The seven Golden Core cultivators descended into the deserted city like falling stars, their auras spreading across the ruins as they landed at different points around the bloodstained streets. Although they had arrived together, none of them stood close enough to another to be considered unguarded, and their eyes remained fixed on the lone figure waiting in the centre of the city, his black robes fluttering gently beneath the crimson moon.
The man standing before them was He Jinfeng.
At least, that was the name belonging to the body he now occupied.
The bloody aura radiating from him was so dense that the surrounding air carried a faint metallic scent, while the ground beneath his feet had already been stained dark red by the formation that had operated there for six hours. Even after the blood-red orb had been absorbed into his dantian, the remnants of its sinister aura continued to seep through his body, giving him the appearance of a demon that had crawled out of the depths of the underworld.
Yet, despite the murderous aura surrounding him, the Devil Head showed no intention of fleeing.
Instead, he looked around at the seven Golden Core cultivators, taking in their different auras with an interest that was almost appreciative.
One radiated a sharp sword intent that seemed capable of splitting mountains, another carried an imposing aura as heavy as a mountain, while a third possessed a strange, flickering presence that made his position difficult to determine. The remaining four were equally distinctive, their Golden Core auras ranging from scorching spiritual power to a chilling darkness that seemed to absorb the light around them.
Seven Golden Core cultivators.
Any ordinary Purple Palace cultivator would have struggled to remain standing beneath the combined pressure of even two of them, yet the Devil Head merely smiled.
He cupped his hands and bowed slightly.
"I welcome you, fellow Daoists."
His courteous greeting immediately surprised the seven visitors.
They had expected an arrogant demonic cultivator, perhaps someone who would threaten them or attempt to escape the moment he realised that seven Golden Core experts had surrounded him. Instead, the man whose bloody aura suggested that he had slaughtered millions of mortals was greeting them with the courtesy of a host welcoming distinguished guests.
For a moment, even the sword cultivator standing opposite him appeared uncertain.
However, that hesitation lasted only an instant.
A cold light flashed through the sword cultivator's eyes, and the sword intent surrounding his body immediately sharpened. His black hair fluttered despite the absence of wind, while a faint golden radiance emerged from the sword-shaped mark between his eyebrows.
"Devil Head, we've come to take you away. You've clearly slaughtered millions of mortals, and according to the laws governing the continent, such mass slaughter is punishable by immediate execution. There is no need for further investigation when the evidence is already before us."
His voice carried the authority of someone accustomed to commanding others, and as he spoke, a long sword slowly emerged from his dantian, its blade shining with a cold metallic brilliance.
It was his natal sword artifact.
The moment it appeared, the sword intent filling the surrounding air became even sharper, and faint cracks spread across the stones beneath his feet as the weapon resonated with its master's Golden Core.
The Devil Head glanced at the sword, then returned his attention to its owner.
Before he could reply, another Golden Core cultivator raised a hand.
"Hold on."
His voice was calm, almost lazy, yet the dark aura surrounding him possessed a strange depth that caused the nearby spiritual energy to move sluggishly.
Unlike the sword cultivator, whose presence was sharp and conspicuous, this man's aura was restrained, with none of the obvious aggression one would expect from a demonic cultivator. Nevertheless, the faint darkness around his body seemed to swallow the light whenever it passed through it.
He looked at the Devil Head for a moment before turning towards his companions.
"I think we should hear our fellow Daoist out before jumping to conclusions. We have come a considerable distance, and it would be unwise to decide everything before we understand the situation."
The sword cultivator's expression immediately darkened.
"Ao Jinkong, don't tell me your demonic faction actually intends to protect this Devil Head!"
His voice rose sharply, and the sword in his hand released a piercing cry as he brandished it towards the ground.
The three Golden Core cultivators standing beside him immediately released their own auras, the four forces joining together until the entire ruined city trembled beneath their pressure.
The air became heavy.
Stones rose from the ground before crumbling into dust, and the remnants of the blood formation trembled as the four Golden Core auras pressed towards Ao Jinkong and his two companions.
Ao Jinkong's expression became cold.
