Six months into their closed-door cultivation, both Seong-hun and Ji-soo had grown significantly stronger. Seong-hun had reached the late stage of the eighth level of True Immortality, while Ji-soo had attained the mid-stage of the eighth level of Eternal Immortality.
This was due to several factors. First, they had trained for an exceptionally long duration—well over a hundred years. Second, the cultivation resources contained within the ring were incredibly rare—some even legendary or considered extinct—and were entirely free of impurities, boasting 100% purity. Consequently, they could cultivate without any concern that consuming these resources might introduce impurities into their bodies.
Over these past months, they had developed an overwhelming presence, and their physical constitutions had become superb—a stark contrast to their former state, where they had been weak and thin due to chronic malnutrition and an accumulation of impurities. Yet, this did not mean they were truly healthy; while they appeared robust on the outside, their internal cores remained in a dire, pitiful state.
Seong-hun and Ji-soo slowly opened their eyes.
Their eyes glowed with a vivid, golden radiance. Ethereal energy began to envelop their bodies, forming an intricate array around them for a few seconds before dissolving into a fine, golden dust.
Seong-hun turned his gaze toward his sister, Ji-soo, his face etched with astonishment. She had reached the mid-stage of the eighth level of Eternal Immortality. "How is it that we didn't encounter any heavenly tribulations—even though I am at the late stage of the eighth level of True Immortality, and you are at the intermediate stage of the eighth level of Eternal Immortality?"
His tone was laced with bewilderment. He sensed that something fundamental had changed within them, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
The change lay within their very souls; he felt an intuitive grasp of all manner of laws—the Dao, time, space, chaos, and countless other principles and concepts. Even at the eighth level, he felt capable of manipulating them with effortless ease.
He wasn't the only one to notice; it was as if his soul were devouring these laws and concepts, accelerating the growth of his own power. Furthermore, the cultivation resources contained within the ring were exceptionally rare—some even considered extinct or purely legendary—and they were entirely free of impurities, boasting a 100% level of purity. This allowed them to cultivate without the slightest concern that consuming these items might introduce impurities into their bodies.
Though remnants of the Dao still lingered within his soul—not yet fully absorbed—he felt no cause for alarm; he had, in fact, reached the pinnacle of the eighth level of True Immortality.
"Come, Mao Ji-soo, it's time for us to leave. Six months have already passed, and the cultivation resources in the ring have been exhausted."
Seong-hun spoke in a calm, steady tone, looking toward Ji-soo with a warm smile.
A faint smile graced Ji-soo's lips as she saw that Seong-hun had fully regained the vitality he had once sacrificed. "Yes, let's go. Our time here has come to an end."
Her tone was calm and pleasant.
The two headed toward the door that was gradually taking shape. Their steps were steady, yet tinged with a faint, underlying tension—a fear that some unexpected turn might occur. After all, Feng Li Wu followed the Demonic Path and topped the "blacklist," making him entirely untrustworthy.
Demons are treacherous by nature—especially Feng Li Wu, who had wiped out his own clan and killed anyone he perceived as an obstacle to his path or his schemes. Feng Li Wu believed that the end justifies the means, a philosophy that rendered him one of the most terrifying figures in the world.
As soon as they crossed through the door, they felt an immense heaviness, as if their bodies had been thrown completely out of sync. Their limbs could no longer function in a coordinated way; time within that realm moved slowly, and having spent six months there, their bodies had adapted to its unique temporal flow.
Furthermore, they wore no special attire, nor had they consumed any elixirs to mitigate the realm's effects on their bodies—for two reasons. First, such items are prohibitively expensive—worth a small fortune—and even the major sects possess only a handful of these protective garments. As for the elixirs, they are priceless, held under the strict monopoly of the great sects.
The second reason was that Feng Li Wu had no intention of providing them with such aids. He wanted them to rely on their own strength, ensuring they understood that he would not cater to every demand—that, ultimately, they had to fend for themselves. Warm blood began to gush profusely from the orifices on their faces. Their bodies burned, as if they had been savagely pierced by hundreds of swords heated to their melting point.
Their faces turned a dangerous, dark shade, and veins bulged beneath their skin—it was as though their heads were on the verge of exploding.
A few minutes later, both Seong-hun and Ji-soo collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood.
"Cough... cough... cough... cough... cough..."
Their coughs were dry and strained; they could not even cough naturally.
"Hahaha! Well then, let's put an end to this cheap drama."
