Corpse Demon Sect

A thousand zhang above the Heavenly Fiend Gang.

In the pitch-black night sky, a vessel several zhang in length hovered silently in midair.

A man with an emaciated figure stood aboard, his body faintly exuding a pale corpse qi.

He glanced down at the raging inferno below, then tracked Song Wen fleeing through the lower airspace, an amused look flashing across his eyes.

"Not bad for a brat. A cultivator who slaughters mortals indiscriminately by any means necessary-he certainly has a touch of our demonic path's style."

"Let's see what your aptitude is like first."

The man flicked his fingers, sending a streak of white light flashing out to instantly land on Song Wen below.

"A complete five-element bone structure, and a sixth-grade medium spiritual root. This is truly a pleasant surprise," the man muttered, his eyes flashing with continuous interest.

Spiritual roots were classified by the five elemental attributes: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. Some people possessed a single, pure spiritual root, while others had a five-element spiritual root containing all five attributes.

However, the sheer number of elements did not determine one's cultivation talent; rather, it was the inherent quality of the spiritual root itself that mattered.

Spiritual roots were graded from one to nine based on quality.

The first grade was the absolute worst, while nine was the ultimate peak.

First to third-grade spiritual roots were classified as lower grade. Those born with them possessed abysmal aptitude; they would struggle their entire lives without achieving anything, and successfully reaching Foundation Establishment was virtually impossible. A first-grade spiritual root holder stood almost zero chance of even breaking through to the mid-stage of Qi Refining.

Fourth to sixth-grade spiritual roots were classified as medium grade. The vast majority of disciples in the cultivation world's major sects possessed medium-grade roots. Among them, those with excellent mental fortitude and Fated Chance could successfully achieve Foundation Establishment, becoming the backbone of the cultivation world.

With his sixth-grade spiritual root, Song Wen actually possessed a slim chance of forming a Golden Core.

Seventh to ninth-grade upper-grade spiritual roots were exceedingly rare. Though only a single grade separated a sixth-grade root from a seventh-grade root, the difference was like heaven and earth.

No matter which Sect they joined, a seventh-grade spiritual root holder would directly become a core disciple, nurtured as a future pillar of the Sect. Provided they didn't perish prematurely, a seventh-grade spiritual root holder becoming a Golden Core powerhouse was practically guaranteed.

An eighth-grade spiritual root was a rare sight in the current cultivation world. Such individuals could cultivate all the way to the Nascent Soul realm without almost any bottleneck, becoming Nascent Soul Ancestors revered by everyone in the cultivation world.

As for a ninth-grade spiritual root, it belonged entirely to the realm of legends-a Top Grade anomaly that might not appear in a thousand or even ten thousand years.

...

As he flew, Song Wen suddenly felt an irresistible, vast, and majestic pressure descend upon his body.

It felt as though he had been targeted by a mysterious, ancient vicious beast. He was instantly paralyzed, frozen in place, able only to await the judgment of fate.

Suddenly, he saw a figure appear abruptly in front of him, standing atop a flying sword.

Cold sweat drenched Song Wen's entire body. From Huang Shang's journal, he knew that the newcomer possessed at least a Foundation Establishment cultivation. Only experts at Foundation Establishment or higher could engage in Sword Riding.

It was countless times more powerful than his own flight technique, which merely relied on riding the wind.

"Junior greets Senior."

Song Wen spoke, his voice trembling slightly with fear.

He cursed inwardly. His luck was truly rotten to the extreme. To unexpectedly encounter a Foundation Establishment powerhouse in the mortal realm-the odds were even lower than winning the lottery in his previous life.

The newcomer spoke indifferently. "You're quite a ruthless junior, and you have a bit of the demonic path's flavor. Are you willing to join my Corpse Demon Sect and become a disciple?"

Though the man spoke in a calm tone, seemingly negotiating in good faith, Song Wen would not genuinely believe the other party was easy to talk to or was actually asking for his opinion.

