Chapter 142: Myriad Demons Heaven

Ten thousand miles of frozen wasteland stretched out in desolate, bone-chilling cold, a crystalline expanse as far as the eye could see. This was the Northern Sea, located thirty-fang-thousand li south of the Northern Sea’s shores in the northern reaches of the Divine Land. Rising from this frozen earth were the myriad-li-long Demon Desolation Mountains. Towering peaks and jagged ridges, no different from the other mountain ranges of the Divine Land, pierced the vast seas of clouds where cranes called and gibbons wept—a veritable immortal paradise. Yet, this very place was a forbidden zone that made cultivators across the realm turn pale at the mere mention: the Ten Thousand Demons Sky, the second most perilous forbidden land, rivaling the Wild Wastelands.

Daoist Patriarch Xuanhuang had captured the entire righteous faction in a single move with "Heaven and Earth Xuanhuang." In less time than it took to burn a stick of incense, he had retreated back to the Heavenly Blessing Palace in the Ten Thousand Demons Sky, where he was currently conferring with the Demon Cult Master, Huang Minghuang.

"Cultivator Master, I believe this entire Daishan affair was entirely superfluous," Xuanhuang said. "What virtues or abilities do Ren Qianshu and the others possess? In the end, it still required my intervention to secure a decisive victory in a single stroke. In my view, sweeping away the various sects requires no such trouble. With the three of us making a move, victory was naturally within our grasp."

The Heavenly Blessing Palace was built deep within a ten-thousand-zhang abyss in the belly of the Demon Desolation Mountains. Enveloped by shifting mists for dozens of li around, the palace's interior was decorated with incomparable exquisite splendor, resembling an imperial court. Within the grand hall, sandalwood incense, luminous pearls, murals, luxurious carpets, and crane-shaped palace lanterns were all in complete array, truly possessing a touch of immortal aura and royal might.

The Demon Cult Master, the immensely powerful Huang Minghuang, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a white-and-gold imperial robe embroidered with nine dragons and a jade crown upon his head, gazing proudly and fixedly at the topographical map of the Divine Land hanging behind the throne.

"Old Huang, our Sacred Cult has strived for self-improvement for thousands of years, experiencing dozens of cycles of rise and fall. Do you know the underlying reason for this?" Huang Minghuang asked, his back turned to Daoist Patriarch Xuanhuang. His voice possessed the resonant quality of clashing metal, clear and lingering in the air.

"This..." Xuanhuang's hazy visage gradually cleared, revealing a withered, sallow old face that wore a look of slight bewilderment. He could not fathom why Huang Minghuang was bringing this up.

"The rise and fall of the Sacred Cult lies not in destiny, but in human endeavor! The Ten Thousand Demons Sky is brimming with talent, and with three senior predecessors holding down the fort here, all past Cult Masters have been ambitious and possessed unfathomable power. Yet not a single one of them was able to dominate the world of cultivation and achieve eternal renown. It was all because their horizons were narrow, making enemies on all sides, ignorant of the art of lying low and biding their time, which provoked the various sects and powers to encircle and attack them in unison. Now, these chaotic times are gradually unfolding—a once-in-a-millennium opportunity. We must not be greedy for quick success and press forward recklessly, lest we live to regret it. Your actions today, Old Huang, have likely drawn countless gazes, which is truly disadvantageous for our Sacred Cult. However, since you have already captured these people, we should make good use of them. Lock them away in the Frost Suppression Abyss first, while I ponder this further."

Though Huang Minghuang did not state it outright, displeasure was already evident in his demeanor regarding Xuanhuang's actions. Ren Qianshu and Shen Yinnan had been ordered to disrupt the righteous faction's assembly, but they had never asked Daoist Patriarch Xuanhuang to intervene. Such arbitrary actions on his part had placed Huang Minghuang in an awkward position.

Xuanhuang attempted to argue further, but Huang Minghuang merely sighed, waved his hand, and made it clear his mind was made up and he wished to discuss it no further.

"In that case, this old man shall escort this batch of prisoners to the Frost Suppression Abyss and await the Cult Master's final decision!" Daoist Patriarch Xuanhuang gave a slight bow, transformed into a wisp of mysterious yellow Qi, and vanished from the resplendent grand hall.

After a long while, Huang Minghuang turned around and gazed out past the grand hall, his eyes deep and bright. His full head of hair was as crystal-clear as silkworms, and his features were cold and stern, radiating the supreme majesty of an emperor. Before long, a commotion arose outside; Shen Yinnan and the others had arrived together to report.

"Greetings, Cult Master."