Fong Li-wu's tone was cold and devoid of any emotion as he looked down at Seong-hun and Ji-soo, who were teetering on the brink of death. Their bodies had suffered severe temporal shock—a trauma their physical constitutions were far too weak to withstand.
This was a consequence of the malnutrition they had endured over the past few years.
Seong-hun and Ji-soo felt a flicker of irritation at Fong Li-wu's cold, contemptuous words—as if their agony were nothing more than a cheap, dramatic performance. Yet, they dared not—or perhaps could not—say a word. They were still far too weak to confront him, and, in any case, they were in no condition to speak properly. Feng Li Wu leaned down until he was at their level, then placed his hands on their backs, swiftly erasing the spacetime distortion and trauma from their bodies.
A few seconds later, Seong-hun and Ji-soo returned to their normal state, but they collapsed, losing consciousness due to the intense pain they had endured.
Young Yu-jung let out a deep sigh as he gazed at Seong-hun and Ji-soo, who lay on the ground in a pitiful state.
Then he left the room, leaving the two of them asleep on the floor, submerged in their own light, silvery-colored blood.
.......................
Three full days later, Seong-hoon and Ji-soo began to stir from their three-day-and-night-long slumber.
Both stretched their limbs, stiff from such a long sleep.
Their expressions shifted to bewilderment as they realized they were inside a carriage; yet, there was no sign of Feng Li-wu anywhere.
Seong-hoon decided to take a look at the person handling the carriage—who was driving it with remarkable skill and precision.
Pulling back the curtain that separated the interior from the driver's seat, he discovered Feng Li-wu at the reins.
Feng Li-wu showed no reaction to Seong-hoon's astonished gaze—Seong-hoon, who was left wondering how he had acquired such a carriage, and how he managed to drive it with such perfection.
"Mr. Feng Li-wu, where did you get this magnificent carriage? It looks incredibly luxurious and expensive."
Seong-hoon's tone was thick with confusion and surprise, yet Feng Li-wu's expression did not change in the slightest.
"I took it after I killed its owners. That's how I got it. Has that satisfied your curiosity, or not?"
Feng Li-wu did not even glance at Seong-hoon; his eyes remained fixed firmly ahead.
Seong-hoon fell silent, unable to respond to Feng Li-wu's cold, indifferent remark—a statement that treated human lives as if they were nothing more than trash, or mere tools to be used and discarded whenever he pleased. In a world governed by power, the strong devour the weak. This is a fundamental truth; there is a vast chasm between the ignorant and the learned, the poor and the wealthy, the weak and the strong.
In this world—or indeed, any world—it is a simple binary: either you consume or you are consumed; you either exploit others or become a mere puppet, manipulated by someone else's hand. You either rule or you submit. The strong and intelligent rule, consume, and exploit; yet, power devoid of intellect is like a blacksmith without a hammer, or a warrior without a weapon.
"Listen, both of you. We are nearing the Mao Sect—about a day's journey away. You would do well to rest and utilize the remnants of the laws embedded within your souls to advance to higher ranks. Come now—make yourselves useful."
Feng Li Wu's tone was as cold as frost, his gaze flicking toward Seong-hoon from the corner of his eye.
Seong-hoon retreated into the carriage without a word.
He dared not speak; to Feng Li Wu, he was nothing more than an insect—one that could be crushed with the slightest effort.
Seong-hoon knew of the incident at the Qi Bao Mountains, where Feng Li Wu had completely obliterated the range, leaving behind a vast, mirror-like expanse—a colossal surface reflecting the sky, stretching across thousands of kilometers. He had also dispatched several eighth-rank Immortal Masters with chilling ease, as if they were nothing more than worthless vermin.
Because of this, Seong-hoon resolved to do nothing foolish—nothing that might cost him his own life, or the life of his younger sister. Upon returning inside the carriage, Seong-hun found Ji-soo holding a golden dragon with a silvery sheen.
Seong-hun's expression filled with surprise—where could this dragon have come from? Yet, he chose to set the matter aside, noticing the confusion on Ji-soo's face, as if the dragon had simply appeared out of thin air.
"Ji-soo, we'll reach the Mao Sect in a day's time, so you'd best use this time to cultivate."
Seong-hun's tone was calm as he settled into a meditative posture to begin cultivating his Dantian.
Ji-soo sighed, slightly annoyed, but nonetheless began her own cultivation.
As the two began their practice, a pale golden radiance emanated from their bodies.
