Zhao Yang reminded himself not to repeat past mistakes; he did not want to be an ordinary person who could not even control his own fate. He understood that many people were born to kill.
Since arriving in this world, he had felt lonely because there were secrets he could not share with anyone. He was adapting to this brutal reality of slaughter. He had never enjoyed killing; in fact, he used to feel fear at the sight of blood. In his previous life, he had even suffered from depression after watching videos of ordinary people being slaughtered, terrified that he might one day become one of those people, losing his humanity.
No one in the Cultivation world knew that their propensity for violence would give rise to a formidable demon king.
Zhao Yang glanced at the crowd, clasped his hands behind his back, and soared into the sky, disappearing into the distance.
He felt inexplicably uneasy; perhaps he was still unaccustomed to this violence. It wasn't that he believed it was unjust; rather, he couldn't understand why everyone felt the need to trample others once they gained some power. Could they not coexist peacefully? His dominance had never stemmed from ambition but from observation—if he did not suppress certain individuals beforehand, they would surely try to dominate him. Thus, he preferred to nip potential threats in the bud, including when he was dubbed the Outer Court Demon King at Myriad Spirit Sect's Outer Sect.
"Hey, big brother, look! That idiot is flying over!" A Blue-Clad Youth picking spirit herbs exclaimed excitedly to their leader.
The leader, a Purple-Clad Youth, looked up at Zhao Yang with hesitation in his eyes and muttered, "This person clearly has only early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation. Why can he fly without consuming any True Qi? He seems foolish on the surface but has never suffered any losses. Should we ambush him?"
As the Purple-Clad Youth pondered this, he noticed that the Lustrous Attire youth had already been intercepted by his subordinates. The young man appeared completely unfazed by them and even glanced over at their group.
"You idiot! Have you been deaf all this time?" A group surrounded Zhao Yang, their eyes filled with mockery and malicious smiles.
Zhao Yang remained silent, observing them quietly. He had experienced such situations far too many times and was no longer surprised. He wondered if these people had ever faced similar obstacles and if they understood the principle of treating others as they wished to be treated.
"I'm asking you a question! Are you mute?" The Blue-Clad Youth who had taken the lead roared as he swung his palm toward Zhao Yang's face. Anger surged within him; he had long been irritated by Zhao Yang's handsome features and considered him nothing more than a pretty boy from a wealthy family who relied on spirit herbs to advance.
While it was true that Zhao Yang often advanced through spirit herbs or other spiritual items, few in the Cultivation world could consume an entire sack of Holy Fruits like he could—he was truly one of a kind. Sometimes those nurtured by spirit herbs were not weak; rather, there simply weren't enough herbs available or their bodies couldn't withstand excessive amounts of them. Zhao Yang was different; he possessed Chaos True Qi and shattered ancient rules of Foundation Establishment at an early stage—he didn't build a Foundation Stage but forged a Foundation Cauldron instead, achieving it in its most perfect state.
"Smack!"
A loud crack echoed as the Blue-Clad Youth was sent flying. The crowd gasped in disbelief; they hadn't expected Zhao Yang to retaliate despite being surrounded by so many people. However, a timid girl pointed at the fallen Blue-Clad Youth and screamed, "He... he's dead!"
Everyone's hearts raced as they turned to look at the Blue-Clad Youth. Just as the girl said, he lay motionless on the ground with brain matter oozing out—a gruesome sight indeed.
"How dare you kill my Third Senior Brother! Pay with your life!" A young man wearing a cloud crown, filled with hatred, launched an attack. Zhao Yang didn't even glance at him; he casually struck out with a palm, hitting the young man's face. The young man immediately lost his breath and died an untimely death.
Then, the Purple-Clad Youth, who had been watching from the sidelines without daring to step forward, witnessed the most brutal massacre of his life. The boy clad in Lustrous Attire was like a demon king, impervious to blades and fire, weaving through the crowd. Wherever he passed, all the cultivators fell dead, as fragile as tofu. This included a Body Refinement cultivator he had just recruited into his team. He watched in horror as the boy merely pointed a finger lightly, and the Body Refinement brute's head exploded in a tragic yet beautiful display.
Several cultivators were so shaken by this boy's one-sided slaughter that they turned to flee. However, they barely took a few steps before their heads were pierced, crashing to the ground.
Yet the boy remained spotless, not a drop of blood staining him. It seemed he used True Qi for defense every time he killed, as if afraid someone would dirty his clothes.
The boy killed everyone who stood in his way without leaving a single survivor. The Purple-Clad Youth heard him muttering to himself: "If I wanted to look down on people, you so-called Elites and geniuses would be no better than dogs in my eyes."
After saying this, the boy leaped away, leaving behind an indelible shadow for the Purple-Clad Youth.
The spiritual medicine in the Purple-Clad Youth's hand had fallen to the ground at some point, and tears streamed down his face in fear. He suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of inferiority. This boy truly was as he said; with just a few moves, he had killed their group without even bothering to loot or glance at him as the "leader."
Since childhood, he had believed that he was destined for greatness in the cultivation world and had made many vows with his village friends to help them prosper and live well. To achieve this, he had worked hard and made some small accomplishments, becoming a Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator with an ordinary Spiritual Root. Many were willing to follow him. Gradually, he lost sight of his original intentions and began to heed the advice of those around him until he was repeatedly defeated by geniuses in the royal city. He realized he was powerless against fate and started to resign himself to it. He no longer bore everything quietly or cared about others' opinions. Yet today, for reasons unknown, an instinct told him that this boy was someone he must not provoke.
"What kind of person is he?" the Purple-Clad Youth murmured to himself as he picked up the spiritual medicine from the ground and left dejectedly.
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