Chapter 550: Who is the Daoist?
Chapter 550: Who is the Daoist?
As dusk approached, the evening glow bathed the land in a dusky hue. A lingering ray of sunset light illuminated the strange Daoist, casting an eerie, deathly pallor upon him.
Mo Hua's breath hitched, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Although he had never laid eyes on this Daoist before, the aura emanating from him was eerily familiar.
The formidable demon, Feng Xi, who had returned from the dead in Tongxian City.
The King of Ten Thousand Corpses, infamous for his heinous deeds in Nanyue City.
And the shadowy figure that emerged in his mind's eye whenever he silently recited his master's Daoist name...
They all shared the same aura as this person before him.
Mo Hua's heart trembled. This man was the sinister Daoist that his master had forbidden him from thinking about or mentioning...
The Daoist of Mystery!!
On the other side, the group of Golden Core Demon Cultivators looked at the Daoist with varying expressions of solemnity, confusion, and disdain.
Not all of them were aware of the Daoist of Mystery.
However, the Blood-Robed Elder among them did.
He was a servant of the Holy Son, a late-stage Golden Core cultivator with extensive experience and knowledge, even if he hadn't personally witnessed all the forbidden secrets of the demonic sect.
The Daoist of Mystery...
The title of "Daoist" was not one that could be attained easily. It wasn't solely based on one's cultivation level or the magnitude of their murderous deeds.
Moreover, his title included the character "Mystery."
A sense of gravity weighed down on the Blood-Robed Elder.
He didn't know what the Daoist of Mystery intended by appearing here at this moment, nor could he fathom his schemes. With a respectful bow, he addressed the Daoist:
"Senior..."
The Daoist of Mystery seemed not to hear, continuing his approach with the same unsteady gait, one step deeper than the other.
The Blood-Robed Elder's face remained as impassive as still water.
One of the demon cultivators scoffed, "Is this the famed Daoist of Mystery?"
"Why does he look so disheveled?"
"Like a beggar..."
"His cultivation seems to be merely at the Foundation Establishment stage."
"Could he be a living corpse?"
"Putting on an act..."
The group of demon cultivators wore expressions of contempt.
Dali Mountain State was a third-rate state where the Heavenly Dao restricted cultivators from advancing beyond the Golden Core stage.
This group of unrighteous cultivators, numbering over twenty Golden Core demons, could practically act with impunity within this state.
Unless they encountered someone with a Longevity Talisman or other such heaven-defying treasures, they had little to fear.
But the two Longevity Talismans had already been destroyed.
The Golden Body Dharma Form had also been erased by the Heavenly Dao.
Such treasures were already incredibly rare, and it was unlikely that anyone else possessed them.
Thus, these demon cultivators held no fear toward the Daoist of Mystery.
Even if their words were somewhat disrespectful, they believed that this Daoist wouldn't be able to do anything to them.
However, the Daoist continued on his way as if he were a dead man, ignoring everything around him.
His steps were unsteady, and his vital energy seemed deficient.
The Blood-Robed Elder furrowed his brows, a seed of doubt taking root in his mind.
"Is this truly the Daoist of Mystery?" he wondered.
He stared intently at the "man" for a long while, even scanning him with his divine sense, but he couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary.
His divine sense was weak, his cultivation was lacking, and his physical body was battered and worn.
He didn't seem like someone who held the revered status of a "Daoist" in the demonic sect.
"Could I have mistaken him for someone else...?" The Blood-Robed Elder knitted his brows.
The Holy Son, too, was perplexed. He decided to ask directly, "Are you the Daoist of Mystery?"
The Daoist remained silent, continuing on his solitary path.
The Red-Faced Demon couldn't contain his anger any longer. "You audacious Daoist! How dare you ignore the Holy Son's question?"
Still, the Daoist showed no reaction.
Incensed, the Red-Faced Demon strode forward and kicked the Daoist to the ground with a single strike.
