Chapter 96: Blood River, Crimson Rust—No Hatred Should Exist

Qian Chen leaned against the massive rock, still waiting at the cave entrance; the sun had sunk low, its afterglow bathing him in golden light, the white Daoist robe speckled with radiance. Around him, peaks rose and fell like dragons, the mountain wind cold and mournful, howling strangely through the gorge. The shadows of the towering peaks mirrored in the valley, resembling swords, spears, halberds, and weapons of a martial arsenal.

No one knew what had happened inside the demon cave; Yan Shu and the others had not emerged yet.

Of course, judging by the situation, Qian Chen’s side was far more perilous—he had no reason to worry about them.

Qian Chen gazed at the black mountain rising in the distance; the surrounding aura gradually stagnated, a hidden current surging beneath, as if all prior calm had been preparing for this moment.

A faint rustling came from behind him; he also caught a pungent stench of blood on either side.

“About thirty or forty demons,” Qian Chen slowly retracted all his magic power into his dantian. He wasn’t joking when he said he had only one-tenth of his strength left. When fighting Miao Kong, he had exhausted his true qi and relied solely on an external elixir.

Yet at the final strike, when the elixir had frozen his body and his inner channels lay empty, he suddenly sensed a wealth the thief could not steal—the faintest thread of magic power, closest to the essence.

Heaven and Earth are the greatest thief, stealing the vitality, primordial qi, spirit, soul, and nature of all living beings…

This is simply the natural dispersal of primordial qi—the moment Heaven and Earth “moves.”

But when the motive is gone, the thief steals everything, leaving only hollow emptiness… only then can one perceive the faint “stillness”—the most fundamental primordial qi of the human being.

The nature of this thread of magic power surpassed Qian Chen’s imagination—it seemed endless, never diminishing or regressing, the root of all primordial qi.

At that moment, Qian Chen suddenly comprehended the mystery of the Primordial One Qi Supreme Clarity Talisman—he pondered long and hard, and could only describe it in one phrase: “The valley spirit never dies; this is called the mysterious female. The gate of the mysterious female is called the root of Heaven and Earth. It endures, continuous, yet never exhausted.”

To prevent the twelve white bone relics and the Nine Celestial Ghosts entwined upon them from interfering, and to exploit this state of utter emptiness—his body devoid of all support—Qian Chen condensed that thread of mysterious female qi into the Supreme Clarity Primordial One Qi Talisman, transforming it into his fundamental magic power, forging the purest, unregressing true force: he sealed his dantian and meridians with Ice Po Cold Light.

The Guanghan Ice Po Primordial Elixir was also sent into the Sleeve’s Cosmos to suppress that demonic thought.

Though Qian Chen had descended to the utmost weakness, merely clinging to that faint, lingering, barely-there qi, he still followed the principle: “Reversal is the movement of the Dao; weakness is its function. All things under Heaven arise from being; being arises from non-being.” His own utter softness became utter strength.

When his magic power and true qi were utterly empty, his soul’s connection to the Dao Dust Pearl became excruciatingly clear.

Following the Daoist method of yielding to overcome strength, softness overcoming hardness, Qian Chen placed himself in “nothingness,” thereby overcoming the “something” outside.

He allowed the twelve Celestial Chen white bone relics and the Nine Sons Celestial Ghosts’ demonic thoughts to invade him, while his soul gradually emptied, until he reached the state of countless external demons yet not a single thought within—completing the first step of subduing demons: distinguishing inner from outer, so that external demons could not stir internal demons. Only then could he use the supreme demon method to subdue and tame them.

At this moment, he was weakest—his magic power and true essence had been reduced to the extreme—but also strongest, for his soul hovered between existence and non-existence. When commanding the twelve Celestial Chen white bone relics, he was “being”; when external demons turned against him, he was utterly empty.

Normally, such a state would be the most prone to collapse—but Qian Chen had the Dao Dust Pearl guarding his soul; the external demons had no power over him at all. All their ferocity and might became his own strength.

This was the supreme demon method of subduing demons—and also the Daoist method of non-action.

It embodied the unity of Dao and Demon: “Precisely because he does not contend, none under Heaven can contend with him.”

This was why Qian Chen claimed that with three-tenths of his strength, he was invincible; with ten-tenths, he could not move an inch. If he grew stronger, his Daoist magic power would inevitably clash with the demonic entities in his sleeve; caught between the two, he would barely retain three-tenths of his combat power—only the Dao Dust Pearl’s suppression of his mind kept him from unraveling.

But when Qian Chen himself remained in a state of yielding weakness, the demonic and ghostly forces that could not invade or infect his soul became entirely his to wield.

Demon aura surged like a tide, nearly filling the entire gorge. Because Qian Chen had not a single trace of true qi left, his spiritual perception grew even keener—he used his inner “nothingness” to seize the “movement,” stealing the “something” from the demons in his sleeve. Instantly, the crimson magic power surging from one white bone relic became a river of blood, pouring violently into Qian Chen’s own empty aura.

“Why does the Dao Dust Pearl seem useless in orthodox Daoist cultivation, yet becomes an ultimate treasure if one switches to demon cultivation?” Qian Chen felt that even Miao Kong could not touch the white bone relics—only carefully balanced and controlled—and now, these ferocious demonic entities obeyed him like obedient dolls.

All malice, wrath, hatred—none could touch his soul, guarded by the Dao Dust Pearl; they were but a breeze brushing his face.

The surging crimson true qi, the demonic aura—none affected his inner “nothingness.”