A golden dragon mark glowed upon the foreheads of both Seong-hun and Ji-soo. The dragon then flared with an intense, brilliant gold before transforming into an ethereal golden energy that flowed evenly into both of their foreheads.
Outside the carriage, a mysterious smile played on Feng Li-wu's lips as he steered the vehicle toward the Mao Sect.
Feng Li-wu cast his gaze toward the location of the Mao Sect, which stood atop Mount Mao Tang—one of the most ancient and venerable mountains in the Realm of Masters.
Sighing with boredom, Feng Li-wu increased the carriage's speed; it vanished for a few fleeting seconds before reappearing in the vicinity of the Mao Sect.
Feng Li-wu brought the carriage to a halt five kilometers away from the sect. "Mao Seong-hun, Mao Ji-su—we've arrived. The break is over; it's time to get to work. Move!"
Feng Li-wu's tone was icy, prompting Seong-hun and Ji-su to scramble out of the carriage instantly, not daring to waste a single second.
Seong-hun's expression shifted to one of bewilderment; they were supposed to arrive in a day, not in a matter of seconds. Yet, he said nothing—he knew Feng Li-wu wouldn't answer him anyway, and would likely just ignore him unless he happened to be in a particularly good mood.
"Mao Seong-hun, head to one of the sect's secret tunnels. You'll find two items there: a storage ring and a deer skull radiating a sinister, dark aura. You and your sister are to place both items in the very center of the Mao Sect's grounds. Afterward, leave the area and head as far away as you can—while still remaining close enough to keep the sect clearly in view. And don't do anything foolish; I won't be merciful. Understood?"
Feng Li-wu's voice was cold, heavy with absolute power and authority, and underscored by a faint, lingering intent to kill.
"Understood—we'll get it done. Let's go, Ji-su; we have no time to waste. People will be coming soon to investigate this unknown carriage that's entered the sect's territory."
Seong-hun's tone remained calm as he glanced toward his sister.
"Alright, let's go."
Seong-hun and Ji-su darted off with lightning speed toward one of the sect's secret tunnels.
A short while later, they came to a halt before a statue of Buddha crafted from solid gold. Nearby, a tray for incense and some dried stalks had been placed, covered by a layer of *chi* to protect them from damage caused by the seasonal rains. The environment of Mount Mao Tang experiences rainfall twice a week throughout the year, making it one of the richest regions for a diverse array of herbs—including even some rare varieties.
Seong-hun and Ji-soo sat in a meditative, devotional posture; then, Seong-hun lit an incense stick and began his prayer.
"Great Buddha, illuminate our path with your profound enlightenment and wisdom."
That was the tone of Seong-hun's voice.
A few seconds later, the runes for activation began toinside the Buddha statue, a gate behind it swung open, accompanied by the sound of stone grinding against stone.
Seong-hun and Ji-soo stepped straight through the gateway.
"Brother Seong-hun, they won't be able to find us, right?"
There was a hint of anxiety in Ji-soo's voice.
Hearing his sister's concern, Seong-hun paused and glanced back at the gate with a cynical smile.
The gate was closing rapidly; within two minutes, it had sealed shut completely.
"Don't worry. This is a passage known only to the true heirs and leaders of the sect. As the rightful heir, I was privy to secrets that even the elders of the Mao Sect themselves were unaware of."
Seong-hun's tone carried a cold, mocking disdain for the world.
In this world—or any other—there are always things monopolized by those in high positions, those who sit at the pinnacle of any given system. Crucial information is invariably kept under total, exclusive control to secure a decisive advantage.
This isn't merely a matter of greed; rather, the monopolization of information is a calculated form of intelligence used to reap significant gains. While basic or secondary information is disseminated among the rank and file, sensitive knowledge—the kind reserved for the upper echelons—is shared with elders and key figures, either to ensure their loyalty or to keep them in a state of wary apprehension.
Nothing is free; ignorance has its price, and knowledge has its own cost.
Hearing Seong-hun's words, Ji-soo let out a sigh of relief.
The two then moved forward with great speed, deftly bypassing every trap and obstacle in their path. Seong-hoon was familiar with the layout of the Mao Sect, having learned it from his late father, Mao Min-seok. It was a prerequisite for future sect leaders to possess such knowledge from a young age, and Seong-hoon was no exception.
Two hours later, Seong-hoon and Ji-soo arrived at the heart of the tunnel network—the sect's central hub and primary treasury—where the Mao Sect concealed its most prized treasures from the rest of its members.
