Qin Shuanglian cried out hoarsely, emotionally overwhelmed, her voice laden with untold bitterness, pain, sorrow, and hope. This deeply unsettled Meng Qi and the others, who had just arrived and hadn’t yet grasped the situation. Suddenly, they gained a clear understanding of the Nine Nether’s fissures and the perils of the surging demonic tide.
It was an unending torment spanning thousands or even ten thousands of years, a suffocating darkness where tomorrow was uncertain and numbness reigned!
Exchanging glances with Jiang Zhiwei, Ruan Yushu, and Zhao Heng, Meng Qi saw the same feelings reflected in their eyes—and the same confusion. These people seemed to recognize them, addressing them as the “Sage Emperor Miaowu” or respectfully as seniors, clearly not speaking without reason.
Was this the work of the Six Dao, or was it related to the previously mentioned “reputation across realms”?
“Senior, please save us!”
“Save this world!”
Qin Shuanglian’s pleas continued, leaving Qin Shuanghua and others stunned like wooden statues. Meng Qi quickly composed himself, stepped forward, and said solemnly, “We came here precisely concerning the demonic tide. Young lady, please calm yourself and speak clearly.”
Though his voice was calm, it reached Qin Shuanglian without any obstruction. She lifted her head, tears streaking her cheeks, her eyes glistening with moisture, and shimmered with strange brilliance within.
Had the Master of the Six Dao finally shown mercy, sending a supreme warrior who had survived three or four death missions to rescue this world?
Qin Shuanglian was both startled and delighted, her heart surging, eyes burning, nearly breaking into sobs again. But she had undergone many cycles of life and death in past tasks, and managed to steady herself. Glancing around, she rasped, “Esteemed seniors, this is not a suitable place to talk. Please follow this junior to another location.”
Confident in his martial prowess, Meng Qi exchanged a few words with Jiang Zhiwei and others, then nodded slightly: “Lead the way.”
As they spoke, they stepped out of the prison cell. Yet the iron bars remained unbroken, the heavy lock untouched, leaving the surrounding prisoners gaping in astonishment.
Qin Shuanglian hurriedly stood up, pulled her dazed cousin along, and turned to lead the way.
At this moment, He Yun suddenly came to his senses, desperately pushing himself up, clutching the bars, and crying out, “Four Emperors, save us! This humble servant spread your glory—surely there must be some reward for effort, if not merit!”
“I was able to see you in my dreams—it must have been fate!”
His words were jumbled and incoherent, desperately begging for the mercy of the Four Divine Saviors.
Only then did Qin Shuanglian recall that he was the leader of a heretical cult, one that worshipped them as deities. Her heart grew uneasy, puzzled about their relationship and uncertain of the seniors’ stance. She turned to Meng Qi, hesitating slightly before asking, “Senior, how should we deal with him?”
Instinctively, she still didn’t want to spare such a harmful cultist, hence using the word “deal with.”
“A dream vision? Spreading our glory?” Meng Qi mused thoughtfully and nodded.
He Yun’s cultivation was weak; under Meng Qi’s scrutiny, there were no secrets left. He had already roughly figured out what had happened—it was again related to the “reputation across realms.” However, in their previous cycles, they had often disguised themselves. This time, they had just descended and hadn’t completed their disguises yet. How could He Yun recognize them?
The dream vision must have been from past cycles!
Could it be that the “reputation” was tied to their true selves, unaffected by disguises? Unless they took on a completely different appearance upon descending into this world, they would still be recognized.
Glancing back at He Yun and others, Meng Qi said flatly, “He has used our names to deceive others. His intentions are vile. Deal with him as you see fit.”
Qin Shuanglian visibly relaxed, while He Yun’s face turned pale with despair, sliding down along the bars to collapse lifelessly.
Soon, the group returned to the Qin family courtyard. Qin Shuanghua, the constable, gradually regained her senses. Putting together the previous conversation, she formed a preliminary judgment about the four mysterious figures resembling portraits:
Her elder sister seemed to recognize them, addressing them as seniors, clearly not true deities.
If that was the case, then He Yun’s dream vision must have been a lie. He must have seen these four before to draw such lifelike portraits. Without any familial or friendly ties, he used them to establish his heretical cult—not a sudden whim, but likely incited by them. Now that the cult had been exposed, they had come in person!
These people were likely up to no good!
“Sister, who exactly are they? Why did you beg them?” Qin Shuanghua secretly transmitted her voice.
Qin Shuanglian’s voice trembled with excitement: “Their background is none of your concern. Just remember one thing—they are immensely powerful, comparable to gods and demons. They can seal the Nine Nether’s fissures.”
Then, there would be no more suffering from the demonic tide, no more sacrifices forced by necessity!
This was the hope of every human being for thousands of years!
Powerful enough to rival gods and demons? Qin Shuanghua always felt her elder sister was more knowledgeable, yet she spoke so highly of these four!
Throughout history, humanity had produced formidable cultivators who ascended to the pinnacle of the Ninth Heaven, yet compared to the malevolent deities and demonic spirits of equivalent strength, their numbers were scarce—far too few to genuinely shift the balance. More often than not, they could only blaze brilliantly for a single epoch, shielding mankind yet incapable of eradicating the threats entirely. And yet, even such extraordinary figures had never been likened by her sister to gods and demons!