His kick wasn't overly forceful, but it was enough to break the Daoist's bones.
The Daoist struggled on the ground, trying to get up, but his limbs were uncoordinated, resembling a mantis with a twisted body—a pitiful and laughable sight.
The group of demon cultivators burst into mocking laughter.
Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi frowned, confused by the situation.
However, Mo Hua couldn't bring himself to laugh. On the contrary, his gaze deepened, and his expression grew increasingly solemn.
The Daoist continued to writhe on the ground, his appearance wretched and ugly.
The Blood-Robed Elder's expression turned cold and indifferent.
Witnessing this, the Holy Son sneered with disdain.
Encouraged by their reactions, the Red-Faced Demon strode forward with newfound confidence. He stomped on the Daoist's limbs, breaking them one by one, as if to vent his frustration. Not satisfied, he drew a demonic blade and hacked at the Daoist until he was nothing but a bloody mess.
One of the demon cultivators commented with disgust, "Why did you have to make such a bloody mess?"
"You certainly have a lot of free time on your hands..."
The Red-Faced Demon scoffed, "You lot don't understand. This is the Daoist of Mystery we're talking about, a figure of legends. Even in death, he should have some dignity."
"I killed the Daoist of Mystery!" The Red-Faced Demon cackled maniacally. "My name will spread far and wide, shaking the entire demonic path. The next Daoist will surely be me!"
"You're full of crap," spat a demon cultivator with a squinted eye. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
The Red-Faced Demon's pupils darkened. "You dare question me?"
"Question what? Are you even worthy?" The squinting demon cultivator sneered.
The Red-Faced Demon's gaze turned hollow as he stared at his companion. "You want to be a Daoist, too?"
"Who wants to be a Daoist...?" The squinting demon cultivator trailed off, then paused as realization struck him. His expression twisted into a sinister grin. "Of course, that position is meant for me..."
The Red-Faced Demon's voice turned hoarse. "Delusional fool! There can only be one Daoist!"
The squinting demon cultivator's expression turned strange as he laughed, "Indeed, and that person can only be me..."
Enraged, the Red-Faced Demon brandished his demonic blade, his demonic energy surging as he slashed at his companion. "How dare you think you're worthy?!"
The squinting demon cultivator unsheathed his Twin Yin Ghost Swords, his body surrounded by surging yin energy. He lunged at the Red-Faced Demon, his expression equally savage. "If I'm not worthy, then what makes you think you are, you waste?!"
The two demons clashed, their weapons colliding as they fought viciously, oblivious to the presence of others...
The Holy Son looked on, utterly bewildered.
"Stop this at once!" the Holy Son exclaimed impatiently.
But instead of heeding his command, the two combatants fought even more fiercely, their attacks growing increasingly vicious as if they intended to kill each other.
The other demon cultivators watched with cold, mocking smiles, enjoying the show.
Demon cultivators were known for their unruly behavior, and even though they were of the same sect, they often schemed and plotted against each other. So, it was no surprise that they remained indifferent as their fellow cultivators fought to the death.
However, the intense battle between the two Red-Faced Demons disturbed the surrounding area, and their surging demon auras at the Golden Core stage threatened to affect the others.
A burly, brawny demon cultivator with a face full of fleshy folds was caught off guard and had his robe torn by the bloody blade energy of one of the Red-Faced Demons.
Enraged, the demon cultivator bellowed, "You son of a bitch! Are you asking for death?!"
The Red-Faced Demon, whose eyes had turned completely black, glanced at the cultivator, his voice hoarse and emotionless, as if he had shed all human emotions: "Do you want to be a Daoist, too?"
"Go to hell!" The fleshy-faced demon cultivator trembled with fury, his body swelling even larger, his muscles bulging like hardened iron, and his demonic aura surging. He threw a punch at the Red-Faced Demon.
But at that moment, his expression changed, and his words shifted: "Who the hell doesn't want to be a Daoist?!"
