Beiluo, Lake Center Island.

  Lu exited the preaching platform, leaned back in the Thousand Blades Chair, and stretched lazily.

  A gentle breeze stirred, rustling the two strands of hair dangling over his forehead.

  Little Yinglong snoozed atop the Dragon Gate, spiritual rings jingling softly.

  On the lake, the book pavilion bustled with figures coming and going.

  Lu maneuvered the chair down from the White Jade Capital pavilion, gliding slowly along the lakeshore.

  Du Longyang and the others had launched the Immortal Slaughter Plan—Lu knew, so it was time for him to move.

  He cared about this plan.

  Because the “immortal” they targeted might be Tianyuan Continent’s mysterious “Plane Lord.”

  Lu had never met this enigmatic figure.

  They seemed to transcend the Tianyuan world entirely.

  There had to be secrets there.

  Plus, Lu sought ways to strengthen Five Phoenix Continent’s people.

  Hm?

  Suddenly, as he rolled along the shore, Lu frowned.

  He rested a hand on the chair, eyes flickering.

  Lines danced in his pupils, leaping across mountains and rivers.

  He saw the Demon Continent in the endless desert, blood qi soaring to the heavens.

  “What happened?”

  Lu blinked.

  The Demon Continent was newly built—how had it turned into a bloodbath so fast?

  Peering closer, he saw the Demon Monkey King cradling a corpse, wailing.

  Rumble!

  Thick black qi rolled.

  The grieving king shuddered, lifted his head toward the demonic clouds.

  He dropped to his knees, kowtowing frantically.

  “Great and supreme Demon Lord!”

  His forehead cracked the oasis sand.

  But no matter how he begged, no Demon Lord appeared.

  The king felt powerless.

  “Please, great Demon Lord, save my people…”

  Tears streamed as he recounted everything: rescuing Yali, only for Yali to betray them, slaughter the troop, and steal the cultivation crystals.

  Lu listened silently.

  He’d created demons to pressure humans and diversify Five Phoenix races.

  But…

  These naive demons nearly got wiped out.

  Understandable—the monkeys had lived carefree on islands, facing wolves and tigers, never humans.

  Humans were cunning.

  Faced with four-sided crystals, greed bared its fangs.

  Yali, fresh from a beating by Great Xuan cultivators at Tianhan Pass, craved power. Demons offered it—he pounced.

  The monkey clan was pitiable.

  Good thing the king was strong, or the entire demon race might have perished.

  Still, a harsh lesson for the innocent demons.

  The king knelt.

  A cold snort echoed from the heavens.

  His body quaked. Mighty as he was—capable of uprooting mountains—the sound left him limp.

  The Demon Lord!

  The great Demon Lord was furious!

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  At humans—and at him.

  The king knew: this was his fault. Without him, Yali would’ve died in the desert.

  No catastrophe.

  He stopped crying.

  The Lord’s wrath was a reminder: every cause has its effect. This began with him.

  He kowtowed solemnly.

  Lu offered no reply, withdrawing his will.

  The king rose, fur rippling in the wind.

  Behind him, surviving monkeys burned with rage and resolve.

  He blurred through the jungle, demonic qi cloaking him.

  Leaping to the tallest tree, he perched atop and roared.

  Every demon in the continent answered.

  He ordered burials for the dead.

  Then led the troop in crafting weapons—felling trees, sharpening stones into axes and spears.

  Preparing to invade Yali’s lands.

  The king returned to the cracked pillar.

  Through the fissures gleamed light—exciting, urgent.

  Lu’s mind returned.

  He sighed in his chair.

  Human greed and ugliness exceeded imagination.

  From the start, Yali never saw the monkeys as friends—just beasts.

  Lu tapped the armguard, frowning.

  Should he intervene?

  No.

  A race grows through trials.

  This crucible belonged to the demons.

  “But the death penalty can be spared—living punishment cannot.”

  “My new demons nearly faced extinction.”

  Lu’s face iced over.

  Yali needed punishment.

  Just punishment—Lu wasn’t petty.

  If he were, Yali would already be dead.

  ...

  Meanwhile.

  Yali fled the Demon Continent with his battered remnants.

  They plunged into the endless desert, but he’d learned: a supply team waited. No more thirst.

  He gulped water, eyes gleaming.

  From his pouch, he pulled thirty demon crystals.

  Faint demonic qi swirled—like the world’s most brilliant gems.

  A lieutenant with a white blade at his waist approached.

  “My king, what are these?”

  They’d fought the monkeys but never learned.

  “No idea, but the key to transforming Marton’s army!”

  Yali laughed.

  He held one to the sun; it sparkled.

  “Shall we name them?”

  The lieutenant asked.

  Yali glanced, squinted, beard twitching.

  “Yes.”

  “The foundation of Marton’s divine army—god-given. Call them… ‘Divine Sparks’!”

  God-given?

  The lieutenant choked on Yali’s audacity.

  But as lieutenant, his own face was thick.

  “Great name! Divine Sparks for Marton’s divine legion!”

  He beamed.

  Yali tossed him a crystal.

  “Try fusing it. Draw the power!”

  The lieutenant’s smile vanished, face paling.

