Chapter 301: When Doing Evil, One Never Finds Effort or Trouble Too Much

Lei Lie truly understood why his master had done this.

The eastern region was in turmoil; after the Battle of Canglan Mountain, Jin Leizong, Qingyu Immortal Sect, and Tianji Gate all plummeted to rock bottom.

Qingyu Immortal Sect, in desperation, acted recklessly, angered Zhou Qing, nearly brought about their sect’s annihilation, and ultimately submitted completely to Taiqingmen.

Tianji Gate needed no further explanation—it had always been Cangyan Dao Palace’s lapdog.

Added to this, two Supreme Elders perished after failing to assimilate the Jiuyou Lotus Seed; everything forced Jin Leizong to take this desperate risk.

The Corpse Scripture became their only hope.

Thus, his master decided to attempt it himself.

But now…

Lei Lie stared toward the Thunder Pool, his unease deepening.

His master had become less and less human—half his body rotted, his aura cold as a corpse, often losing control and roaring like a demonic cultivator.

He was truly afraid that if this continued, Jin Leizong…

Would it still be Jin Leizong?

At that moment, the roaring suddenly ceased.

Immediately after, heavy footsteps echoed from afar, each step as if crushing Lei Lie’s heart.

He forced back the urge to retreat, swallowed hard, then lifted his gaze.

A figure wrapped entirely in black robes gradually became clear, stepping through the air.

One side of his face remained human; the other had rotted to bone, with strange purple veins crawling over exposed muscle tissue.

Most horrifying were his eyes—one normal, the other glowing a sickly green.

Even more chilling were the one hundred and nineteen black coffins hovering behind him, each exuding cold death energy as they slowly rotated in midair.

“Lie’er…” Lei Wují’s voice was hoarse and grating, “prepare the next batch of blood offerings…”

Lei Lie shuddered, instinctively stepping back half a pace.

He clearly saw his master’s mouth uncontrollably dripping foul, stinking saliva as he spoke.

That greedy gaze looked exactly like a predator sizing up prey.

“Disciple… obeys.”

Lei Lie swallowed hard, bowed hastily, his eyes filled with fear and dread.

Then he turned and left quickly.

He feared if he stayed any longer, he might vomit from the stench—and his master might think too much of it.

Watching Lei Lie’s retreating back, Lei Wují suddenly turned his head toward a nearby spot, and on his rotted half-face, a chilling smile appeared.

…

In the shadow of the cliff, Lei Luo trembled violently, curled up in a rock crevice.

Since his elder brother Lei Lie took over sect affairs, he had sensed something was wrong.

The stench emanating from the sect master’s seclusion chamber, the strange silence of the five Supreme Elders, and the constant struggle in his brother’s eyes—all pointed to something deeply unnatural.

Everything together made it clear this was no ordinary matter.

Especially alarming was that despite so many major events unfolding outside, the sect master had never shown his face, as if vanished from the world.

Every time he tried to approach and investigate, he was always stopped by his brother and those five suspicious Supreme Elders.

Today, he finally found an opportunity to sneak in—and witnessed a scene that chilled his bones.

The once majestic sect master had become this monstrous, neither man nor ghost!

Something unknown must have happened—he needed help.

Yan Xiao, yes, only Yan Xiao could help.

During the Five Sects War, they had been inseparable.

They had dug up Cangyan Dao Palace’s ancestral graves, sneaked into their courtyard to urinate and provoke them, and endured countless other exploits together.

With him involved, he could directly reach Zhou Qing.

After all, Zhou Qing was now the true authority within Taiqingmen.

Without hesitation, he pulled out an image stone and recorded the horrifying sight of Lei Wují’s decay.

“Must… must save the sect master, save Jin Leizong…” His teeth chattered uncontrollably; sweat soaked his back even in this cold air.

Just as he watched his brother leave and prepared to slip away quietly, Lei Wují in midair suddenly turned his gaze toward him.

Lei Luo’s heart froze; his blood turned to ice.

In an instant, Lei Wují appeared before him.

