The Demon Lord's Invasion

Chapter 23: The Nebula Sea

Deep within an underground fissure on Jianxia Mountain, where the absence of sunlight had created a dense atmosphere of Yin energy, lay a place Qiong Sang frequently visited. However, recently, in addition to Qiong Sang, Dongfang had also taken up permanent residence here. His soul had already taken the form of a ghostly body; although the Yin energy allowed him to grow stronger, the process was painstakingly slow. A hundred or even a thousand years of cultivation might not equal a single year of arduous training for a human. Take Jiang Tang at this very moment: in just four short months, he has achieved what would take an ordinary person four years of arduous cultivation. This prompted Qiong Sang to retort sarcastically, “Where is divine justice?” “I poured three hundred crystals into this—if I still can’t make it, where is divine justice?” Dongfang’s tone grew even more sarcastic. To help Jiang Tang reach the Qi Martial Realm, the Puppet Shop had poured its entire revenue from the last two months into him. As the last wisp of Yuan Energy from the crystals enveloped Jiang Tang, it was instantly absorbed through his mouth, nose, and pores. He slowly opened his eyes, exhaled a sigh of relief, and said, “It’s finally stabilized. That final moment was truly perilous. Now my Qi Vortex has completely taken the form of the Taiji Diagram, but I don’t feel much stronger.” Qiong Sang immediately retorted irritably, “You used to be at the Spirit Martial Realm; now you’re at the Qi Martial Realm. Strong? You’re lucky you don’t feel any weaker!” “Stop rambling. Now that it’s stabilized, let’s set out immediately. Xian Zong is a full thousand li away from here, and in another month, it’ll be their triennial recruitment period. If you miss this one, you’ll be too old by the next time.” Xian Zong does not accept cultivators over twenty years of age. Jiang Tang had been here for over a year and had just turned seventeen not long ago; if he missed this opportunity, he would never be able to set foot in Xian Zong for the rest of his life. “If we miss it, so be it.” Jiang Tang didn’t seem to care much; if anything, he seemed a bit reluctant to leave. That said, he quickly finished packing. Dongfang and Qiong Sang immediately entered the black box—one to conduct research, the other to observe. Jiang Tang wore the black box as a diamond-shaped pendant, tying it around his neck with a black cotton cord. He wasn’t worried about anyone noticing its extraordinary nature—first, because ordinary people couldn’t see through it, and second, because anyone who could see through it would find him no matter where he hid. Upon exiting the cave, he summoned the wolf golem and leaped onto its back. Instantly, the wolf golem carried Jiang Tang, transforming into a gust of wind as they raced southward. To the south of the Jianxia Mountains lay the borders of the Shenwu Empire, while a thousand li to the north, on the shores of Beihai, there was a region shrouded in mist year-round. Within the mist, neither the sun, moon, nor stars were visible; yet, due to the dense concentration of primordial energy, the night sky within the mist appeared as a dazzling, magnificent, and beautiful starry river—hence it was known as the Starry Cloud Sea. Late at night, at an inn in Luoxia Town beyond the Star Cloud Sea, Dongfang stood by the window. He pulled his gaze away from the vast, boundless, and multicolored star clouds and asked in puzzlement, “With such dense primordial energy, why can’t I sense it? Could it be a mirage?” “No, it’s real,” said Jiang Tang, dressed in an extremely plain white cotton shirt and black riding breeches. Without even taking off his long boots, he leaned back on the bed and gazed at the nebula outside the window. “However, this mist is part of Xian Zong’s grand formation, specifically designed to contain the primordial energy of heaven and earth for the exclusive use of their disciples.” “I see.” With that, Dongfang floated over to the desk, picked up an ancient text, and began reading. Qiong Sang had drifted out at some point and was staring blankly at the sea of starlight, muttering, “The Four Directions of Heaven have four waterless seas: the East Forest Sea, the North Cloud Sea, the South Flower Sea, and the West Sand Sea. Now, only my Sand Sea is gone!” His tone betrayed extreme displeasure. Dongfang had purchased quite a few geographical texts on The Continent from the Immortal Pavilion and knew that the so-called Four Directions Heaven was merely one-fifth of The Continent, located in the northeast and carved into a diamond shape by Cangmang Mountain. The Four Directions Heaven was almost entirely under the control of the human race, with very few demon beasts remaining. These days, cultivators mostly went out to hunt sea demons, but the risks were too great. Therefore, once the Sand Sea was devoid of demon beasts, the living space