Chapter Fifty-Seven: Gathering of the Demonic Sect

Chilling winds gather spirits, and white bones stand as a forest. Amidst the mournful wind, a thousand ghosts weep; among the dense white bones, ten thousand skeletal trees bloom. When Ji Feichen arrived at the encampment and took in the scene, he mused to himself, “These people really went all out—do they intend to recreate the entire spectacle of the Netherworld Sect here?”

It was unclear which fellow disciple had instigated this, but all the ancestral tombs of the nearby populace of Golden Tortoise City had been dug up. The bones were buried around the hills, each skeleton transformed into a tree of bone, some still festooned with flesh that had not yet decayed, blooming like red flowers upon the boughs of white bone. Aggrieved spirits wailed all around, yet, bound by the sect's dark spells, none could stray more than a pace from their remains.

Seeing this, Ji Feichen shook his head and sighed. Sweeping his gaze with his magical sight, he saw dark energy coiling above the heads of the assembled demon cultivators, knowing well that calamity was upon them and death imminent.

“When those from the Way of Virtue Sect arrive, none of you will escape. Still, these tactics will surely tie up the Way of Virtue, forcing them to clean up the aftermath and rebury the corpses. The delay might give the Netherworld Sect a chance to flee—perhaps, after all, a road to retreat.” Ji Feichen glanced toward Golden Tortoise City. The gates were tightly shut, the streets deserted. Above, auspicious clouds hung in the sky.

“The sisters Li Jingxun and her kin are but two holding the city—how many more of the Celestial Daoists will come to their aid?” With this thought, Ji Feichen made his way to the Black Branch's quarters.

The encampment was a perfect pentagon; the five branches were stationed on the outskirts, while the center housed a circular altar hall, presided over by the sect leader’s line. The Black Branch’s palace stood at the northernmost point, surrounded by winding ravines filled with various toxic waters.

Having cultivated the Weak Water, Ji Feichen was immune to ordinary poisons. He walked above the surface, crossing the toxic moats with ease until he reached the palace, where he recognized many familiar faces.

Most of the Black Branch's elite hailed from the lineage of the Kanming Hall Master. The old master had taken countless disciples in his life—though he had devoured over half himself, those who remained had all achieved the Human Immortal fruit. Most present were thus Ji Feichen’s contemporaries, disciples of the next generation.

The first person Ji Feichen saw was a man. “Senior Brother He.”

He Wenkai’s expression stiffened at the sight of Ji Feichen, but he soon approached with a smiling face. “Junior Brother, you’re here as well?”

“I happened to be nearby and saw the summons, so I came to take a look.”

He Wenkai was also a disciple of Blackflow, of the same lineage as Ji Feichen. Outwardly, the two were cordial, but in his heart, Ji Feichen burned with murderous intent, wishing nothing more than to cut He Wenkai down.

“It must have been this bastard who offered up the dragon chariot to Master, setting me up as his next target!”

He Wenkai, on the other hand, eyed Ji Feichen’s current cultivation and thought, “Master actually kept him alive this long? It seems he’s close to transforming into his true demonic dragon form. Should I intervene at that point and push him into a state of demonic deviation, so Master can use him to pull the chariot?”

Within the demonic sects, intrigue was constant, especially when resources were at stake. Though Blackflow’s heritage was vast, he rarely gave so much as a tenth of his treasures to his disciples.

With too many mouths to feed, open and covert struggles were inevitable; to advance, one had to step over others. Among Blackflow’s disciples, those cultivating the “Dark Nether Black Demon Codex,” save for the true heir, were all considered “emergency rations.” In contrast, Ji Feichen, who walked a different path, was not a direct threat. If not for the dragon chariot, Blackflow would not have targeted him—after all, another disciple meant another source of materials.

Thus, though the brothers exchanged pleasantries, beneath the surface, all was enmity. After their brief conversation, they took their seats.