Facing that glowing green eye and the indescribable stench, Lei Luo’s mind went blank.

“S-Sect Master!” His throat tightened; the image stone clattered to the ground.

Lei Wují stared at the fallen image stone, then withered claws seized Lei Luo’s throat.

Lei Luo’s feet left the ground; he kicked wildly, his face rapidly turning crimson.

“It’s me! I’m Lei Luo of the Lei lineage!” He forced out the words, eyes pleading for survival.

Lei Wují’s motion halted abruptly; his intact left eye flickered with clarity.

The grip on his neck loosened slightly…

But the next second!

The right eye blazed with green light; the rotted corner of his mouth split to his ear, revealing rows of white fangs.

“Crack!”

The sharp snap of a snapped neck echoed through the mountains; Lei Luo’s head hung lifelessly.

Then his five fingers hooked like claws, gripping Lei Luo’s crown, and with a sickening tear, his skull was ripped clean off.

Blood gushed from the severed neck, splattering Lei Wují’s rotted cheek; he sighed in ecstasy, extending a long black tongue to lick the corners of his mouth.

Instantly, a streak of light fled from the corpse—it was Lei Luo’s Nascent Soul.

“Brother! Save me—!”

Lei Luo’s Nascent Soul shrieked in agony, fleeing desperately toward the direction Lei Lie had left.

Yet before it flew three zhang, a withered claw covered in corpse spots shot forward, fingers closing to crush the Nascent Soul in its palm.

Lei Luo’s Nascent Soul writhed desperately between the fingers, emitting a soul-shattering wail: “Sect Master, spare me! I’m the direct heir of the Lei lineage—!”

Lei Wují paid no heed; his rotted mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.

His gaping maw slowly opened; the corpse qi churning in his throat eroded the Nascent Soul’s light inch by inch.

With a wet “gulping” sound, he swallowed the living Nascent Soul whole.

He licked the lingering Nascent Soul light from his lips, but his intact left eye now streamed a murky tear of blood.

Yet it quickly cleared again.

“If one is determined to achieve great deeds, one must… be willing to sacrifice…”

The hoarse voice scraped from deep in his throat; Lei Wují slowly closed his eyes.

“Taste… still lacking. Time to try… Soul Transformation…”

…

Seven days later, Cangyan Dao Palace!

Sikong Yan reclined on a couch carved from a thousand-year-old icy jade, idly playing with a glowing image stone.

The projection showed Lei Wují devouring Lei Luo’s Nascent Soul.

A wry smile curled his lips as he murmured, “The sect master of Jin Leizong, reduced to swallowing his own disciples alive.”

He burst into laughter: “I wonder what Lei Lie will think when he sees his only younger brother killed by his own master?”

He lazily shifted his posture, eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Will he seek revenge for his brother, commit patricide, and lose everything he now holds?”

“Or… pretend he knows nothing, and continue enduring in silence? Oh, just imagining it is so delightful.”

Sikong Yan chuckled again.

“Everyone says I, Sikong Yan, am utterly wicked—look at this self-proclaimed righteous sect master of Jin Leizong; he’s far more ruthless than I am.”

As he spoke, he pulled out three more image stones.

Laid them side by side on the jade table.

As he infused spiritual energy, the first projection showed Shen Yunzhou breaking through the desert barrier, chased out by Lei Wují under cover of night.

The second showed Cao Zhengyang’s group entering the cave, moments before the entire desert exploded into ruins.

The third showed Yu Hengzi sneaking in the shadows, secretly recording Lei Wují and others moving the hundred-plus coffins.

“Busy, everyone’s busy!” Sikong Yan sighed, then turned to a jade slip on the table.

It was just delivered by Cao Zhengyang, clearly stating that Tian Shu Zi and Ling Xu Zi were dead.

“Is this a test of my intentions?”

Sikong Yan chuckled.

“See? This is the beauty of human nature!” His lips curled into a sly smile.

“Inaction is action; silence speaks louder than words. Let the seeds of suspicion take root in their hearts—then, the flower we desire will bloom. Isn’t that right, Nannan?”