for low-level cultivators would become so limited as to be utterly hopeless. Beyond Cangmang Mountain lie more demon beasts—but also far more powerful demonic races! “Tomorrow is Xian Zong’s recruitment day. To enter the sect, you must pass three trials. Jiang Tang, are you ready?” Dongfang asked solemnly. “The three trials vary from year to year, but they’re all designed to torment people in every possible way. The only way to prepare is to persevere.” With the moment finally upon him, Jiang Tang felt anything but cheerful. Cultivating the Dao sounds impressive—far superior to martial cultivation—but back in the day, a Sect Master of Xian Zong was pinned to the ground and humiliated by the Shenwu Emperor, suffering a complete loss of face. The Shenwu Emperor practiced both demonic and martial arts, so he wasn’t a pure martial cultivator. Yet Jiang Tang, who also practiced both demonic and martial arts, knew full well that if the Shenwu Emperor had used his demonic energy, the Shenwu Empire would have long since ceased to exist—or perhaps he would have unified the Four Heavens by now. In Qiong Sang’s view, martial cultivation was the path to achieving sainthood through the physical body—how could it not be powerful? Aside from the Shenwu Emperor, countless other martial cultivators had trampled upon immortal cultivators, but Jiang Tang found all of these instances rather unremarkable. What truly inspired him was that the Ancestor of Kui City, single-handedly, had commanded an army of puppets to quell a major war between the human and demon races. He then established Kui City on Dry Bone Peak of Cangmang Mountain—right in the middle of the territories of both races—and for the twenty thousand years since, no major war has erupted. Kui City—that was the place Jiang Tang longed to go. Yet to Dongfang, this seemed entirely unnecessary, for he could fill that void himself! The next day, Luoxia Town was absolutely teeming with people. At least ten thousand cultivators had come to join Xian Zong—and that was just in Luoxia Town. There were more than a dozen other towns near the Xingyun Sea, where Xian Zong disciples conducting the entrance exams were also standing by. “Thirteen years old and at the peak of the Yuanwu realm—not bad. Go on, use your divine sense to lift that cauldron.” “But that cauldron weighs at least five hundred jin. Never mind spiritual sense—even with his physical body, he couldn’t possibly lift it.” “Hmm?” The Xian Zong disciple stared coldly at the boy and said, “If you don’t want to lift it, why did you come here?” “I…” The boy was about to protest when the elderly man behind him quickly interjected, “Let my grandson give it a try. If he can’t do it, so be it—but don’t anger the Immortal Master.” As expected, the boy stood before the cauldron, straining until his face turned purple, yet the cauldron didn’t budge an inch. “Next,” the Xian Zong disciple replied coldly upon seeing this. Soon, another boy of thirteen or fourteen stepped forward. Although his cultivation level was roughly the same as the previous one, his spiritual sense managed to lift the 500 jin cauldron quite a bit. However, it was extremely unstable; once the cauldron rose to a height of one chi, it began to sway violently. In less than three breaths, it crashed to the ground with a “boom,” and the boy, completely drained, sat down on the ground, drenched in sweat. “Barely—you’ve passed. Go over there to collect your token and report to the Marquis of Zhenbei,” said the Xian Zong disciple. Upon hearing this, the boy let out a joyful shout; all his fatigue vanished. After receiving his token, he left happily, accompanied by his family. For the entire morning, fewer than one percent of the candidates had passed the first round, while over a thousand had already been eliminated. It wasn’t that they had come to humiliate themselves; rather, as Jiang Tang had said, Xian Zong’s examinations varied from session to session. Sometimes, the very first round would test only basic knowledge of medicinal herbs, resulting in ninety-nine percent of the candidates being eliminated. Although it was unclear how many cultivation prodigies would be lost in the process, Xian Zong had no shortage of them! “It must have something to do with the sect’s needs. With too many cultivation prodigies, resources get spread too thin. But you should have no trouble with this first round—go on.” After Dongfang finished speaking, Jiang Tang nodded and strode out of the crowd. Once the two youths ahead of him had stepped down from the stage with dejected expressions, he leaped onto it. “Seventeen years old and at the early stage of Qi Martial cultivation…” Upon seeing Jiang Tang release his Gang Qi, the Xian Zong disciple hesitated slightly. The minimum requirement was sixteen years old at the early stage of Qi Martial cultivation, but the standards had been relaxed somewhat this year, so it wasn’t out of the question to