Yin Sha Sect

West of Kang Prefecture lay the Hengduan Mountain Range, known as the Celestial Vein. It was famed throughout the world for its grandeur, peril, and malevolence.

Its grandeur came from its main range, which stretched north to south for more than three hundred and eighty thousand li, its spine linking heaven and earth. Even birds exhausted themselves before they could cross it. Its peril lay in its crisscrossing spurs and the millions of towering peaks and ridges. Thousand-zhang cliffs and ten-thousand-zhang precipices were everywhere; even mountain apes struggled to climb them. Its malevolence came from its countless miasma-filled valleys, poisonous pools, savage marshes, and deadly ridges. Monster Beasts rampaged there and ghosts ran rampant. Even accomplished cultivators who ventured in could lose their bones and bodies forever at the slightest misstep.

Near the southern end was a spur called the Yin Sha Mountain Range. It stretched northeast in a winding, slanting course for more than thirty thousand li. The angle formed with the main range enclosed a vast region. The warm southeastern monsoon was blocked from entering, while the dry, hot southwestern wind could not reach it. All year round, the region was swept by howling northerly winds. Because of its unusual terrain, even those winds could only circle and swirl within the enclosed angle. As a result, the place was forever shrouded in Yin Wind and Sha Wind.

It was also said that countless years ago, after the mighty Shang Empire suffered a crushing defeat, several million soldiers protected the Shang emperor and more than a million noble families as they fled. By chance, they entered this seemingly broad gorge, only to find they had stumbled into a dead end. Naturally, the nearly four or five million people, along with their pursuers, fought a cataclysmic battle there. Afterward, corpses blanketed the land and Vengeful Souls were innumerable.

Time passed, and the Shang Empire had vanished for who knew how many years. The victorious Chen Empire, after enjoying thousands of years of glory, had likewise disappeared more than thirty thousand years ago.

Now, within this vast region known as Yin Sha Valley, the cold Yin Sha grew ever more oppressive, and the place became increasingly haunted by ghosts. It was nighttime. Black clouds blotted out the moon, and one could not see a hand before one's face. Between the mountains and hills, Sha Wind howled, ghosts wailed and wolves howled, and Phantoms appeared in layer upon layer. Ordinary people would have been scared witless just hearing it.

Yet just as ten thousand demons and ghosts emerged, the very center of Yin Sha Valley was anything but quiet. On a great mountain whose summit had been sheared off, the Yin Sha Sect was bustling with activity.

It had once been a massive mountain, hundreds of li in circumference. Somehow, someone had wielded a heaven-defying power and shaved away nearly half of it. On the flat summit stood magnificent halls and countless exquisite pavilions. The halls were imposing, to be sure, but however one looked at them, they seemed chilling and grim, steeped in Yin energy. The pavilions were exquisite, yet their carved details depicted nothing but skeletons, ferocious ghosts, evil gods, and Fierce Demons. Most striking was the several-hundred-zhang-tall archway at the main entrance. It seemed to have been built from countless bones, with rows of savage Vengeful Souls nailed into it. They wailed and screamed, struggled and cursed. Anyone who drew near was often seized and dragged at by thousands upon thousands of Vengeful Souls, then devoured without a trace in just a few breaths.

At the very top of the archway, three enormous characters—"Yin Sha Sect"—were written in a grim, eerie hand. Look closely, and each character seemed to be alive, writhing faintly. From time to time, a blurred, ferocious face could be seen, radiating a sky-high resentment without pause. These were the Nascent Souls of the ancestors of several famous orthodox sects once destroyed by the Yin Sha Sect, forged into Ghost Infants after years of torment in the Myriad Sha Formation. The Ghost Infants endured the agony of having Yin Sha roast their bodies without respite. Whenever their sect was attacked, they were also forced to fight desperately against the enemy. Their existence was truly worse than death.

Scene after scene like this seemed to form a scroll of hell on earth.

The fourteenth day of the seventh month.

Every tenth year, this day was a major occasion for the Yin Sha Sect. Ordinarily, the Ancestors from its peaks, caves, and valleys would gather to exchange insights and trade treasures. Of course, the most important event was the once-in-a-decade assignment of disciples.

For any sect to endure for generations without declining and to expand, it could not rely on one or two experts alone. Every sect regarded its legacy as a grand and momentous affair, whether it belonged to the orthodox path or an Evil Sect. Cultivation was not something just anyone was qualified to pursue. To cultivate immortality, one had to possess a Spiritual Root. Yet among ordinary people, fewer than one in ten thousand had one. Of those who did, nine out of ten had useless Spiritual Roots and little potential. Even among the remaining one in ten, there were great differences in quality.

Thus, the Yin Sha Sect had a vast number of people whose task was to gather Spiritual Root children for the sect.

Within and beyond its sphere of influence, they constantly scoured the land for children who possessed Spiritual Roots. Within their territory, they could openly send out their people to collect them. Beyond their control, they resorted to sneaking around, kidnapping, and any other means they could think of to bring them in.

The Yin Sha Sect controlled three or four great nations and six or seven smaller ones, with a total population of one billion. Even among that billion people, it could find only six or seven hundred promising children every ten years. Add to them the clansmen sent by the various branches and lineages under the sect, as well as those abducted from beyond its borders, and the greatest number ever recorded was still only a little over nine hundred children.