Sikong Yan turned his head to the side, where a complex array was active.

At its core lay a little girl in a floral dress, about five or six years old, her pale face still bearing innocent dimples.

But now her body was icy, her chest motionless.

Surrounding her like stars circling the moon were tens of thousands of black-robed puppets.

Each puppet’s chest emitted a grayish stream of energy, continuously flowing along the array’s patterns into the girl’s body.

Sikong Yan walked forward slowly, silently watching it all.

“You don’t speak, so I’ll take that as consent. Besides, they’re busy—Uncle isn’t idle either!”

At this, Sikong Yan’s face betrayed a hint of disappointment.

“It seems the fifth imperial prince’s blood is useless after all. Could this guy not even be of the Xuanyuan lineage?”

Sikong Yan’s eyes flickered with curiosity.

“They say once a cultivator breaks through to the Severing Spirit realm, their bloodline activates simultaneously, increasing the likelihood their descendants will also break through to Severing Spirit. Likewise, their bloodline becomes a kind of elixir.”

“Judging by this, either the rumor is false, or the fifth imperial prince’s mother has given the current emperor, Xuanyuan Hao, a green hat.”

At this, he tilted his head slightly, teasing the white-robed figure behind the puppet horde.

“Say, the Consort Chen still can’t forget you. Why not return the favor and give her a green hat too?”

The white-robed figure remained utterly still, like a statue of ice.

After a long silence, a cold voice pierced the darkness: “Why don’t you go? You’re the real Lin Jin!”

“Hahahaha—” Sikong Yan suddenly burst into loud laughter.

“I haven’t been him for a long time! Lin Jin is dead! The one standing here now is Sikong Yan, the Master of Cangyan Dao Palace!”

“Then who am I? If Lin Jin is already dead,” the white-robed figure asked in return,

Sikong Yan: “...”

“How come you’re so fond of arguing? I never realized I was this annoying before!” Sikong Yan grumbled.

He then ignored him entirely, turning back to gaze at the little girl within the array.

“I heard Gao Xian has emerged from seclusion. Now this whole game has lost its charm—how dull!”

After speaking, Sikong Yan turned to the black-robed figures and struck them hard with his hand, then shook his head.

“It seems these discarded techniques scavenged from the outskirts of the Forbidden Zone are truly low-grade.”

“Still, through simulation, we’ve successfully penetrated twice. Perhaps the ‘Lotus of Rebirth’ is worth a try,” Sikong Yan muttered to himself.

But at this moment, the white-robed Lin Jin spoke: “All this effort, just to save her?”

Sikong Yan spun around sharply, his face once again wearing that carefree smirk: “You know, when a man does something wicked...”

He spread his arms and spun in a circle, inhaling deeply, “He never minds the trouble~”

“But is what you’re doing really wicked?” the white-robed figure asked again.

“Naturally!” Sikong Yan suddenly grabbed a puppet, prying open its eyelids.

“Look—these were all living people! They cultivated step by step from Qi Condensation, and now they’re like this. All because of me.”

“Go ask anyone in the Eastern Region—there isn’t a single sect whose members don’t hate me.”

The white-robed figure fell silent. After a long while, he spoke again: “When did it start?”

“Don’t change the subject... Wait, are you ready?” Sikong Yan’s eyes lit up, but he quickly shook his head: “I’m not ready yet. Wait a little longer.”

With that, he crouched down, refocusing entirely on the arrays.

Taiqingmen!

Cave Heaven Forbidden Zone!

Since Lingxu Zi and Tianshu Zi died, the only corpse locked in the back mountain dungeon has been the dried body used for experiments.

Thus, only one person remained to guard it; the rest re-entered the Cave Heaven.

Fortunately, due to the sealing by Ghost Emperor Canglong, the first coffin is now completely sealed—no more wandering souls have emerged.

So Duanmu Shu and the others sent Yan Xiaohu inside, opened the lock, and entered easily.

