Sima Jiao consistently bore no pleasant expressions; he constantly felt pain and irritation. His volatile mood stemmed from an ailment inherited through his bloodline, the pain from the spirit fire power perpetually burning within his body, and his hostility from the greed and malice others conveyed to him.
Sometimes, he couldn’t control his emotions, nor did he try to restrain them.
As they drew closer to Hundred Phoenix Mountain, Sima Jiao’s expression grew increasingly gloomy and terrible. Upon reaching the foot of the mountain and passing through the first barrier, the mountain’s aura was no longer concealed, and Sima Jiao’s eyes turned almost blood-red.
In Old Master Yan’s eyes, Hundred Phoenix Mountain was merely a majestic spiritual mountain. Most spiritual mountains in the world were similar—rich in spiritual energy, teeming with vitality, even carrying a sense of sanctity. But in Sima Jiao’s eyes, this immortal-like spiritual mountain resembled purgatory. Crimson flames wrapped in deep hatred enveloped the mountain; ghostly wails nearly pierced the clouds, stabbing his mind with increasingly unbearable pain.
“We’ll stop here,” said the Yuan Ying cultivator at the mountain’s foot, waiting for someone to come receive the baby girl.
People arrived quickly—two cultivators, one male, and one female, wearing clothes embroidered with flame patterns. Their expressions carried a sense of precious restraint, clearly disdainful of Old Master Yan. The two were responsible for taking the child to examine her bloodline. If the bloodline power was concentrated, Old Master Yan would receive extremely generous rewards; if not, he would take the child back.
“Wait here for now. You should know the rules—do not wander or look around,” the female cultivator said, looking pointedly at Sima Jiao as if displeased with his expression.
The middle-aged male cultivator who had brought Old Master Yan was very respectful to the two and reprimanded Sima Jiao: “Ignorant child, do not offend the sacred mountain!”
“Sacred mountain?” Sima Jiao suddenly laughed coldly, grabbed the middle-aged male cultivator, and instantly engulfed him in crimson flames.
The others present were shocked by this sudden development. Old Master Yan was so frightened that he sat dumbfounded, tumbling and crawling to curl up in a corner. The two cultivators holding the baby quickly reacted, preparing to notify the local guards. However, Sima Jiao gave them no opportunity. Without making a sound, they froze in place, unable to move.
After burning one person, Sima Jiao casually turned the other male cultivator to ashes as well. He killed a Yuan Ying cultivator with greater ease than a mortal plucking a flower, terrifying the female cultivator.
When he looked at the female cultivator again, she was already pale with terror in her eyes. Though her cultivation level was not low—she was a minor supervisor who had always lived comfortably—this was the first time she had felt such terrifying power. None of her spells, spiritual energy, or magical tools could be used; she was thoroughly suppressed.
She couldn’t even summon the thought of resistance, feeling only boundless terror invading her spiritual mansion. She heard a voice in her mind telling her to obey this person’s commands.
Sima Jiao’s mental strength was tremendous. He controlled the female cultivator and transformed himself to look like the male cultivator from earlier. “Take me inside,” he commanded.
The female cultivator had no power to resist. She carried the child and led him into Hundred Phoenix Mountain. The mountain’s location was hidden and protected by numerous barriers. Ordinary cultivators outside the outermost barrier couldn’t detect the inner realm at all. Reaching the foot of the mountain after passing the first barrier was still just the outer perimeter; one needed an approved identity to enter the two inner barriers.
With Sima Jiao’s abilities, he could certainly break through the barriers here and cause havoc, but that would alert everyone and waste the opportunity. Some “vermin” would inevitably escape, and others might arrive to stop him.
Now, following the female cultivator into the mountain’s depths, no one obstructed him, and all the secrets here lay open before him.
The red in Sima Jiao’s eyes grew increasingly intense, like viscous fresh blood dissolving in his eyes.
