I Swear I’m Not a Demonic Cultivator - Chapter 45
Chapter 45: Virtue’s Vengeance
A pure black rift tore violently through the void.
Fang Zheng, his square-jawed face radiating a burning, absolute resolve, plunged headfirst into the abyss.
He didn’t look back.
He dared not look back.
Behind him lay the Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation, a trap he had personally laid. From within came the harrowing screams of his fellow Daoists, the very people he had sought to protect.
Before him surged the frenzied adoration of the Demonic Path, a tidal wave of fervent worship. And there, looming over it all, stood the cold, colossal Golden Throne, awaiting its new Master.
Devil! Fang Zheng is a devil! one voice shrieked amid the chaos.
Hail the Holy Son’s ascension! another voice roared in triumph.
His guardianship had become slaughter.
His benevolence had become evidence of his crime.
Hell at his back, the altar before him.
Trapped between them, he had nowhere to turn.
Fang Zheng, Fang Zheng, what utter folly have you wrought…? Without the Righteous Dao Alliance cultivators, how can you hope to withstand the Demonic Sect?!
The guilt gnawing at his heart threatened to tear him apart.
Escape.
Escape this utterly absurd nightmare.
As the spatial rift snapped shut, Fang Zheng’s presence was utterly erased from this world. Time seemed to freeze.
On the colossal bone ship, the fanatical fervor on the faces of the thousands of Demonic Cultivators froze, replaced by an incomprehensible bewilderment.
The Holy Son… has left?
Halfway through the Coronation Ceremony, the protagonist just… left?
Abandoned the Golden Throne, the Blood Sacrifice Great Formation, and all of us worshippers, just… walked away?
Why?
“Holy Maiden…” a Demon Monarch, his muscles coiled like pythons, ventured cautiously, his voice laced with confusion. “What profound meaning lies behind the Holy Son’s actions? Could it be that he is dissatisfied with us?”
“Indeed! Should we pursue him immediately and beg forgiveness?”
“The Holy Son seems to be heading toward the Far North Ice Plains… that place…”
The Demonic Cultivators buzzed with speculation, the fervor of their newly formed faith beginning to crack.
Their hearts were adrift.
“Silence.”
Yun Shuishui’s cold, clear voice, though soft, instantly quelled the uproar.
She didn’t glance in the direction Fang Zheng had vanished.
Raising her hand, she stilled the restless crowd.
Her gaze, like a searchlight, slowly swept across the three objects before her.
First, the empty Golden Throne stood there silently, a colossal mockery.
Second, in the distance, the Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation continued its relentless operation, ceaselessly draining the life force of Righteous Path cultivators. Blood-red light surged skyward, and the air seethed with resentful energy.
Third, she herself, and the bewildered Demonic Path followers behind her.
The crimson glow reflected off her exquisite silver butterfly mask, casting an eerie light.
She said nothing.
She was thinking.
All the Demonic Cultivators held their breath, awaiting the Holy Maiden’s final interpretation. They firmly believed that only she could fathom the Holy Son’s profound and unfathomable divine will.
Finally.
Yun Shuishui smiled.
Beneath her mask, her crimson lips curved into a knowing, all-seeing arc.
In her soul-stirring peach blossom eyes, a manic brilliance flashed—the light of sudden enlightenment.
She understood.
She understood completely!
Slowly, she turned to face the anxious Demonic Cultivators, her voice filled with awe and reverence as if unveiling a celestial secret.
“You think the Holy Son is fleeing?”
She shook her head gently, her tone tinged with pity and guidance for their foolishness.
“You’re wrong.”
“This isn’t an escape! This is the Holy Son’s first—and most severe—trial for all of us!”
A trial?
The Demonic Cultivators were stunned.
Yun Shuishui extended a jade-like finger toward the empty Golden Throne, her voice rising with a heart-piercing, contagious fervor!
“First question: Why does the throne remain vacant?”
“This is the ‘Myriad Demons Throne,’ reforged by the Primordial Demon Sovereign, symbolizing the supreme authority of the Demonic Path! Why has the Holy Son refused to ascend?”
She didn’t give them time to ponder, immediately announcing the answer.
“Because we are not yet worthy!”
“The merits we have offered today, the loyalty we have displayed at this moment—they fall far short of earning him the right to sit upon that throne with peace of mind!”
“Were he to ascend, it would desecrate the Primordial Sovereign’s legacy and insult his own honor! The empty throne is his message: the glory of the Demonic Path must be forged through genuine deeds, not a hollow ceremony!”
Boom!
Her words struck the Demonic Cultivators’ minds like a thunderbolt.
So… that’s the reason!
The Holy Son doesn’t disdain us; he’s using this sternest method to spur us on!
Seeing the dawning realization on everyone’s faces, Yun Shuishui’s conviction deepened.
