Corpse Demon Sect

A thousand zhang above the Heavenly Baleful Gang.

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

A gaunt man stood aboard, his body faintly exuding a thin wisp of corpse aura.

He glanced at the raging blaze below, then at Song Wen fleeing through the low skies. An intrigued look appeared in his eyes.

"This boy is not bad. As a cultivator, he slaughtered mortals wantonly and by any means necessary. He has somewhat of our demonic sects' bearing."

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

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

"All five elements are present in his innate bones—a Sixth-Grade, mid-tier Spiritual Root. This is truly an unexpected gain," the man said, his eyes shining repeatedly.

Spiritual Roots were divided according to the five elemental attributes of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Some possessed a single Spiritual Root, while others had Five-Element Spiritual Roots containing all five elements.

However, the number of Spiritual Roots did not determine one's cultivation talent. It was the quality of the Spiritual Root itself that decided one's aptitude for cultivation.

Spiritual Roots were ranked from one to nine grades according to their quality.

First Grade was the worst, while Ninth Grade was the ultimate.

First through Third Grades were inferior Spiritual Roots, with abysmal aptitude. It was difficult for their owners to achieve anything in their entire lives, and Foundation Establishment was nearly impossible. Those with First-Grade Spiritual Roots had an extremely slim chance of even breaking through to the Qi Refining Middle Stage.

Fourth through Sixth Grades were mid-tier Spiritual Roots. The disciples of major sects throughout the Cultivation World were basically all of this grade. Among them, some with fortunate opportunities and good temperament could successfully achieve Foundation Establishment and become the backbone of the Cultivation World.

Song Wen's Sixth-Grade Spiritual Root even gave him a sliver of hope of forming a Golden Core.

Seventh- through Ninth-Grade superior Spiritual Roots were exceedingly rare. Although there was only one grade of difference between a Seventh-Grade Spiritual Root and a Sixth-Grade Spiritual Root, the gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth.

No matter which sect they entered, those with Seventh-Grade Spiritual Roots could directly become personal disciples. They would be nurtured as the future pillars of the sect. So long as they did not perish midway, becoming a Golden Core powerhouse was practically a certainty.

Eighth-Grade Spiritual Roots were rarely seen 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.

Ninth-Grade Spiritual Roots belonged to the realm of legend. They were peerless Spiritual Roots that did not appear in a thousand years and were rarely encountered even in ten thousand.

Song Wen, who was flying through the air, suddenly felt an immense and boundless power that he could not resist descend upon him.

It was as though some 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.

Suddenly, he saw a figure appear before him out of nowhere, standing upon a sword.

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

It was unknown how many times more powerful than the Flight Technique he relied on the wind to use.

"Greetings, Senior."

Song Wen spoke with a trembling voice.

He cursed inwardly. His luck was truly bad beyond measure. He had actually run into a Foundation Establishment Realm expert in the mortal world. The odds were even lower than winning the lottery in his previous life.

The newcomer said indifferently, "You are quite a ruthless little fellow. You have some of our demonic sects' bearing. Are you willing to join my Corpse Demon Sect and become a disciple of the Corpse Demon Sect?"

Though the newcomer's tone was calm and he appeared to be discussing things amicably, Song Wen would not truly believe that the other party was easy to reason with or genuinely asking for his opinion.

The Devil Dao had always emphasized doing as one pleased and letting one's thoughts flow freely. If one's thoughts were not free and unimpeded, what Devil Dao was there left to cultivate?

If he dared refuse and caused the other party's thoughts to become obstructed, he feared that in the blink of an eye, he would die without even a burial place.

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

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

Song Wen actually wanted even more to kneel and bow, but he was suspended in midair and his body was beyond his control.

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

He who understood the times was a true hero.

When he had first entered society in his previous life and worked in sales, he had gone to collect a debt and been ordered by a rich woman to drink an entire bottle of baijiu. That was when he understood that only with strength and power did one have the right to speak of dignity.

Weakness was the original sin. The weak were not worthy of dignity.

Moreover, one could tell just from its name that the Corpse Demon Sect was no merciful sect. It was 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 Qi Refining Second Layer was qualified to discuss human rights with a Foundation Establishment cultivator of the Devil Dao.

The newcomer was highly 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-styled name is Extreme Yin."

"Extreme Yin! You little fellow are not all that capable, yet your title is quite arrogant. It suits the conduct of my Corpse Demon Sect very well. You were born to be a disciple of our Devil Dao! Hahaha..."

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

Song Wen felt an invisible force wrap around him, dragging him upward as well.

After a few breaths, Song Wen was brought by Shi Shou's spiritual power onto the flying ship a thousand zhang above.

Shi Shou set Song Wen down on the deck and said,

"Find a place to stay obediently. Do not run around. If you accidentally fall, this elder will not stop the ship to save you."

"This disciple obeys."

After the initial terror, Song Wen quickly calmed down.

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

Looking across the deck, he saw six other youths.

Four of them were three boys and one girl. They huddled timidly in a corner of the deck, their eyes filled with fear. There were no spiritual power fluctuations on any of them, so they were likely mortals who had yet to cultivate.

One of the remaining two kept looking Song Wen up and down, a faint sense of superiority on his face. He seemed to look down immensely on Song Wen, who had just boarded, as well as the other four youths.

The last stood expressionlessly beside the arrogant youth, motionless as a log and devoid of any emotion, guarding him like a bodyguard.

Song Wen also caught the stench of rotting corpses from him. He could not sense any breathing from him either. He was like a zombie.

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

Shi Shou stood at the bow and suddenly formed several hand seals.

The flying ship abruptly accelerated, swift as an arrow leaving the bowstring as it rapidly tore through the night sky.

Yet none of the people on deck felt any fierce winds. A protective barrier surrounded the ship and kept the gales outside. It was truly wondrous.

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

He curiously looked down. With the night limiting his vision, apart from the scattered lights in Salt City below and the blaze still burning in the Heavenly Baleful Gang, everything else was dim and indistinct.

Certain versions of the Safari browser on iPhone devices may freeze. This site has already been optimized. If similar issues persist, please use another browser first, such as Google Chrome, or switch back to the default font—yes, the font is the cause—and contact us. We will find a way to improve it.