Countless palaces had been carved within the mountain for people to live in. Many people resided there, men and women all carrying a fiery aura similar to that of Young Master Yan. These faint auras gathered together resonated slightly with the spirit fire in Sima Jiao’s body.
These people all carried the bloodline of the Fengshan clan, though their bloodline was diluted.
The Fengshan clan had long implemented pure bloodline reproduction, but over many years, inevitably some refused to follow the elders’ wishes and left descendants with those outside the clan. These bloodlines, once deemed “impure” and unacknowledged by the Fengshan clan, were scattered abroad. Many generations later, they were found by those with ulterior motives, gathered here, forming this place.
From the outer regions to the inner core, the female guide’s rank wasn’t high enough to access the innermost areas, but Sima Jiao had seen enough.
Within the mountain, he could sense the source aura growing stronger from the outside in, so those living in the outer regions had weaker bloodline power. This place resembled a strictly managed prison.
Men and women lived together, with moans of pleasure rising and falling. Everyone here had likely grown up in this place, without any sense of shame, and bare flesh was visible everywhere. In another more spacious, secluded area lived many pregnant women. Numerous women were giving birth in one place, the cries of children mingled with the smell of blood, carried to Sima Jiao by the wind.
The overseers all wore similar clothes. Those handling miscellaneous tasks in the outer regions had Qi Condensation or Foundation Building cultivation levels. Most of the middle-level administrators had Yuan Ying or Nascent Soul cultivation. Sima Jiao could sense Fusion and Void Refinement stage cultivators guarding the depths. Yet those with Fengshan bloodlines, regardless of concentration, were all mortal, without any cultivation.
If these people were viewed as any kind of animal, this would be a breeding farm—after all, this is how humans raise livestock.
“I-I can only bring you this far…” the female cultivator stammered, stopping.
Sima Jiao reached out, grabbed her neck, burned her to ashes, and casually brushed the dust away before heading toward the mountain’s depths.
…
At the foot of Hundred Phoenix Mountain, Old Master Yan didn’t dare flee. He crouched like a mushroom, pathetically watching the mountain. With poor aptitude and low cultivation, accustomed to a life of luxury, the cultivator who had brought him had been killed, and he couldn’t return on his own. He could only sit hopelessly in place.
Suddenly, he felt the earth and heavens shaking. Flames rose spontaneously from the serene, sacred Hundred Phoenix Mountain. A raging fire burned the entire mountain, turning everything crimson.
Mountain peaks collapsed, thunder rolled, and fire became an ocean. Old Master Yan turned and ran, his eyes filled with terror. He had never seen such a frightening scene. The once verdant forest turned to cracked, charred earth in the blink of an eye, with even rocks and soil melted by the flames. He even heard countless agonized screams, as if innumerable grieving souls had been suppressed beneath the sacred mountain. After breaking free from the mountain’s restraints, they all surged into the sea of fire.
Was this… a fiery purgatory? Old Master Yan’s legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to rise again.
…
Liao Tingyan, as an otter, sat on the carved beam above the stage in the Yan family mansion, cracking melon seeds while listening to the storyteller below.
“That demonic cultivator Centipede slaughtered three major cities in the southeast, devouring hundreds of thousands of civilians. Alas, the southeast had no powerful immortal sects or schools. When small sects sent disciples, not only could they not save people, but they lost their own lives as well. That year, Centipede stirred up storms, becoming the scourge of the southeast, arousing heaven’s wrath and human resentment. Even the nearby major sects were helpless against him, losing many disciples’ lives. Finally, someone sought help from Gengchen Immortal Mansion. The sect leader at that time, Lord Dao Yongyou, most upright and kind-hearted, considering the world’s people, immediately agreed and went to the southeast to exterminate the demonic cultivator.”
“That battle was earth-shattering; even the ancient struggles between immortals and gods were no greater. At that time, because of those two, a thousand miles became scorched earth. Former hills and mountains became vast plains. Do you know how? They were flattened by their battle!” The storyteller on stage spoke with animated gestures, while the Yan family women below listened with relish.