"Ji-soo, search for what we need on that side; I'll take this side. And watch out for the traps—they're all lethal. Even an Immortal of the Ninth Rank would suffer grave injuries if caught by one. Is that clear?"
Seong-hoon's tone was sharp, underscoring the gravity of the situation. While the Mao Sect's treasury was one of the greatest in the world, it was also among the most perilous places in existence.
"Understood, Brother Seong-hoon. I'll be careful."
Ji-soo's voice carried a hint of tension, yet it was also laced with the confidence and determination to complete the mission—and, perhaps just as importantly, to distance herself from the unpredictable Feng Li-wu.
With that, the two set off in search of the stag skull and the ring.
Seong-hoon headed toward the northern section—the most dangerous area, riddled with deadly traps—while Ji-soo moved toward the southern section, which was relatively safer and less hazardous. After two hours of intensive searching, utilizing all their heightened senses, they managed to locate the deer skull—a skeletal remain marked by several cracks, with a blood-red pentagram etched onto its forehead. As for the ring, it appeared entirely ordinary, no different from any other storage ring.
"Ji-soo, place the ring here. This is the center of the sect."
Seong-hun's tone was calm, tinged with a sense of relief that their mission had finally come to an end.
Ji-soo nodded in agreement and placed the storage ring exactly where Seong-hun had indicated.
Once the ring and the deer skull were in position, they fled the scene at full speed, not daring to look back.
Several kilometers away, Seong-hun and Ji-soo stopped running and turned their gaze toward the Mao Sect.
Their expressions darkened, and they were left speechless.
The scene at the Mao Sect was nothing short of a massive slaughter; the grounds were drenched in blood, and thick, black smoke billowed into the air.
Five hours earlier:
After Seong-hun and Ji-soo departed, Feng Li-wu erased the carriage they had arrived in, a cold smile playing across his lips.
Once the carriage had been completely obliterated, he fixed his gaze upon the Mao Sect for several moments. Then, a pure white sword appeared—adorned with a distinct mark resembling a closed eye. The blade was razor-sharp, glowing with a milky-white light. Feng Li Wu vanished from his spot, only to reappear in the heart of the Mao Sect, a cold, lingering smile still fixed upon his face.
Terror seized those around him, yet Feng Li Wu paid them no heed. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a dome materialized, enveloping the entire Mao Sect mountain and sealing it off—trapping everyone inside and barring any escape.
"People of the Mao Sect—you, who hoard every benefit for yourselves, keeping your sect an exclusive preserve for the Mao clan! Your very greed shall now serve my purpose! Hahahahahaha!"
Feng Li Wu's voice was chilling as he gazed at the clansmen and sect members, who trembled before him in sheer terror.
Two thousand years ago, the Mao Sect had been nothing more than a clan. But following the discovery of Mount Mao Tang, it flourished and evolved into one of the most formidable sects on the Western Continent.
This rise to power was fueled by their decision to restrict the sect's teachings solely to members of the clan—all of whom shared the same bloodline and a common ancestor.
As eyes turned toward Feng Li Wu, he vanished once more.
Shock and absolute horror washed over everyone present.
Before a single word could be uttered, they were sliced into pieces.
In their final moments, their faces were etched with pure, unadulterated terror.
An hour later, the Mao Sect lay strewn with the corpses of its inhabitants—children, the elderly, and women alike. Feng Li Wu made no distinction between young or old, male or female, warrior or the helpless; to him, they were all the same. There is no difference between the death of a human and the death of an insect; it is not because the world is unjust, but because those who die are simply too weak to protect themselves.
Feng Li Wu, his body covered in blood, stood motionless as his sword began to shift in color—transforming from a milky white to a coal-black, and finally to a blood-red, the change sweeping from the tip of the blade all the way to the hilt.
Surrounding him were the elders and elites of the Mao Sect, all of whom were cultivators at the seventh or eighth stage.
"Feng..."
Before one of the elders could finish his sentence, he was sliced into tiny cubes, each no larger than an infant's finger. The fate of the other elders and the rising elites of the sect was exactly the same; they
The gap between them and Feng Li Wu was immense—they were no match for him at all—and he was in no mood to listen to their hypocrisy.
Four hours later, the Mao Sect had been turned into a literal slaughterhouse. Nothing remained but mangled corpses, while Mao Seong-hun, Mao Ji-su, their uncle Mao Qi-chan, and their cousin Mao Yu stood amidst the carnage. Though some of their limbs had been severed or disfigured, they remained alive.
