"The second option."
Genichi raised two fingers.
"I place a slave mark on you, and from this day forward, you become my slaves."
The great hall fell silent for a moment before hushed whispers began spreading through the crowd.
A slave mark.
It was a punishment even more humiliating than death.
Once branded with a slave mark, one's life and death rested entirely in the master's hands. If the master allowed you to live, you lived. If the master wanted you dead, you died. Whatever the master ordered, you had no choice but to obey.
No freedom.
No dignity.
No future.
A Nascent Soul Realm Elder stepped forward, his face livid and his eyes filled with anger and unwillingness.
"Dream on! I am a mighty Nascent Soul cultivator! How could I ever lower myself to serve another? Even if I die, I'll die with dignity!"
Genichi looked at him, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile.
It was a small smile, yet there was a coldness to it that sent chills down everyone's spine.
"You've got backbone."
He raised one hand and gave it a casual wave.
The Human Sovereign Banner suddenly unfurled.
Its golden surface spread outward, blotting out everything above as brilliant golden light engulfed the entire hall.
The Nascent Soul Elder didn't even have time to scream before the golden light swallowed him whole.
He vanished without a trace.
A new, twisted silhouette appeared across the banner's surface, struggling among the golden patterns, roaring and screaming soundlessly.
The hall fell silent again.
No one dared speak.
No one dared resist.
No one dared question a single word Genichi said.
They finally understood.
This young man wasn't negotiating.
He wasn't discussing terms.
He wasn't giving them a choice.
He was merely offering them a chance.
A chance to remain alive.
If they refused even that, then they could join the Nascent Soul Elder inside the Human Sovereign Banner.
"We... choose the second option."
The Grand Elder of the Demonic Sect was the first to kneel.
Both knees struck the floor, his forehead pressed against the ground, and his voice was hoarse and trembling.
His body shook faintly.
Not from anger.
From fear.
The other Elders and stewards exchanged glances before kneeling one after another.
"We surrender."
Genichi nodded in satisfaction.
"A wise choice."
He rose from the throne, descended the steps, and stopped before the Grand Elder.
Then he took out a bottle of wine, poured a bowl, bit his fingertip, and let several drops of blood fall into it.
The droplets spread through the wine like a blooming red lotus.
He handed the bowl to the Grand Elder.
"Drink."
The Grand Elder accepted it and stared at the blood-red wine, his hands trembling slightly.
Of course he knew what this was.
A blood contract.
Once he drank it, his life and death would rest in the other man's hands.
He didn't know who this young man was.
He didn't know where Genichi had come from.
He didn't know why Genichi wanted to take control of the Demonic Sect.
But he knew one thing.
He had no choice.
Refuse to drink, and he died.
Drink, and at least he would remain alive.
The Grand Elder tipped his head back and drained the bowl in one gulp.
The instant the wine entered his throat, he felt a strange power surge into his body and take root deep within his soul.
He could sense it clearly.
His life no longer belonged to him.
The Grand Elder stood and moved aside.
Next came the Second Elder.
Then the Third.
Then the Fourth.
One demonic leader after another stepped forward, accepted the bowl, and drank.
Their expressions varied.
Some were terrified.
Some were furious.
Some were numb.
Some even seemed faintly relieved.
From this day onward, they would no longer need to fear being hunted.
They would no longer need to worry about old enemies coming for revenge.
They would no longer spend sleepless nights thinking about the threats that had once haunted them.
Because now they had a new master.
A master so overwhelmingly powerful that opposing him felt hopeless.
They had lost their freedom.
But at least...
They were alive.
Genichi put away the Human Sovereign Banner, returned to the throne, and sat down.
His gaze swept across every demonic disciple in the hall. There was no emotion in his eyes, only calm, almost indifferent scrutiny.
"Next, I want you to do something for me."
His voice was quiet, but the command within it allowed no refusal.
"Go capture every one of those ridiculous real-heir, fake-heir, true-young-master, fake-young-master types for me. Men or women, cultivation or no cultivation, powerful background or none, I want all of them brought here."
The demonic leaders exchanged confused looks.
They couldn't understand why Genichi wanted people like that.
But they didn't have the courage to refuse.
They didn't have the courage to question him.
They certainly didn't have the courage to negotiate.
Their lives were already in Genichi's hands.
Whatever he ordered, they had to do.
There was no room for discussion.
"As you command."
The Grand Elder lowered his head, his voice hoarse.
The machinery of the Demonic Sect began to move.
Those murderous fiends who had once slaughtered without hesitation now behaved like trained hunting dogs, following Genichi's orders as they began capturing those female-oriented fiction archetypes throughout the entire cultivation world.
They stormed one prestigious sect after another.
They broke into the estates of cultivation clans.
They dragged their targets out of bed, pulled them from cultivation chambers, and even snatched them straight out of wedding ceremonies.
Some resisted and were killed on the spot.
Some fled and were hunted down.
Some begged for mercy and were dragged away anyway.
Within only a few days, hundreds of people had been imprisoned inside the dungeons beneath the Demonic Sect's headquarters.
There were men and women.
Young and old.
Some were cultivators.
Some were ordinary mortals.
But they all shared one thing in common.
They were the familiar impostor archetypes of female-oriented fiction.
Genichi stood inside the dungeon, looking through the iron bars at those frightened faces.
There was no fluctuation in his heart.
He simply counted them calmly.
Still not enough.
Not nearly enough.
He needed more people.
More resentment.
More obsession.
Nourishment for the Human Sovereign Banner.
Raw material for his soul slaves.
Stepping stones on the road to revenge.
"Keep capturing them."
His voice was quiet, yet carried an unquestionable command.
The Demonic Sect's hunt continued.
Meanwhile, within the mountain gates of that prestigious sect, the junior disciple who had once framed Genichi stood before their master with a smug smile on his face.
He believed everything was under his control.
He believed the former chief disciple was already dead.
He believed no one could ever threaten his position again.
He had no idea that a storm was gathering.
That a vast net was tightening.
That vengeance was drawing closer.
Genichi stood at the highest point of the Demonic Sect headquarters, gazing toward the distant sky.
That was where the prestigious sect lay.
Where his enemies waited.
Where this road would end.
The corner of his mouth curved upward into a cold smile.
"Wait for me."
He murmured softly.
"Very soon."
"Very soon, I'll send every last one of you straight to hell."
Genichi suppressed the violent urge to slaughter that surged within him.
He was finding it increasingly difficult to control himself.
Part of him wanted nothing more than to charge straight into that sect and begin killing.
(End of Chapter)
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