He had clearly expected the sword cultivator to react badly, but he hadn't anticipated that the other man would immediately turn the disagreement into a confrontation.
The two Golden Core cultivators beside him moved almost simultaneously, releasing their own pressure to counter the incoming force.
BOOM!
The opposing auras collided above the city, creating an invisible shock wave that swept through the ruins. Broken tiles and shattered stones were hurled into the air before being pulverised, while the spiritual energy gathering around the seven cultivators churned violently.
For several breaths, neither side gained the advantage.
The pressure of the four sword cultivators was matched by the combined might of Ao Jinkong and his two companions, the opposing forces cancelling one another out before the collision could develop into a genuine battle.
Yet the Devil Head remained untouched at the centre of the confrontation.
He watched the seven cultivators with an increasingly amused expression, as though he had stumbled upon an entertaining performance.
Then he began to laugh.
"Jie, jie, jie..."
His laughter was initially soft, but it gradually grew louder, spreading through the deserted city with an unsettling resonance.
"You people are truly amusing."
His gaze passed over the sword cultivator, then lingered briefly on Ao Jinkong.
"Perhaps, during my time, you would have made excellent followers. Unfortunately, times have changed, and I have no intention of allowing any of you to leave this place alive."
The instant those words left his mouth, the seven Golden Core cultivators felt a chill run down their spines.
Before they could respond, the Devil Head raised his hand.
A series of faint crimson lights flashed around the city.
The sword cultivator's expression changed.
"Formation flags?"
He had barely spoken when dozens of formation flags erupted from the ruins, followed by countless more emerging from the streets, the collapsed buildings, and the distant corners of the city. They had been planted at carefully selected nodes, hidden beneath rubble and concealed by the remnants of the earlier blood formation.
The seven Golden Core cultivators immediately realised that they had walked into an ambush.
Unfortunately, realising the truth and escaping it were two entirely different matters.
The formation flags shot into the air, connecting through countless crimson threads until a gigantic formation spread across the entire city. Its boundary extended beyond the ruined walls, while its centre descended directly over the seven cultivators, sealing the surrounding space beneath an oppressive crimson radiance.
The spiritual energy of the world suddenly changed.
Then gravity increased.
Not by twofold, nor tenfold, but by an astonishing number of times.
BOOOOOOM!
The seven Golden Core cultivators were slammed towards the ground as though an invisible mountain had descended upon their shoulders. The stones beneath their feet exploded, and several buildings that had somehow survived the earlier slaughter collapsed beneath the terrifying pressure.
The mountain-like cultivator let out a furious roar as he forced his knees to straighten, only for the ground beneath him to sink several feet.
"What kind of formation is this?!"
His Golden Core circulated violently, pouring spiritual power into his limbs as he attempted to resist the force pressing down upon him. Even so, his body continued to tremble, and the veins along his neck bulged as he struggled to remain upright.
The other cultivators fared no better.
Two of them were forced onto one knee, their protective spiritual barriers flickering as the immense gravity pressed against them. Another attempted to rise into the air, only to be dragged back down so violently that his feet shattered the stone beneath him.
Even Golden Core cultivators could fly, but flight depended on their ability to manipulate spiritual energy and counteract their own weight. When gravity increased by countless folds, maintaining that balance became extraordinarily difficult, and the formation's pressure was so overwhelming that even circulating their spiritual power required considerably more effort than usual.
The sword cultivator gritted his teeth.
His natal sword trembled in his grasp, releasing waves of sword intent that carved deep grooves into the ground as he attempted to push himself upright.
"Damn it!"
He looked towards the Devil Head.
The man was still standing calmly at the centre of the formation, his robes barely moving, as though the overwhelming gravity had no effect on him whatsoever.
The sword cultivator's eyes turned bloodshot.
He had come here intending to capture a murderer, yet before he could even exchange a proper blow with his target, he had been trapped in a formation.
If word of this spread, how would he face the other Golden Core cultivators of the Orthodox Alliance?
A fierce light flashed through his eyes.