The brawny demon cultivator, his aura raging, joined the fray.
The Holy Son frowned and shouted sternly, "Stop this madness!"
But those caught in the fight paid him no heed.
Not only that, but more and more Golden Core demon cultivators were drawn into the bizarre and absurd battle, unable to extricate themselves...
The Holy Son finally realized something was amiss, and a chill ran down his spine. He shot a glance at the Blood-Robed Elder.
The Blood-Robed Elder's eyelids twitched, and he moved to protect the Holy Son, slowly backing away.
However, the bloody and violent fight only escalated, spiraling out of control...
"I am the Daoist!"
"No, you are unworthy! I am the true Daoist!"
"After I kill you all, I will be the Daoist!"
...
The title of "Daoist" seemed to hold a magical allure, tapping into their deepest desires. All the Golden Core demon cultivators were gradually drawn in by these two words:
"I cultivate the Mysterious Yin Demon Art and refine the Yin Banner. I should be the Daoist!"
"Mysterious Yin Demon Art? It's worthless!"
"I walk the path of demons, consuming human flesh and drinking human blood. I am the true Daoist!"
"Whoever lives is the Daoist!"
"Whoever dies is but an ant!"
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
"Kill!!"
...
All the Golden Core demon cultivators seemed to have lost their sanity, engaging in relentless, unthinkable, and frenzied mutual slaughter...
Demonic auras clashed, and blood soaked the land.
The evening sky was stained red, as if dyed by the bloodshed.
Flesh and blood battled against sinister arts.
Vital energy condensed into blades, and yin energy transformed into swords.
Magical treasures of the demonic path flew about—skulls, blood banners, ghost blades, netherworld swords, soul-trapping coffins, and corpse-suppressing pagodas—each displaying their unique abilities.
In their pursuit to become the "Daoist," the demon cultivators seemed to have unleashed their most primal "evil thoughts," filled with intense malice, hatred, and resentment toward each other. They hurled insults and accusations...
Until they resorted to tearing at each other with their teeth, refusing to die and relent.
They fought with all their might, howling and cackling with twisted smiles.
The entire Dali Mountain resembled a living hell.
The Blood-Robed Elder, standing at a distance, retained his sanity. Even with his vast experience, the sight before him made his heart tremble and his hair stand on end. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing, and he whispered, "Demon Seed of the Dao Heart...?"
The Holy Son's face was etched with terror.
"Demon Seed of the Dao Heart..."
"Is this... the Demon Seed of the Dao Heart?"
No, that couldn't be right.
The Demon Seed of the Dao Heart he knew was not like this at all...
It was nowhere near as powerful and terrifying...
Twenty Golden Core demon cultivators, without any warning or indication, had been infected with demonic thoughts, driving them to slaughter each other relentlessly...
Like bloodstained pigs in a slaughterhouse, manipulated and toyed with, they died without even knowing how.
This was... the work of the Eccentric Daoist?
...
The battle among the Golden Core demon cultivators went from absurd to intense, then to savage and cruel, before finally coming to a halt...
The mountainside was left in ruins, resembling a hellish landscape.
The dispute over the title of "Daoist" had come to an end.
Out of the twenty Golden Core demon cultivators, most lay dead or injured.
Only one remained—a tall and slender cultivator with an ordinary appearance.
He walked over to the body of the "Daoist" who had been hacked to death by the Red-Faced Demon earlier and stripped off the bloody robe, now soiled with the dead man's blood. He put it on himself.
A strange, victorious smile appeared on his face.
"I am the Daoist!" he declared.
Upon hearing these words, everyone present felt a chill in their hearts.
The "Daoist," like a puppet, moved his limbs awkwardly, making the ill-fitting robe look even more incongruous and eerie.
Then, as before, the "Daoist" continued walking toward the Holy Son.
It was as if he intended to finish the journey he had started earlier.