Eight kilometers away, Seong-hun and Ji-su stared at what had become of the Mao Sect in absolute shock.
Hovering several feet above the ground in the heart of the Mao Sect, Feng Li Wu hung in the air, his entire body—from head to toe—drenched in blood.
The milky-white sword had turned a deep, vivid red. A previously closed eye upon it had opened, revealing a demonic eye that wept tears of black blood.
The sword emitted a faint yet audible wailing sound—the trapped souls of the Mao Sect's inhabitants, held fast within it.
Moments later, Feng Li Wu raised his sword toward the sun. Suddenly, a surge of demonic energy erupted from the treasure chamber where Seong-hun and Ji-su were located.
Black blood poured from the eyes and mouth of a stag skull, coalescing into a demonic formation from which a demonic eye emerged—the source of the surging demonic energy. The blue sky above Feng Li Wu began to shift, turning a blood-red hue, while the sun transformed into a demonic eye, fixed its gaze upon the Mao Sect.
Seong-hun, Ji-soo, their uncle Mao Qi-chan, and their cousin Mao Yoshaku found themselves consumed by thoughts of the wars that might erupt—not merely in this location, but across the entire world. They dared not even lift their eyes to meet that gaze.
Moments later, a sinister, demonic voice echoed throughout Mount Mao Tang:
"A special offering for Master Feng Li Wu."
The tone was chilling and terrifying—as if an ancient demon, silent for billions of years, had deigned to spare a few seconds of its time for a collection of mere trash.
A deep, crimson glow emanated from the treasure chamber, rising steadily until it reached Feng Li Wu, revealing a storage ring emblazoned with the symbol of Malanhai.
This was no ordinary ring; it was bound to his very soul, becoming an intrinsic part of his being. With every reincarnation, it would remain with him, preserving all the resources stored within. Furthermore, its capacity was infinite, and it was utterly indestructible—impossible to erase or destroy.
Yet, obtaining it required a sacrifice: the lives of over a thousand individuals sharing the same bloodline, witnessed by four others of that same lineage—each of whom had to have attained a cultivation level beyond the sixth stage. Seong-hun, Ji-soo, their uncle Mao Qi-chan, and their cousin Mao Yoshaku met these very criteria.
Following this, the sky and the sun gradually returned to their natural state. Several hours later, Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-su stood before their uncle, Mao Ki-chan, and their cousin, Mao Yu-shaku—the very individuals responsible for their suffering.
"Seong-hun, Ji-su—do you not harbor any desire for revenge against your uncle and his son?"
Fong Li-wu's tone carried a cold, mocking edge as he looked at them.
Terror washed over the faces of Mao Ki-chan and Mao Yu-shaku as they gazed at Seong-hun and Ji-su, whose expressions were as frigid as frost, devoid of any visible emotion.
"You were the cause of our suffering, and the primary reason for our parents' deaths."
"We did nothing to you, yet you were the source of all our pain."
Seong-hun's voice was icy, while Ji-su remained silent, simply staring at them.
The grief of losing her parents, along with the hardships she and her brother Seong-hun had endured, flooded back into her mind. Gripping the sword that Fong Li-wu had handed her, she stepped toward her uncle—who was in a truly pathetic state—and severed his head before he could utter a single word.
Mao Ki-chan's face was etched with utter disbelief; he could not fathom that Ji-su—the gentlest girl in the entire sect—was the one who had killed him.
As for Mao Yu-shaku, his expression twisted into one of sheer terror and despair. He shed tears as he gazed at his father's corpse, but before he could even process what was happening, his head was severed from his body by Seong-hun.
Feng Li-wu walked away with steady, deliberate steps.
"Our alliance is over. From this moment on, we are enemies."
Feng Li-wu's tone was cold; then, he vanished—as if he had never been there at all.
Ji-soo and Seong-hun collapsed, landing heavily on the ground.
Their expressions were twisted, impossible to decipher.
They had finally taken revenge on the two individuals primarily responsible for their suffering, and the entire fortune of the Mao Sect was now in their hands. Yet, a void remained in their hearts—one they could not comprehend.
"Ji-soo, I think we should leave. There is nothing left for us here. As for the treasures—I've already secured them; they are contained within four storage rings."
Seong-hun's voice was cold.
Ji-soo said nothing; she simply stood up and brushed the dust from her clothes.
Together, they departed from Mount Mao-tang—a place where life had become impossible, consumed by the demonic energy that had swept through it.