Below lies a tribe dwelling in a valley, home to tens of thousands of lives. Among them are three True Gods, over a thousand World Gods, and the rest are either deities or Transcendents.
This is an utterly ordinary tribe on the Ninecloud Continent. Yet at this moment, the entire settlement lies in eerie silence. Every living being—whether standing, lying down, or sitting while clutching a roasted meat leg—shows no outward injuries. But their eyes are utterly lifeless, their souls already annihilated.
Dongbo Xueying’s senses are keen enough to detect the faint traces of witchcraft poison lingering in the air—a signature of Palace Master Qiwu’s expertise.
Though the remnants are but the faintest wisps… even a True God Ruler would perish instantly upon contact. Had Palace Master Qiwu unleashed his poison with intent, even an ordinary Void God at the Unity realm would struggle to withstand it.
“Brother Dongbo, do you pity them?” The Demon Swordsman glanced down casually, a smirk playing on his lips. “This was merely collateral damage when Palace Master Qiwu attacked me. He didn’t bother restraining his poison, and this tribe paid the price. Such is the tragedy of the weak—a mere ripple, and they’re all gone. But since Palace Master Qiwu is dead now, I suppose this tribe has been avenged.”
Dongbo Xueying studied the Demon Swordsman’s expression and felt a pang of discomfort.
*Whoosh.*
Still sensing the lingering traces of their battle in the void, Dongbo Xueying followed the residual energy. “Let’s check another location,” he said, teleporting away with the Demon Swordsman in tow.
Another place.
A lakeside village, hidden amidst dense thickets of weeds, invisible from afar. This once-peaceful settlement now lay lifeless, every inhabitant devoid of vitality.
Dongbo Xueying gazed down coldly.
“Another casualty of the battle,” the Demon Swordsman remarked with a shrug. “To Palace Master Qiwu, their lives meant nothing.”
*Whoosh.*
Again, Dongbo Xueying traced the remnants of the conflict through the void, teleporting to yet another site.
And another…
Each stop revealed another ravaged community.
At first, the Demon Swordsman had indulged in commentary, but soon his brow furrowed with irritation. *What’s the point of this?* he thought. *Dragging me around to gawk at the ruins of these insignificant ants’ homes?*
Yet he held his tongue—partly out of gratitude for Dongbo Xueying’s rescue, and partly out of wariness toward the man’s terrifying power, demonstrated by how swiftly he had slain Palace Master Qiwu.
“Demon Swordsman,” Dongbo Xueying finally spoke, hovering above a tribal settlement at the foot of a mountain, his voice icy. “Have you nothing to say?”
“Say about what?” The Demon Swordsman chuckled. “Ah, yes, their deaths are tragic, and Palace Master Qiwu was ruthless. But he’s dead now. For a mere tribe to take down a high-ranking elder of the Ancient Sacred Cult? I’d say they got their revenge.”
“Revenge?” Dongbo Xueying turned to him. “To the dead, nothing matters.”
The Demon Swordsman’s expression darkened. “Elder Dongbo, what are you implying?”
Dongbo Xueying’s voice was low. “Palace Master Qiwu hunted you, and you fled. This world is vast—wilderness, forests, lakes—countless places to escape. Why didn’t you avoid these settlements?”
Neither of them could tear open spatial tunnels; they were limited to short-range teleportation. Each jump allowed them to easily survey their destination beforehand.
“A slight detour would have spared them,” Dongbo Xueying pressed. “Yet you didn’t.”
The Demon Swordsman stiffened, his face twisting. “Elder Dongbo, you saved me, and I repaid you with Sourceworld Stones. I’m sure the Skyvoid Palace will reward you with merit points as well. These are just ants caught in the crossfire—and it was Palace Master Qiwu’s doing! Are you trying to shame me?”
Hearing the word *ants*, Dongbo Xueying understood the man’s mindset.
“Gatherings in this vast land are rare,” Dongbo Xueying continued. “Yet your path of escape seemed deliberately routed through these tribes.”
The Demon Swordsman’s smirk turned venomous. “When fleeing for my life, I had no luxury to care about insects. Enough. I’ve no interest in further debate. Thank you for saving me—let’s part ways here.”
*Whoosh.*
He vanished in a flash.
Dongbo Xueying watched him disappear.
*No luxury to care about insects?*
He could deduce the truth. At first, the Demon Swordsman might have genuinely disregarded the tribes—their deaths meant nothing to him. But the sheer number of settlements affected suggested intent. He had likely hoped that one of these villages concealed a hidden expert. If Palace Master Qiwu’s poison provoked such a figure, they might intervene, giving the Demon Swordsman a chance to escape.
*Is weakness a crime?* Dongbo Xueying murmured to himself.
To the lofty Demon Swordsman, the weak were indeed insects—unworthy of concern.
*I pity them, and I despise his callousness… yet I feel no urge to kill him.*
The Demon Swordsman belonged to the Bladelord Citadel.
Among the Five Sacred Worlds, the three allied against the two cults were not perfectly united. The Eternal Sacred World, ruled by the Witch Ancestor and the Realm Ancestor—both ranked among the supreme existences—looked down upon the Eastridge and Sevenstar Seas Sacred Worlds. The latter two, however, shared close ties. Even Lord Luo had only forged six Star Towers, with one granted to each of their six holy lands—except for the Bone Ancestor, revealing his ostracism within Eastridge.
Thus, the six holy lands of Eastridge and Sevenstar Seas stood as an unshakable bloc, with the Bladelord—peer to the Witch Ancestor, Realm Ancestor, and Mother Ancestor—as their mightiest figure.
*The Demon Swordsman is a core member of the Bladelord Citadel.*
*I slew the Ancient Sacred Cult and Mother Cult without hesitation… but I cannot act so freely against him.*
Just as Dongbo Xueying, as an inner elder of the Skyvoid Palace, enjoyed protection—any aggression toward him would provoke retaliation from his faction. Conflicts between powers were typically escalated to their highest authorities for resolution.
*Moreover, in my heart, I merely deem him cold and ruthless—not deserving of death.* Dongbo Xueying sighed. This was the reality.
Powerful cultivators had lived for billions of years. Dongbo Xueying himself, at a mere few hundred billion years old, was considered young. Over such spans, loved ones faded, and many grew callous or cruel. If moral standards were too strict, over half the cultivators in the three holy lands would become enemies—handing victory to the Ancient Sacred Cult’s Sacred Master.
Resisting the Ancient Sacred Cult was paramount. Under the Sacred Master’s rule, all would be forced into absolute devotion—not the benign faith of lesser worlds, nor the voluntary reverence of the Mother Cult’s followers, but a soul-branded, mindless obedience.
Sacrificing oneself, one’s kin, one’s very will—this was a fate no true cultivator would accept.
*The Skyvoid Palace, Bladelord Citadel, and others have laws. True fiends who slaughter wantonly are executed. But the Demon Swordsman’s collateral damage… falls far short of such crimes.* Dongbo Xueying shook his head. Even the supreme existences, balancing factions, set laws harsh yet tolerable to figures like the Demon Monarch.
*Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.*
He continued teleporting, following the void’s scars to every ravaged site along the Demon Swordsman and Palace Master Qiwu’s path.
Not a single life had survived.
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