Facing the blood river, withered trees, dead crows, and coffins before them, the seven exchanged glances, their eyes filled with deep suspicion.

“According to Zhou Qing, Canglong was inside the first coffin, which is why he manipulated the wandering souls to cover the gravity zone and intensify the disciples’ trials.”

One of the Supreme Elders broke the silence first.

“Not necessarily!” another Elder shook his head. “While guarding Tianshu Zi, I’ve been pondering a question.”

“If this were truly a trial, then what was the outcome? Aside from Zhou Qing, who among them succeeded? Even Zhou Qing barely escaped each time.”

He scanned the group, continuing: “More importantly, these wandering souls only appeared in recent years.”

“But Canglong has been dead for decades. I lean toward the belief that he originally couldn’t fully control these wandering souls.”

This caused the others to nod in agreement.

But a new question arose: Why did Canglong prevent disciples from entering? Was it for his own sake, or was there another hidden reason?

“Still...” another Elder mused, “From the Lingku Mountain Secret Realm incident, and the thirteen Yin Spirit Stones the ‘Second Uncle’ gave Zhou Qing when he entered, we can at least confirm Canglong had no ill will toward the sect.”

Upon hearing this, all seven sighed in unison.

A Soul Transformation cultivator, whether at the early or peak stage, has a lifespan of no more than two thousand years.

But the burdens of leading a sect often drastically shorten that limit.

Constant affairs, covert rivalries, injuries, or expending lifespan to activate secret techniques—

Thus, even we, their uncles, still live, while the former Sect Masters have long since passed away.

It’s not just Taiqingmen—other major sects are the same.

Yet no one expected Canglong to still be alive, now as a Ghost Emperor.

“Enough,” one Elder said gravely, cutting through their thoughts. “Today we’ve come to discuss the urgent matter.”

“Counting the days, the Lu Yuanzhi and Lu Yuanjiu sisters Zhou Qing mentioned will arrive within two or three years,” he surveyed the group.

“When they settle in permanently, even if we don’t tell them, they’ll eventually learn about our Secret Realm from other disciples.”

“What if they request to visit the Secret Realm? Do we agree or refuse?”

“If we refuse, they’ve traveled thousands of miles to secretly protect us and have become our sect’s greatest asset.”

“Even Zhou Qing says they’ll share insights on breaking through to the Severing Spirit realm and offer full assistance—this is a great favor.”

“But if we agree, no outsider has ever seen this Forbidden Zone in our sect’s history—and clearly, countless treasures remain undeveloped within.”

“This is the legacy we’re meant to leave Zhou Qing, just as our ancestors did!”

The group fell into silence, then said: “We have little lifespan left. Let’s sit here and discuss this thoroughly!”

Then the seven sat down, beginning to debate the various drawbacks.

Two months later!

In Taiqingmen’s Council Hall, Cao Zhengyang gripped a transmission jade slip, his face dark.

Seven more sects had been quietly wiped out overnight—every last person, even a Soul Transformation early-stage Sect Master, had perished.

“Fortunately, all the corpses remain...” Cao Zhengyang murmured.

His gaze swept the detailed list on the jade slip: “At least so far, there’s no sign of the infection army.”

Mo Xingjian sat beside him, his long fingers rhythmically tapping the sandalwood desk, producing a dull sound.

His brow furrowed: “This suggests Lei Wuji is still only accumulating power. But such frequent massacres...”

The two exchanged glances, each seeing deep concern in the other’s eyes.

This scale of slaughter meant Lei Wuji was nearing the implementation of his next plan.

“The sects are too scattered,” Cao Zhengyang sighed. “We lack the capacity to monitor them all. If this continues...”

Mo Xingjian suddenly stopped tapping: “Since we locked onto Jin Leizong, Ling’s group has been closely monitoring its perimeter—but strangely...”

He narrowed his eyes. “We’ve never seen large numbers entering or leaving the sect.”

At this, Mo Xingjian and Cao Zhengyang stared at each other.

“Teleportation array—” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

This guess darkened their expressions further.

