I Swear I’m Not a Demonic Cultivator - Chapter 33
Chapter 33: Merciful Exchange
The phantom of the Demon God, a being whose presence dominated heaven and earth, merged into the darkness and vanished behind Fang Zheng.
In that instant, the world sprang back to life.
The wind began to wail once more across the scorched earth of Willow Wind Manor.
噗!
Fang Zheng crashed to one knee, spitting out a mouthful of black blood.
Flecks of gold shimmered in the blood as it hit the ground, hissing as it corroded a small, blackened pit.
His body had been utterly drained.
Every meridian screamed in agony, and his Sea of Consciousness felt like it had been repeatedly rapped, danced, and sung over by ten thousand wild chickens.
The price for forcibly summoning the Human Emperor’s will had come due.
Amidst the excruciating pain, the System’s cold, divine notification boomed:
Congratulations, Host! With your mortal body, you executed the Human Emperor’s judgment and successfully purged the False God!
Your Dao Foundation has withstood the baptism of Divine Might and has been inscribed with the unique God-Slaying Sacred Mark!
Warning: The Sacred Mark’s overwhelming power has temporarily fractured your mortal Dao Foundation. This is the inevitable tribulation in shedding your mortal form and forging a divine body!
Recommendation: Quickly consolidate the Sacred Mark with the False God Origin to transform this supreme glory into your true power!
So that’s what it is.
This isn’t a wound—it’s a badge of advancement.
The oppressive weight on Fang Zheng’s chest lifted by more than half.
Panting heavily, he gazed at the newly forged Holy Artifact in his hand, his heart swelling with satisfaction.
It was worth it.
Trading a glorious scar for a world-saving Holy Artifact—this deal was an absolute steal.
With trembling hands, Fang Zheng cradled the jade-white treasure bottle.
It felt warm and smooth to the touch.
Countless devout faces were carved into the bottle, all prostrating in worship toward its opening, forming a Ten Thousand Peoples’ Prayer for Blessings Map.
A stream of pure life force seeped from the bottle, its passage alleviating the searing pain in his meridians.
“A true treasure,” Fang Zheng murmured sincerely.
With this, he could heal the sick, save the dying, and offer Universal Salvation to all beings.
This is true compassion. This is true guardianship!
Fang Zheng solemnly stowed the Eternal Grace Holy Grail in his Storage Bag, forcing himself to stand.
He needed to find a secluded place immediately to fully absorb the power of the God-Slaying Sacred Mark.
Just as he took his first step, a flash of white caught his eye.
Beneath a patch of charred weeds, a Heavenly Kun Spiritual Chicken huddled in a tight ball.
Its hind legs were shattered by the battle’s aftermath, white bone jutting through torn flesh, a gruesome, bloody mess.
The creature lay prostrate on the ground, its body convulsing violently from excruciating pain and sheer terror.
Fang Zheng’s heart was pierced by a sharp pang.
Look, this innocent life is suffering because of my righteous war.
How utterly pitiful!
An idea sparked within him.
Perfect. I can use this small life to test the Sacred Grail’s power of compassion.
And let it become the first fortunate soul saved by the Eternal Grace.
Dragging his heavily wounded body, Fang Zheng approached step by step.
He knelt down and, from his Storage Bag, once again produced the jade-white treasure bottle.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from weakness yet carrying an undeniable tenderness.
“Your suffering ends here.”
“I will bestow upon you the Eternal Grace and a new life.”
Fang Zheng aimed the bottle’s mouth at the terrified, rigid Spiritual Chicken.
Closing his eyes, he silently recited the “Great Compassion Mantra for Saving from Suffering and Calamity” as he understood it.
The last wisp of Great Righteous Qi within him stirred, flowing into the Sacred Grail!
Buzz—!
The Sacred Grail trembled gently.
In Fang Zheng’s perception, a soft, holy light overflowed from the bottle’s mouth, enveloping the Heavenly Kun Spiritual Chicken like a warm hand.
The Spiritual Chicken’s convulsions ceased.
