At the Wuji Hall, a man in blood-red robes stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

  Behind him, the black-robed disciple who had first guided Li Lingrui into the sect waited in silence, head bowed.

  At the center of the hall, a single soul-lamp had gone dark.

  It had belonged to Guo Yuan.

  The blood-robed man’s expression did not change. He lifted one finger, and the last drifting ash from the extinguished lamp rose into the air. Reflected in his eyes, the cinders became threads of karma, fine as spider silk, unwinding backward through cause and consequence.

  In an instant, the whole matter became clear.

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Zhang Cheng, this batch of recruits you brought in... one of them has real talent.”

  Zhang Cheng lowered his head respectfully. “I didn’t expect it either. Old Vulture Guo Yuan, dead at the hands of a nobody.”

  Guo Yuan had spent decades in the sect.

  Whether it was handling low-level affairs for the Limitless Heavenly Demon branch or taking care of the Demon Sect’s endless stream of petty business, much of it had passed through his hands. Receiving new disciples was a lucrative posting, and the fact that he had held it for decades said everything that needed saying.

  His nickname was Vulture.

  He lived off scraps from the weak, scraping tiny profits from corpses and the desperate. But whenever he met a favored genius or someone with powerful backing, he would grovel, flatter, and even spend his own spirit stones to curry favor, waiting for them to rise high enough to be worth exploiting later.

  The blood-robed man narrowed his eyes.

  “That’s because this time,” he said coldly, “the vulture misjudged his prey.”

  He looked at the dying embers of the soul-lamp.

  “He thought he’d found carrion. What he found was a lion.”

  Zhang Cheng blinked in surprise. “Senior Brother thinks that highly of Li Lingrui?”

  The man before him was Song Wuya.

  Within the Demon Sect, that name alone was enough to chill the spine.

  He stood at Dao-Entry Great Perfection, and with the divination art Heaven-Scrying Technique and the inheritance of the master of Wuji Hall, the Hundred Ghost Heavenly Demon Diagram, he had once fought five Blood Sea Demon Sect cultivators of the same realm alone.

  Four died.

  One escaped.

  Only because Song Wuya let him go back and deliver the obituary.

  There were even those in the sect who had composed a verse about him:

  One art to seize the heavens, karma twisted into cord.

  One scroll to marshal a hundred ghosts, fiends and wraiths his horde.

  Where blood-red robes pass, the stars themselves grow dim.

  Before the name Song falls from your lips, your courage leaves with it.

  Song Wuya’s voice was calm.

  “The moment he entered the sect, he turned around and killed Yu Susu, that woman attached to Bai Lingxiao. Then he survived an ambush in the Abyss of Ten Thousand Beasts laid for him by Wang Zuoqi. And now he’s gone and cut down Guo Yuan, one of the vultures who worked beneath my branch.”

  He gave a faint, almost amused smile.

  “He’s been in the sect for barely a month, yet he’s already stirred trouble on every side. He’s offended the Desire of Mortal Dust, the Abyss of Ten Thousand Beasts, and the Limitless Heavenly Demon branch... and he’s still alive.”

  Song Wuya’s eyes gleamed.

  “If that isn’t a lion, then what is?”

  Zhang Cheng hesitated, then ventured, “Then I’ll go kill him first. Better to erase a future problem now.”

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  Song Wuya lifted a hand.

  “No.”

  His tone sharpened.

  “The exact opposite. We should recruit him.”

  “Guo Yuan’s death means nothing. That man dying does not harm us in the slightest. But Li Lingrui has already made mortal enemies of Bai Lingxiao and Wang Zuoqi, and men like them do not forgive.”

  He turned, sleeves whispering softly.

  “That means he has no place left in the Desire branch. No place in the Abyss either.”

  A smile touched his mouth again, thin and dangerous.

  “A man like that should be used by us.”

  Zhang Cheng immediately bowed. “Senior Brother is wise. You truly know how to recognize talent.”

  Song Wuya exhaled softly.

  “Zhang Cheng, I’m doing this for your sake too. Your father entrusted you to me. Some things, I must handle properly.”

  He paused.

  “Do you still remember the inheritance on Kongling Island?”

  “Of course. The legacy of the wandering overseas cultivator, Master Yunlan. A figure who was famous a century ago.”

  Song Wuya nodded.

  “When Yunlan died, he left behind his Qi Sea inheritance there. The art is called Wind and Cloud Stir the Sea.”

  He looked at Zhang Cheng.

  “You’ve been stuck at late Dao-Entry for too long. If you obtain that method, your chances of breaking into the Qi Sea Realm will rise by at least thirty percent.”

  Then his voice hardened.

  “Remember this well, Zhang Cheng. Below Qi Sea, all are ants.”