However, this time, his steps were much lighter and quicker.
The Blood-Robed Elder gritted his teeth and stood in front of the Holy Son, his voice stern as he pleaded, "Senior, please show mercy!"
When the "Daoist" showed no response, the Blood-Robed Elder continued, his voice trembling, "Senior, he is the Holy Son! Please spare him!"
"You and I are both cultivators of the demonic path, and we understand the importance of the Holy Son's position!"
"The Holy Son's bloodline is noble... He has the potential to ascend to the throne of the Demon Lord, and he might very well become the future ruler of the demonic path. We cannot let any harm come to him!"
"Holy Son..."
...
But no matter what he said, the "Daoist" did not stop walking.
It was as if he only listened to his own thoughts and was deaf to everything else—people, objects, and events around him.
With no other options left, the Blood-Robed Elder's eyes turned cold.
"Very well," he said. "If you refuse to be reasonable, don't blame me for what happens next!"
He took out an ancient bronze soul-guarding bell to protect his mind and then recited an enchantment. His blood-red robe seemed to come alive, turning into a pool of flowing blood that guarded his physical body.
The Black Demon Sword.
Together with the Soul-Guarding Bell for protection and the Blood Robe for defense, the Black Demon Sword was an offensive powerhouse.
Within the boundaries of Dali Mountain State, under the restrictions of the Heavenly Dao, a late-stage Golden Core cultivator like the Blood-Robed Elder wielding these three demonic treasures approached the peak of combat strength.
The Blood-Robed Elder fixed his gaze on the Daoist, his voice carrying a sense of authority:
"Anyone who dares to harm the Holy Son will be killed without mercy!"
Such an imposing manner seemed to intimidate the Daoist, causing him to pause in his tracks. The Daoist's pitch-black eyes shifted from the Blood-Robed Elder to the Holy Son, and he uttered a cold response:
"Are you going to protect him?"
His voice was hoarse, like dry wood, as if his throat was leaking wind, sounding somewhat distorted.
"Of course..." The Blood-Robed Elder replied.
"Why?"
"Is he worthy?"
The Daoist's face shifted, and his words suddenly increased in number...
Although the words came from one mouth, it was as if multiple people were speaking in different voices through a single person.
The tone remained flat, but it was laced with the myriad emotions of the world.
Anger, resentment, hatred, ridicule, disdain... all these emotions blended like a strong wine, thick as ink, and fermented together:
"You are a Golden Core cultivator, a powerful Demon cultivator!"
"Why risk your life to protect this insignificant brat?"
"Just because he is the Holy Son?"
"Is he really the Holy Son?"
"What makes him worthy of being the Holy Son?"
"What gives him the right to boss you around, to make you bow and scrape, to make you his slave?"
"Is it because of his Holy bloodline?"
"What's so special about a bloodline?"
"When a person dies, they're nothing but a pool of blood and a pile of rotting flesh. What's so great about a bloodline then?"
"Why is it that some people are born as Holy Sons?"
"While others are destined to be their servants?"
"All because of that putrid sack of skin and dried-up blood?"
"Why?"
All the voices of the Daoist merged together, creating a dissonant and piercing question that struck at the heart:
"Why can't you be the Holy Son?"
"Why can't you be the Demon Lord?"
"Is there any difference between their blood and yours?"
"In the end, we all live and die..."
...
The Daoist's demonic voice echoed in his ears, causing the Blood-Robed Elder's gaze to shake, his entire body trembling as he struggled to maintain his composure.
"No, no, he is the Holy Son. He has the Holy bloodline..." The Blood-Robed Elder tried to convince himself.
The Daoist's voice turned gentle again, but it carried an eerie coldness and a hint of enticement:
"Then eat him..."
"Eat his flesh, drink his blood!"
"Devour his bloodline!"
"You will become the Demon Lord!"
Hearing these words, the Blood-Robed Elder's legs softened, and he stumbled back a few steps, his eyes filled with panic and his heart wavering.