He forced his Golden Core to revolve at full power, and the sword intent surrounding his body erupted in a dazzling golden radiance. His legs sank deeper into the ground, but he gradually straightened his back, using his sword as a support until he could finally stand upright.
The formation's gravity was terrifying, but it had not completely suppressed him.
"Devil Head!"
He roared, and his voice shook the surrounding ruins.
"You think a mere formation can hold me?"
His sword suddenly swept forward.
The moment its blade moved, countless sword lights erupted from its surface, each one carrying a portion of his sword intent. The sword lights divided repeatedly as they travelled, transforming into a vast storm of blades that filled the air above the city.
In the blink of an eye, hundreds of sword shadows appeared.
Then thousands.
Each carried enough power to cut through a mountain of ordinary stone, and although the formation continued pressing against the sword cultivator's body, he used the momentum of his attack to send the sword lights racing towards the Devil Head from every direction.
It was a sword Dao divine ability known as Sword Light Division.
Rather than relying on a single overwhelming strike, it divided the sword's power into countless attacks, each capable of striking independently while working together to seal an opponent's avenues of escape. Against an ordinary Golden Core cultivator, evading such an attack within the narrow confines of a formation would have been exceedingly difficult.
The Devil Head raised his eyes.
"Sword Light Division, hmm..."
He sounded almost approving.
Then his figure disappeared.
The countless sword lights tore through the space where he had been standing, colliding with one another before exploding against the ground. A succession of deafening detonations swept across the ruins, blasting enormous craters into the streets and reducing several already damaged buildings to rubble.
The sword cultivator's expression changed.
He had clearly sensed the Devil Head's presence a moment earlier, yet his opponent had vanished before the sword lights could reach him.
It wasn't an ordinary movement technique.
His divine sense swept through the surrounding space, searching for even the faintest disturbance, but before he could locate his opponent, a cold voice sounded above his head.
"Your sword Dao divine ability is quite pristine."
The sword cultivator's pupils contracted.
The Devil Head had appeared directly above him.
"But being combat cultivators doesn't necessarily give you an advantage."
As the words fell, the Devil Head clenched his right hand.
There was no elaborate gesture, no complicated seal, and no visible accumulation of spiritual power. His fist simply descended, wrapped in a faint crimson radiance that seemed to distort the surrounding air.
The sword cultivator reacted immediately.
His natal sword swept upward, releasing a concentrated torrent of sword intent as he attempted to intercept the incoming punch. The blade struck the fist with a deafening clang, and for an instant, the two forces appeared evenly matched.
Then the sword cultivator's expression changed.
The force behind the punch was monstrous.
It travelled through his natal sword, shattered the protective spiritual barrier surrounding his arm, and slammed into his chest before he could withdraw. His body bent violently beneath the impact, and a mouthful of blood burst from his lips as he was sent hurtling towards the ground.
BOOM!
He struck the ruins with enough force to create a deep crater, and the shock wave sent broken stones flying in every direction.
Before he could rise, the Devil Head descended after him.
The sword cultivator hurriedly rolled to the side, barely avoiding the foot that crashed down where his head had been. The ground exploded beneath the impact, and he scrambled backwards, his sword sweeping across the space between them in a desperate attempt to force his opponent away.
The Devil Head merely tilted his body.
The sword passed within inches of his robes.
He stepped forward, caught the sword cultivator's wrist, and twisted.
CRACK!
A sharp fracture sounded from the man's arm.
The sword cultivator's face contorted in pain, but he refused to release his natal sword. He forced spiritual power into the weapon, causing the blade to erupt with golden sword light that slashed towards the Devil Head's neck.
The Devil Head released his grip and leaned backwards.
The blade swept past his throat.
Before the sword cultivator could recover, a palm struck his chest.
THUD!
The impact sent him stumbling backwards, and the Devil Head followed with a second strike that landed squarely against his abdomen. The sword cultivator's protective spiritual power collapsed, and his body folded around the blow as blood poured from his mouth.
He fell to one knee.
His Golden Core continued revolving desperately, attempting to gather enough spiritual power to protect him, but something was wrong.
The energy within his body had become sluggish.
