The journey back to the Heavenly Demon Sect was long and arduous. Verdant Peak, once alive with the vibrant energy of the tournament and the echoing laughter of celebration, now fell behind them like a fading dream. The path twisted through treacherous mountain passes, the air growing colder, heavier as they neared the forbidding depths of Death Valley—their true home.
The creaking of the wooden wheels on the rocky path was the only sound breaking the heavy silence inside the carriage. Outside, the jagged peaks and twisted trees of Death Valley blurred by beneath a darkening sky. The air grew sharper with every mile, thick with the lingering whispers of Death Qi.
The euphoria of victory had dulled into a heavy fatigue. Even the once jubilant Yan Ling's usual fiery chatter was reduced to a few thoughtful murmurs.
At the rear of the carriage, Ming Yue stared blankly out the window, her mind restless despite the quiet around her. The weight of Wei Lian's words pressed on her like a curse she could not remove.
"Why does master keep his past a secret? Is his kindness just a lie? What happens when we're no longer useful to him?"
The questions echoed endlessly, their poison seeping deeper with each thought.
Yet, she forced herself back to the task at hand. Cradling the small jade box that held the Spirit Ascendant Pill, delicately crafted to enhance the consumer's Qi equivalent to a decade of cultivation, Ming Yue found a focal point amidst the swirl of doubt. The pill had been one of the rewards from the tournament.
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, her hands clasp together. The pill dissolved across her tongue, its bitterness stirring energy deep within her. Despite the unpleasant taste, she focused on the subtle flow of Qi weaving through her meridians, allowing it to refine, and to integrate into her core.
Gradually, under the warm pulse of the pill's power, her Qi began to glow with a new vitality—a purified, richer thread interlacing with her essence, strengthening, and sharpening. The sensation was electrifying yet soothing, she could feel the power coursing through her body, the exhaustion from earlier all but gone.
Mo Yanluo, his face, usually an unreadable mask that inspired loyalty and fear alike, was drawn and shadowed by profound thought. The muted wilderness and jagged rock faces around him offered no comfort—only reminders of battles past and cruel secrets long buried.
"What if there were other traitors?" The thought haunted him.
The memory that continued to grip Mo Yanluo's mind was one of unbearable pain—the day of his death. The sect he had once commanded, his brothers-in-arms were nowhere to be seen and his disciple pointed their blades at him. But the betrayal wasn't raw or chaotic. It had the mark of careful planning, of a conspiracy that had planted seeds while he was in isolated cultivation.
He recalled his return to the sect—a place that seemed abandoned, hollowed by treachery. The banners hung limp, the grounds neglected, the air thick with suspicion and decay.
The wounds of that day were not just physical. They were scars carved into the very foundation of his faith.
Several guesses circled his mind, like predators waiting for an opening—but no proofs emerged. Names remained unanswered, whispers in the dark that never solidified into reality.
"Was it betrayal from within the highest ranks? Or the creeping influence of external foes? What if his disciples were not the only victims?"
The questions swirled endlessly.
Lost deep in troubled memories, Mo Yanluo was alerted of their arrival to the destination by his disciples. The carriage slowly ascended the winding path and finally passed through the sect's towering gate. One by one, the legendary Seven Demons of the Heavenly Demon Sect revealed themselves, each a pillar that upheld the heavenly demon sect founded by Mo Yanluo himself. They bowed in unison as Mo Yanluo and his disciples exited their carriage, singing words of praise.
Rank 7 — Bewitching Demon: Qing Lang
A master of illusion arts and manipulation, Qing Lang embodied the subtlety of shadow and desire. Known to few and seen by fewer, her form shifted between countless faces, her true self a secret even from her disciples, only ever seen by Mo Yanluo. She ruled the Pleasure Pavilion, weaving intelligence networks and ensnaring enemies with webs of seduction and deception. Though lacking raw strength, her cunning was unparalleled.
A lithe figure clad in flowing silk, Qing Lang's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and admiration as she greeted the group.
Rank 6 — Sound Demon: Feng Sheng
The ethereal presence of Feng Sheng was announced by the faintest strain of music, a haunting melody of her pipa and bone flute carved from the fabled Soul Devouring Trees and powerful cultivators. Her mastery over sound was not just an art but a deadly weapon, capable of disrupting enemy Qi and striking with invisible waves of demonic energy. A loyalist from the earliest days of Mo Yanluo's crusade, her music echoed with unyielding resolve.
Rank 5 — Poison Demon: Xue Du
Far from the poisoner's stereotype, Xue Du wielded toxins alongside restorative medicine, a guardian of life and death within the sect. His poisons were renowned for their lethality, but his spiritual pills healed disciples and bolstered their power.
Rank 4 — Ink Demon: Mo Yi
A visionary of dark artistry, Mo Yi commanded the ink arts with a brush fashioned from the wood of Soul Devouring trees and sacred Báihu hair. He painted living creatures that obeyed his will, his calligraphy breathing power into images. Beyond battle, he managed the sect's vast mercantile empire, overseeing the sect's finances and trade.
Rank 3 — Spear Demon: Lie Qiang
Lightning incarnate, Lie Qiang moved with terrifying speed unmatched throughout the Seven Demons. His spearwork was fluid as water but sharp as lightning, his footsteps light and quick allowing him to traverse over great distances—an unmatched scout and vanguard.
Rank 2 — Fist Demon: Qiang Quan
The embodiment of brute strength and merciless endurance, Qiang Quan's giant frame and diamond-like flesh made him a living fortress. Alongside unarmed techniques honed over decades, his gauntlets and armor were symbols of raw, unstoppable force. Ruthlessness was his creed, joined to Mo Yanluo in fearless loyalty.
Rank 1 — Sword Demon: Xue Jian
Regarded as the deadliest warrior among their ranks aside from Mo Yanluo, Xue Jian's swordsmanship transcended mere skill. His blade was like an extension of his body. His skill did not end with swords but was adaptive across countless weapons. The first disciple to embrace Mo Yanluo's cause, he stood as Mo Yanluo's sword.
Mo Yanluo's eyes swept over these seven pillars as he returned a nod. Each demon gave detailed reports on the status of their factions and the current affairs within the sect.
"Were they all truly loyal?" he wondered. Betrayal does not come from your enemies but from your friends and the ones you trust.
It was not the time to act rashly, especially when they've become the center of attention after Ming Yue's victory in the tournament.