The decennial Martial Competition was the grandest event of the Outer Sect. Ten massive stone arenas stood in the center of the plaza, their imposing presence dominating the landscape. Thousands of disciples swarmed the area, their boisterous clamor reaching the clouds.

  "Did you hear? Senior Brother Li just finished his seclusion—he’s at the peak of the Tenth Level, just one step away from a breakthrough!"

  "That’s nothing! The one from the Wang Clan reportedly obtained a High-grade artifact. He’s aiming for the top three!"

  Disciples gathered in small groups, their faces flushed with excitement and nerves, each convinced their chosen idol would seize the crown. At the registration booths, long queues of young faces were etched with ambition and dreams of the future.

  Chen Gensheng lingered at the edge of the crowd, a lone figure in cyan, his expression indifferent. He was utterly disconnected from the fanaticism around him. Over the past two months, his "miraculous" talismans had earned him a decent reputation in the Outer Sect.

  "Isn't this Senior Brother Chen?" A familiar disciple squeezed through the crowd, wearing a broad grin. "Are you here for the fun? Why haven't you registered? With your skills, a top rank is practically in the bag!"

  "Exactly! Senior Brother Chen, do you have any more of those 'Minor Gale Talismans'? Sell me a few more, the price is negotiable!"

  Several people recognized him and crowded around, their words warm and eager. After all, his talismans were genuinely effective. Gensheng merely twitched the corners of his mouth in a semblance of a greeting before finding an excuse to slip away.

  He looked at the bustling registration desk without the slightest intent to join.

  Register? Fight on stage?

  He had no such desire. The reason was simple: the Foundation Establishment Pill was tempting, but his life was more important. Although the strongest experts on the surface of Maple Red Valley were merely a few Golden Core Elders, who knew if some Nascent Soul old monster was lurking in a corner, watching the youngsters fight for their own amusement?

  It wasn't that he feared Lu Zhaozhao’s persistence. It was that if an expert with sharp eyes or a secret vision technique saw through his cockroach true-form, the "fun" would be over for good. Gensheng had climbed from a common insect to this day not through talent, but through caution and prudence. To gamble his life under the gaze of others was a fool's errand.

  He looked up at the viewing gallery reserved for the sect's elite. The Elders were taking their seats one by one, but the central throne belonging to the Saintess remained empty.

  Lu Zhaozhao hadn't arrived yet. For some reason, the mere thought of her name made his mind drift into a state of irritation.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Just as he was about to turn and leave this noisy place, his brain suddenly seized. It was an indescribable agony, as if an invisible awl had been driven deep into his soul. He groaned, his body swaying.

  "To the back mountain. Immediately."

  A cold, emotionless intent echoed directly in his mind. It was the Insect Demon, Jiang Guixian.

  Gensheng dared not delay. Enduring the discomfort in his head, he lowered his gaze and pushed through the crowd, heading toward the back mountain in the opposite direction of the arena.

  On a secluded cliff in the back mountain, Jiang Guixian stood with his hands behind his back, overlooking the vibrant martial grounds below. His gaze was like that of a man watching a play, or perhaps a butcher eyeing a pen of sheep.

  "Master," Gensheng approached and bowed deeply.

  "My Great Art is nearly complete," the Demon said. "The very air here reeks of the scent of pure blood-food." He pointed toward the arena. "What magnificent fertilizer."

  Gensheng’s heart skipped a beat. A dark premonition surged within him.

  "In half a day, the spirit insects I have nurtured for a century will undergo their final metamorphosis," Jiang continued. "And the cultivators filling this valley—from the Outer disciples to the Inner Elders—will serve as the flesh-and-blood sacrifices for their evolution."

  Gensheng felt a hidden surge of schadenfreude. A blood sacrifice of the entire competition? These were thousands of living cultivators, including Golden Core Elders.

  "I feared you might be accidentally harmed by the swarm, so I summoned you here. We are Master and Disciple, after all. I cannot bear to lose a seedling as promising as you."

  The noise from the arena seemed to fade into the distance. The excited faces of the disciples and the smiling gazes of the Elders became both incredibly vivid and hauntingly illusory. They were still fighting for hollow rankings and desperate for a single pill, unaware that the shadow of death had already draped itself over the valley.

  In half a day, this place would become a graveyard for nothing but insects.

  Seeing Gensheng’s dazed expression, Jiang Guixian spoke with measured weight. "Do you think I am slaughtering the innocent?" He looked toward the distant mountains. "A century ago, when my true body was still in the Nascent Soul stage, I was hunted by the sects of this Linglan Country. Maple Red Valley, the Blue Cloud Sect, and the Heaven Sword Sect... they conspired together to trap me. My cultivation was nearly ruined. Had I not fled swiftly, I would have been turned into materials for their artifacts long ago."

  Gensheng felt a sense of relief upon hearing this. He didn't find the idea of mass slaughter particularly repulsive—he had been a cockroach, and he had eaten his fair share of humans to get here. He was only curious.

  "Master, didn't you say you only had three thousand wasps? How can they possibly...?" He trailed off.

  Jiang Guixian’s left hand glowed, and a palm-sized bronze box appeared. It was ancient and plain, carved with intricate patterns of insects so lifelike they seemed ready to crawl off the metal.

  "This is the Myriad Ghoul Mysterious Casket," Jiang stroked its surface. "Forged by an Insect Immortal in ancient times. Within are nine hundred and ninety-nine insect chambers, each an independent miniature world."

  "Not only can it house any spirit insect, but it can automatically discern their grade, attribute, and even bloodline lineage—nurturing them and stabilizing their states. Insects entering the casket are categorized into their respective chambers: exotic separated from toxic, spirit from common."

  Gensheng’s heart pounded. Such a treasure was the ultimate dream of any insect-path cultivator.

  "For a hundred years, thanks to this casket's heaven-defying functions, I have traveled across Linglan collecting rare and exotic bugs. Toxic spiders, Soul-Devouring Moths, Blood Leeches, Corpse Beetles..."

  "There are no fewer than twelve distinct species ready to swarm."