Bandit Lord

A wisp of true spirit cycled back, tracing through the River of Time.

Soon, a strange treasure trembled in Zhang Huan's eyes, and a spark of divine light manifested in his mind, instantly linking with the consciousness of his incarnation.

[The Dark Turmoil—a calamity for all beings in the universe.]

[In the Desolate Ancient Era, the Void Emperor, to stop the chaos wrought by the forbidden zone supremes, walked alone for ten thousand years, confronting the forbidden zones.]

[The Great Dao wailed in grief; tears and sorrow became the pain of an era. Void fought desperately to protect the living, but died young himself, sleeping forever in the starry sky.]

[An emperor's life should have been filled with lofty ambition, one Dao reigning supreme over all others. But Void's era knew only despair and tragedy—a lifetime of suffering.]

In an unknown, insignificant place in the Eastern Wasteland of Beidou, looking around revealed nothing but desolation—loess hills and ravines.

After reading these words for the third time, Zhang Huan instantly slipped into character.

Like running a dungeon, every start was exactly the same.

But every simulation could merge into reality, becoming part of Ancient History.

Zhang Huan treated each one as a different kind of life to simulate.

[Ten thousand years after the Void Emperor's passing]

[The Emperor's Dao gradually faded, the world's environment improved, no longer suppressing cultivators' cultivation. Outstanding youths sprang up like bamboo shoots after rain, vying for the next throne.]

[You have transmigrated into a strong cultivator who broke into the Wheel Sea Realm past the age of fifty. Your potential is limitless, and you have hope of contending for the Heavenly Heart in the future!]

Iron hooves clattered, yellow sand filled the sky. A group of men on black horses blocked the village entrance, glaring fiercely at the dozens of men, women, and children kneeling before them, blades glinting coldly.

The incarnation was a leader of the local Black Wind Stockade, here on routine business collecting the annual fee.

"Bandit Lord! I'll be your concubine—just spare the folks in my village, I beg you!"

A pretty young girl of seventeen or eighteen grabbed Zhang Huan's leg, teardrops the size of beans rolling down her face, weeping like pear blossoms in the rain.

"Give us a few more days to scrape it together, Bandit Lord. Principal and interest, we'll hand it all over."

The Village Chief shuffled forward, pleading miserably, his forced smile as bitter as chewed melon.

Every few days, another wave of bandits from Black Wind Stockade showed up, claiming it was time for the annual fee—but after paying, they'd demand more.

Every time the villagers saved up a little, they had to hand it over to these beasts!

Listening expressionlessly to the Village Chief's complaints, Zhang Huan waved his hand, signaling his underlings to come closer.

Seeing this, the Village Chief's face went deathly pale. His whole body trembling, he fell to his knees with a thud, knocking his head like a pestle pounding garlic.

The Yellow-haired Youth beside him glanced at Zhang Huan's expression, then let out a nasty grin, drawing the blade at his waist, ready to start a massacre at any moment.

Before he could figure out how to deal with these disobedient villagers, a flash of cold light swept past, cleaving him in two.

While the Others were distracted, Zhang Huan swung his blade a few more times. Divine power surged, golden particles coating the blade as if it had a spirit of its own!

Warhorses neighed. In the span of a breath, over a dozen men fell silent.

"Take these horses. Leave this place. Grab whatever's valuable and head to the city."

Wiping the bloodstained blade, Zhang Huan dismounted and helped the Young Girl and the others to their feet.

"Thank you, Immortal Master. In our next lives, we'll be your oxen or horses to repay this kindness."

The villagers knelt, bowing in gratitude.

"I'll teach you a cultivation technique. Train hard, and one day you can become Immortal Masters too, with the power to protect yourselves."

Using divine power, he inscribed a few hundred characters on a cloth garment. The horses, like bolts from the blue, let out long neighs and galloped toward the horizon at breakneck speed.

These Black Scale Horses could cover hundreds of li in a day. A city lay a thousand li away—two days' ride.

Once they started anew there, the thugs of Black Wind Stockade wouldn't dare make trouble.

Zhang Huan had already been through this same scenario twice. He knew the drill by heart.

The horses traveled hundreds of li a day, passing mountains, rivers, and lakes. By midnight, they had left Black Wind Stockade's territory far behind.

