CHAPTER 71: CHAPTER 70: THE LIFE OF DAIMON QIANMIAN (2600 WORDS)_1

After leaving Dragon Head Peak, Wang Xiu steered the Black Tortoise Mirror toward Spirit Turtle Peak. Once he landed, he released his divine consciousness, sweeping his senses over the area.

Well, well. On the gates of Orchid Courtyard, two notes were conspicuously posted: "In closed-door cultivation, concentrating on alchemy. Wang Xiu, do not enter or disturb!"

It was obvious that Jiang Ling’er, with her sweet disposition, could never have uttered such icy words. These notes must have been put up by Jiang Yourong. Furthermore, through the twelve characters of wild cursive script, Wang Xiu could distinctly feel a wave of hysterical frustration and blame-shifting washing over him. It seems that while I was away from Spirit Turtle Peak, that terrifying remnant soul’s journey into alchemy has not been a smooth one.

Sighing, he thought, I had originally planned, since I was finally home, to find a way to get Senior Jiang to sing my praises. Now, it looks like there won’t be any chance of that until she successfully refines the Jiuli Nourishing Soul Pill.

Since Senior Jiang didn’t want him to enter, he decided against forcing his way in. Although he could get inside, it would ultimately damage their relationship. In the future, it wouldn’t be so easy to chat with her or get her to praise him. Forget it. There’s plenty of time. As long as she’s still on Spirit Turtle Peak, she’ll have to praise me sooner or later. She can’t escape.

Unbothered by being turned away, Wang Xiu simply returned to his own courtyard, activated the protective formation, and went inside. The Nourishing Soul Lotus in the pond was growing quite well. Nourished by the waters of the Yellow Springs, it wouldn’t be long before it began to sprout flower buds.

Wang Xiu entered his seclusion chamber and planted the Green Lotus Sky-covering Array flags around the room, concealing all traces of his presence. He then sat cross-legged on a cushion and took out the Skull Command Token and the Myriad Soul Banner that had been dropped by Daimon Qianmian.

He cast a spell on the Myriad Soul Banner, drawing out the soul of Daimon Qianmian. It still lingered in a dazed state, not yet having regained its consciousness. Next, Wang Xiu curled his five fingers into a tiger’s claw and pressed them against Daimon Qianmian’s forehead. "Nether Emperor’s Soul-Reading Technique!"

Similar to the Soul Arresting Curse he had used to summon the legion of ghosts, the Nether Emperor’s Soul-Reading Technique was another secret technique from the Nether Emperor’s Prison-controlling Scripture. This technique allowed one to view a soul’s memories from when it was alive, thereby extracting any desired information. It was a very practical, but also a very malicious, secret art. The target’s soul would collapse under the strain, and even if their True Spirit managed to reincarnate, they would almost certainly be born into a wretched next life.

However, when faced with someone like Daimon Qianmian, who had slaughtered countless members of the Human Race, Wang Xiu felt not a shred of compassion.

As the secret technique took effect, Daimon Qianmian’s soul began to dissipate. His life story unfolded before Wang Xiu, flashing before his eyes like a revolving lantern, with nothing concealed.

Daimon Qianmian was born into a poor family in a desolate border region. The Immortal Sect responsible for guarding the area was not particularly powerful. In his youth, he often heard stories of his own village, or neighboring ones, being troubled by evil spirits. Children were periodically snatched away by wild demons that roamed the mountains.

Living in this state of constant fear, Daimon Qianmian passed his childhood years working tirelessly. He even managed to marry a local girl. Life was hard, but with a wife and child, it was bearable. But then, Demon Cultivators began to wreak havoc, beating back the Immortal Sect protecting the region until it was nearly annihilated. The nearby villages and towns were once again plagued by demons. Blood flowed like rivers, cries of sorrow filled the land, and countless common folk became wandering refugees.

In such turbulent times, people who lost their land lost their roots. The number of those who died on the road was incalculable; they succumbed to starvation, disease, and exhaustion. During the exodus, his infant son was stolen by a fellow refugee from his village. His wife, for half a bowl of thin porridge, allowed herself to be violated by a group of men. He witnessed too much of humanity’s ugliness, and the gnawing hunger gradually twisted his own mind.

He took his first bite of "mutton." It was another family’s "lamb," no older than five, whom he had lured into a valley and killed with a rock. If others can eat ’mutton,’ why can’t I? So he ate. Afterward, he felt incredible. The long-forgotten sensation of a full stomach sent him into a state of ecstasy, as if he had opened the door to a new world.

Perhaps it was an inborn talent, but after eating the "mutton," his body seemed to grow stronger, and his entire outlook on other people changed. He was no longer afraid of hunger, because the refugee road was filled with "sheep"! He started hunting again, at first preying only on the "young sheep." Later, as his strength grew exponentially, he discovered he could condense a type of black energy—Demonic Qi—that possessed terrifying destructive power.