No!
That's wrong!
This Daoist is deceiving me!
But...
He knew that this Daoist was deceiving him!
Yet, his heart was filled with endless desire and impulse.
Yes, this Daoist was deceiving him...
But... was he really being deceived?
Were the Daoist's words wrong?
Why should he, a proud Golden Core Demon cultivator, be a lowly servant, bowing and scraping, begging for scraps?
Wasn't the path of the Demon supposed to be lawless and free?
What's the harm in eating someone?
Even if it's the Holy Son... So what?
"Ding!"
The Soul-Guarding Bell shattered in response to his thoughts.
The Blood-Robed Elder's soul had been breached...
His eyes reflected his fear as he felt his spiritual sense divide into two parts. One part retained its "sanity," knowing that he shouldn't do certain things, while the other part was filled with terrifying instincts and desires.
This instinct drove him forward, his eyes gleaming with greed, as he took one step after another towards the Holy Son, as if he really wanted to...
Devour the Holy Son alive!
"No!"
The Blood-Robed Elder's sanity struggled against the impulse.
He must not harm the Holy Son!
The Blood-Robed Elder's face twisted in conflict, his features contorting in pain as his sanity fought back. Eventually, he regained a slight amount of control over his body.
However, it was only partial control.
He could control his left leg, but his right leg continued to move towards the Holy Son. He fell to the ground, regained control of his left hand, but his right hand clawed at the ground as he crawled towards the Holy Son.
No matter how ugly the Blood-Robed Elder's struggle was, he couldn't stop himself from inching closer to the Holy Son.
And the closer he got, the stronger his killing intent and hunger became.
The Holy Son, on the other hand, was petrified, standing still as a statue.
"You must not harm the Holy Son!"
"The Holy Son is noble and must not come to any harm!"
The Blood-Robed Elder's heart hardened, and he ruthlessly severed his meridians, crippling his own limbs.
But he was a Golden Core cultivator, and even with severed meridians and crippled limbs, he still had his demonic energy, his vital energy, and his signature treasure...
As long as he lived, the Holy Son would be in danger.
Despair filled the Blood-Robed Elder's face.
"So this is... the work of the Eccentric Daoist?"
He glanced at the Holy Son, managing a bitter smile, before his eyes turned fierce, and his fingers curled into claws as he reached for his heart meridian, severing it. At the same time, he reversed the flow of his spiritual power, causing his Golden Core to self-destruct!
The explosion of a Golden Core was immensely powerful.
In an instant, demonic energy surged, and blood mist filled the sky.
Everyone present was stunned and ashen-faced.
The Eccentric Daoist remained unmoved, treating the death of the Blood-Robed Elder with disdain. "You had the guts to die, but not to rebel. Your servility is too deep-rooted..."
After speaking, he continued walking towards the Holy Son, his gaze indifferent as if looking at insignificant weeds.
It was as if the Holy Son's noble status meant nothing to him.
Terrified, the Holy Son finally snapped out of his daze, his legs giving out as he fell to the ground and scrambled backwards.
Over twenty Golden Core demon cultivators had all perished at the hands of the Eccentric Daoist! And their deaths were bizarre, cruel, and without warning, leaving them unable to guard against it.
The Holy Son's face lost its arrogance and coldness, replaced by endless fear.
"I... I am the Holy Son... You can't kill me!"
"Don't... Don't let the Demon Seed of the Dao Heart infect me!"
"I don't want to become something that's neither human nor ghost!"
However, the Eccentric Daoist paid no heed to his pleas. In just a few steps, he was already close to the Holy Son, and his long, pale hands, stained with blood, slowly reached out towards him.
The Holy Son felt as if his liver and gallbladder were about to burst, and he racked his brains, desperately seeking a way to survive.
"Don't... Don't kill me!"
"I am the Holy Son, and I might become the Demon Lord in the future!"
