I Swear I’m Not a Demonic Cultivator - Chapter 28
Chapter 28: Summoning the Evil God
The Ghost Tide, like a pitch-black celestial river pouring down from the heavens, surged forward with terrifying resentment potent enough to shatter the minds of even Golden Core cultivators.
The last vestiges of color drained from the faces of Sun Qing and the surviving Hundred Herbs Valley disciples, leaving behind only a deathly, ashen despair.
It’s over.
Everything is over.
Even the Sect’s most formidable Great Guardian Formation had been shattered with a single strike. Before such overwhelming power, they—a broken remnant—were no more significant than ants.
Just as everyone closed their eyes, awaiting death…
The pitch-black Ghost Tide, capable of annihilating all, abruptly halted a mere three feet above their heads.
Then, transforming into countless strands of black qi, it recoiled and retreated, merging back into the ominous Xuan-black banner that radiated malevolent energy.
Silence.
A deathly silence.
The survivors of Hundred Herbs Valley gasped for breath, their hearts pounding with lingering terror as they watched the figure descend step by step from mid-air.
Fang Zheng didn’t even glance at them.
Not a single flicker of his gaze fell upon them.
To him, these wailing figures sprawled on the ground were merely a pack of evildoers whose spines had been broken by the iron fist of justice.
They were no longer a threat.
Settling accounts with them could wait.
Now, something far more important and sacred awaited him.
His gaze swept past the fallen sinners, settling on the so-called Demon Suppression Altar at the center of the square.
Bound around the altar were hundreds of unarmed mortals—the villagers of Willow Wind Manor.
They had witnessed the recent clash between gods and demons firsthand, their souls shattered by terror. Their faces were ashen, their bodies trembling like sieves.
When they saw Fang Zheng, clad in demonic armor and wielding a black banner, approach them, their eyes betrayed not hope for rescue, but the abyss of despair—a fear of plunging into an even deeper hell.
“D-Demon… devil…”
“Don’t come any closer! Don’t come any closer!”
A woman, unable to bear the pressure any longer, let out a piercing, hysterical scream.
Fang Zheng’s footsteps faltered slightly.
He heard the scream.
He saw the thick, suffocating terror in the villagers’ eyes.
Fang Zheng’s tender heart was stabbed with pain.
Look at their suffering!
These fiends have tormented them so thoroughly that they can no longer distinguish between their savior and the demons who torment them!
They had been driven to the brink of despair, having lost even the courage to believe in the light.
How tragic! How pitiful!
The sense of duty Fang Zheng felt—his resolve to protect—grew heavier and more unwavering.
Fang Zheng offered no further explanations.
He knew that words were hollow and meaningless before these poor souls, their hearts shattered beyond repair.
Only action could speak louder than words.
Only a complete salvation could heal the wounds in their souls.
Step by step, Fang Zheng walked with unwavering resolve to the center of the Demon Suppression Altar.
He stood there, the focal point of every terrified villager and every desperate disciple of Hundred Herbs Valley.
He loomed like a Demon God of Judgment, risen from the depths of the Nine Nether Hell, gazing down upon this sinful land about to be “purified.”
“Fear not,” Fang Zheng said slowly, his voice soft yet clear, reaching every ear.
“Your suffering ends here.”
He raised the Human Emperor Banner high.
In his hands, the jet-black banner seemed to come alive.
Two eerie red lights flickered to life in the eyes of the shadowy figure on the flag, and an ancient, desolate, domineering aura swept across the altar.
Sun Qing lay on the ground, his pupils constricting violently as he witnessed the scene.
That gesture…
That aura…
He remembered! It was the final, fragmented description in Lu Chuxue’s Jade Token message!
Blood Sacrifice!
This Demon Lord was going to perform a Blood Sacrifice using living people!
“No… don’t!” Sun Qing roared hoarsely, summoning the last of his strength. “Stop! You Demon Lord! Stop it now!”
Their Hundred Herbs Valley cultivated Medicinal Fields with brutal methods, but ultimately, it was to refine Human Pills, to serve the Ancient Gods, and to pursue the elusive Great Dao!
But this Demon Lord?
He killed seemingly for the sake of killing! To revel in the ecstasy of destruction! To drain the souls’ pain and resentment to strengthen himself!
This was the purest, most absolute evil!
Fang Zheng heard Sun Qing’s desperate cries.
He turned his head and cast a pitying glance at the man.
