“SPIES?! YOU WANT TO SEND SPIES?! Have you gone mad?”
Deep within the heart of the Rocky Mountains, where Feng Zhiming and Mu Han were headed, two figures were locked in a heated argument within an empty hall. The hall was modest, yet elegantly designed, with a balanced contrast of black and gold. The scent of herbal tea lingered in the air, adding a veneer of calm that belied the tension between the two men.
The one who had shouted was a stout, round-faced old man, appearing to be in his fifties. He was clean-shaven, wearing a gray cultivator’s robe that marked his status. Had Feng Zhiming been present, he might have recognized this man buried deep within his fragmented memories—the second elder of the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect.
In this sect, a strict hierarchy was observed. At the top was the Matriarch, the supreme leader. Below her were the five primal demons, beings of immense power who typically abstained from the sect's daily affairs, intervening only in matters of battle. Equal to these demons were the two elders, who oversaw major decisions within the sect. Each of these figures was at least at the Heavenly Eye level of cultivation. Below the elders were the supervisors, all at the Spiritual Awakening stage, and beneath them were the students of the sect, ranging from Body Refining to Ethereal Core cultivators.
“It is the will of the Matriarch,” the other man responded calmly. He wore a similar gray robe but had a full head of white hair, despite looking to be in his fifties as well. He was taller and leaner than the second elder, with a small beard that added to his dignified appearance.
*BANG!*
The second elder slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the teacup he had set down moments earlier. “You and I both know that Spiritual Awakening experts cannot infiltrate the orthodox factions—they would be discovered immediately!”
The first elder remained composed, raising his cup to take a slow sip of tea before responding. “You would rather send hatchlings at the Ethereal Core stage to their deaths? The moment they use their demonic phenomena or unique techniques, they will be exposed.”
The second elder gritted his teeth, his frustration evident. “We have no other option. Either we send them to learn the plans of those hypocrites, or we sit here and wait for them to strike.”
A heavy silence fell over the hall, both men contemplating the dire situation.
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“They dare to be this bold for only one reason,” the second elder muttered, his voice thick with resignation.
The first elder stood up, his eyes filled with a cold determination. “Regardless, we must act under these circumstances. Find a suitable Quasi-Ethereal Core cultivator to go undercover into the orthodoxy.”
He knew that finding a wild Ethereal Core expert was rare, and someone at the Quasi stage would be a more believable infiltrator than an Actualized expert.
The second elder vanished from his seat, leaving the hall as if he had never been there. The first elder walked out, stepping onto the balcony overlooking the vast expanse of the sect. His hands were clasped behind his back, fingers clenching slightly as he gazed out.
“All is for the Heavenly Demon,” he whispered, his resolve firm.
…
Meanwhile, Mu Han and Feng Zhiming had arrived at the peak of a mountain, looking down into a deep valley. The valley, known as the Demonic Divine Valley, was home to the Heavenly Divine Demon Sect. From their vantage point, the sect sprawled across the valley floor, covering at least fifty miles, nearly filling the entire space.
The sect was structured in a traditional format. The exterior was fortified with structures meant for security and defense. Beyond this was the residential zone, followed by the training grounds and the core of the sect. At the very end, a large building stood, clearly a meeting hall, its stairs leading up to it overlooking the entirety of the sect.
“Senior brother, how can the elders think of sending spies? Wouldn’t our demonic cultivation expose us immediately?” Mu Han asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Demonic cultivators, even at the Body Refining stage, followed a path starkly different from orthodox cultivators. While the orthodox relied on herbs and natural methods to refine their bodies, demonic cultivators used more extreme methods, boiling vats of water, bathing in the blood of slain cultivators, and other macabre techniques.
“Some demonic cultivation methods are more subtle than others,” Feng Zhiming replied. “Naturally, they would choose someone who isn’t easily exposed.”
They reached the gate of the sect, where Mu Han shouted with all his might, “OPEN THE DOOR, YOU SLACKERS!”
A figure peeked over the wall, and Feng Zhiming tensed instinctively. Even the gatekeeper was a Spiritual Awakening expert, a testament to the sect’s power.
“Oh, it’s Disciple Mu and Disciple Feng,” the gatekeeper acknowledged.
The massive door swung open, and they walked inside. Mu Han approached the gatekeeper, handing him a few gold coins. “Did the old man find out we were in town?”
“You’re safe, run along,” the gatekeeper replied, pocketing the coins.
Feng Zhiming observed the exchange with mild amusement. No wonder Mu Han had such sway over a Spiritual Awakening expert—he was the grandson of the second elder. An interesting junior brother to have, indeed.
“I have something to do. Let’s meet up later,” Feng Zhiming said, taking flight toward his residence. It was time to formulate a plan of action.
Mu Han watched him go, frowning. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PAY ME BACK TODAY!” he shouted after him, but Feng Zhiming was already out of earshot, lost in thought as he flew through the air.