Chapter 988: Blood Dao Cultivator

“Is this the precursor to the extinction of the human race?”

Jiang Ding watched the scenes before him in Zhenshan Sect, his heart stirred.

He was not a student living in the ivory tower of a school; he was a Xianmen cultivator who had endured many wars and countless world trials.

He had thought that the bloodline clans of the North Plain, enslaving billions of human lives to feed one family, slaughtered at will for amusement; that the Xuanwu Tian Gong’s incense deity path bound thought and soul, forcing the living to suffer a lifetime of toil and the dead to remain restless, transformed into fanatical servants of the gods; that the mortal cultivators under Yingmo Yuan were all parasitic shadows…

He had thought these were already the pits of hell, the lowest possible bottom line.

After all, the Shuoyang Tianjun, Yingmo Yuan, and generations of Xuanwu Tian Gong cultivators had spent countless generations refining their exploitation, pouring in immeasurable wisdom and Xian Dao achievements—they had already squeezed to the absolute limit; it was impossible to extract more.

Now, Jiang Ding saw what lay beneath that bottom line.

That was, being reduced to slaves and servants, even one’s flesh and blood no longer deemed worthy of extraction, no longer needed by anyone!

At least in this world, this realm known as Mo Shi Xiao Jie, human cultivators had begun to vanish en masse.

Within a few centuries, save for a handful of pets, the human race would cease to exist here, displaced by numerous powerful races that had seized their ecological niches, leaving no room for survival.

Racial righteousness.

These four characters appeared heavily in Jiang Ding’s heart for the first time.

Compared to this, Xuanwu Tian Gong, Yingmo Yuan, and Shuoyang Tianjun seemed almost good—Shuoyang Tianjun even appeared a holy master, like the ancient sages Fu Xi, Shen Nong, and Yan Di.

Undoubtedly,

Yan Di and Fu Xi, as tribal chieftains and slave owners, were equally bloody and cruel, bound by the historical limitations of their time.

But this did not diminish their historical status or achievements.

“I wish you luck.”

Jiang Ding whispered.

He would not intervene, even if the human race in this world perished.

Perhaps he could act covertly, unseen by all—including the Zhenshan Sect cultivators—since this region was merely a Jin Dan-level power, insignificant to him as ants.

But all things in the world leave traces.

Once he acted, no matter the method, traces would inevitably appear; material and spiritual changes in the objective world would inevitably increase the risk of exposure.

If the traces were discovered by the powerful ones of the Jiao Mo Emperor Clan, the entire situation of the Nine Spirit Domain would be ruined.

Conversely, if the Nine Spirit Domain ultimately prevailed, the human race would surely flourish across this star region—inevitably, because even heretical sects like Yingmo Yuan and Xuanwu Tian Gong were human sects.

Weighing both sides, Jiang Ding chose to temporarily abandon action.

The Yingmo Daozi had already transmitted his plan to the rear.

The senior Xianmen masters, the great ones of the Eight Immortal Sects, the many Hua Shen elders, seasoned and experienced, would surely devise a more refined, more reliable battle strategy; he would simply follow their plan according to his own capabilities.

The senior disciples of the Immortal Sect, along with the great masters of the Eight Immortal Sects, many of whom have reached Soul Transformation, are seasoned and experienced; they will surely devise a more meticulous and reliable battle plan, and we need only follow it according to our own capabilities.

Jiang Ding’s primordial spirit gradually grew silent, vanished, entering standby mode, halting even his cultivation, minimizing his presence to the utmost.

This was the flaw of the Xianmen and Qingmu Xianzong and other sects.

They could not grow stronger while lying low, unlike Yingmo Yuan, who thrived in concealment—every technique, spell, and magic treasure was born for stealth and hiding; concealment and hiding were integral parts of Yingmo Yuan cultivators’ cultivation.

They cannot grow stronger while lying low, unlike the Shadow Demon Abyss, where they thrive like fish in water—every technique, spell, and magic treasure is crafted for stealth and concealment, so stealth and concealment are essentially part of the Shadow Demon Abyss cultivators’ cultivation.

Just as he entered stealth mode, Jiang Ding was jolted awake by the external surveillance he had kept active, turning his gaze toward the Zhenshan Sect Sect Master.

Just as he entered stealth mode, Jiang Ding was jolted awake by the ever-present external surveillance, his gaze turning toward the Sect Master of Zhenshan.

Ding ding!

After striking the final blow, a bright, fire-like third-grade purple jade stone fell from the rock’s crust, rolling on the ground, radiating vibrant spiritual energy.

His face, without notice, bore another wrinkle.

