"Your Majesty?" the man in black called out cautiously.
The one addressed as Your Majesty suddenly fell silent. One moment he was clenching his teeth, the next he was smiling faintly—it was an unsettling sight.
Yang Yun glanced at him and said, "We're not leaving Tianxing Sect yet. Come, we're going to see Zhao Wuji."
He hadn't forgotten how Zhao Wuji had once sentenced him to forced labor.
Though it might not have been entirely Zhao Wuji's decision…
But did Yang Yun look like someone who cared about reason?
Zhao Wuji might still be useful for now, so Yang Yun would let him live.
For now.
Once Zhao Wuji outlived his usefulness, Yang Yun fully intended to let him taste the same kind of suffering.
If he planned to deal with Zhao Wuji like this, then Lin Ya and Yun Jin had no chance. Yang Yun had no intention of letting them walk away alive.
Even if they died, he wouldn't let them die easily.
He had more than enough ways to make them beg for death, yet be unable to escape it. The man in black was terrifyingly strong. He turned into a swirl of black mist, swept up Yang Yun, and vanished from the spot in an instant.
Inside a secret chamber, Zhao Wuji was lost in dark, brooding thoughts.
Suddenly—
A wave of black mist surged into the room.
The very next second, two figures appeared before him.
Zhao Wuji's heart lurched.
This was a sealed chamber!
How had they gotten in?
"Zhao Wuji." Yang Yun still wore the appearance of a child, but his voice carried the weight of command. "Kneel."
Zhao Wuji's pupils contracted sharply.
That child!
He hesitated for only a moment—
The man in black gave a cold snort. A wave of dreadful pressure came crashing down. Zhao Wuji's knees buckled involuntarily, and he fell to the ground in a deep bow.
This aura…
Zhao Wuji's expression changed drastically.
He had felt the oppressive might of the sect's Grand Elders before.
But the presence of this man in black far surpassed even them.
Even those elders had at least reached the Tribulation realm...
But this man...
Zhao Wuji lowered his head, trembling, and said in a shaky voice, "It was me. I was wrong. I didn't know the young master's identity and ended up offending you. But I truly had no choice at the time! Ye Danxia was my most favored disciple. If it had been up to me, I would never have punished you like that!"
He didn't dare raise his head.
By now, he could only assume one thing—
This Yang Yun must have an extraordinarily high status. Otherwise, why would such a terrifying figure act as his protector?
He had sentenced Yang Yun and Ye Danxia to forced labor… the boy must be here for revenge!
Yang Yun narrowed his eyes, then sat casually in a chair, looking down at Zhao Wuji from above.
Within him, the Blood Demon Art began to stir.
This was a technique he had developed based on an ancient secret art of the demon race. Its uniqueness lay in its tiered structure.
Yang Yun cultivated the highest tier of the Blood Demon Art, granting him control over anyone cultivating lower levels of the same art.
Beneath him were the second, third, and fourth levels...
Those cultivating the lower tiers were bound to obey those above.
Layer by layer, it formed a tightly woven hierarchy.
Even if the demon clans Yang Yun deployed to the Central Region weren't masters of the Blood Demon Art, he would still require them to practice its foundational level.
Once initiated, they would never be free of his control.
It was one of his most effective tools for subjugation.
The Xue Daoren had also cultivated this art, and to tighten his grip on Zhao Wuji, he had passed along an even lower-tier version of it.
Even though Yang Yun's current cultivation was beneath Zhao Wuji's, the moment he activated the highest tier, Zhao Wuji would be firmly under his control.
Yang Yun slowly reached out and placed his hand on Zhao Wuji's head.
Zhao Wuji flinched.
Agonizing pain erupted through his body.
A scream tore from his throat.
It hurt.
It hurt more than anything he had ever felt!
His blood boiled as if ignited from within. The searing heat burned through his meridians, scalded his organs—every second felt like dying a thousand times over.
Yang Yun watched him impassively for a moment, then finally withdrew his hand.
Zhao Wuji was drenched in sweat. The pain slowly faded, but there was no relief in his expression—only horror.
He had been converted by Lord himself.
He had practiced a basic level of the Blood Demon Art.
And yet—
His version of the technique should have been second only to Lord!
But this child...