This time, there were seven hundred and sixteen in total.

Lei Dong's face was very pale. In truth, any child of just thirteen years old would have fared even worse in this ghastly place, with its eerie green firelight, the wails of countless ghosts, and its resemblance to the depths of hell.

Some of the other children had even been frightened into tears. But after the child crying loudest had his head sliced off with a single sword stroke, the several hundred children fell silent. Perhaps they were scared witless; perhaps the example had done its work.

Lei Dong's face was pale partly because the sinister, terrifying place had truly frightened him, but also because he was deeply disappointed. Ever since he had transmigrated into a town in this world, which resembled ancient times, he had dreamed of making something of himself and living a thrilling life like other transmigrators. For that reason, he had never stopped training his body from the moment he could walk, hoping to use it one day to slay enemies on the battlefield and win glory. His family was not wealthy, but they were comfortably off, and he had never lacked food or clothing. Even at such a young age, he had trained himself into a tall, broad-shouldered lad who looked sixteen or seventeen.

When he suddenly gained the chance to cultivate immortality and was found to possess a Spiritual Root, Lei Dong had been overjoyed, unable to contain himself. He had thought the world he had transmigrated into was one of ancient nations locked in endless rivalry. He had never imagined that the immortals he had heard about only in legends actually existed.

How could he not be tempted? Even with the advantage of being a transmigrator, at best he might become a wealthy landowner if fortune favored him, a king or general if he was luckier, or an emperor if luck smiled on him to the utmost. A hundred years of life would pass in a flash.

But once he learned that this was a world with cultivators—and that he had been lucky enough to gain the chance to join them—Lei Dong naturally began letting his imagination run wild. Handsome and elegant, dressed in flowing white robes, hands clasped behind his back as he stood atop a Flying Sword, battling monsters, leveling up, and charming beautiful girls. Most important of all, he could live forever. It truly sounded like the life of a lifetime.

But he had never imagined that after two years of being gathered together and trained, he would be brought to this hellish place today. Yin Sha Sect—it certainly did not sound like any respectable orthodox sect. And just look at the surroundings and the way its people dressed: some were sinister, others looked like savage fiends. Their uniforms, red and black, were embroidered with Yin Sha ghosts. It was plain as day: this was an Evil Sect.

Books always seemed to say that evil could never prevail over good, and that those seemingly powerful ghostly Evil Cultivators would eventually die at the hands of the famous orthodox sects. The books could be set aside for now, but then Lei Dong thought of the beautiful, white-robed immortal sisters he had coveted for nearly two years. If they saw him in an Evil Sect, they certainly would not let him woo them. They might even shout, "Demon! Face my sword!" and send Flying Swords whizzing into him.

At the thought of all this, Lei Dong could not help but grimace.

What troubled him more was the several hundred boys and girls, who had been herded into a circle around a combat arena dozens of zhang across. Sure enough, this was an Evil Sect. Even its arena had been built to look bizarre and sinister, inlaid with countless dried bones and corpses, glowing with eerie green light as ghostly winds sighed around it.

On the arena, two disciples in their twenties were fighting back and forth. One was a tall disciple, who formed a sword seal with his fingers and controlled a small sword glowing with a faint green light. It flew through the air, relentlessly chasing a shorter disciple. At the same time, he let out a cackling laugh. "Junior Brother, why not surrender like a good boy? Otherwise, my Ghost Fire Sword will pierce your heart, and you'll die as Ghost Fire burns your soul!"

The tall disciple's Ghost Fire Sword was exceptionally nimble, darting through the air like a bird or a fish. The Flying Sword was razor-sharp; slicing through gold and severing iron was effortless. Its most vicious feature was that it had been tempered with Ghost Fire. Once it touched someone, it did not burn the body but scorched the soul instead. The agony of the soul was ten times worse than physical pain. An ordinary person grazed by even a trace of it would be tortured to death in an instant, their face twisted as they clawed themselves until not a patch of intact flesh remained. It was truly vicious.

The Ghost Fire Sword was one of the Yin Sha Sect's signature Flying Swords. Many disciples chose to forge one because of its formidable power. But the quality of the sword varied according to the smith's skill and the materials used.

The shorter disciple also had a Ghost Fire Sword. Not long ago, in his duel with the tall disciple, it had been sliced in two before long and had fallen to the ground like a dead fish. After twitching twice, its green light had gone out completely. It was obvious that the two Ghost Fire Swords were of different grades.

Now the shorter disciple was fleeing around the arena in a desperate scramble. His footwork was nimble, though, and most of the time he managed to dodge the Ghost Fire Sword by a hair's breadth. When he occasionally failed to escape, a silver shield covered in fierce Monster Beast carvings would suddenly appear to block the blow for him. Unfortunately, after taking several hits, the silver shield was already riddled with cracks and could no longer be used.

People tended to sympathize with the weak, especially children and teenagers. After a stiff-faced man had explained why they had been forced to watch the duel, most of Lei Dong's group could not help feeling sympathy for the shorter disciple, who was clearly at a disadvantage.

Lei Dong, however, saw things a little differently. The shorter disciple looked to be fleeing in a desperate scramble, but his expression remained composed, without the slightest hint of fear. It seemed he still had a trick up his sleeve. Otherwise, there was no point in continuing a fight where he could surrender; if he kept going, he might even lose his life.

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