Its rigid body visibly relaxed.
Its entire form gradually became transparent within the holy light, eventually transforming into a faint glow that actively flew into the bottle.
It was liberated.
By returning to its origin, it expressed its gratitude for this supreme mercy!
Ding!
Through your supreme compassion, you have liberated a lost soul, allowing it to return to its life origin and attain eternal peace.
You have received the reward of Merit: ‘Water of Grace’ x1 drop.
It worked!
Fang Zheng’s eyes snapped open, filled with elation.
Beneath the charred patch of weeds, there was nothing left.
Only a small tuft of gray hair, neatly parted in the middle, drifted away in the night breeze.
Fang Zheng immediately lowered his gaze to the Sacred Grail in his hand.
At the bottom of the warm, white jade bottle, a single drop of liquid had appeared.
The liquid was crimson as blood, viscous like a drop of dissolved cinnabar.
Fang Zheng froze, his movements halting abruptly.
Blood?
His steadfast devotion to the Righteous Dao made him abhor Blood Sacrifice and other such vile practices. Why, then, was this product of salvation crimson?
In that moment of doubt, the System’s solemn, sacred voice echoed in his mind:
Note: This is the Blood of Dedication. It crystallizes the purest gratitude and most fervent devotion from a soul at the moment of liberation. Its crimson hue symbolizes sincerity, its essence embodies supreme benevolence. It is the Water of Grace, the most sacred life essence in existence.
So that’s it!
His Realm was too low; he had been misled by appearances.
How superficial to judge by mere appearances!
This crimson was not evil blood, but the scarlet sincerity of unwavering loyalty!
The last trace of doubt in Fang Zheng’s heart vanished like smoke, replaced by shame for his momentary skepticism.
Fang Zheng understood.
This was true “salvation.”
Not mere healing, but liberation from the painful mortal coil, transforming it into a higher-level energy to aid souls in greater need—greater, nobler souls.
Take me, for example.
This Spiritual Chicken made a great sacrifice. Its dedication will save a future Guardian of the Human Dao.
The logic is perfectly self-consistent.
Without further hesitation, Fang Zheng raised the Sacred Grail and aimed the last drop of “Water of Grace” at his mouth.
Glug.
The crimson liquid slid down his throat.
In the next instant, a torrent of primal life essence exploded in his abdomen!
The sensation was nothing like drinking medicine.
It felt like swallowing alive a colossal, raging primordial beast!
“Ugh!”
Fang Zheng groaned, nearly dropping the Sacred Grail.
The force surged through his nearly dried-up meridians, brutally repairing the wounds inflicted by the God-Slaying Sacred Mark.
His bones groaned, his flesh rearranged itself.
Extremes of pain and pleasure tore repeatedly at his nerves.
In just a few breaths, the force had flushed color back into Fang Zheng’s deathly pale face.
The overwhelming weakness that had been threatening to collapse his body was forcibly suppressed by thirty percent.
The effect is extraordinary!
Fang Zheng stared at the empty bottom of the Sacred Grail, then at the spot where the Spiritual Chicken had vanished. His eyes shone with newfound clarity.
He had finally grasped the true essence of the Sacred Grail: the Merciful Exchange.
To sacrifice the individual self to save the greater whole from disaster.
To exchange a mortal body for the life of a saint.
What law in this world could be more just, more compassionate, more radiant with the light of the Righteous Dao?
Fang Zheng carefully stowed away the Sacred Grail, feeling his understanding of the Righteous Dao had ascended to an unprecedented, unparalleled level.
His Inner Strength remained chaotic, and his injuries were far from healed.
The immediate priority was to find a Cave Mansion rich in Spiritual Energy for secluded cultivation.
He needed to fully absorb the vast False God Origin left behind.
Then, he would propagate the merciful Dao of the Grace Sacred Grail far and wide!
After orienting himself, Fang Zheng’s figure transformed into a limping black streak, hurtling toward the distant, deep mountains.
Long after he had departed, the tuft of parted hair left behind was finally stirred by the night wind, scattering into the scorched earth.