“My lifespan… my vital essence…”

Jian Shi Zhen Ren mechanically collected the third-grade purple jade stone.

This year, his duty was complete.

This was not out of kindness from the Mo Yan Clan—it was impossible.

The Mo Yan Clan dared not use Yan Shi Da Di’s wealth for kindness; they were merely stewards. If any was missing, they would slaughter their own clan members to make up the deficit, never letting their master suffer loss.

In the Mo Yan Clan’s calculations, one third-grade purple jade stone per year maximized sustainable output; any more would cause a sudden, catastrophic drop in yield, unsustainable in the long term.

If such a surge occurred, the Mo Yan Clan’s status in the “Nine-Tier Slave System” would plummet—they might even be reduced to the lowest tier, like the human race.

At that time, the Hu Clan, the Tiger Clan, the Mo Xue Shu Clan would all drool with greed… there were countless slave races ready to replace them; no slave race was indispensable.

“I… still have eighty-two years left. I may live to two hundred and ninety.”

Jian Shi Zhen Ren picked up the third-grade purple jade stone, staring at its beautiful hue: “Then, no successor.”

“After I die, the sect, the millions of humans within thousands of li around, will all die, buried deep in the mines to nourish the veins—all failed, discarded races are treated this way.”

“Every hundred years, a lowest-tier race is buried deep in the mountains.”

“Eighty-two years from now, it will be Zhenshan Sect.”

“If… the Xue He Wang…”

He suddenly fell silent.

Jian Shi Zhen Ren cultivated for several more months, regaining some vital essence, then confirmed no one was nearby. Slowly, he entered the Ancestral Hall, paid homage to the past Zhenshan Sect ancestors, and activated a concealment array.

It was a quasi-third-grade concealment array.

Zhenshan Sect’s heritage was pitifully incomplete; Jian Shi Zhen Ren was far weaker than the weakest Jin Dan Jiang Ding had ever seen.

Jiang Ding’s gaze pierced through the array, fixed on the Zhenshan Sect Ancestral Hall.

There, someone was still paying homage—it was Jian Shi Zhen Ren.

But this was merely an illusion.

Jiang Ding’s gaze passed unimpeded through deep strata, landing on a cavern concealed by a third-grade middle-tier concealment array far underground.

There, a blood pool several li wide lay.

The pool’s bottom was littered with white bones—mostly human mortals and cultivators, a smaller portion from Hu Clan, Rabbit Clan, Niu Mo Clan, and other nearby powerful races.

The corpses and primordial spirits of these human and beast cultivators were dissolved by the blood pool, turning into a crimson pool of liquid.

The bottom of the blood pool was littered with white bones—mostly those of human commoners and cultivators, with a smaller portion belonging to cultivators of nearby powerful clans such as the Fox, Rabbit, and Ox Demon clans.

The corpses and primordial spirits of these human and demon cultivators were dissolved by the blood pool, transforming into a pool of crimson fluid.

In any other place, seeing such a cultivator, he would have killed him on the spot.

In the North Plain’s Tu Shan Central Court, cultivators who used humans to cultivate were harshly punished, relentlessly suppressed at all times.

In recent years, the Jianxiu of Dayi Chang Jian Du had even gone mad, joining the hunt with dog-like sensitivity, seeking out any human-beast cultivator meeting Tu Shan Law standards to be executed.

Now, Jiang Ding saw this bloody scene and felt pity.

Any morality must be built upon the foundation of survival.

Without survival, morality cannot be spoken of.

“Has the Xue He Wang died?”

Jian Shi Zhen Ren now wore a blood-red robe, his features youthful again; he whispered: “The greatest prodigy our human race has had in ten thousand years—the one who dared to spy on the Great Emperor.”

“If he had become a slave emperor, our people might have fared better.”

“Alas… he must be dead, dragging us all to this fate.”

“If he could become the Emperor of the Slave Race, the human race would fare much better.”

Yet his words held no resentment—even though this Xue He Wang had killed the most humans, cruel and bloodthirsty, capricious and violent.

“Find an opportunity to kill that sly fox of the Zi Shan Hu Clan…”

“Ah, all Jin Dan lives belong to the Mo Yan Clan. I don’t even know if I’ll be exposed this time—my master was exposed last time, fortunately, he self-exploded at his death.”

“If another Blood Demon Uprising occurs… it’s hard to say…”

“Sigh, all Jin Dan lives belong to the Demon Rock Clan. I don’t even know if I’ll be exposed this time—my master was already exposed last time, and luckily he self-destructed before he died.”

"If the Blood Demon Uprising were to happen again, it's hard to say..."

True Person Jian Shi sighed bitterly.