Your Spell Version is Too Low!

Following the guidance of the Secret Manual of the Northwest Celestial Spirits and Earthly Fiends, Qi Yun transformed into a wisp of invisible Pure Qi and sped toward the nearest Earth Demon Position: Black Wind Ravine.

The manual noted that this location produced the Earth Guardian Fiend, one of the seventy-two Earth Fiends.

Its aura was pure and easy to absorb.

It was perfect for him, a newcomer to this path.

As he traveled, he passed through a desolate and remote mountain hollow.

A nauseatingly thick stench of blood, mixed with the extreme fear and resentment of mortals on the verge of death, rushed toward him like a tangible Yin Wind.

Qi Yun’s brows furrowed slightly. He paused, then silently descended, landing on a hidden cliff that overlooked the entire hollow.

Before him lay a scene of utter tragedy.

The once-peaceful little village had now become a silent graveyard.

Broken thatched huts still emitted wisps of black smoke, their charred beams crooked and on the verge of collapse.

On the village’s dirt roads and in its courtyards, corpses were strewn everywhere—men and women, old and young, all dead in the most wretched ways.

Without exception, the bodies were unnaturally shriveled. There were bite marks on their necks, and their blood and Essence Qi had been forcibly drained by some unknown power.

All that remained were withered bones wrapped in pale skin, their faces frozen in the extreme terror they felt before death.

What permeated the air was not just the stench of blood, but also a pure, cold, and sinister aura that was not unfamiliar to Qi Yun.

It was the unique fluctuation of a Yellow Springs Netherworld Cultivation Skill, and what’s more...

Although the aura had weakened considerably, it possessed a quality he remembered vividly.

"This is..." Qi Yun’s gaze sharpened. He spread his Divine Sense out like a web of silk, carefully perceiving the residual traces of the aura in this land of death.

’Hm? I remember now!’

Within its coldness was a stubborn, stagnant intent of death.

It was the same aura that had surged into the sky from that small temple in the Ghost Wail Collection, the one that had summoned the Five Yin Pouch to fight Situ Huaji.

It was Wu Yushan!

The Steward from the Yellow Springs Netherworld whose Magical Artifact had been pierced by Situ Huaji’s punch, the one who had fled in a wretched state after suffering grievous injuries!

"I never expected him to flee all the way here." Qi Yun’s eyes narrowed, a strange light flickering within them.

"It seems that punch from Situ Huaji was no easy blow to take."

...

Burning, stabbing, emptiness.

These three sensations, like maggots clinging to bone, gnawed at Wu Yushan’s nerves, reminding him of the humiliating defeat he had suffered not long ago.

He was curled up deep inside a narrow, damp mountain cave he had hastily carved out, its entrance concealed by a crude Blinding Skill.

The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the stench of rot that he could not stop from emanating from his body.

"Cough... COUGH COUGH..." Uncontrollable, violent coughing wracked Wu Yushan’s curled-up body.

A metallic, sweet taste welled up in his throat, but he forced it back down.

Under Introspection, his Dantian Purple Mansion was a complete wreck.

His Purple Mansion, which should have been like a deep, cold pool brimming with Yin Essence, was now riddled with spiderweb-like cracks.

At its center was a shocking, massive "hole," looking as if it had been blasted straight through by brute force.

It was the "mark" left by Situ Huaji’s punch.

That single punch had not only pierced his Lifebound Magical Artifact, the Five Yin Pouch—which he had spent centuries of painstaking Sacrificial Refinement on—but had also traveled through the connection of their Heart and Spirit, blasting a tyrannical, violent, and utterly destructive will directly into the core of his Dao Foundation!

The Five Yin Pouch was cultivated with his very life; if the pouch was damaged, he was injured.

Now, he felt as if his own Divine Soul had been torn open just like that tattered pouch, his Essence, Qi, and Spirit leaking out uncontrollably.

What was even more terrifying was that the lingering, tyrannical will left behind by Situ Huaji was like a most insidious flame.

It continued to burn and corrode the cracks in his meridians and Purple Mansion, preventing any form of self-healing.

"Situ... Huaji...!" Wu Yushan practically squeezed the name from between his teeth, his pale face contorted with resentment.

He was at the stage of Qi Refining Great Perfection.

Only one step away from the Foundation Establishment Realm.

In the Yellow Springs Netherworld, he was a figure of some renown, wielding significant authority. When had he ever suffered such humiliation and grievous injury?

To be all but crippled by a single punch from a newly escaped prisoner who hadn’t even recovered his strength.

For the past few days, he had tried taking the Healing Elixirs he carried, but their effects were negligible.

How could an injury to one’s Dao Foundation be healed by common elixirs?

It required a massive amount of pure Primordial Qi to replenish his losses and nourish his damaged Purple Mansion and Divine Soul.

However, he couldn’t even absorb nature’s spiritual energy on a large scale right now; doing so would expose his location, and the process was far too slow.

He couldn’t afford to wait. Situ Huaji was likely still searching for him.

The Sect... The Sect was probably in chaos right now. The journey was long, and returning might not be a blessing.

Driven to desperation, he thought of the most primitive and quickest method, though also the one most despised even by the Demon Dao—blood feeding.

That was something only savage, blood-drinking fiends would do.

But in his current situation, he had no other choice.

With no alternative, he could only turn his gaze to the small, secluded village outside the hollow.

Although the Spiritual Qi within those mortals was so thin as to be almost nonexistent, there were enough of them that their combined Life Essence Qi and blood could temporarily stabilize his injuries.

And so, three days ago, he had dragged his broken body into the village, moving like a phantom.

The process had been smooth; he encountered almost no meaningful resistance.

Wu Yushan felt no stir of emotion as he watched the dazed, terrified, and despairing faces of the mortals—whether in their sleep or after being startled awake—and felt their blood and life essence flow like a stream into his own withered, broken body, bringing a trace of false "warmth" and solace.

There was only the cold pleasure of plundering a resource.