Whether his speed of cultivation or his opportunities and fortune, whether his dealings with others or his words and conduct.
To outsiders, everything about Chen Linyuan seemed unfathomable.
When he fought someone, whether he killed or spared them depended entirely on his mood and preferences.
He could slay a Nascent Soul True Lord for a Qi Refining or Foundation Establishment junior he had never met, or kill a great sect's Dao Child for a Demon Race cultivator.
Thus, some said he was compassionate and kindhearted, righting the world's injustices.
Others said he was a crazed sword fanatic who could not see the bigger picture and lacked magnanimity.
Or a human traitor serving the Demon Race, the reincarnation of an otherworldly heavenly demon, bringing chaos to the cultivation world.
Countless rumors reached his ears. A few ignorant small sects that had suffered losses even banded together to demand an explanation from Jun Mountain.
Chen Linyuan did not consider what they said right or wrong.
It was simply that-
Why should I, Chen Linyuan, explain my life's actions to you?
Demanding an explanation? Do you mean you want to cross swords with me?
It took little thought to know which corners those rumors had come from.
As it happened, he had visited many places over the past few centuries, but had never seen the sights of the Demon Ruins.
And so, that year, Chen Linyuan entered the Demon Ruins alone.
Of the one hundred and eight Nascent Soul immortals at the Desolate Heaven Grand Banquet, Demon Ruins cultivators occupied forty-two seats. When he returned to the mortal world from the Demon Ruins, only six names remained unerased on the great stele at the end of that bloody road.
One of them had even been crippled.
Below Spirit Transformation, he had no equal.