The leader of these fiends was making his final, futile stand.
Was he afraid?
No, he was consumed by jealousy and rage!
He was furious at me for daring to personally liberate these “sacrifices,” whom he considered his private property!
How utterly despicable!
Fang Zheng ignored him, turning back to focus all his attention on the Great Formation beneath his feet.
“Today, I shall cleanse your bodies of all suffering and sin through the Blood Sacrifice!”
“Now, I bestow upon you eternal rebirth!”
Fang Zheng declared solemnly, his voice resonating like the recitation of a sacred epic.
With a mental command, he unleashed the immense spiritual energy within him, now vastly amplified by absorbing the “Suffering” of two entire villages. Without reservation, he channeled it fully into the supreme Great Guardian Formation.
Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation!
Hum—!
The earth sprang to life once more, even more violently and relentlessly than before!
Countless jet-black formation patterns, like tendrils reaching from the depths of Nine Nether Hell, instantly swarmed across the entire plaza.
A pillar of blood-red light, so dense it seemed to solidify, shot skyward, forming a colossal crimson canopy that completely enveloped Willow Wind Manor!
The villagers’ screams and wails abruptly ceased.
For the moment the blood-red light flared…
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A barrage of explosions, as rapid as firecrackers, erupted from every corner of the plaza.
Thousands of villagers—men, women, children, and the elderly—their bodies silently and completely dissolved into wisps of purest black Qi within the eerie blood-red glow.
Their lifetime of suffering, their world-shattering despair, their very flesh and souls—all were refined and extracted by the Great Formation in an instant, converging into the crimson sky.
Within mere breaths, Willow Wind Manor was transformed into a desolate wasteland, devoid of life.
Only the disciples of Hundred Herbs Valley were deliberately “spared” by the Formation, forced to witness this hellish tragedy in its entirety, in all its stark, horrifying clarity.
“Ah… Ah…”
A young disciple’s mind shattered completely. Pointing at Fang Zheng at the center of the Formation, he babbled incoherently before his eyes rolled back, dying of sheer terror.
Many others had their Dao Hearts shattered into dust by this overwhelming dread.
Even Sun Qing, the Golden Core Peak cultivator, stood frozen in utter shock.
He stared at the deserted altar, at the blood-red light soaring into the heavens, at the suffocating miasma of resentment that even made his heart tremble.
His mind went blank.
He had lost.
Utterly, irrevocably lost.
Not just in terms of power, but… in terms of ideals.
He had always believed that his worship of the Flesh and Blood Ancient God and his practice of Alchemy using living people were the pinnacle of demonic depravity, the very apex of evil.
But today, he had encountered true Demon.
Compared to the opponent, his own methods were like a child’s play, as pure as a blank sheet of paper!
The opponent was the one truly standing atop mountains of corpses and seas of blood, treating all living beings as mere pawns and feeding on resentment as sustenance—the eternal Demon Sovereign!
His Dao Heart shattered in that instant, crumbling into dust.
Despair, like a tidal wave, completely engulfed him.
Yet, within the depths of this profound despair, a tiny flame of madness flickered to life from the ruins of his broken Dao Heart.
That’s right…
I can’t beat him…
I can’t beat him…
But that doesn’t mean… no one can!
A hysterical, feverish light suddenly erupted in Sun Qing’s eyes.
Trembling, he retrieved something from the deepest recesses of his storage Magic Treasure.
It was neither a Magic Treasure nor a Medicine Pill.
It was an eyeball.
A massive, bloodshot eyeball, still pulsing faintly, forcibly fused from countless twisted strands of flesh and nerve tissue!
Deep within its pupil radiated an ancient, malevolent, chaotic, and indescribable aura—a horror even more primal and perverse than the Demonic Energy emanating from Fang Zheng!
This was the Hundred Herbs Valley’s most guarded secret, their ultimate trump card!
The sole sacred artifact capable of communicating with the Flesh and Blood Ancient God slumbering in an unknown dimension!
Sun Qing raised the Flesh and Blood Eyeball high above his head, pouring every ounce of strength into uttering the most fervent and devout prayer of his life!
“Great Ancient God, ruler of flesh, blood, life, and death!”
“Your most devout servant offers you all that I am!”
“Descend your supreme Divine Punishment and smite this… this vile blasphemer who has defiled your holy name!!”
His voice, shrill and piercing, shattered the deathly silence of Willow Wind Manor’s night sky.