  “My Heaven-Scrying Technique has already shown me the signs. That inheritance site will soon emerge. Before long, the inner sect will release missions tied to it. If we gather enough capable hands in advance, they may prove useful when the time comes.”

  Emotion flashed across Zhang Cheng’s face.

  “A Qi Sea inheritance like that should belong to Senior Brother. You are the true hope of our Wuji line.”

  Song Wuya smiled.

  “I already have my eyes on something better.”

  He looked into the distance, as though peering beyond fate itself.

  “Qi Sea is not far from me now.”

  Zhang Cheng’s heart jolted.

  Senior Brother was finally about to take that step?

  He immediately cupped his fists and withdrew. “Then I won’t disturb your cultivation. I’ll go recruit him at once.”

  Song Wuya’s voice followed him, proud and absolute.

  “Give him whatever resources he needs. Feed the lion until it’s full.”

  His smile turned cold.

  “A well-fed lion works hardest.”

  Then, with complete certainty:

  “And it will never dare rebel... because above it circles a true dragon.”

  At the Red Dust Pleasure House, music drifted like wine through the air.

  Zhang Cheng looked through the bamboo curtain at the graceful silhouettes beyond it and gave a satisfied nod.

  “I wonder,” he said, “whether Brother Li is pleased with my modest gift.”

  Li Lingrui’s gaze swept across the room.

  Spirit stones.

  Cultivation manuals.

  Artifacts.

  Pills.

  Array diagrams.

  And beyond the door, an entire row of waiting beauties.

  A strange glint rose in his eyes.

  “Brother Zhang... this is far too generous.”

  He said that on the surface.

  Inside, he was already grinning.

  Zhang Cheng could only continue persuading him, somewhat awkwardly. He had never been especially skilled at this sort of thing.

  And yet after only a brief show of hesitation, Li Lingrui relented.

  Naturally.

  A demonic cultivator had to survive somehow. There was nothing shameful about that.

  Zhang Cheng had invited him here personally, claiming they could “study foreign languages” and “play cards” at the Red Dust Pleasure House. Li Lingrui had heard that and immediately understood this was one of those rare occasions when vice and self-interest marched hand in hand.

  The moment he saw the sea of luxury before him, he knew he had come to the right place.

  This black-clad man who had once guided them into the sect clearly had deep connections.

  After all, the Red Dust Pleasure House was one of the most infamous money-burning dens in the Demon Sect. Ordinary cultivators could spend a day inside and fail to walk out without losing a hundred or two hundred spirit stones.

  Li Lingrui straightened and said solemnly, “Brother Zhang, since I joined the sect, you are the first person who has treated me this well. If there’s something you need, just say it.”

  Naturally, the previous one, Guo Yuan, already ought to have grass growing on his grave.

  No, wait. He’d ground the man to ash.

  Right. No grave.

  As he spoke, he calmly stuffed more treasures into his storage pouch, making it abundantly clear that he intended to accept every last piece.

  Zhang Cheng coughed lightly.

  “Brother Li... the Desire branch may not want you, but my Limitless Heavenly Demon branch does.”

  His gaze was full of approval. He was not afraid of men with large appetites. He was only afraid of the false saints who pretended not to have one.

  Take the money. Do the work. That was the natural order of things.

  Li Lingrui’s face did not change.

  “Brother Zhang, you once guided me onto the path. I truly do want to help you. But the Desire branch has shown me grace beyond measure. I regard them as a mother. To ask a son to betray his mother... that would wound my conscience.”

  Zhang Cheng almost twitched.

  “Brother Li, what Guo Yuan did never represented the will of our branch. That was his personal greed, nothing more.”

  Then he leaned forward slightly.

  “As for the Desire branch... the moment you killed Yu Susu, you and they were never going to end cleanly.”

  Li Lingrui frowned. “Why?”

  “Because Yu Susu was Bai Lingxiao’s woman.”

  Zhang Cheng’s tone turned grave.

  “And Bai Lingxiao is one of the Qi Sea seeds of the Desire branch. If you stay there, he can crush you as easily as stepping on an ant.”

  Li Lingrui’s hand paused halfway to the candied fruit on the table.

  A late Dao-Entry cultivator like Bai Lingxiao...

  So that was who he had offended.

  No wonder no one from the Desire branch had come looking for him.

  He slowly put the fruit down and let difficulty creep into his expression.

  “Senior Brother Zhang, there is one problem. I’ve already cultivated The Red Dust Yin-Yang Duality Scripture for some time now. If I switch allegiance and methods at this point... I’m afraid it may damage my cultivation.”

  Zhang Cheng’s mouth twitched.

  What was this little bastard implying?

  Was all of this still not enough?

  He forced the words out. “Then what exactly are you saying?”

  Li Lingrui rubbed two fingers together with perfect seriousness.

  “You’ll have to...” He paused.

  Then, with all the dignity in the world, he said:

  “...pay more.”