I Swear I’m Not a Demonic Cultivator - Chapter 18
Chapter 18: Mingling with the Mortal World
In his mind, Fang Zheng silently recited the name of the newly born Cultivation Technique:
Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation.
A fine name.
Blood Sacrifice—a ritual offering to safeguard all living beings.
Floating Pagoda—a towering structure built for Universal Salvation.
Great Prison-Suppressing Formation—a formation designed to suppress demons and maintain the balance of the cosmos.
This is the true Dao of Guardianship. Grand, majestic, brimming with supreme spirit.
The System truly understands me.
Fang Zheng found no fault with the name.
Opening his eyes, he surveyed his masterpiece with satisfaction.
It’s complete.
The entire village was now enveloped in a faint barrier of gentle wind.
The wind was warm.
When it brushed against his face, it felt like his mother’s hand stroking his cheek.
Sunlight filtered through the barrier, becoming gentle.
It warmed his entire body, making his bones feel lighter by at least half a pound.
Even the village soil seemed more fertile, exuding the fresh fragrance of earth after rain.
Perfect.
Fang Zheng firmly believed that from this moment on, this place would be an absolutely safe sanctuary.
No demon or evil spirit would dare to take even half a step inside.
Lost in the serene tranquility he had personally created, he heard a sudden commotion from within the village.
Bang!
A wooden door slammed shut with desperate force, the sound echoing with despair.
Immediately afterward…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The echoing slams of doors reverberated like funeral bells tolling in the village.
Behind the courtyard walls and through window slits, pairs of eyes stared fixedly at him.
Fang Zheng calmly accepted their gaze.
When mortals first witness divine miracles, they always react with such awe.
They dared not look directly, dared not approach.
They needed time to adjust to this heaven-sent blessing.
Fang Zheng sat cross-legged, waiting quietly, showing due respect to these simple villagers.
After an unknown amount of time,
Creak—
The piercing squeal of a door hinge broke the silence.
The village chief’s courtyard gate creaked open a crack.
Fang Zheng opened his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, ready to receive their gratitude.
The Old Village Chief emerged from behind the gate, followed by several villagers.
They walked slowly, each face bearing the grim determination of those prepared to meet death without fear.
Fang Zheng stood up.
He noticed that before coming out, the villagers had carefully changed into their finest clothes, though they were still patched and worn.
What profound respect!
The Old Village Chief led the group to a stop three paces from Fang Zheng.
He said nothing.
The next moment,
Thud!
The Old Village Chief’s knees buckled, and he knelt stiffly to the ground.
The villagers behind him followed suit, dropping to their knees in unison.
Then, they slammed their foreheads heavily against the ground.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
One after another, the dull, forceful thuds echoed.
Fang Zheng’s heart was struck by this scene of fervent devotion.
These simple villagers had been oppressed for generations, never having seen true light. Now, he, the righteous envoy, had descended, bringing them hope.
They were simply overwhelmed with emotion!
So overwhelmed that they could only offer their everything in this most ancient and devout way!
What pure, unwavering faith!
Just as Fang Zheng was about to help them up, the Old Village Chief’s trembling voice, barely audible against the ground, reached him.
“Great… Demon God.”
Demon God?
Fang Zheng froze, startled.
Then, he understood.
This remote mountain village had limited worldly knowledge. In their understanding, anyone with the power to move mountains and fill seas was a “god” or a “demon.”
It was an honorific, representing supreme power.
Yes, that must be it.
“We… know that your descent upon this place… is our ‘honor.'”
The Old Village Chief’s voice was choked with sobs, his body trembling even more violently.
“We… willingly offer ourselves as your most devout… ‘sacrifices’!”
Sacrifices!
Fang Zheng’s eyebrows twitched.
He immediately understood the villagers’ true meaning.
They weren’t offering flesh and blood.
They were offering their most precious possession—their faith!
They were willing to dedicate their faith, like a sacrificial offering, completely and devoutly to him, their Guardian God!
How simple! How pure!
Fang Zheng’s righteous Dao Heart seemed to have undergone a baptism.
He was about to step forward to help these venerable villagers to their feet when the Old Village Chief suddenly raised his head.
On that aged face, streaked with tears and mud, was a resolute determination Fang Zheng couldn’t comprehend.
“We have but one request!” the Village Chief roared, his voice strained to its limit.
“We beg you… grant us a swift end! Spare us… from further torment by those ‘Immortal Masters’!”
Immortal Masters?
Fang Zheng’s body froze instantly.
A surge of fury erupted in his chest!
So this village had been under the control of Demonic Cultivators masquerading as “Immortal Masters” all along!
Wearing the guise of celestial sages, they had been perpetrating vile acts of exploitation against living beings!
The “sacrifices” the villagers spoke of had been forced upon them by these beasts!
The Old Village Chief’s plea to “spare us from further torment” referred to this very torment!
They had reached utter despair!
They would rather offer their faith to Fang Zheng, their newly descended deity, than endure even one more day of oppression under those hypocritical Immortal Masters!
A human tragedy!
The righteous fury in Fang Zheng’s heart burned to its zenith.
He took a step forward.
A gentle force emanated from Fang Zheng, lifting the kneeling Old Village Chief and the others to their feet.
“Old Man,” Fang Zheng said softly, gently patting the mud-caked shoulder of the Old Village Chief. “I heard your ‘Prayer.'”
He glanced around.
The terrified villagers peeking through the cracks in the doors shrank back in fear.
Fang Zheng forced a smile he hoped would be reassuring.
“All of you, rest assured,” he vowed, each word deliberate and solemn. “From this day forward, no one will ever torment you again.”
“Those so-called ‘Immortal Masters’ will pay the price.”
“I, Fang Zheng, keep my word.”
His words rang clearly in the ears of every villager.
Behind the Old Village Chief, a villager’s eyes rolled back, foam erupted from his mouth, and he collapsed stiffly backward.
The Old Village Chief himself went limp. Had Fang Zheng not been supporting him, he would have collapsed to the ground. His lips trembled, unable to form a single word, his face a mask of ashen resignation.
In Fang Zheng’s mind, the System’s cold notification chimed.
Ding!
【Novice Village Trial Mission: Assimilation into the Mortal Realm – Progress Achieved!】
【Mission Objective: Heeding the ‘Prayer’ – Completed (1/3)!】
It worked!
His judgment had been completely correct!
He had successfully obtained the most devout faith of his first villager!
Fang Zheng gripped the Old Village Chief’s hand even more firmly.
As he gazed at the old man who had offered his faith in such a simple and sincere way, Fang Zheng’s heart swelled with respect.
“Old Man, go back and rest first,” Fang Zheng said, his voice radiating reassuring strength. “Leave the rest to me.”
Supported by his son, the Old Village Chief staggered back home. He collapsed onto his own doorstep, his gaze locked in despair on Fang Zheng’s smiling face—a smile that seemed more terrifying than any demon in his eyes. In a voice barely audible even to himself, he murmured his final words:
“It’s over… all over… We’ve summoned something far worse…”
“A far more ruthless Demon Lord…”
A tremor shook his body, as if recalling some unspeakable horror, or perhaps grasping at his last straw.
“Compared to him…”
“Those Immortal Masters from Hundred Herbs Valley… they’re practically… practically living Buddhas…”