  “This…”

  He swallowed but couldn’t refuse.

  Yali was a tyrant—one word, and his head rolled.

  He pressed the crystal to his brow—nothing.

  Bit it—unbreakable.

  Like ice, but how to absorb?

  Lu’s eyes flickered with lines.

  He overheard.

  “Divine Sparks?”

  “Interesting…”

  His face stayed cold.

  He flicked the air.

  Instantly.

  The crystal in the lieutenant’s hand plunged into his chest—pfft!

  He panicked. It tore through flesh, blood gushing, wrapping the crystal.

  It sank in, melting away.

  “My king…”

  Terror struck—this thing inside him?

  Agony ripped through every fiber.

  Blood foamed from mouth and nose; he collapsed, convulsing.

  Yali’s heart jolted.

  He flung his crystals to the sand.

  The lieutenant’s twisted agony terrified him.

  He’d thought treasures—now poison.

  Lu’s punishment.

  Want benefits? Pay the price.

  Unlike normal cultivation, demon crystal power demanded unbearable pain.

  The lieutenant writhed, blood bubbles bursting.

  Yali froze in fear.

  Far away, Lu flicked again.

  A dropped crystal shot toward Yali.

  “No… no…”

  He recoiled.

  But invisible force—inescapable.

  Pfft!

  It smashed his forehead, burrowing in.

  Yali clutched his head, face contorting, roaring on his knees…

  Beiluo, Lake Center Island.

  The lines in Lu’s eyes faded.

  He ignored Yali.

  Outcome unknown: endure the fusion pain, live.

  Fail—die.

  If successful, Yali might become the world’s first demon cultivator.

  Different from demons: humans cultivating demon methods.

  Lu narrowed his eyes, sensing Martial Emperor City’s rising aura.

  The Immortal Slaughter Plan had begun.

  Time to go.

  ...

  Outside Martial Emperor City, ridge Bodhisattva Temple.

  Heaven and earth transformed.

  Empress Ni Chunqiu’s tribulation—thunder punishment like a divine blade cleaving the sky.

  Boom!

  A roar.

  Fearless, crimson robes billowing, she slapped the thunder.

  Spiritual qi surged, shattering it.

  She crashed before the temple, snow exploding like grains, arrays misting.

  She panted.

  Inside, Nie Changqing and others held their breath.

  Mo Tianyu mourned not his shell—coins intact, fine.

  He’d craft another.

  “How do they slaughter immortals?”

  Mo asked.

  Nie stared: “Guess: wait for her ascension. Fly to the immortal realm, invade, kill!”

  “Invade the immortal realm?” Mo gasped.

  Now he saw true ambition.

  Boom boom boom!

  Her tribulation shook the world.

  Infant Transformation peak—far deadlier than Heavenly Lock.

  Du Longyang squinted.

  He rose, gripping his spear…

  Master Yuanshang drew a nine-ring staff, planting it heavily.

  Tianxu spread his palm—tiny swords aligned.

  Ye Shoudao gripped his blade with one arm, waiting.

  World-class experts, unwilling to be pawns.

  They’d flip the board, challenge the player!

  Ascension to immortality—a lie!

  Boom!

  The final thunderbolt fell.

  All tensed.

  The Empress whistled, red sword manifesting, unleashing sword rain.

  Countless blades clashed with thunder.

  She was a master swordswoman!

  Her intent like autumn rain—persistent.

  Bit by bit, she ground the thunder to nothing.

  “Ready!”

  Du Longyang muttered.

  The others grew grave.

  Rumble!

  Colors shifted; rainbow light bloomed above the temple, source energy pulsing.

  Nie, Mo, and others felt minds clear—cultivation doubts dissolving.

  They sat, seizing the chance.

  Wounded Empress gazed up.

  Source light bathed her, healing instantly.

  Peak condition restored!

  Strange force pulled her skyward.

  Ascension!

  Her body floated.

  Suddenly!

  The firmament ripped open a massive rift.

  She peered beyond—faintly, a majestic immortal palace!

  Vast spiritual qi poured out.

  “Immortal realm?!”

  She murmured, dazed. A scam?

  Immense suction drew her in.

  Meanwhile.

  Four cardinal points erupted with power.

  Du Longyang roared.

  Golden radiance burst like a sun; spear intent soared as golden beam.

  “Amitabha.”

  Yuanshang pressed palms, leaping—a golden Buddha manifesting.

  Ye Shoudao bellowed; black blade qi formed a giant sword, carrying him skyward.

  Tianxu snarled: “Du Longyang, even now that Lu hasn’t shown—he screwed you!”

  But he moved fast.

  Palm wave—tiny swords bloomed into a sky-covering blade, rocketing him up.

  Four beams pierced the heavens from the ridge.

  The Empress vanished into the rift’s immortal realm.

  Du Longyang and the others followed.

  But…

  Beyond the rift.

  A colossal hand eclipsed the sky.

  It swatted at the four.

  Inside the temple.

  Meditating Nie Changqing’s heart jolted.

  He opened his eyes toward the air wall.

  It rippled.

  Then…

  Wheels creaked on the ground.

  A white-robed figure in a silver wheelchair rolled slowly into the dilapidated temple.