Chapter 860: Foul Wind

The darkness before dawn shrouded the Eight Realms, and Yan Buji stood at the cliff's edge, the mountain wind rattling his ash‑gray hair.

After evading the Human Emperor clan's pursuit for years, Yan Buji adjusted the Fiery Oil Cooking Technique while in hiding, playing a four‑year game of hide‑and‑seek with them, and only then lost his sense of danger.

Though he had wasted so many years, Yan Buji did not come away empty‑handed.

At least regarding the use of the Fate‑Weaving Technique, Yan Buji had gathered many insights.

For example, the Fiery Oil Cooking Technique can be toggled via the Swallow Desire Pot, yet it cannot predict where a crisis originates nor which side the crisis belongs to.

Thus Yan Buji focused on the Human Emperor Cultivation Method; through countless harrowing escapes these years, he gradually mastered the proper use of the Fiery Oil Cooking Technique!

That is, when a danger sense arises, he advances instead of retreating, gauging the crisis's magnitude by the intensity of the sense.

This also led Yan Buji to discover that even a faint danger sense might stem from a He Dao cultivator.

"But no matter what, anyone bearing malice toward me cannot evade the Fiery Oil Cooking sense. To stop living in constant fear, I must carve a bloody path." Yan Buji squinted.

The Swallow Desire Pot at his waist quivered restlessly, its spout constantly shifting direction like a venomous snake that had caught a scent of blood. His rough fingers brushed the six protruding Dao talismans on the pot's body.

Greed, Anger, Delusion, Sloth, Doubt, View—each character glowed faintly, as if urging him to begin the hunt.

"Xuan Kun Dao… let it start with you," Yan Buji grinned, exposing a yellowed tooth. The distorted Dao Mark in his left eye shimmered with an eerie cyan glow in the darkness.

After the Swallow Desire Pot absorbed a portion of the power from his left eye's distorted Dao Mark, it enabled Yan Buji to perceive some subtle phenomena through the pot.

Dozens of faint golden threads materialized in his sight, each linking to a distant cultivator. These were the "Fate‑Weaving Lines" he saw via the Swallow Desire Pot; the higher a cultivator's attainment, the thicker the line.

Night was as dark as ink, and the Outer Gate Elder Zhao Wuya was seated in his cave, eyes closed, regulating his breath.

As a mid‑stage Nascent Soul Cultivator, his cave was meticulously arranged: the floor was laid with chill jade that calmed the mind, four corner lanterns burned with oil from jade dragons, and even the air was scented with expensive Tranquil Spirit incense.

Suddenly, all the lights extinguished at once!

"Who?!" Zhao Wuya snapped his eyes open, his Original Celestial Accumulation "Xuan Yin Chi" already clenched in his hand. The ruler's body emitted a faint blue glow, illuminating a hunchbacked figure that had appeared in the cave corner at an unknown time.

"May I borrow a strand of your fate?" The hoarse voice sounded like a dull blade grinding stone.

Before Zhao Wuya could even activate his artifact, a chill swept his chest.

Looking down, he saw a bronze pot spout, somehow having pierced his protective aura, lodged at his own heart. Worse, his five‑hundred‑year‑long Nascent Soul could not detach from his body, locked tightly in his dantian by a bizarre force!

"You… you are the one…" Zhao Wuya's pupils dilated, feeling something precious being forcibly ripped from his body. His skin withered visibly, his hair turned white and fell out, and even his Original Celestial Accumulation began to crack.

Yan Buji turned the pot; the ancient "Greed" rune flared with a glaring blood‑red light. The last thing Zhao Wuya saw were his own withered, twig‑like hands and the cold stare of that one‑eyed elder.

"First one." Yan Buji whispered, gently stroking the pot, feeling the influx of fate power. The Swallow Desire Pot emitted a satisfied hum, the "Greed" rune on its surface becoming distinctly clearer. He flicked a strand of blue fire, turning the corpse to ash, then wrote the six big characters—Greed, Anger, Delusion, Sloth, Doubt, View—in blood beside the ashes.

Yan Buji frowned, "Even if a glance nearly kills a person, absorption by the Swallow Desire Pot leaves residual Fate power. Such devouring cannot completely erase the trace."

He had once conducted an experiment: he knocked a Nascent Soul Cultivator unconscious, carried him to an uninhabited spot, and used the Swallow Desire Pot to absorb him, yet the lingering trace could never be erased.

So Yan Buji decided to stop pretending.

He wasn't a good person; his previous cautious actions were only to avoid being targeted and hunted.

But now…

More debt, no worry; more mites, no itch—damn it!

Yan Buji no longer cared about hiding his identity; the Human Emperor clan had mobilized massive manpower and resources to hunt him, so his reputation had likely already spread throughout the Nan Ting Mountain Region.

Especially with such bizarre methods—anyone of high cultivation would guess the cause—so Yan Buji had no need to conceal his identity.

Better to make them fear!

"I can't defeat a He Dao cultivator of the Refining Void stage; how could I possibly kill you Nascent Soul cultivators?"

"And you Human Emperor clan lot, it'd be best if your juniors went out accompanied by a family elder; otherwise I'll feed you to my Swallow Desire Pot!"

A murderous impulse was not his desire, but when it served his purpose, he would act without hesitation.

In the following three months, the Eight Realms were swept by unprecedented foul wind and blood rain:

The Elder Steward of Xuan Gan Dao suddenly died while refining alchemy, leaving only a charred corpse in the Alchemical Furnace.

The head of the Qing Ming Sect was found dead in a secret chamber, all vital blood drained, his face frozen in utter terror.

Three Nascent Soul sword cultivators of the Heavenly Sword Sect set out together, but met disaster midway; all three of their Original Flying Swords snapped, each blade bearing six strange ancient characters…

Each murder bore an uncanny aura; every victim was a Nascent Soul cultivator, their deaths gruesome yet leaving no signs of combat. Even more chilling, the six blood‑written characters appeared at every crime scene.

"Did you hear? Last night Zi Xiao Pavilion lost another Nascent Elder…"

"That's already the eighth!"

"They say a Transformation God cultivator is hunting Nascent Soul cultivators…"

"How shameless!"

"Shh, are you crazy? That's obviously a great demon; you want to die?"

"These days, never go out alone!"

Panic spread through the Eight Realms like a plague. Every sect activated mountain‑guard formations, Nascent Soul cultivators traveled in groups, and even the markets grew noticeably quiet.

Yet none of this could stop Yan Buji's hunt.

That dusk, on the island realm.

Yan Buji lugged a wine gourd into a secluded teahouse. The place was sparsely populated; in a corner, two Golden Core cultivators whispered.

"…Did you hear? The Yang sisters have returned."

"Shh! Lower your voice! Those two are now big figures of the Ten Thousand Dao Mountain Range…"

"What's there to fear, there's nothing here… uh!"

The speaking Golden Core cultivator suddenly choked, staring in terror at the one‑eyed elder who had appeared at the table. The hunched figure seemed to materialize from the shadows, the strange bronze pot at his waist pointing at them, its spout trembling slightly.