Could it be that her sister had fallen under an illusion or been influenced by heart demons? Qin Shuanghua felt a chill in her heart, suspecting the worst.
During every demonic tide, there were always uniquely gifted demons infiltrating human cities, lying in wait to wreak havoc and destruction, aiding the demonic forces in breaching the city walls!
“Who exactly are you?” she deliberately feigned ignorance.
International friends, uh, no—cosmic friends… Meng Qi muttered to himself but did not say it aloud.
Though he considered himself somewhat humorous, Qin Shuanglian’s desperate pleas still echoed in his ears, and the oppressive atmosphere of this world was evident along the way. This was no place for jokes. He answered seriously, “We were young when we met a strange cultivator who took us into a secret realm to learn martial arts. Now our divine skills are complete, and it is time to expel evil and restore peace to the world.”
“Just to come to Pingle City for that?” Qin Shuanghua asked suspiciously, finding the explanation hard to believe.
Of course, we are pure, noble individuals who have transcended base desires, crossing the cosmos to help you fight the demonic tide… Meng Qi felt her question was full of holes but couldn’t make a joke in this serious atmosphere. Sighing, he turned to Qin Shuanglian, silently urging her to answer.
Understanding his meaning, Qin Shuanglian immediately said, “Third Sister, I invited these four seniors. You return to the yamen first; I have matters to discuss with them.”
By calling her “Third Sister” instead of “Shuanghua,” she asserted her elder sister’s authority, then pushed Qin Shuanghua out of the courtyard without further explanation, cutting off her spiritual sensing.
“Esteemed seniors, I once met you briefly at the Celestial Master’s Mansion,” Qin Shuanglian openly declared once the “outsider” was gone.
Meng Qi immediately understood. This woman was a cycle-walker who had seen him in the Black Mountain Demon World!
Moreover, the Patriarch of the Cangtian Sect already bore a resemblance to him, explaining why she recognized him.
“If you encountered me at the Celestial Master’s Mansion, then there’s little need for further explanation. Report the current situation and the locations of the Nine Nether’s fissures,” Meng Qi stated succinctly, stressing, “The sooner we seal the fissures, the fewer human lives will be lost.”
Qin Shuanglian, still emotionally stirred and slightly trembling, proceeded to fully explain everything she knew about the Nine Nether’s fissures and the current crisis. Finally, she asked, “Esteemed seniors, may I know your names?”
“Baihong,” Jiang Zhiwei replied, using her sword as her name.
Zhao Heng smiled as well: “Xuanyang.”
He used the title he had just heard.
Ruan Yushu, indifferent, coolly said, “Wutong.”
Meng Qi thought for a moment, then suddenly turned serious:
“You may call me ‘Yuanhuang.'”
What was yesterday is gone; what is today begins anew. From this day forward, there will be no more nicknames like Kuang Dao. From now on, I am “Yuanhuang!”
…
High above Changning City, Qizhengyan, clad in a simple blue robe, gazed down at the city. Behind him stood a muscular man in black armor. From the fissures, tendrils of demonic energy slithered in like black snakes, evoking a terrifying sensation.
“This world’s cultivation lineage has not been severed; martial cultivation leads directly to the Dharma Body. Yet for thousands of years, the demonic tide has never been eradicated. Do you know why?” Qizhengyan suddenly asked.
The man in full black armor, with deep, sinister features and a naturally demonic aura, suddenly displayed a fawning smile, incongruous with his usual demeanor: “This servant does not know. Please enlighten me, Demon Lord.”
“I am the disciple of the Demon Lord, not the Demon Lord himself,” Qizhengyan replied calmly. “Although the demonic tide has made martial cultivation widespread in this world, making basic cultivation techniques easily accessible, this only applies to ordinary-level martial arts. Truly superior techniques remain limited to the upper echelons—clans and sects.”
“They select talents, teach them profound martial cultivation from childhood, shaping them into the backbone of humanity during the demonic tide, unafraid of sacrifice. In theory, there is nothing wrong with this. However, limited by their own training capabilities and resources, strong cultivators are rare, eventually consumed by the demonic tide. It’s like harvesting a mature crop, preventing true growth into Dharma Bodies.”
“Only by lifting constraints, providing equal opportunities for all, and expanding the foundational population can some individuals gradually attain profound enlightenment amid life-and-death struggles during the demonic tide, or seize rare opportunities from evil spirits, rising above the masses.”
“This is the contradiction between humanity’s current social structure and the demonic tide environment.”
“Your words are wise, Demon Lord! This servant must record them!” The armored man pulled out a small notebook.
Qizhengyan glanced back: “What is that?”
“Buddhism has ‘Thus Have I Heard,’ Confucianism has ‘The Analects.’ Therefore, this servant wishes to record every word of the Demon Lord, to guide future generations!” The armored man looked proud, then eagerly asked, “Demon Lord, what should this book be named when it is completed?”
Qizhengyan remained silent, his gaze once again fixed on the city below as he spoke in a steady voice: “Even if by some stroke of luck, humanity produces a Dharma Body or several Grand Masters who manage to eliminate the demonic tide and seal the Nine Nether’s fissures, what will happen after they pass away? This world slightly overlaps with the Nine Nether; the fissures are bound to reappear!”
“I must teach them not a temporary method, but an eternal one.”
If Meng Qishi were here, he would surely mock his disciple and give this recorded text a ridiculous name, like “The Demon Lord’s Sayings”…
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