His thoughts were growing heavy.
Even the sword in his hand seemed to weigh several times more than before.
He stared at the Devil Head in disbelief.
"What... did you do?"
The Devil Head smiled.
The crimson formation above the city pulsed once.
A thin thread of blood-coloured light travelled through the sword cultivator's body, and his face instantly turned pale. He attempted to circulate his spiritual power again, only to discover that the energy gathering around his Golden Core was being disrupted by an invisible force.
The formation had never been intended merely to increase gravity.
The immense pressure had forced the seven cultivators to expend their spiritual power simply to resist it, while the blood-coloured formation quietly interfered with the flow of their energy. The more they struggled, the more difficult it became to maintain control over their own cultivation.
The sword cultivator's knees struck the ground.
His eyes slowly lost focus.
He tried to raise his sword one last time, but his fingers loosened before the weapon could move.
His body collapsed.
The other cultivators had been watching the exchange with growing horror, but by then, they were already struggling against the same effect. Their Golden Cores continued revolving, yet the spiritual power they released became increasingly disordered, and one after another, their bodies sank to the ground.
Within a short time, six of the seven Golden Core cultivators had lost consciousness.
Only Ao Jinkong remained awake.
Even he was barely holding on.
His hands were pressed against the ground, his arms trembling beneath the tremendous gravity as he forced the last remnants of his spiritual power through his meridians. His face had become deathly pale, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead, yet he continued staring at the Devil Head as the latter approached him at an unhurried pace.
"You..."
Ao Jinkong's voice trembled.
He had seen the sword cultivator's attack, witnessed the effortless evasion, and watched a Golden Core expert be defeated in close combat before the formation had even fully revealed its second effect.
This was no ordinary demonic cultivator.
The Devil Head stopped a few steps away.
Ao Jinkong's eyes flickered towards the six unconscious cultivators before returning to the man standing before him.
The Devil Head smiled faintly.
"You said you wanted to discuss something on behalf of your sect."
Ao Jinkong's expression stiffened.
He had indeed intended to use the massacre as an opportunity to approach the Devil Head, but he had never expected the encounter to develop into this situation. His original plan had been to establish contact, discover the man's background, and determine whether his sect might benefit from the appearance of such a powerful demonic cultivator.
Now, however, he was struggling simply to remain conscious.
He swallowed with difficulty.
"Before we discuss that, may I ask you something?"
The Devil Head tilted his head slightly.
"Ask."
Ao Jinkong hesitated before finally speaking.
"Are you... a remnant of the Profound Union Sect?"
For the first time since the battle began, the Devil Head's expression changed.
It was only a slight movement, a brief pause in his smile, but Ao Jinkong noticed it immediately.
The surrounding air seemed to grow colder.
The crimson formation continued pressing down upon the city, and the six unconscious Golden Core cultivators remained motionless, yet the Devil Head's gaze had become noticeably sharper.
"So what if I am?"
His voice was quiet.
That made it far more frightening.
Ao Jinkong's heart sank.
He hurriedly explained himself, afraid that a careless word might cost him his life.
"I asked because my sect was also established by remnants of the Profound Union Sect. I thought... perhaps we might share a connection."
The Devil Head stared at him.
For several breaths, he said nothing.
Then one of his eyebrows rose.
"Your sect?"
A strange smile gradually appeared on his face as his narrow eyes examined Ao Jinkong more closely.
"A dragon-bloodline holder belonging to a demonic sect. How interesting."
Ao Jinkong's expression changed drastically.
He had concealed that secret for many years, and even among the higher-ups of his own sect, only a handful knew that his bloodline contained a trace of dragon yao ancestry. Although it was far from a pure bloodline, it was still an extraordinary trait, one that could attract the attention of powerful cultivators and alchemists.
A Golden Core cultivator with dragon yao blood was a valuable discovery.
A living specimen might be used to investigate the properties of dragon blood, refine rare medicinal materials, or even develop a special pill formula. If the wrong person learned of his secret, Ao Jinkong could easily find himself hunted by people far stronger than himself.
Yet the Devil Head had identified it after only a brief examination.