"My father is the sect master of the Ghost King Sect, and my mother is the Blood Jade Rakshasa..."
......
But none of these words could stop the Eccentric Daoist.
Just then, the Holy Son blurted out, "I have the bloodline of 'Xue Daoren' and am his descendant..."
The Eccentric Daoist's hand paused.
At that moment, Mo Hua's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had heard another Daoist's name:
"Xue" Daoren.
Perhaps because of the mention of Xue Daoren, the Eccentric Daoist withdrew his hand and spared the Holy Son.
Having survived this ordeal, the Holy Son breathed heavily, only now realizing that his entire body was soaked in cold sweat.
The Eccentric Daoist had instilled in him a sense of oppression and fear like never before.
However, this crisis had now passed.
The Holy Son also deeply understood the weight of the title "Daoist."
He secretly raised his eyes, looking at the Eccentric Daoist with fear, and although his voice still trembled slightly, he respectfully said:
"Xue Daoren is my ancestor and a great demon cultivator from ancient times. Since you also have the title of Daoist, I should address you as 'Master Uncle'."
The Eccentric Daoist didn't bother to respond.
He turned his head to look at Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi, and a hint of a different emotion flashed in his pitch-black pupils.
Then, he started walking towards Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi, step by step.
His voice was somewhat disjointed and stiff, but his tone had lost its strangeness and returned to normal:
"Are you... my master's disciples?"
"Or... my master's children..."
"I want you to guide me and take me to see... my master."
Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi's faces turned pale.
Xue Yi was even more frightened.
She knew that this was not as simple as just "guiding" him.
The Eccentric Daoist was unpredictable and merciless.
He would not consider their past connections.
Once they were taken away by him, their lives would be uncertain, and it would be difficult to predict their fate. Moreover, they might never return...
And even if they did come back, they might be infected by the "Demon Seed of the Dao Heart" and be controlled by it, living a life worse than death...
Xue Yi's heart ached, and she was anxious beyond words. "Senior..."
But soon, she found that she couldn't speak at all, and she couldn't even move a finger.
Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi were also immobilized.
The Eccentric Daoist approached them step by step, his expression indifferent, and extended his long and bloody palm to grab the two of them...
Xue Yi was anxious and worried, and the urgency of the situation caused her to spit out a mouthful of blood.
The surroundings were deathly silent.
Just then, a crisp and abrupt voice broke the silence:
"Master Uncle..."
This voice shattered the stillness.
The Eccentric Daoist turned his head and saw the little cultivator standing not far away, his expression calm and his eyes clear, with a hint of depth.
"I'll guide you." Mo Hua said.
The Eccentric Daoist looked at Mo Hua with indifferent eyes, not paying much attention.
Suddenly, his heart trembled.
Not paying attention...
Why... am I not... paying attention to him?
Why did I... specifically... overlook this little thing...?
The Eccentric Daoist stared at Mo Hua, carefully calculating, and a cloud of confusion in his mind suddenly lifted. The threads of cause and effect rearranged, and a small figure gradually emerged in his mind.
"This is... the person my master... hid from me..."
The Eccentric Daoist's black eyes flickered slightly.
"Good..." A strange and lively expression appeared on the Eccentric Daoist's face. "You come with me..."
With you, it's enough...
Mo Hua nodded.
"Master Brother!" Bai Zisheng exclaimed in panic.
Bai Zixi's eyes also flickered, and she anxiously said, "Mo Hua!"
Xue Yi bit her lip, feeling helpless.
Mo Hua smiled gently at them and waved his hand. "Master Brother, Master Sister, you should go back first. I'll go with Master Uncle to see Master..."
The Eccentric Daoist looked at Mo Hua with a puzzled expression, then turned and continued walking forward, swaying as he moved.
Mo Hua followed behind him.
The sun had set.
The two figures, one large and one small, one bizarre and one pure, took one step after another, heading back the way they had come...
(End of Chapter)
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