“Are immortals truly so powerful? Speaking of cultivators, our manor has quite a few, but they don’t seem very impressive,” a young woman said skeptically.
“That’s not right. How can they compare with our Gengchen Immortal Mansion sect leader? Even a disciple from the inner court of our Immortal Mansion would surpass the sect leaders and elders of other sects. Otherwise, how could we be called the premier Immortal Mansion?” The woman spoke with evident pride, as if Gengchen Immortal Mansion belonged to her family.
These were all women from the Yan family’s inner quarters, hundreds of delicate beauties, with many children as well. A multitude of children were now making noise in the garden outside—truly dreadful. Liao Tingyan, having woken up bored, had discovered this place while wandering and now lay on the beam listening to the stories.
The Yan family was extremely wealthy, employing many musicians and performers to pass the time. Today, the storyteller was recounting the deeds of many famous powerful figures from Gengchen Immortal Mansion. He had just mentioned Lord Dao Yongyou, the previous sect leader, who had an excellent reputation in the cultivation world.
Liao Tingyan didn’t know many things, and lying here listening for half a day had been quite educational.
After a commotion below, someone suddenly said, “Hey, do you know? They say that the ancestor of our Gengchen Immortal Mansion has emerged from seclusion.”
“…You mean Lord Dao Cizang?”
“Of course him, the last bloodline of the Sima clan. Why haven’t we heard much about his deeds?”
“I haven’t heard much either. Why not ask the storyteller to tell us about him?”
Hearing “Lord Dao Cizang,” Liao Tingyan silently cracked another melon seed, thinking, “If you knew this ancestor was living in this mansion earlier, you’d probably be frightened to death.”
The storyteller below said, “This master, though high in seniority, isn’t very old, and has been in seclusion for many years. As for remarkable deeds, there truly aren’t any. However, I can share some rumors with you ladies.”
No matter where the power of gossip is formidable. A group of women eagerly urged him to continue.
The storyteller then said, “They say this Lord Dao Cizang was raised by Lord Dao Yongyou but couldn’t become as upright and kind-hearted. His temperament, they say, is extremely poor. How poor? Back then, a high monk from the secluded Buddhist nation’s Shangyun Temple was invited by Lord Dao Yongyou to suppress Lord Dao Cizang’s heart demon. The characters ‘Cizang’ in his name were given by that high monk…”
Such enlightenment! Liao Tingyan couldn’t help but applaud. Truly, experts were among the common people. This storyteller knew quite a lot. Many disciples within Gengchen Immortal Mansion weren’t clear about the ancestor’s affairs, yet he spoke with such authority.
After a day of gossip, Liao Tingyan packed up her remaining melon seeds, cushion, and drinks and flew back to her quarters from the stage beam.
The residence, arranged by Old Master Yan, was very secluded—an exquisitely luxurious courtyard. Liao Tingyan flew in through the window and sprawled on the auspicious cloud-patterned couch by the bed. Just as she settled, the door opened.
Sima Jiao had returned.
He was dripping with blood from head to toe—his hair, the hem of his clothes—leaving trails of deep red. His eyes were terrifyingly red, though his face remained pale as ever. The moment he entered, a heavy smell of blood instantly filled the entire room.
He sat in a chair, tilted his head back with his hands on the armrests, let out a long sigh, and then suddenly coughed up blood. He looked exhausted and didn’t even bother to wipe it away. He glanced at Liao Tingyan and suddenly said flatly, “I’m about to die.”
Liao Tingyan: “?” What kind of joke is this?
She looked closely at Sima Jiao and noticed the slightly bulging blood vessels on his pale neck and exposed hands.
“Since birth, many have wanted to kill me. They want my life, but I refuse to give it.” Sima Jiao’s tone was gloomy. “Whoever wants my life, I’ll take theirs instead.”
He suddenly changed his tone, staring into Liao Tingyan’s eyes: “But if you want my life now, I can give it to you. Do you want it?”