A ghostly blue demonic flame flickered at Qin He's fingertips. Demonic patterns silently spread beneath his feet, turning every loose stone in their path to black ash. "Hunt me down? Three months ago, when you chased me into the Demon Abyss, did you spare even half a thought to finding out the truth? Your first instinct must have been to erase me or imprison me, wasn't it?"
He took a step forward, and the demonic might around him abruptly surged, pressing ripples into the surrounding air. "I tend to hold grudges. You struck on the first day; I'll repay you on the fifteenth."
Seeing that threats were useless, Zhang Xiu could only soften his tone, even adding a trace of flattery:
"Calm your anger, fellow cultivator! Though my rank is low, my standing in the Lower Realm is still extraordinary. I know of three hidden treasure sites. One holds a thousand-year-old demon crystal vein, another contains the buried natal magic treasure of a demonic cultivator from the Ancient Era, and the last conceals a Netherworld Cold Spring that can temper the body! As long as we make peace, I'll draw you a map immediately. All those treasures will be yours."
"Treasures?"
Qin He scoffed. Demonic origin power gathered in his palm into a pitch-black sphere, its surface wrapped in intricate demonic patterns. "I don't need them. Only getting rid of you today will satisfy me."
Zhang Xiu's expression turned utterly grim, but he still clung to one final shred of hope. "You little wretch, you should know that killing me is pointless! We cultivators of the Divine Court are different from ordinary mortals. We receive offerings from all living beings and accumulate merit within our bodies. The Divine Court has long since drawn our souls into the Merit Pool to