Chapter Seventy-Four: The Second Generation Demon Ancestor

The moment he laid eyes on the black-robed youth before him, Qingxu was nearly certain that this was an ancient supreme being. Such a profound presence and imposing aura could not be feigned.

“Innate Demonic Path? Could it be that he has come seeking the Innate Demonic Path?” Qingxu recalled the black-robed youth’s earlier inquiry and understood part of the cause and effect. He suspected that his previous use of the Xuanmo Sword while subduing Hundun, Taotie, and Taowu had attracted this person’s attention.

Qiongqi’s eyes rolled, a sly smile appeared on its face as it came to the same realization. It immediately spoke with a tone of reverence, “Senior, have you come for the Innate Demonic Path?”

“Oh? You know of it? Speak! Where is it?” The black-robed youth’s voice was utterly calm, as if the wind and clouds themselves were untroubled, yet there was an unmatched majesty about him that chilled the heart and quaked the soul.

“Senior, I dare not conceal the truth. The Innate Demonic Path originates from a spiritual treasure possessed by this one.” Qiongqi betrayed Qingxu without hesitation.

The moment Qiongqi spoke, Qingxu inwardly lamented his misfortune, and, as expected, disaster followed.

Hearing Qiongqi’s words, the black-robed youth said nothing. He merely extended his left hand—luminescent as jade, slender fingers poised—towards Qingxu, though hidden within his wide sleeve. There was no visible action, but within Qingxu’s body, the Xuanmo Sword began to resonate violently, struggling desperately to break free and throw itself into the black-robed youth’s hand.

Whoosh!

Before Qingxu could marshal his soul to suppress it, the Xuanmo Sword shot out from his Mud Pill Palace and, in the blink of an eye, landed in the black-robed youth’s grasp.

Shock!

Not only Qingxu, but even Qiongqi was terrified—this black-robed youth’s power was enough to fill them with dread.

“So this truly is the Innate Demonic Path! I never imagined I would see it again after so many ages!” The youth gripped the Xuanmo Sword’s hilt with his left hand, gently caressed the blade with his right, his expression lost in reminiscence, lost in thoughts unknown.

The Investiture System?

Suddenly, Qingxu remembered the Investiture System, sharp and incisive, capable of revealing even some information about sages. No matter how powerful this youth was, he could not surpass a sage, could he? With this in mind, Qingxu hurriedly accessed the system to examine his information.

[Second Generation Demon, Luofan: Son of the first Demon Ancestor, Luohu]
Grade: 85
Immortal Dao Level: Mid-stage Quasi-Saint (Hunyuan Loose Immortal, Path Proven by Strength)
Divine Abilities: ???
Merit: ???
Karma: ???

“What? He’s Luohu’s son? I’ve never heard of the Demon Ancestor Luohu having any offspring!” The Investiture System did not disappoint Qingxu, providing basic information if not all the details. Especially the note about “Path Proven by Strength”—this allowed him to clearly discern the other’s cultivation method. Yet this very revelation unsettled him, stirring his curiosity and a desire for gossip.

Compared to Luofan’s cultivation, his identity was even more intriguing.

“How did this crude sword come to possess the Innate Demonic Path?” After a long silence, Luofan collected his thoughts and turned to question Qingxu. But upon seeing Qingxu’s face clearly, he was dumbstruck, as if struck by lightning.

Impossible, how could this be!

Muttering in a low voice, his mind was a tempest. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he raised his right hand and drew a sigil in the air. The symbol was vast and ancient, as if born at the dawn of heaven and earth. The moment it took shape, it devoured the spiritual energy of the land for hundreds of miles around, so swiftly that all energy within that range was diverted to the sigil.

The ancient, grand sigil glimmered with green light, no more than three inches across, yet it seemed to contain an endless universe, imbued with supreme might.

Swish!

As soon as the sigil was formed, Luofan swept his sleeve and, with a slicing sound, sent it shooting toward Qingxu’s brow. It seemed slow, but in a heartbeat, it was before him—the disparity was enough to make one cough blood from the strain.

“Not good!” Qingxu thought Luofan meant to kill him for the sake of the Innate Demonic Path. He prepared to summon his Three Pure Ones avatar to buy time and escape with all his strength, but to his horror, found himself utterly paralyzed. He could not move even a finger, and neither his magic power nor divine consciousness would respond. Except for his thoughts, his body, powers, and soul seemed no longer his own. He couldn’t even speak to explain.

Only then did Qingxu grasp the true chasm between himself and a Quasi-Saint. To put it harshly, a Quasi-Saint need not lift a finger: a single thought could reduce him to dust.

“I’m merged with my avatar and have at least the early-stage True Immortal cultivation, but even so, before a Quasi-Saint I could be erased with a thought. Then what of the Hunyuan Saints, who regard Quasi-Saints as mere ants—how terrifying must their strength be? It’s unimaginable!” The deeper Qingxu pondered this, the colder his heart became.

With no obstruction, the green sigil entered Qingxu’s brow and merged into his soul. Yet the catastrophe he feared did not occur; in fact, nothing changed at all. Instead, the spiritual energy within the sigil even enhanced his fundamental power. This was wholly unexpected and left Qingxu baffled.

As soon as the sigil entered his body, Luofan stared unblinkingly at Qingxu’s brow, as though awaiting some transformation. But he was disappointed; nothing happened as he had hoped.

“Alas! Is it merely a resemblance? What’s wrong with me—Father himself once said the person in question was annihilated, body and soul…” Luofan forced a bitter smile. The greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment.

With the sigil fused into his soul, Qingxu regained control of his body. Still shaken, he bowed respectfully and said, “Senior, this sword was forged by me, and the Innate Demonic Path within was found through a fortuitous chance and added to the blade. If you desire it, please take it. I am a disciple of Yuqing Sage Pangu, and have little use for the Innate Demonic Path myself. I only sealed it in the sword to prevent evildoers from wielding it for wicked ends.”

His words were tactful yet firm, invoking the name of the Primeval Lord of Heaven. In the Great Desolation, only the law of the jungle prevailed; without a powerful backer, one’s life was forfeit. And of all backers, saints reigned supreme.

“A disciple of the Primeval Lord of Heaven?” Luofan frowned, hesitating. At first, seeing Qingxu’s face so similar to the one he revered above all, he had been moved to kill. But now, he dared not—he still had many schemes to enact, and provoking the Primeval Lord of Heaven would spell doom for the burgeoning Demonic Sect he had painstakingly built.

“Enough.” Luofan sighed, then extracted the sigil of the Innate Demonic Path and the primordial demonic energy from the Xuanmo Sword and tucked them into his sleeve. He left the Devouring Sky Beast and the Blood-transforming Aura untouched, tossed the sword back to Qingxu, and with a flick of his finger, obliterated Qiongqi’s soul. Then, employing the art of transforming into a rainbow, he vanished in a few heartbeats.

Though his body was gone, his voice lingered in the air:

“Young one, you found the Innate Demonic Path by fate. I take it by force today, but I won’t let you suffer for it—lest it be said I bully the weak. The Devouring Sky Beast is yours now, but many troubles remain. You must tread carefully.”

Not until Luofan had departed did Qingxu feel as if awakening from a dream, realizing that he had just hovered between life and death.