Her finger pointed once more toward the distant Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation, its crimson light piercing the sky.
“Second question: Why does this blood formation remain?”
“This is the supreme Divine Ability of the Primordial Demon Sovereign—the Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation! Once activated, all living things become sacrificial offerings! Why would the Holy Son leave such a thing behind?”
“He could have effortlessly dismantled or taken the Great Formation with a wave of his hand! Yet he didn’t!”
Yun Shuishui’s voice grew increasingly fervent, as if she had become the Holy Son’s mouthpiece.
“Because this is the ‘gift’ he has bestowed upon us! A lavish offering to complete our ‘pledge of loyalty’!”
“He has left us these elites of the Righteous Dao—these perfect sacrificial offerings! He seeks to test us: how will we handle this bounty? Will we be content with paltry gains, or will we use their flesh, blood, and Divine Souls to perform a grander, more perfect sacrifice, proclaiming the Holy Son’s return to the entire Profound Heaven Continent?!”
“This, then, is the Holy Son’s second trial for us! A test of our resolve! A test of our comprehension! A test of whether we are truly worthy to be his followers!”
The moment Yun Shuishui finished speaking, a deathly silence gripped the entire hall.
Then, like a volcanic eruption, a wave of fervent passion and boundless worship erupted!
“I understand now! I completely understand!”
“The Holy Son’s intentions are profound! We foolish ones nearly misunderstood his divine will!”
“So that’s it! This is the true art of rulership!”
Yun Shuishui raised her hand, silencing the clamor, and delivered her final, most crucial conclusion.
“Third question: Why did the Holy Son journey north?”
“Because the north is the Far North Ice Plains! The cradle of our Demonic Path’s ancient rise, the sacred ground where the Primordial Demon Sovereign condensed the first wisp of Demonic Energy!”
“He wasn’t fleeing! He was embarking on an ‘inspection tour’! He seeks to tread the forgotten lands, to walk the path once trod by our Primordial Ancestor, to reclaim the glory our Demonic Path has lost for millennia!”
“He leaves his Golden Throne here, his Sacrificial Offerings to us, venturing alone to the sacred grounds. What unparalleled trust! What extraordinary courage!”
“He awaits us!” Yun Shuishui’s voice echoed through the heavens. “Awaits us to deliver a flawless answer. Then, crowned with supreme glory, we shall journey to the northern sacred ground, to welcome our sovereign’s true ascension to the throne!”
The Demonic Cultivators’ gazes toward the Blood Sacrifice Floating Pagoda Great Prison-Suppressing Formation instantly transformed.
It was no longer merely a Killing Formation.
It was a trial bestowed upon them by the Holy Son! A stage upon which they could prove their worth!
This Holy Son, a once-in-ten-thousand-years prodigy, possessed not only heaven-defying power but also unfathomable depth in his actions.
To follow such a being was the greatest honor of their lives!
Meanwhile, on the other side of Hundred Herbs Valley:
Seven or eight Righteous Path cultivators who had narrowly escaped the crimson Great Formation were burning their life essence, fleeing frantically eastward.
As they glanced back, they caught sight of Fang Zheng tearing through space and escaping northward.
Among them, a seasoned Sect Elder, his face as pale as paper and his voice trembling, muttered:
“Northward…”
“Toward the Far North Ice Plains!”
“It’s over! Everything’s over!”
A younger cultivator, bewildered, asked, “Elder, what’s wrong with the north?”
“What do you know?!” the Elder roared like a madman, his face etched with the despair of impending doom.
“Legend has it that ten thousand years ago, the Ancient Demonic Path’s stronghold was built within the Eternal Night Demon Cave in the Far North Ice Plains!”
“Fang Zheng… he…”
“He’s not running away! He’s returning to the Demonic Path’s ancient stronghold in the far north! He’s going to awaken those Old Demons who have slumbered for ten thousand years!”
This conclusion sent a bone-chilling dread through all the survivors.
A terrifying vision automatically formed in their minds:
Fang Zheng, the Demon Son of this era, returning to that cursed land. Using the blood of tens of thousands of Righteous Dao cultivators from Hundred Herbs Valley as a Sacrificial Offering, he would awaken countless Great Ancient Demons.
When that day comes, the entire Profound Heaven Continent will never know peace again!
“Hurry!” the Elder rasped, his voice hoarse with his last reserves of strength. “We must send this news back to the Righteous Dao Alliance at once!”
“Tell everyone! The apocalypse… has arrived!”
Several streaks of light, carrying boundless terror and a completely twisted “truth,” tore through the sky and vanished into the east.
No one knew.
The man whom the Righteous Dao regarded as the Demon Lord of Doomsday and whom the Demonic Path revered as a god of wisdom—
At that very moment, he stood on the precipice of utter collapse.