"Zhao Wuji, this is Your Majesty," the man in black said quietly. "At present, Your Majesty is cultivating a powerful art and has yet to restore his full strength. Even so, crushing you would be as easy as squashing an ant."
Your Majesty…
Zhao Wuji's pupils contracted again.
In the demon race, only one person was called Your Majesty.
The Demon Sovereign.
The very same Demon Sovereign who had reportedly vanished after being gravely wounded by the four Holy Lands.
And now…
The Demon Sovereign was right in front of him?
Zhao Wuji trembled and bowed even lower, his voice quaking. "Your servant was ignorant. Please, Your Majesty, punish me as you see fit!"
Yang Yun spoke calmly. "Zhao Wuji, I'm keeping you alive because you're still of use. Otherwise, with your crimes, your head would've rolled long ago."
"Yes, yes, of course," Zhao Wuji replied quickly, though he felt an immense weight lift from his chest.
He was going to live.
"Word is, you wanted the Blood Dao Sect to wipe out Tianxing Sect?" Yang Yun asked flatly.
Zhao Wuji nodded, unapologetic. "Your Majesty, everyone here deserves to die. Your misfortune was caused by Lin Ya and Yun Jin. Yun Jin isn't here, she's lucky. But Lin Ya—your servant can capture him and leave his punishment to you."
Yang Yun let out a scornful laugh. "No wonder your position was usurped. Zhao Wuji, do you ever use your brain? I have a far better plan. Listen carefully."
He began to outline his scheme.
Zhao Wuji's expression shifted as he listened, flickering between hesitation and excitement until it finally settled on elation.
"Your Majesty, if this plan works, then it's perfect," he said eagerly, practically groveling.
Previously, he had been blinded by vengeance, determined to destroy Tianxing Sect even if it meant going into hiding for the rest of his life.
But now—
With Yang Yun involved, everything had changed.
If this plan succeeded—
He wouldn't need to abandon the sect he'd built up over decades. He could reclaim power and become the undisputed sect master once again!
Yang Yun raised a brow. "Did Xue Daoren give you something to conceal the aura of the Blood Demon Art?"
Zhao Wuji nodded and pulled out a small porcelain bottle without hesitation.
"This liquid—just one drop can mask the technique's presence for thirty days." He handed the bottle over. "The lord sends me a new batch every few years to ensure I remain undetected."
Yang Yun turned the bottle in his hand, intrigued.
A mysterious liquid.
Seemingly endless.
Fascinating.
If this truly worked as described…
Could it be Heaven's way of aiding the rise of the demon race?
"Alright, I'm heading back to the forced labor camp. The next steps—Lie Feng will contact you," Yang Yun said coolly.
Zhao Wuji nodded repeatedly.
In the next moment—
Lie Feng whisked Yang Yun away, vanishing without a trace.
Zhao Wuji slowly stood, his eyes gleaming with fervor.
That child… was the Demon Sovereign!
Lie Feng, too, was a rare powerhouse.
If their plan succeeded, Zhao Wuji would be a hero.
A great hero.
And when that day came, no one would stop him from reclaiming control.
No one.
As for Lin Ya and the others, they would die in that battle—cleanly and conveniently.
He would feign sorrow, of course. But what could be done? The dead couldn't return.
What a pity.
Above the skies—
Dark clouds rolled in, lightning cracked, but no rain fell.
As if the heavens were holding their breath—
As if a torrential storm was quietly brewing in the clouds.
And once it finally burst…
Who would be caught in the downpour?
Across the endless sea, a colossal turtle swam through the waves. On its back, An Tong guided Yun Jin deeper into the hidden lands of Wushuang Sect.
What she'd shown Jin Yu and the others before had only scratched the surface.
The Wushuang Sect's secret realm had been hastily constructed, but its foundation was drawn from the vast resources that Wan Dao Saint had preserved and brought forth.
On a desolate mountain peak, An Tong brought Yun Jin to a woman with a sword on her back.
The woman seemed tireless, endlessly practicing her sword forms, her movements ceaseless and precise.
An Tong spoke in a low voice, "This is the Sword Spirit. She was born one day on the Wushuang Sect's sword arena, entirely on her own. Over the millennia, she's witnessed countless duels between disciples, and in that time, she has mastered innumerable sword techniques. Though she's a Sword Spirit, and thus incapable of adaptation or spontaneity, her strength is enough to take down several ordinary Mahayana cultivators at once."