Ao Jinkong felt a chill spread through his body.
How could this man see through him so easily?
"Yes," he answered, forcing himself to remain calm. "My sect does have a connection to the Profound Union Sect. We are, in a sense, remnants of the same lineage."
The Devil Head's smile widened.
Ao Jinkong could no longer hide his nervousness.
The man before him had already defeated six Golden Core cultivators, and the formation was still suppressing his body. Even if he managed to survive this encounter, there was no guarantee that the Devil Head would allow him to leave.
He had hoped that mentioning the Profound Union Sect would establish a connection between them.
Instead, he had revealed a secret that might have made him even more valuable as prey.
The Devil Head suddenly began laughing.
"Jie, jie, jie..."
His laughter echoed through the deserted city, and the crimson formation responded with a faint pulse.
Ao Jinkong's heart tightened.
"Fellow Daoist, I—"
He never finished speaking.
A crimson glow appeared in the Devil Head's palm.
The dark-red orb floated above his hand, its surface rippling like liquid blood as countless fine threads of light moved beneath it. It was the Crimson Blood Core, the strange natal treasure he had cultivated through the Underworld Prison Demonic Scripture, and although it had not yet developed a natal spirit, its ability to absorb blood essence and spiritual energy was already extraordinary.
Ao Jinkong stared at the orb.
For a moment, he couldn't understand why the Devil Head had summoned it.
Then the orb pulsed.
A terrifying force descended upon him.
His remaining spiritual power was instantly disrupted, and before he could circulate his Golden Core or activate a defensive treasure, the darkness swallowed his vision.
There was no time to scream.
No opportunity to resist.
One instant, Ao Jinkong was struggling against the formation, and the next, his consciousness had been extinguished completely.
His body slumped to the ground.
The city fell silent.
The Devil Head lowered his hand and looked at the fallen cultivator with mild satisfaction, as though he had merely concluded an ordinary conversation.
"So you were connected to the Profound Union Sect."
He spoke softly, his gaze lingering on Ao Jinkong's corpse.
"That makes things rather interesting."
He offered no further explanation.
Instead, he turned towards the six unconscious Golden Core cultivators. With a casual sweep of his hand, a powerful force gathered around their bodies, lifting them from the ruined ground before drawing them into his storage ring. Ao Jinkong's corpse followed, disappearing into the same space.
Seven Golden Core cultivators had arrived at the city intending to capture the Devil Head.
None would leave.
The Devil Head then raised his head to inspect the formation that had covered the entire city. The crimson light had already begun to fade, and cracks were spreading across the formation flags planted at the various nodes, their surfaces trembling as the enormous expenditure of power brought them close to collapse.
He frowned slightly.
"These things are more fragile than I expected."
The formation had been powerful enough to suppress seven Golden Core cultivators simultaneously, but it had also consumed an enormous amount of energy, and maintaining such a vast field of increased gravity while disrupting the flow of spiritual power had placed considerable strain on the flags.
He had achieved his objective, but the formation would not withstand another serious battle.
With a wave of his hand, the remaining formation flags tore free from the ruins and flew towards him. He gathered them into his storage ring, intending to inspect and repair them later, then glanced once more at the city where millions of mortals had died.
There was no remorse in his eyes.
Those lives had already become part of his cultivation.
The Crimson Blood Core had gained what it needed, and the seven Golden Core cultivators had presented him with another opportunity to investigate the present-day Eastern Region, especially the remnants of the Profound Union Sect.
He had expected the continent to change during his long confinement.
He had not expected to encounter a sect that still carried a connection to that name.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Perhaps this era won't be as boring as I thought."
His figure blurred.
In the next instant, he had disappeared from the ruined city, leaving behind the broken streets, the fading blood formation, and the remains of a massacre that would soon send another shock wave through the Eastern Region.
The Devil Head had killed millions of mortals, and now seven Golden Core cultivators had vanished after pursuing him.
When news of this encounter reached the major sects, the question would no longer be whether the Devil Head deserved execution.
It would be whether anyone in the Eastern Region possessed the strength to bring him down.