The one in charge of the Black Branch was not from Blackflow’s line, but rather Ling Feng, a disciple of Blackpool.

“You are surely aware,” Ling Feng began. “My master is at a critical juncture. Should he succeed in forging the True Devil Body of the Earthly Immortal, our Black Branch will rise above the rest and dominate the five branches. The Spiritual Egg unearthed at Golden Tortoise City is a gift from the heavens destined for my master. I ask for your assistance in seizing this divine boon.”

Strengthen the Black Branch?

Ji Feichen sneered inwardly as he surveyed the room, reading the thoughts behind every face. They all knew the truth of the Black Branch’s situation.

To become the head of the five branches? Once Blackpool attains Earthly Immortality, Kanming Hall Master will devour him, instantly achieving the Supreme Dao Fruit of the Heavenly Demon. Black Branch may briefly have an Earthly Immortal, but he’ll soon depart for the Netherworld, leaving mortal affairs behind, and the branch will become the weakest of the five.

Demon cultivators were ruthlessly self-serving. Once they ascended, who cared about the fate of their successors? Sects were nothing more than tools for the great demon lords to gather resources and aid their cultivation. Unlike the Celestial Daoists, the demonic sects cared little for lineage or tradition. Kanming Hall Master had cultivated for millennia, cycling through generations of disciples, but only he had climbed step by step to this day, on the backs of countless sacrifices.

Still, everyone present had been instructed by their own elders before coming. They immediately echoed Ling Feng’s words: “Senior Brother Ling speaks truly! The Daoists have harassed our Netherworld Sect time and again, do they think us easy prey? This time, beneath Golden Tortoise City, we will show them our strength!”

Their own masters had their calculations as well. As the saying went, “Better the other dies than I.” If Blackpool perished, sending the old hall master to the Nine Hells, perhaps the vacated position could be contested? Might some long-repressed cultivators find themselves unshackled?

Thus, the Black Branch’s unity was not for external threat, but for internal advantage.

Their goal was to send Kanming Hall Master to ascension—whether Blackflow or Blackpool died was of no consequence.

Pleased with their agreement, Ling Feng smiled. “With your support, our branch will surely flourish. Senior Brother Zheng has been waiting; we must not delay.”

“Zheng Qiong?” Ji Feichen frowned and asked He Wenkai, “Has Senior Brother Zheng from the Sect Leader’s line emerged from seclusion?”

“Yes,” He Wenkai replied grimly, lowering his voice. “Uncle Blackpool is aligning himself with the Sect Leader. Senior Brother Zheng’s arrival at Golden Tortoise City is clearly preparation for Uncle’s ascension. If he survives with the Sect Leader’s backing, our master is in grave danger.”

Should Blackpool succeed, it would spell trouble for Blackflow’s line. If the old master turned his blade on Blackflow, what then?

“We’ll see,” Ji Feichen replied noncommittally. The brothers followed the others toward the grand hall.

By now, Zheng Qiong and the representatives of the other four branches were present, along with supporters from various other demonic sects.

The moment they entered the hall, a stench of blood and rot assaulted them. Corpses littered the floor, and some disciples were gouging out hearts and livers to cook in a giant cauldron.

Nearby, the cries of young women echoed; many demon lords laughed as they toyed with captive maidens.

Several disciples of the Netherworld Sect frowned deeply. “The Six-Armed Demon God Sect is here as well?”

Cannibalism was common only among the Black Saint Sect and the Six-Armed Demon God Sect.

Zheng Qiong turned a blind eye to these guests, tacitly permitting them to prey upon mortals. Meanwhile, Netherworld Sect disciples drank and reveled, casting aside exhausted women like discarded garments, who were then seized by the Six-Armed Demon God Sect for cooking.

Ji Feichen sat quietly with his fellows, activating the “White Bone Contemplation.” A flash of black light in his eyes, he saw all present as skeletons—an x-ray vision of sorts.