Suddenly, he realized that though he had some talent in Daoist cultivation, compared to his demonic aptitude, he was nothing… Facing the surging demon tide slowly surrounding him, trying to drive him into the demon cave behind, Qian Chen felt no fear—only curiosity: “If I turn demon, perhaps in the Nine Heavens, I might truly claim the title of Demon Ancestor!”

At that moment, the demon behind Qian Chen raised half its body: the upper half was a red-haired demonic woman, mouth open to reveal four outward-curving fangs, her skin purplish-red, covered in strange patterns; the lower half was a spider the size of a cart, with eight legs ending in razor-sharp points. Suddenly, four legs sprang, lunging at Qian Chen.

Qian Chen solemnly said: “On this moonlit night, I wish to cultivate the union of love.”

He had long wanted to say this! The spider-woman extended her long tongue: “Of course! I would be honored to join you in the bliss of ecstasy!” She emitted a seductive giggle, yet her movements never paused—a single leg stabbed straight toward Qian Chen’s chest.

Qian Chen’s hand flipped, palm becoming a blade, tearing out a crimson slash like a river of light—he did not hesitate, the blade-slash swept horizontally—

Blood River, Crimson Rust—No Hatred Should Exist!

This was the most profound demonic transmission of the Nine Heavens Blood Sea—the Heavenly Demon Blood Transformation Divine Blade!

As the blade-light rose, it resembled a river of blood crossing the sky; the crimson true qi upon it was like rust on the blade—yet also the rust of the enemy’s blood. Those slain by this blade, even immortals, gods, Buddhas, or demons, should harbor no hatred… for they would willingly submit!

If the grandson of the ancient demon elder, whose bones had been forged into the white bone relics, saw the blade-light Qian Chen now wielded, he would understand: to master this blade, in life-or-death struggle, it should be Miao Kong who dies—and his monstrous grandfather should fear his own grandson’s demonic outburst, offering himself to the blade.

And his own retreat, his own fear, utterly betrayed the demonic essence of the blade.

The spider demon, struck first, was utterly terrified, leaping back, spewing thick silk from her abdomen, crying: “My lord, if you wish to cultivate love, why turn so cruel?” She revealed her cultivation—clearly a rare demon nearing Core Formation, formidable indeed.

Qian Chen coldly replied: “You should say: ‘You fear gossip; I fear words. One misstep, and shame and morality vanish.’”

“Without it, it’s not the same!”

The spider spirit stared at Qian Chen’s utterly bored expression, her grievance too profound to explain—what kind of strange fetish was this?

Qian Chen knew she could never grasp the subtlety of roleplay… so beneath the blade-light, he showed no mercy.

At that moment, the grotesque demons rushing toward Qian Chen were the first struck—instantly, their essence and blood were drained, their demonic souls and Yaopo severed, their tough demonic bodies torn apart by the blade-qi, as if ripped apart by five horses, dying in gruesome horror.

The crimson light vanished in an instant; after swinging the blade, Qian Chen had already drawn his hand back into his sleeve.

The spider spirit retreated swiftly; the silk Chanrao on her legs now pulled her back, and in an instant she was atop a cliff dozens of zhang away, her beautiful face now vacant, staring blankly at Qian Chen.

The tiger demon, leading the frontal assault, saw the few minor demons near him instantly obliterated by the utterly sinister blade-light. He was both terrified and enraged, roaring at the spider spirit: “Meiniang… have you lost your soul to a few flirty words from this brat?”

The moment he finished speaking—

A hissing wind came from the spider spirit’s body. When blood spurts in a thin line, it truly makes a wind-like sound. An endless crimson light burst from a single line splitting her from her brow, draining her entire demonic aura, blood, and cultivation, transforming into a pool of eerie crimson fluid…

The fluid became a long blade, returning to Qian Chen’s palm.

As Qian Chen’s right palm turned the blade-light once more, he spun and slashed again—“I’ll let you run another lifetime—see if you can escape this blade!”

Countless demons felt a hot flow stirring within them, uncontrollable—immediately, their blood, demonic souls, and magic power burst from their bodies as blade-qi, rushing into the blade-light Qian Chen drew from his clasped hands. Countless blood shadows coalesced, solidifying the blade-light into tangible form, on the verge of becoming a magic artifact.

Qian Chen silently calculated: to transform this blade-qi into the true Heavenly Demon Blood Transformation Divine Blade, he would need to slaughter roughly one hundred thousand demons… The moment this number surfaced, he shuddered. These were no ordinary demons—each was nearly half-transformed, equivalent to elite guard tigers among wolf demons.

One alone was enough to challenge a cultivation master seeking to slay demons!

One hundred thousand… even if he slaughtered every demon in this realm, it wouldn’t be enough!

“What kind of demonic artifact is this!” Qian Chen muttered.

Seeing the elite demons brought by the tiger demon wiped out in an instant by Qian Chen’s sinister technique, the tiger demon, numb with shock, felt a strange thought arise: “Am I the demon… or is he?”

Before he could think further, the tiger demon summoned black wind and fled backward. In his final glimpse, from the corner of his eye, he saw Qian Chen sheathing the blade-light—just as he began to relax, Qian Chen’s left hand, hidden in his sleeve, emerged again, and flicked lightly toward the fleeing demon.

A silent, colorless lightning erupted from within the tiger demon’s body, instantly reducing its steel-boned frame to a mist of blood.

At that moment, it finally knew the answer: “Indeed… he is the demon…”

Sitting half upon the boulder, Qian Chen had never risen. He retracted his finger and murmured: “The Silent Thunder should be used like this… What was I even doing before?”