The demonic path was always about following one's whims and maintaining an unhindered mind. If one's thoughts weren't clear and unhindered, what was the point of cultivating the demonic path?

If he dared to disagree and caused the other party's thoughts to be hindered, he would likely be obliterated in an instant, dying without a burial place.

Song Wen immediately feigned an overwhelmed and flattered expression, acting as though joining the Corpse Demon Sect was the supreme honor of his lifetime, a blessing for eight generations of his ancestors in the netherworld.

"Junior is willing! Thank you, Senior!"

Song Wen actually wanted to kneel and kowtow on the ground, but he was suspended in midair and had no control over his body.

As for matters like dignity, saving face, or the saying that 'a man has gold under his knees'-none of that even entered Song Wen's consideration.

A wise man submits to circumstances.

In his previous life, when he had just entered society as a salesman to collect a debt and was forced by a wealthy woman to chug a bottle of white liquor, he understood that one only deserved to talk about dignity if they possessed power and influence.

Weakness was the original sin, and the weak did not deserve dignity.

Moreover, just by hearing the name 'Corpse Demon Sect', one could tell it was no merciful organization, but a demonic Sect that acted without restraint.

Song Wen did not believe for a second that a low-level Rogue Cultivator who had barely stepped into the second layer of Qi Refining had any right to discuss human rights with a demonic Foundation Establishment cultivator.

The newcomer was highly satisfied with Song Wen's response.

"This old man is Shi Shou of the Corpse Demon Sect. You may just call me Elder Shi. Junior, what is your name?"

Song Wen replied respectfully.

"Reporting to Elder Shi, this Junior... this Junior styles himself Ji Yin."

"Ji Yin! You don't have much ability, brat, but your title is quite arrogant. It perfectly suits the conduct of my Corpse Demon Sect. You were naturally born to be a disciple of my demonic path, hahaha..."

After speaking, Shi Shou turned and ascended toward the high sky.

Song Wen felt himself enveloped by an invisible force, pulling him up into the high sky as well.

Within a few breaths, driven by Shi Shou's spiritual energy, Song Wen arrived on the flying vessel a thousand zhang in the air.

Shi Shou dropped Song Wen onto the deck and said.

"Find a spot yourself and stay put quietly. Do not run around randomly. If you accidentally fall off, this Elder will not stop the ship to save you."

"Disciple obeys."

After experiencing his initial terror, Song Wen's heart quickly calmed down.

Since he was already here, he might as well settle in. He quickly adopted the identity of a disciple.

Looking across the deck, there were six other youths present.

Four of them-three boys and a girl-were curled up timidly in a corner of the deck, their eyes full of fear. They exuded no spiritual energy fluctuations at all, meaning they should still be mortals who hadn't begun cultivating.

Of the remaining two, one was sizing Song Wen up and down. His face carried a faint sense of superiority, as if he thoroughly looked down on the newly boarded Song Wen and the other four youths.

The final person stood woodenly beside the superior youth. Like a piece of wood, he remained completely motionless and expressionless, guarding the superior youth like an escort.

Song Wen also smelled a stench of rotting flesh coming from his body and couldn't detect any breathing sounds from him. He was just like a stiff corpse.

Song Wen found a secluded corner on the deck, sat down, and closed his eyes to rest.

Standing at the bow of the ship, Shi Shou suddenly formed a few technique seals with his hands.

The flying vessel violently began to accelerate, becoming incredibly swift like an arrow released from a bow string, rapidly slicing through the night sky.

However, the crowd on the deck couldn't feel any strong winds blowing. The flying vessel had a protective barrier shield that blocked the strong winds outside, marking it as truly miraculous.

To Song Wen, it felt much like riding an airplane in his previous life, though the field of vision was vastly superior.

He looked down curiously. Due to the limited visibility at night, aside from the scattered sparks in Yancheng below and the raging fire still burning in the Heavenly Fiend Gang, everything else was a blur of shifting shadows, impossible to distinguish clearly.

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