Zhang Huan found a cave with practiced ease, triggered a hidden mechanism inside, and entered a secret realm.

In his previous life, chasing after a Source Art Fragment, he had chosen to confront Black Wind Stockade head-on. While being hunted, he stumbled upon this place by accident.

He had thought that with what a great cultivator left behind, he could turn the tables on the mysterious expert sent by the sect backing Black Wind Stockade.

But who knew? Zhang Huan's talent was too poor, and he couldn't grasp the essence. He burned through all the resources without breaking through, eventually dying trapped in the secret realm, forced to restart.

Spirit Absorption Unity Demonic Art

A path straight to the Immortal Platform Realm, left by an ancient great cultivator. His technique of turning yin into yang and yang into yin was unfathomable, nearly undefeatable.

This predecessor was no ordinary man. Evolving from the natural Dao, entering evil through righteousness, he advanced like a god, breaking through multiple major realms in succession.

As if Responded to Zhang Huan's words, the creator of this art left no written records. He vanished without a trace in Ancient History, leaving only this inheritance.

The Demonic Art had a primary and a secondary form. The secondary form was a medium for absorbing cultivation and talent; the practitioner also benefited, becoming more apt at cultivation for a short time.

But it was all an illusion. Once the Demonic Art was activated, the practitioner became a laborer, their spiritual power Flowing Away constantly—at least ten to twenty percent would be drained, and at minimum, they'd drop several realms.

The primary practitioner reaped the most benefit, enjoying the feedback from other cultivators at any time, advancing like a rocket. The stronger the talent and the higher the realm of those practicing the secondary art, the greater the gain.

Though it was a demonic art, Zhang Huan didn't reject it much. Used well, this was a heaven-reaching technique.

Just Now, the skill Zhang Huan taught the villagers was this very technique!

By deliberately helping them, Zhang Huan's plan had also moved onto the agenda.

He still remembered in his first life, the young girl who had grabbed Zhang Huan soon stumbled into the Dao by accident, revealing the supreme talent of an Innate Dao Embryo.

The ancient Emperor, Queen Mother of the West, had possessed this very constitution—born close to the immortals, attuned to the Great Dao, with a cultivation speed so swift it was utterly unparalleled.

Soon, the young girl had flattened Black Wind Stockade; the chieftain, a cultivator at Late Bitter Sea, hadn't even lasted three moves!

The bandit gang scattered like birds and beasts, and Zhang Huan, having fled fast enough to avoid being caught up, became a rogue cultivator.

A few years later, rumors spread that this girl refused to be blackmailed, cutting off all blood ties. Young as she was, her mind ran deep, her actions resolute—her future was limitless.

Pity that geniuses die young. Without a sect or school, she wasn't like Ye Fan, who always turned misfortune into fortune, bearing the bearing of a protagonist.

Knowing the young girl's constitution in this life, Zhang Huan would never let such an opportunity slip.

Slowly driving the two energies to merge, he activated the demonic art along a specific pathway.

Several days later, Zhang Huan woke from meditation with a ruddy complexion.

According to the invisible thread of connection, Zhang Huan confirmed that a cultivator had already begun practicing the subsidiary technique—it was the young girl who had observed the demonic art that day.

As expected of an Innate Dao Embryo—even cultivating a demonic art, she was so fast that in just a few days she had broken into the Wheel Sea!

Day and night cycled. Feeling his body, which had shrunk by a full circle, Zhang Huan's chest heaved.

This demonic art was indeed ferociously powerful, with the effect of improving one's aptitude. Zhang Huan could clearly sense that his own talent had strengthened by more than a little.

In just a few days, Zhang Huan had reached a peak he had never touched in his entire life.

It was countless times faster than the progress from years of bitter cultivation in his first life.

The speed was so astonishing that Zhang Huan found it hard to believe. Once he came to his senses, he was utterly hooked.

This evil path had no bottlenecks at all. If he continued cultivating, the Great Dao of the future was within reach!

Even if there were some side effects, they seemed trivial under such high returns.

Now, cultivating the demonic art, he would soon advance in the near future, stepping into the Life Spring and becoming a true cultivator!