Chapter 788: The Savior True Immortal

“Senior Brother, what did they say?”

Seeing the other’s expression, True Person Ling Su’s heart leapt; a faint premonition of misfortune stirred, and she finally abandoned her cold facade, stepping closer in two or three strides.

“...”

True Person Yun Miao fell silent for an instant, swiftly erasing the embarrassment from his face, cleared his throat, and said: “The brothers of our sect have agreed to cede part of Kaiyuan Prefecture to our Lingxu Cave. Do not rush—first, tidy up this place, then let True Person Danhuang join you in relieving the people of Tian Ta Mountain.”

At these words, a flash of fury surged in Ling Su’s eyes; rarely did she throw a tantrum—instead, she fixed her gaze straight on her senior brother.

This very situation was precisely why she had resisted Shen Yi’s entry into the sect.

The Lingxu Cave lineage was already weak, and her senior brother had always hesitated, never truly stepping forward to fight for their share. Now, with another mouth to feed, it was almost certain he meant to carve off a portion of what belonged to them.

Under her unblinking stare, True Person Yun Miao felt a pang of guilt, mixed with a simmering rage, and muttered: “What are you staring at like that?”

He had assumed that as a third-rank cultivator who had reached the pinnacle of the Ninety-Nine Transformations, the leader of the younger generation, and as one whose Shenxu lineage had nearly been exterminated serving the sect, everyone owed him at least a modicum of respect.

Even if they didn’t actually cede land, they should at least offer a word—a gesture of goodwill—to steady this cultivator from Nan Zhou.

Yet this was the outcome.

Too late—he had already boldly promised all this. How could he now retract it? He solemnly swept his sleeve, assuming the demeanor of the senior brother: “Good. Use this opportunity to show True Person Danhuang around Bei Zhou.”

He frowned slightly, adding with deeper meaning: “The rest can wait until our Master returns.”

Hearing those words again, Ling Su’s expression did not improve.

She gave her senior brother a long, deep look: “Understood.”

To hold onto her own Dao field, this senior brother was useless.

“...”

Shen Yi stood quietly beside them, as if utterly unable to grasp the silent struggle between them, and offered no polite refusal.

He needed to seize every opportunity, to quickly integrate into this iron-fisted realm of Bei Zhou.

As for humility?

If you show even a hint of polite deference, they’ll use it to kick you out immediately.

“Come with me.”

Ling Su turned on her heel, muttered the words, summoned her magic treasure, and shot out of Banluo Cliff without looking back.

Shen Yi could not use his Fire Dragon Cart, but the Shenxu lineage excelled at travel—he took a single step and entered the Great Void, not much slower than Ling Su.

Bei Zhou, Kaiyuan Prefecture.

The once-majestic, towering city had been reduced to broken walls and shattered ruins; dark red bloodstains still clung to the cracked bricks. Inside, the streets were piles of rubble, everywhere reeking of excrement.

Most of the townsfolk huddled in groups of three or five, sitting numbly amid shattered tiles and broken stones, eyes vacant, faces blank. Some lone figures still sat there, grinning foolishly.

If the prefectural capital was this bad, what of the rest of Kaiyuan Prefecture?

Around Tian Ta Mountain, even the sitting figures had grown scarce; most were curled up in tattered straw huts, utterly motionless. Unless you heard their faint breaths, they were indistinguishable from the corpses littering the ground.

“...”

Shen Yi stood with hands at his sides, quietly absorbing the scene before him.

With the methods of these Three Immortal Sect cultivators, if they truly wished to relieve the suffering, they could rebuild these disaster victims’ homes in mere days and restore normal life swiftly.

Yet the condition of these people suggested this misery had lasted far longer than a few months.

Ling Su walked slowly, scanning the surroundings like a young lioness inspecting her territory.

Soon, several cultivators in clean robes and ethereal bearing emerged from the end of a narrow path; one carried a jade vase in one hand and a sack in the other, while the leader held aloft a statue of True Person Ling Su.

They glided swiftly through the filthy, stinking wasteland, their sleeves fluttering.

At their appearance, the lifeless masses—moments before like corpses—suddenly stirred. Their faces were gaunt, lips cracked, on the brink of death, yet they mustered their last strength to roll over and kneel respectfully on both sides, weeping with joy: “We welcome the Immortal Masters!”

An endless, orderly line of prostrations.

Their weeping came from the horror of their present state; their joy, from the genuine belief that these were saviors from heaven.

No reward asked, month after month, they distributed grain and water.

