Chapter 363: The Making of a Hell

The circle-light technique lifted, but the steady cultivator’s gaze was not on the civilians rising in rebellion; it focused on a calmer area.

Though it appeared utterly still, even through the circle-light technique, he could see the faint ghostly aura.

Elsewhere, this ghostly aura had been obscured by the fierce blood qi of countless third-rate martial cultivators, but here, it remained clear.

“Illusion art… it has completely enveloped the entire Uta City. Such a powerful spirit ghost, yet so pure—it’s simply inconceivable!”

The steady cultivator could not fathom how Feng Xue had tamed such a powerful spirit ghost. Even using obsession as a lever, such a massive quantity would be nearly impossible for a non-Dao cultivator to bind with a spirit pact.

And if it were cultivated postnatally, it was even more absurd. Even the fiercest war ghosts emerging from mountains of corpses and seas of blood during wartime, if they devoured endlessly, would need decades to reach this scale. Feng Xue had not yet entered the Dao, and was still young—even if he had begun cultivating from the womb, he could not have achieved this!

Yet his confusion did not last long—not because he had solved it, but because a greater mystery had appeared—

The spirit ghost had fed one civilian…

“Imperial Dew?!”

At that moment, the steady cultivator nearly punched straight through the ceiling. Good heavens, wasn’t it still before the Lantern Festival?

Imperial Dew was a boon for demons, but for human cultivators, it was merely an astronomical phenomenon. The steady cultivator had seen Imperial Dew descend before—but precisely because he had, he was certain he had not mistaken it.

“So… scattering beans to form an army was actually using Imperial Dew to awaken the ignorant commoners’ minds?”

The steady cultivator felt something was off, yet also felt it made sense—but if the Yellow Turbans were meant to rise in the Ji Zi year, why was there Imperial Dew in the Geng Shen year?

Hmm, this year was also Yi Si…

Just as the steady cultivator felt he needed to relearn numerology, calendrics, mathematics, and fate studies, the civilian who received the Imperial Dew underwent new changes.

First, his previously depleted primordial qi was replenished by some force; second, his spirit visibly improved. Moments later, his posture, movement, and bearing acquired a certain discipline. In the blink of an eye, he had seized his blood qi and entered the realm of a third-rate martial cultivator!

“This method… doesn’t it have any drawbacks?”

At this moment, the steady cultivator felt his very understanding of cultivation principles was being shaken. In his experience, such rapid advancement must come at a cost—whether burning the soul or at least draining one’s lifespan.

Yet his aura-seeing technique detected no abnormalities in them whatsoever.

It wasn’t that he pitied these Japanese—never mind the war between nations, even without exploitation, these people wouldn’t live many more years. The problem was: this defied common sense!

In modern terms, it was like a car that didn’t need charging or fuel, ran hundreds of kilometers, and even generated hundreds of kilowatts of electricity.

And more importantly…

“If the Shenxiao Sect truly knew this technique, then was Guo Jing’s Six Jia Divine Soldiers really real? But then… the Jingkang Humiliation…”

The steady cultivator realized continuing this line of thought was impolite—what if the Jin had their own high-level experts back then?

Yet the steady cultivator noticed that as these commoners gained power, their collective wishes also shifted—instead of rising into the sky to interact with the Void Deity, that energy remained entirely with them, even increasing in their own bodies.

“So this is how the Void Deity grants power? That explains it.” The steady cultivator exhaled in relief; his shattered worldview had finally been patched together.

“Uh… should we notify our homeland?” the young cultivator asked weakly. Before the steady cultivator could speak, the brokerage manager said:

“Of course we must notify them. But we must also report the facts here truthfully. What to do is up to those Grand Masters to decide—we have no right to advise them.”

…

Cultivators from the Central Plains were urgently contacting each other, while the Japanese populace had already gone blood-mad. Feng Xue gave them no theoretical guidance, no advanced ideological frameworks—he had no intention of interfering in their choices. He merely offered them the opportunity to choose.

Once the lower classes gained power, their uneducated, unenlightened minds inevitably turned to violence. They flooded the streets, shouting “Heaven’s Punishment,” storming into the homes of the Han Chinese, slaughtering them, looting their wealth, and raping their women… just as they themselves had once done.

The once-privileged Han Chinese were slaughtered at will. Their carefully trained guards, overwhelmed by sheer numbers, could not hold back. Even the reigning Sword Saint, lacking a breakthrough in life’s tier, collapsed after slaying dozens, cut down by a storm of blades.

Retribution in kind was accepted, even celebrated, everywhere—especially in Japan, where the culture glorified living like a firecracker (blazing brilliantly, briefly).

Japan’s human Dao did not punish these acts with karmic retribution; instead, it endorsed them—the flow of fortune was the clearest proof.

This was the principle of “Xia Ke Shang”: the victor seizes all from the superior!

Yet the Han Chinese of Uta were finite, while the oppressed masses numbered hundreds or thousands of times more.

The prey was gradually running out.

Thus, everything became inevitable.

Swords once turned against enemies now pointed at all Han Chinese, then at the relatively well-off middle class, and finally at their own kind—those who had grown rich through plunder.

Indiscriminate slaughter began. Blood-mad commoners, empowered by the ancient Dragon King’s gift, launched chaotic brawls. Those who still retained reason had already hidden away with their wealth and families, retreating to their original homes—places devoid of any riches, utterly unworthy of being targeted.

Entire Uta had entered a battle royale. Under Japan’s human Dao, which rewarded the victor with everything, even collective wishes were inherited by the survivors.

In other words, as these blood-mad commoners began plundering each other, they gradually realized they were growing stronger!

As the architect of this earthly hell, Feng Xue calmly watched the list generated by Xiao Lingdang, marking outstanding techniques for further fusion and refinement.

“Collecting data this way is still too wasteful. I wonder when the Japanese cultivators will return!”

(End of Chapter)