Chapter 42: The Powerful Demon Sword

Page (1/3)

Lin Yang manipulated the shattered blade, sending it darting around the room. It was as sharp as a flying knife controlled by spiritual power, leaving only gaping holes wherever it passed. One could only imagine how powerful it must have been when whole.

Repairing this thing was simple—just a matter of killing fiercely and absorbing blood relentlessly. Yet, to restore this fragment of a demonic sword from the Immortal Realm to its original state, slaughtering the entire Mortal Realm probably wouldn’t suffice.

Curious to test the blade’s sharpness, Lin Yang infused a Vajra Talisman with spiritual energy and placed it on the rockery. A golden protective shield shimmered into existence around it.

Lin Yang drove the blade fragment straight at the rockery. The protective shield shattered instantly. A three-centimeter-wide hole pierced clean through the entire rockery, right out the other side. Its power clearly surpassed the strength of the Vajra Talisman.

He then layered five talismans together and activated them, forming five overlapping layers of pale gold protection. The colors blended so thoroughly that Lin Yang could see nothing but the golden shield, the rockery itself hidden from view.

Again, he sent the shattered blade hurtling forward. In a blink, all five layers of protection were sundered. The force exceeded Lin Yang’s expectations.

Next, he attached two amulets usable only during the Foundation Establishment stage, affixing them to the rockery. Two layers of white light enshrouded the stone.

Lin Yang attacked with the fragment once more. The first layer held for a moment before yielding; the second resisted for three whole breaths before finally breaking.

“It seems this is about the limit of the highest offensive power I can exert at my current level.”

Delighted, Lin Yang examined the fragment in his hand. “This is a wonderful tool—perfect for a sneak attack. The sixth member has joined the crew.”

After studying the blade a while longer, he drifted off to sleep. The room was filled with a subtle, unique fragrance that lulled one into slumber. What Lin Yang did not realize was that, as he slept, a sinister red glow emanated from the broken blade, and a faint streak of blood appeared at the tip—like a fine thread. The fragment quivered as if sentient, savoring the taste of fresh blood, and a barely perceptible sliver of blade seemed to grow from the edge.

...

Page (2/3)

The next day, Lin Yang awoke from a particularly restful sleep. He wondered about the incense that had filled the room the night before. After lingering in bed for a while, a knock sounded at his door.

“Honored guest, I’ve left your breakfast on the table outside. Please enjoy,” the attendant said before departing.

Lin Yang got up, opened the door, and found a tray on the small table outside. There was a bowl of meat porridge and two boiled eggs. He brought them inside, sat at the table, peeled an egg, and tasted it. He discovered it was brimming with spiritual energy—it must have come from a spirit beast hen. Sampling the porridge, he found it was savory but not greasy, the meat tender but not tough, and extraordinarily delicious.

“My goodness, the professionals truly are different—even a simple bowl of meat porridge is so exquisite.”

“It’s a pity this is the territory of the Yuanwu Kingdom, or I’d try to steal their cook away.” Lin Yang knew he was only half-joking, genuinely impressed by the chef’s skill.

After breakfast, Lin Yang settled his bill with spirit stones and checked out of the inn. The scent in the lobby reminded him of the incense that had aided his sleep.

“Excuse me, may I ask you something?” Lin Yang called to an attendant.

“Yes, sir?”

“That incense burning in my room last night—what is it?”

“Oh, that’s a specialty of the Wuji Sect in the Yuanwu Kingdom—a unique calming incense. It’s different from regular sleep-inducing sticks; it simply brings peace to the mind, letting you fall asleep naturally.”

“Can I buy some?”

“You can, but there isn’t much left,” the attendant said apologetically.

“I’ll take whatever you have.”

“Very well, sir.” The attendant produced a key from his pocket, retrieved a wooden box from the top shelf behind him, and opened it. He handed Lin Yang a palm-sized incense burner from within.

“Here is the incense you wanted.”

“How much?”

“Not much at all, just fifty spirit stones.”

Lin Yang handed over fifty lower-grade spirit stones. The attendant accepted them, then gave Lin Yang the wooden box.

Lin Yang put the burner away and left the inn. Outside, the luminous stones no longer emitted white light but shone with golden sunlight, like the rays of the sun—bright, but without warmth. Whoever had thought of this must have fancied themselves a genius.

He wandered the streets, which were lined with shops selling all manner of strange and marvelous goods—even a dedicated corpse vendor, most likely catering to demonic cultivators in need of materials for puppets. Next door was a coffin shop. Lin Yang watched as a hooded cultivator bought a corpse and placed it straight into a coffin purchased on the spot—a masterstroke in salesmanship.

Page (3/3)

He strolled into the bazaar, where countless cultivators of every kind hawked their wares. It reminded Lin Yang of his own days manning a stall, though those days had been brief.

He wandered aimlessly through the market for oddities, hoping to stumble across a bargain. After wasting several dozen spirit stones as a hapless dupe, he finally resolved to focus on cultivation and stop daydreaming—he wasn’t the protagonist, after all, not like Han Tianzun who could stumble upon a Heaven-Seizing Bottle with a casual kick.

Thus, Lin Yang spent his afternoon idling away the hours.

...

By dusk, the luminous stones embedded in the walls cast a dim, twilight glow. Lin Yang made his way to the Treasure Pavilion, where he was to meet his senior sister.

After waiting some time, Lin Yang finally spotted her—walking side by side with a handsome man. Instantly, Lin Yang’s mind conjured up a scenario.

He thought to himself, “Don’t tell me that guy is none other than Cloud Dew, the ancestor of the Hehuan Sect?”

“Best to keep my distance,” he decided, opting for a swift exit. He stepped forward and said to his senior sister, “Senior sister, I might have something to attend to.”

“What is it? Should I wait for you?” she asked, surprised that Lin Yang would suggest splitting up.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just want to pick up a few things at the auction and then pay a visit to the Wuji Sect in Yuanwu Kingdom.” Lin Yang invented an excuse on the spot.

“All right, go ahead. But when you return, you’ll need to report to Ancestor Linghu.”

“Yes, senior sister.” With permission granted, Lin Yang hurried into the Treasure Pavilion, eager to avoid being the third wheel for too long—lest he risk being swatted like a fly.

...