The people no longer needed to labor for food—they need only wait, and the immortals would not let them starve.

Of course, “not starving” was all they got; full meals were impossible, for even immortals needed time to gather enough supplies.

Everywhere was this same pitiful scene. There were too few immortals to help all. Simply allowing them to survive was already immense mercy and virtue.

As for the imperial court... after the demon attack, the court had long since abandoned them. The immortals said the imperial capital still burned with lights, filled with music and revelry night after night.

The Emperor was decadent and foolish, ignoring state affairs, spending his days drinking and indulging—thus provoking heaven’s wrath and bringing this demonic calamity.

Those who slay demons are immortals! Those who save the suffering are immortals!

Only by turning toward the Immortal Dao could they hope to restore the glory of past times!

“Heh.”

Ling Su observed the reverent expressions of the crowd, pleased by the long line of prostrations. Her fingers curled slightly, and faint yellow mist gathered, coalescing into a hundred-tribulation golden pill in her palm.

The abundant offerings clearly washed away her earlier displeasure; a smile touched her lips.

But as her peripheral vision caught the young man behind her, she rolled her eyes—like a fly in a fine dish, utterly repulsive.

The Lingxu Cave disciples finally began distributing grain. Each time they scooped a handful into a tiny sack, countless figures surged forward, cramming the space tightly.

Some, after barely securing a handful of spiritual rice, fearing others would steal it, simply fell to the ground and devoured it mouthful by mouthful, mixing it with dust. When choked, they clawed at their throats, faces turning blue, refusing to spit it out—if they did, someone else would eat it...

The immortal master pushed through the crowd, knelt behind the man, gently patted his back—not mocking, but filled with pity—and handed him the jade purifying bottle, personally pouring water into his mouth.

The man finally caught his breath. Looking at the immortal master, for no reason, his eyes suddenly reddened, his voice thick with sobs.

He said nothing, only bowed his head hard—again and again—until his forehead bled.

“Do not fight over it. True Person Ling Su has endured great hardship to gather ample water and grain—enough for all of you.”

The immortal master rose to her feet.

Survival is the instinct of all living beings. In times of famine and thirst, fighting is natural.

Yet with just these simple words, without any magical coercion, the chaotic crowd spontaneously formed an orderly line—and fell silent at once.

“You’ve trained them well.”

Ling Su cast a approving glance at the disciple.

If nothing went awry, according to the original plan, continuing this relief for two or three more years, combined with a grand spectacle—blood as a warning—would secure the hearts of generations to come.

Of course, provided nothing went wrong.

Unnoticed, a chill flickered in Ling Su’s eyes.

She continued walking toward Tian Ta Mountain ahead, to better observe her Dao field.

At that moment, a streak of light plummeted from the sky, accompanied by a thunderous crash. A massive body slammed onto the mountain—drenched in blood, stripped of scales, its tendons torn out, its two great horns severed at the roots.

It was clearly a Bai Long, now hideous beyond recognition, beyond saving, clinging to its last breath.

Its head was trodden upon.

The young cultivator smiled at Ling Su: “Sister Ling Su, look what I caught.”

He extended his hand, wiggling his fingers—clutching a small plaque.

Inscribed upon it were the words: “Imperial Rain-Prayer Envoy.”

“This demon dared to secretly draw water and summon rain within your Dao field. Luckily, I happened to pass by and took it down.”

For these common folk, water and grain were paramount—and water above all.

If the heavens did not drought, they could till and harvest; the immortals’ jade purifying bottles and Wu Sheng rice would lose much of their value.

True enough—Ling Su’s face darkened instantly.

She coldly glanced at the Bai Long, then bowed to the cultivator: “Little sister thanks Senior Brother Mao Feng.”

“...”

The Bai Long’s mouth was full of blood, its throat a gaping wound sealed by a spirit seal—no longer alive, unable to speak.

It fixed its bloodied eyes on the three before it, burning with a hatred that seemed to crave devouring their bones.

As one of Kaiyuan Prefecture’s many Rain-Prayer Envoys, it had survived the city’s fall—but refused to leave.

After healing its wounds, it saw the people starving, destitute.

Watching them fight over a single jar of muddy water, even killing each other for it, it could no longer bear to watch—and summoned a small rain.

Now caught, it could only curse its bad luck. Death was inevitable.

“My Chiyun Cave has always been close to your Lingxu Cave. No need for such formalities.”

True Person Mao Feng waved his hand, then looked down at the terrified crowd.