"Rise. You have all worked hard in this campaign. What are the casualties?" Huang Minghuang sat upright upon the dragon throne. The dragon throne was a zhang wide, cast in solid gold with a hundred dragons carved upon it, cushioned with sandalwood and yellow brocade. Behind the dragon throne stood five parallel screens of pure gold, each carved with nine auspicious dragons, symbolizing the supremacy of the ruler and absolute authority. This entire arrangement resembled the palace of the mortal world, bearing no resemblance to the lair of a demonic cult.

"Reporting to the Cult Master, Ji Hongyun's injuries relapsed, so she departed the formation early. The Sword Demon Tong Yu fled during the battle and his whereabouts are currently unknown. As for the rest, not a single one perished—truly a fortunate blessing for the Sacred Cult," Shen Yinnan stepped forward to report.

"Oh? Then this can be considered a complete victory! You have all labored hard; return to your respective caves to rest and recuperate. I shall discuss merits and bestow rewards another day. As for the matter of the Sword Demon, I shall handle it myself, so you need not dwell on it." A hard-to-conceal joy flashed across Huang Minghuang's jade-like face, and inwardly he was extremely satisfied with this operation.

"Understood!" The hall masters and cave masters chorused their assent and withdrew, leaving only Shen Yinnan, Ren Qianshu, and the Poison King behind.

Huang Minghuang smiled slightly, looked toward the Poison King, and said in a clear voice, "Cave Master Yang, do you have an urgent matter?"

Poison King Yang Pu straightened his expression and replied respectfully, "Reporting to the Cult Master, a year ago my two little disciples met a tragic death away from home. Now, by sheer coincidence, I have encountered the murderer, who was captured by Senior Xuanhuang along with the others. I earnestly request the Cult Master to hand him over to me so that I may avenge my two disciples!"

***

"Who is it?" Huang Minghuang calmly uttered two words.

"This person should be a disciple of the Hundred Flowers Sect. I do not know his name, probably just some nameless nobody, but he wields a bizarre fan." The Poison King bowed his head and reported truthfully.

Ren Qianshu's handsome brows furrowed. With a sharp gaze, he glanced sideways at the Poison King, but remained silent. Shen Yinnan looked contemplative and likewise said nothing.

Huang Minghuang gazed at the three of them, flicked his finger to shoot out a golden token, and smiled gently, "Take this Imperial Emperor Token of mine, and you may go to the Frost Suppression Abyss to extract the prisoner and exact justice for your second disciple."

"Many thanks, Cult Master. This subordinate takes his leave." Joy glinting in his eyes, the Poison King shook his black robes and retreated hastily.

After he departed, Ren Qianshu clasped his fists and said, "Cult Master, the person Yang Pu seeks possesses the Buddha-bone relic of Master Zhiyuan from the Floating Pagoda Temple. Aren't we letting him off too lightly?"

A strange look flashed through Huang Minghuang's eyes before returning to normal. He smiled and said, "It is merely a Buddhist relic. If Yang Pu can make proper use of it, it will be yet another addition to our cult's strength."

"Cult Master, what should our next step be?" Shen Yinnan stepped forward and asked in a soft voice.

Huang Minghuang stood up, descended the steps, looked at the two of them, and replied calmly, "Wait and watch the changes."

...

Meanwhile, the Poison King, brimming with excitement after obtaining the Imperial Emperor Token, headed straight for the Frost Suppression Abyss. Along the way, he had calculated every detail, determined to make full use of Lin Feng. A Buddhist relic—that was a once-in-a-millennium sacred treasure.

The Heavenly Blessing Palace was already located beneath an abyss ten thousand zhang deep, and this Frost Suppression Abyss was situated another hundred zhang deeper still. It was piercingly cold year-round, and without the strength of the Golden Core stage, one could hardly resist the exceptionally low temperatures within. Guarded strictly both inside and out, with only a single passage, the probability of either escaping or sneaking in was virtually zero.

Arriving at the entrance of the Frost Suppression Abyss, the Poison King took a deep breath, produced the Imperial Emperor Token, and as the golden token's radiance flickered, he slowly walked into the freezing abyss.

The two grey-robed elders guarding the entrance did not even lift their eyelids, yet they caused the Poison King's heart to skip a beat for no reason. He had only passed by this place once before, having merely heard tales of its terrifying netherworld-like horror without ever witnessing the truth inside. Now experiencing it firsthand, a lingering sense of timidity rose within him.

The two grey-robed elders sat cross-legged at the cave entrance, their long white beards flecked with tiny dead grass. No one knew how many ages they had spent sitting quietly here, yet not the slightest trace of magical fluctuation emanated from their bodies. The Poison King bowed respectfully, but before he could speak, the emaciated, withered-looking old man on the left waved his hand and transmitted a voice directly into his mind: "Do not exceed the time of one incense stick."