If Jin Leizong had an internal teleportation array, tracking Lei Wuji’s movements would become nearly impossible.

Mo Xingjian’s eyes flashed with cold light; he lowered his voice: “What if we...”

Cao Zhengyang understood his meaning, but only shook his head heavily.

Tianji Men has only just stabilized; fully controlling it will take at least fifty years.

Launching a sect war now would not only be uncertain in outcome, but would brand Taiqingmen with the reputation of “Dominant Power of the Eastern Region.”

You’ve already seized Qingyu Immortal Sect and Tianji Men—now Jin Leizong. Do you think Cangyan Dao Palace will sit idle?

Cangyan Dao Palace has twelve Soul Transformation peak Supreme Elders.

And back then, the Nine You Lotus Seeds, the black-robed puppets capable of fighting three at once, the incomplete Five-Color Array, the Four-Color Killing Array—all exposed by Sikong Yan on Canglan Mountain—

Clearly indicate he possesses far more hidden methods than anyone realizes.

Frankly, even with Taiqingmen’s current strength, he still fears that madman.

Not to mention Lei Wuji is now a walking plague king.

If he gets the chance, the one we might suddenly face could be one of our own peak masters.

“This requires careful deliberation,” Cao Zhengyang finally said gravely. “For now, we can only take one step at a time.”

A year passed in the blink of an eye. Zhou Qing had been in seclusion for over a year and three months, during which thirteen more sects were annihilated.

Panic spread throughout the land.

Though Taiqingmen knew who was responsible, without concrete proof or eyewitnesses, they could do nothing.

But everyone knew: Jin Leizong was playing with fire on paper.

And today, from the heavens above, a massive black flying vessel pierced through the clouds and descended.

Its hull was engraved with intricate golden dragon patterns, its prow shaped like a ferocious beast’s head, and blood-red banners hung from either side, snapping in the wind.

Before the vessel even touched the ground, a suffocating pressure had already engulfed Mount Taiqingmen.

The disciples guarding the mountain gate turned pale; even the mountain-protection array trembled faintly, its invisible force manifesting as dual-colored light.

Elder Wu Zhu stepped out from behind the rippling mountain gate, gazing upward with a grave expression.

“Boom—”

The vessel landed heavily, cracking the earth and sending up clouds of dust.

The cabin door slowly opened, and a squad of cultivators clad in black armor stepped out—each step synchronized, each aura icy cold, all of them elite Nascent Soul cultivators.

Then, two familiar figures emerged.

They were none other than Zhong Yao, Governor of Longyuan Commandery, and Xiao Ji, Lord of Lingyun Prefecture.

At this moment, both men exchanged a bitter glance at Elder Wu Zhu before stepping silently aside.

After them, a regal woman in imperial court attire stepped forward with graceful poise.

Her face was beautiful, yet cold as frost; a red cinnabar mark on her brow added to her sharpness.

She wore a luxurious purple-gold phoenix-patterned robe that trailed on the ground, every gesture radiating the authority of a supreme ruler.

Behind her, five gray-robed elders followed like shadows.

Their eyes were as sharp as falcons, and faint killing intent swirled around them.

What was shocking was that their aura was no weaker than Zhong Yao’s, the Governor of Longyuan Commandery!

Recall that in the Holy Wu Empire’s eight commanderies and seventy-two prefectures, every governor’s strength far surpassed ordinary Nascent Soul peak cultivators.

Coupled with the imperial grants of divine arts, magic treasures, and secret techniques unknown to outsiders, they were nearly half-step Sword-Splitting realm beings.

Seeing this group of unwelcoming visitors, Elder Wu Zhu’s heart tightened.

Before he could speak, Cao Zhengyang stepped forward with a cheerful smile: “Brother Zhong, Brother Xiao, long time no see!”

Zhong Yao and Xiao Ji bowed respectfully, their expressions tinged with helplessness: “Brother Cao, we’re troubling you again.”

Cao Zhengyang’s gaze swept over the silent visitors and he nodded slightly: “Who are these—”

(End of Chapter)