accept him—the assessment primarily focused on spiritual perception. With that in mind, the Xian Zong disciple pointed to another, larger bronze cauldron and said, “Lift it with your divine consciousness.” Jiang Tang stood motionless as the bronze cauldron—weighing over a thousand jin—rose directly to a height of one zhang. “Whoa! What powerful spiritual perception!” Not only were the teenager awaiting the test and his family stunned, but even several Xian Zong disciples were taken aback. Whether one’s divine consciousness is strong is one thing, but whether it is stable is quite another. Jiang Tang’s divine consciousness was so incredibly stable that the thousand-jin bronze cauldron, suspended a zhang high, appeared as if it were resting on level ground—not a single hair’s breadth out of place. “Not bad.” The Xian Zong disciple, in a rare display, let a faint smile cross his face and instructed Jiang Tang to collect his token and report to Zhenzhenbei. Watching Jiang Tang leave with a bald puppet in tow, the Xian Zong disciple seemed to realize something. He shook his head and chuckled, “No wonder—so he’s cultivated the Way of Puppetry. That explains why his divine sense is so formidable.” Some members of Xian Zong also crafted puppets, though they were typically used for support; unlike in Kui City, where people relied on puppets for their livelihood, Xian Zong placed greater emphasis on cultivating their own spiritual power. When Jiang Tang arrived at Zhenbei, he saw that over a thousand people had already gathered there. However, the young men and women taking the test made up only a small fraction of the crowd; the majority were family members accompanying them. Seeing the look of happiness on their faces, Jiang Tang sneered. “What’s there to be happy about? We’re still a long way from the real thing.” With that thought, Jiang Tang and Dongfang retreated to a corner—one meditating, the other reading. Two days later, as a piercing whine of a sword rang out, the teenagers—whether they were meditating or chatting with their families—all turned toward the sound. There, they saw a handsome young man in flowing white robes, with an otherworldly aura, walking toward them with an ancient sword strapped to his back. Instantly, many young girls gazed at him with adoring eyes; moreover, even the older sisters and mothers who had accompanied them felt their hearts flutter wildly, their faces flushing with a delicate blush. As for the men—led by Jiang Tang—they all spat to the side in unison. The handsome young man furrowed his arched brows, cast a cold glance at the crowd with his starry eyes, and said, “Listen up, everyone. The disciples taking the assessment will enter the Star Cloud Sea in one stick of incense’s time. Anyone who fails to reach the sect within ten days will be deemed a failure. Remember: do not take life, and keep your tokens safe.” After speaking succinctly, the handsome young man waved his sleeve, and an incense burner materialized out of thin air, hovering mid-air. A burning incense stick atop it was emitting wispy blue smoke. All the young men held their breath and focused intently as they watched the incense burn out, while the women were either stealing glances at the young man or openly staring at him, drooling. A gentle breeze swept by, and the smoke vanished without a trace. In an instant, all the young men sprang into action, and after a moment’s hesitation, the young women also unleashed their respective movement techniques—some riding spirit beasts, others controlling puppets—as they charged toward the Nebula Sea. Once they entered the Nebula Sea, it was as if they had encountered a sandstorm in the desert—visibility was pitifully low. On top of that, the surrounding landscape resembled a maze of trees, making it extremely difficult to determine one’s direction. “Hehe, luckily I know the trick,” said one young girl with a smile. She immediately produced her token and activated the spell; instantly, the token floated into the air and shot straight in one direction. The girl was overjoyed and was just about to cast a spell to give chase when, suddenly, the token—which had been emitting a soft glow ahead—vanished. “Huh?” The girl froze for a moment, and the next, her face turned ashen. Amid the clouds and mist, Dongfang looked at the other token in Jiang Tang’s hand and asked in confusion, “What’s the point of snatching this thing?” “This token can guide us, but it only lasts for three hours. If used wisely, even with intermittent signals, we can still find Xian Zong’s mountain gates. But just to be on the safe side, of course, the more we have, the better!” “I see. That explains why the young man said what he did.” “Not taking a life doesn’t mean you can’t block someone’s path. Spots for Xian Zong disciples are limited—first come, first served.” With that, Jiang Tang sent the token soaring from his hand, guiding him as he darted swiftly through the maze.