He spoke in a deep, resonant voice: “This demon is malicious, disrupting heaven’s order, stealing the rain of Kaiyuan Prefecture and causing this drought. Now captured by True Person Ling Su, it must pay the price!”

His words ended.

The Bai Long, prepared for death, suddenly grew frantic. With its dragon tendons torn, it writhed like a worm, opening its toothless mouth in a roar—but could utter not a single word.

Yet this frenzied display only made its already hideous form even more repulsive.

“...”

The crowd’s gaze at the Bai Long now held no fear—only silence, and as their eyes slowly reddened, they stared fixedly at the demon dragon.

The next moment, their weeping coalesced into a single, solemn, vengeful cry: “Kill this demon, Immortal Masters!”

“Roar—”

Under the weight of countless eyes, the Bai Long suddenly felt profound helplessness.

It ceased its thrashing, turned back to the three before it, its eyes filled with venomous hatred.

Shen Yi met its gaze calmly.

Though it lacked the long purple beard, it still reminded him of Zi Yang, the Rain-Prayer Envoy he had known in Nan Zhou.

Sometimes, Shen Yi simply did not understand.

To lose one’s life over something meaningless—what was the point?

Take this rain, for instance: when it stops, Kaiyuan Prefecture will remain exactly as it was, unchanged.

Yet it seems precisely these meaningless things drive me further and further down a meaningless path.

He doubted whether he could truly find peace after all dust had settled, becoming a Bodhisattva or Immortal Lord.

“…”

Daoist Mao Feng, sensing the emotional atmosphere was sufficiently built, cast a glance toward Ling Su.

In such a situation, personally leading this demon dragon on a public procession before slaying it would leave an indelible impression on these mortal fools.

Ling Su nodded, understanding perfectly.

The White Dragon seemed to sense their intentions; its bloodstained eyes revealed a flicker of fear—now, even suicide was beyond its reach.

At that moment, it suddenly felt a long hand land beside its eye socket.

The White Dragon’s pupils trembled as it turned its gaze sideways.

There, the gentle-faced young man gently patted its head, his expression calm; the next instant, a vast torrent of tribulation energy flooded into its skull.

Under such profound cultivation, a mere seventh-rank demon beast felt no pain—its breath ceased instantly.

Shen Yi rose slowly to his feet.

The crowd, who had been staring at the demon dragon, instantly turned their gazes toward this tall figure.

“…”

This sudden turn of events left Mao Feng frozen in place; he frowned, glancing at Ling Su in confusion.

He did not recognize this young cultivator, nor did he understand why the stranger had suddenly stolen Ling Su’s spotlight.

Ling Su’s face had turned ashen; she glared fiercely at Shen Yi.

After a long silence, a cruel smile curled her lips: “Young brother of the Dan Emperor, don’t blame your senior sister for not warning you—you’ve just arrived in the Northern Continent, and you’re too eager… it’s dangerous.”

With that, Ling Su swept her sleeve in anger and turned away: “Let’s go.”

She swiftly led Mao True Person away from Kaiyuan Prefecture.

They drifted aimlessly for a long while.

Eventually, they descended upon a beautiful green mountain.

“Young sister Ling Su, what’s going on? Tian Ta Mountain is your sacred ground—why did you leave him there after he acted so presumptuously?”

Mao True Person frowned.

“What’s going on? My esteemed elder brother plans to give half of Tian Ta Mountain to him.” Ling Su sneered, her voice laced with venom.

“This… this is absurd. Master Yun Miao, as the eldest disciple, should side with you—not help an outsider.” Mao True Person grumbled along, then asked: “What will you do?”

Ling Su’s mood finally eased slightly; she clenched her teeth: “Enough waiting!”

This worm disciple acts so brazenly; if we follow the original plan and continue relief efforts for another two years, who knows how many more problems will arise.

Before our master even returns, our sacred ground will be seized from us.

“Young brother Mao, please help me bring that great demon here—I intend to establish the True Lord Shrine as soon as possible!”

“No problem. Coincidentally, it’s been starving lately and needs to stretch its legs… but be careful when you act, sister—don’t kill it outright. I still have great use for it.” Mao True Person chuckled.

“Don’t worry—I won’t shortchange it. At least give it a third of its fill; that’s compensation for injuring it.”

Ling Su was straightforward and agreed without hesitation.

To compete for a sacred ground, empty things like a dead master or a destroyed sect mean nothing—it’s all about power.

This great demon possesses the Three-Three Transformation cultivation; even if the worm disciple harbored such intentions, he lacked the means to seize it.

(End of Chapter)