He had once heard the village elders say that this black energy was what was known as Demonic Qi, something only found on Evil Demons. Anyone possessing such an aura, if discovered by an Immortal Sect, had only one fate: death.

Fear? He was terrified, yet he didn’t stop. Instead, his actions became increasingly excessive, his mind more pathologically twisted. He shared the "lambs" he hunted with his own father, but his father completely misunderstood this act of filial piety. He scolded and beat him, even raising a stone to smash his skull. So... after consuming the "old sheep," Daimon Qianmian’s Demonic Qi surged violently. He grew even stronger, and at the same time, even more deranged.

He continued to devour "sheep" along his journey, his Demonic Qi growing with each passing day. Then, one day, the refugees were intercepted by cultivators from the Demonic Path and were almost entirely slaughtered. But he didn’t die. Not only did he survive, but he was taken in by the Elders of the Demon Cult, who saw potential in him.

The Demon Cult was a general term, much like Taoism or Buddhism. It encompassed hundreds of branches, and the one Daimon Qianmian joined was the Devil Cult Ghost King Sect. This Sect focused on commanding ghosts, and most of its techniques required the consumption of souls for cultivation. Daimon Qianmian’s master was a senior Elder in the Ghost King Sect. According to this master, Daimon Qianmian was born under a violent star. His personality was extreme and arrogantly wicked, and with just a little guidance, he could be made to kill and eat "sheep" without a shred of hesitation. He was, in essence, a natural-born demon.

Under his master’s guidance, Daimon Qianmian practiced Demonic Techniques, consuming "sheep" and devouring souls, causing his cultivation level to skyrocket. He even mastered an ancient secret technique of the Ghost King Sect, the Thousand Faces Demonic Technique. It allowed him to change his appearance at will, to the point that even Nascent Soul Stage Venerables found it difficult to see through his disguise. With this secret technique, hunting "sheep" and stealing souls became even more convenient, and he began to toy with disciples from the various Righteous Sects as he pleased. Over time, he became addicted to the thrill of taking great risks for great rewards.

He deliberately infiltrated territories governed by Immortal Sects to commit his crimes. He would hunt down disciples from major sects and then frame nearby mountain spirits and goblins, all for his own amusement. Thanks to his meticulous planning and powerful Demonic Techniques, he was never caught.

One could say that if not for the incident in Maple City, where he boasted so arrogantly that he attracted the attention of an anomaly like Wang Xiu—a man who practically invited Heavenly Retribution—Daimon Qianmian’s demonic life might have continued, carefree, for several hundred more years.

...

Watching these scenes flash by, Wang Xiu couldn’t help but feel a surge of complex emotions. It’s true what they say: chaotic times breed demons. If he hadn’t been driven to desperation by hardship, if he had just stayed in his village, this Qianmian might have lived out his days as a good husband and father. There are no demons born of nature, only those forged by the cruel play of fate!

Of course, these reflections didn’t mean he regretted killing Daimon Qianmian. As the saying goes, those who walk different paths cannot make plans together. Since his opponent had chosen the Demonic Path and raised a butcher’s knife to innocent people, then Wang Xiu, if given the chance to do it over ten thousand times, would still choose to chant the Heavenly Calamity Curse and obliterate him.

...

Suddenly, Wang Xiu seemed to spot something incredible in the memories. His hands quickly formed a new set of seals, and the rapidly flashing images began to slow down.

The image froze on a mist-covered pool, its surface blanketed with rose petals. Behind a thin, green gauze screen, a graceful figure could be faintly seen. Half of her body was submerged in the rose-filled water, while the other half was leaning languidly against the pool’s edge, exuding an air of indolence and charm. Her curvaceous figure was enough to make one’s head spin.

Through Daimon Qianmian’s memories, Wang Xiu knew this pool belonged to an Elder of the Ghost King Sect, a Nascent Soul Stage powerhouse: Red Enchanting Snake Princess. She was a red-striped Snake Spirit who had cultivated for a thousand years and was infamous throughout the Demon Cult for her debauched lifestyle and countless lovers.

And at this moment in the memory, Daimon Qianmian, disguised as a handsome gentleman, had the audacity to walk right into the Snake Ji’s bathing pool.

The scenes that followed gradually became unfit for public viewing.

...Eight thousand words omitted here...

In an instant, Wang Xiu’s worldview was shattered. He reflexively threw his hands up to cover his eyes... only to involuntarily spread his fingers to peek through the gaps.

Whoa... So that’s what all those props in his Space Ring were for. The Demon Cult... they sure play rough!

At the same time, behind Wang Xiu, the already pinkish Mingxue Executioner Sword flushed an even deeper shade of red, becoming tantalizingly vibrant.

A certain Sword Spirit was deeply scandalized!