"Understood, many thanks, Senior." A chill gripped the Poison King's heart as he hurried into the Frost Suppression Abyss.

The interior was terrifyingly silent; he could even hear the flow of his own blood, and the sound of his breathing was frighteningly loud. Flexing his fingers, the Poison King conjured a ball of Heavenly Heart White Flame, illuminating the abyss that plunged straight down into the endless depths of the earth.

Clusters of crystal-like rocks radiating an eerie blue hue lined the cave walls. The ground beneath his feet was freezing cold, and he hurriedly mobilized his demonic arts to resist the extreme chill. There were no heavily armed guards as rumored, but this piercing cold penetrated straight to the depths of his soul. Even with his profound cultivation, the Poison King felt a sense of inadequacy, as if something heavy were pressing down upon his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Advancing about a hundred paces into the darkness, the cells holding the high-security prisoners finally came into view. This space, a hundred zhang wide, was filled with barrel-like prison cells stretching in rows deeper into the earth. Each cell was forged of fine steel with a small door, leaving a few holes at the top for guards to inspect, while the rest was completely sealed, casting the entire structure into a square prison block. Outside these cells, a faint layer of starlight flickered. The Poison King involuntarily took a deep breath, and a sharp pain immediately shot through his lungs, setting off a fit of coughing.

***

"Halt, who goes there!" Outside the cells, every twenty paces sat a middle-aged man clad in fiery red battle armor, holding a sword. Just as the Poison King was covering his mouth and holding his breath, an authoritative voice pierced straight toward him.

"This is Yang Pu of the Absolute Poison Valley, here by the Cult Master's command to extract a prisoner for trial." The Poison King looked over and saw the first man sitting there staring directly at him.

"Go verify it immediately!" The man stood up, his gaze locked onto the Poison King like a pair of daggers.

"Yes." The Poison King walked forward in large strides and peered into the cell. At that single glance, the muscles on his face twitched repeatedly, making him look all the more ferocious.

Three people were locked inside the first cell, bound with thick iron chains and half-suspended in the air. Their beards were unkempt, their robes tattered, eyes tightly closed, and their faces devoid of any sign of life. Their entire bodies were caked with ice shards, and their lower bodies were submerged in pools of mercury-like black liquid, completely motionless.

"Dark Yin Heavy Water!" The Poison King's heart skipped a beat, disbelief washing over his features.

This Dark Yin Heavy Water was the second-coldest water in the world. Ordinary people were injured the moment they touched it, and cultivators often used it to refine magical treasures or brew special medicinal pills—it was extremely rare. He never expected it would be used here to imprison criminals; it was simply too extravagant. What the Poison King found even harder to believe was that these three people had been soaked in this water pool for years upon years, yet they still retained a thread of breath and refused to die. Just what realm had their cultivation reached?

The guard in the red armor glanced at him, and the Poison King hurriedly shook his head, looking toward the subsequent cells.

Every cell here held three people, who also appeared to be long-term prisoners, though their treatment was slightly better—there was no Dark Yin Heavy Water, though the iron chains were still numerous. Judging from their attire, they seemed to originate from minor cultivation sects, none of whom the Poison King recognized.

Starting from the eighth cell, the newly arrived captives were imprisoned: monks from the Floating Pagoda Temple, disciples of the Hundred Flowers Sect, and others, all locked in heavy chains and unconscious.

The Poison King walked all the way to the very end before finally locating Lin Feng. After giving a brief notification to the guards, he grabbed Lin Feng and hurried away, returning to the Absolute Poison Valley.

"Brat, you killed my two disciples. Today this old man will use you to refine immortal pills. A sarira! Heh heh, heaven truly helps me! Once I refine the Arhat Nirvana Pill, this old man will surely surpass the other cave masters and at least command a full hall!" The Poison King calculated happily in his heart, and within moments, he arrived back at the lair of the Absolute Poison Valley.

"Welcome back to the valley, Master!" The disciples had long been lined up waiting in the valley. Seeing the Poison King descend with a captive in his grasp, they immediately shouted in unison.

"Silence! Yanwei, Shujun, the two of you quickly go prepare the Myriad Streams Divine Cauldron. This old man shall ignite the furnace to refine pills in a few days. From this day forward, no one is permitted to leave the valley, and you must strictly prevent disciples from other caves from coming and going to spy. Anyone who leaks the slightest hint of this... heh heh, will be fed to the 'Mottled-Backed' venom beasts!"

Upon hearing the command, a layer of cold sweat broke out across the disciples' spines. Zeng Yanwei and Xing Shujun tightened their expressions and hastily accepted the order, departing to carry it out. The Poison King laughed heartily, whipped up a gust of wind, and vanished into his quarters, plunging the Absolute Poison Valley into instant silence.