Corpse Demon Sect

A thousand zhang above the Heavenly Baleful Gang.

In the pitch-black night sky, a boat several zhang long hovered silently in midair.

A gaunt, withered man stood aboard it, his body faintly emanating a trace of corpse qi.

He glanced at the raging blaze beneath his feet, then looked at Song Wen fleeing through the low sky. An intrigued expression appeared in his eyes.

"This boy is not bad. As a cultivator, he slaughtered mortals wantonly and without scruple. He has something of our Devil Dao Sect's bearing."

"Let us first see what his aptitude is like."

The man formed a hand seal. A flash of white light shot forth and landed directly on Song Wen below.

"His innate bone structure possesses all five elements, with a mid-grade sixth-rank spirit root. This truly is an unexpected gain," the man said, his eyes shining brightly.

Spirit roots were divided according to the five elemental attributes of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Some people possessed a single spirit root, while others had all five elements and thus five spirit roots.

Yet the number of spirit roots did not determine one's cultivation talent. That depended on the quality of the spirit roots themselves.

Spirit roots were ranked from one to nine according to quality.

First rank was the worst, while nine was the ultimate.

Ranks one through three were low-grade spirit roots. Their aptitude was abysmal, and they could scarcely achieve anything in their entire lives. Reaching Foundation Establishment was nearly impossible. Those with first-rank spirit roots had an extremely slim chance of even breaking through to the middle stage of Qi Refinement.

Ranks four through six were mid-grade spirit roots. The disciples of major cultivation sects were basically all mid-grade spirit root cultivators. Among them, some with opportunities and good temperaments could successfully reach Foundation Establishment and become the backbone of the cultivation world.

With Song Wen's sixth-rank spirit root, he even had a slight chance of forming a Golden Core.

High-grade spirit roots of ranks seven through nine were exceedingly rare. Although seventh-rank and sixth-rank spirit roots differed by only one grade, the gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth.

No matter which sect they entered, those with seventh-rank spirit roots could directly become personal disciples or the like, nurtured as future pillars of the sect. So long as they did not perish midway, becoming a Golden Core expert was almost as certain as a nail driven into a board.

Eighth-rank spirit roots rarely appeared in the current cultivation world. Such people could cultivate to the Nascent Soul Realm with virtually no bottlenecks, becoming Nascent Soul patriarchs revered and feared by all cultivators.

Ninth-rank spirit roots belonged to the realm of legend—peerless spirit roots that did not appear in a thousand years and were scarcely encountered in ten thousand.

Song Wen, who was flying, suddenly felt an immense and irresistible might descend upon him.

It was as though an ancient, mysterious ferocious beast had fixed its gaze upon him. In an instant, he could not move at all. He stood frozen in place, able only to await fate's judgment.

Then, he saw a figure abruptly appear before him, standing upon a flying sword.

Cold sweat poured down Song Wen's body. From Huang Shang's journal, he knew that this person possessed at least Foundation Establishment Realm cultivation. Only experts at Foundation Establishment or above could ride swords through the air.

This was who knew how much more powerful than the flight technique he relied on the wind to use.

"Greetings, Senior."

Song Wen's voice trembled slightly.

He cursed inwardly. His luck was truly abysmal. To encounter a Foundation Establishment Realm expert in the mortal world—this was even less likely than winning the lottery in his previous life.

The newcomer said blandly, "You are quite a ruthless little fellow, with something of the Devil Dao Sect's bearing. Are you willing to join my Corpse Demon Sect and become a disciple?"

Though the man's tone was calm and he appeared to be discussing things amicably, Song Wen would not truly believe that he was easy to talk to or genuinely seeking Song Wen's opinion.

The Devil Dao had always valued doing as one pleased and ensuring one's thoughts flowed freely. If one's thoughts could not flow freely, then what Devil Dao was there to cultivate?

If he dared refuse and caused the other man's thoughts to become obstructed, he feared that in an instant, he would die without even a place for his corpse to be buried.

Song Wen immediately put on an overwhelmed, flattered expression, as though joining the Corpse Demon Sect meant smoke rising from his ancestral graves and would bring glory to eight generations of ancestors in the underworld.

"This junior is willing. Many thanks, Senior."

Song Wen actually wanted even more to kneel and bow, but he was in midair and his body was not under his control.

As for dignity, pride, or sayings like gold lay beneath a man's knees, none of that was within Song Wen's consideration.

A wise man submitted to the times.

When he had first entered society as a salesman in his previous life and went to collect a debt, only to be told by a wealthy woman to drink an entire bottle of baijiu, he had understood that only with strength and power did one have the right to speak of dignity.

Weakness was the original sin. The weak did not deserve dignity.

Moreover, one could tell just from the Corpse Demon Sect's name that it was no merciful sect, but a Devil Dao Sect that acted with utter lawlessness.

Song Wen did not believe that a low-level Rogue Cultivator who had only just entered the second level of Qi Refinement was qualified to discuss human rights with a Foundation Establishment cultivator of the Devil Dao.

The newcomer was quite satisfied with Song Wen's response.

"This old man is Shi Shou of the Corpse Demon Sect. You may call me Elder Shi. Little fellow, what is your name?"

Song Wen replied respectfully.

"Reporting to Elder Shi, this junior... this junior's self-bestowed title is Extreme Yin."

"Extreme Yin! Your abilities are not much to speak of, yet your title is quite arrogant. It suits the Corpse Demon Sect's style perfectly. You were born to be a disciple of our Devil Dao Sect. Hahaha..."

After speaking, Shi Shou turned and headed for the high sky.

Song Wen felt an invisible force wrap around him and drag him upward as well.

After several breaths, carried by Shi Shou's spiritual power, Song Wen arrived on the flying vessel a thousand zhang in the air.

Shi Shou placed Song Wen on the deck and said, "Find yourself a place and stay there obediently. Do not run around. If you accidentally fall, this Elder will not stop the vessel to save you."

"This disciple obeys."

After his initial terror, Song Wen quickly calmed down.

Since he was here, he might as well make the best of it. He swiftly began to regard himself as a disciple.

Looking across the deck, he saw six other youths.

Four of them—three boys and one girl—were huddled timidly in a corner of the deck, their eyes filled with fear. There was not the slightest fluctuation of spiritual power on their bodies. They should still have been mortals who had not begun cultivating.

One of the remaining two kept looking Song Wen up and down, a faint air of superiority on his face, as though he held Song Wen, who had just boarded, and the other four youths in utter contempt.

The last person stood beside the arrogant youth with a blank expression. Like a wooden post, he did not move in the slightest and showed no emotion, as though he were a guard protecting the arrogant youth.

Song Wen also caught the smell of rotting corpses from him and could not sense any breath from his body. He was like a zombie.

Song Wen found a secluded corner of the deck, sat down, and began resting with his eyes closed.

Shi Shou stood at the bow, suddenly forming several hand seals.

The flying vessel abruptly accelerated, swift as an arrow loosed from the string as it tore through the night sky.

Yet those on the deck could not feel any fierce wind. A protective barrier on the vessel blocked the gale outside, truly wondrous.

Song Wen felt as though he were riding an airplane in his previous life, except the view was far better.

Curiously, he looked down. With his vision limited by the night, aside from the scattered lights of Salt City below and the fire still burning within the Heavenly Baleful Gang, everything else was shadowy and indistinct.