Thus, the obscene acts appeared to him as nothing more than skeletons in motion, and the human flesh in the cauldrons vanished from his sight.

He kept to himself, a mere background figure, avoiding trouble and attention.

“How savage the demonic sects are…” Ji Feichen felt repulsed. Schemes and intrigue he could accept, for all sought profit by any means.

But cannibalism and heart-eating were abominations to his moral code.

Nor was he alone—most disciples of the White Branch were women, their faces drawn and pale, bottling up their outrage in silence.

Luo Qingyi looked equally disturbed. She approached Zheng Qiong and whispered a few words.

Zheng Qiong immediately spoke with a man in black at his side.

The man instructed his fellows, “Be more discreet. After this, eat in private. Don’t cook human flesh before the Netherworld Sect.”

The Six-Armed Demon God Sect members agreed, carrying off the cauldrons and corpses. The man in black said to Zheng Qiong, “The flesh of these tender maidens is most delicious. Later, I’ll treat Brother Zheng to a full ‘banquet of man’?”

Zheng Qiong forced a dry laugh, not daring to accept. Though the Netherworld Sect’s customs were lax, such acts were still considered aberrant.

With the cauldrons removed, the Netherworld Sect disciples locked the surviving girls in the dungeon.

Seeing this, Xiao Ying instructed two female disciples to assist: “Keep them alive. Don’t let those vile men torment them to death.”

“Let’s put aside idle chatter and discuss business,” a woman from the White Branch stepped forward. “After the Killing Calamity, this is the first major clash between us and the Celestial Daoists. How do you all think we should fight?”

Truth be told, this conflict was due in part to Ji Feichen.

On that day, his commotion in the Demon Suppressing Pagoda enraged the Supreme Heaven Palace, spurring the Daoists to hunt down demon cultivators. Forced into a corner, the Netherworld Sect could only marshal its forces for a direct contest.

Ji Feichen sensed that this was the final tribulation before he achieved the Human Immortal fruit. Once passed, his karma with the Supreme Heaven Palace would be resolved, and his ascension assured.

“It seems I must cross blades with Qin Wu once more, severing the last tie with the Supreme Heaven Palace.”

At this moment, Zheng Qiong said, “The Sect Leader has divined that the Celestial Jade Egg will emerge at noon tomorrow. Then, we’ll pit ourselves against the Daoists for the mandate of heaven—each by his own means. The question is, how many of them will come? Tomorrow, we must probe their strength and guard against an assault.”

Yuchen, the man in black from the Six-Armed Demon God Sect, spoke: “Others I cannot say, but Qin Wu of the Supreme Heaven Palace will certainly come.”

Qin Wu’s name alone struck fear—he was the chosen heir of the Supreme Heaven Palace, his rise built on vanquishing demon cultivators. Those he had slain or captured numbered in the hundreds.

At his mention, all present grew uneasy.

“One Qin Wu is difficult enough—what if another sacred heir appears?”

“There can be only one sun in the sky, one sovereign among men. Should the heir of the Taiyuan Palace emerge, those two would surely fight first,” Zheng Qiong laughed. “Don’t worry—Qin Wu won’t target you. Just tangle with the scholars of the Way of Virtue or the other visiting Daoist sects.”

“No need to fear Qin Wu?” Yuchen asked. “You’re so confident, Brother Zheng—have you an expert backing you? Is it the Boundless Blood Sea?”

If the Supreme Heaven Palace’s heir was coming, perhaps the Boundless Blood Sea would appear as well.

Zheng Qiong merely smiled, saying nothing. The one he relied upon was not the Boundless Blood Sea. The demonic sanctuaries were not dominated by the Blood Sea alone—at the very least, the Netherworld Sect was its equal.

“Why shouldn’t the demonic sanctuaries gain another pillar? This time, let our Netherworld Sect rise to power!” Zheng Qiong’s spirit soared, intent on forging his own legendary reputation in the coming battle.