He couldn’t lie to himself. One of the few things, Dong ZhenKang, he hated more than the Spider Cult Valley was a mundane thing. Most people did it without noticing. A natural reaction that seemed predisposed to anyone that had a measure of success in cultivation.

Tiny Mortal Realm cultivators didn’t seem to carry this loathsome thing.

But as soon as they enter the Immortal realms they suddenly find themselves exhibiting it more often. Much to his great displeasure. And yet, here he was standing before his massive window looking down at the small town he had founded.

It left a horrendous taste in his mouth to stand here and… contemplate life. As though he could find clarity in the scant seconds of watching some beggared peasant attempting to sell half rotten vegetables they had picked up in the forest outside the barrier.

Or was he supposed to find ancient truths in the whores hawking and nearly nagging at anyone that seemed better than poor. If you had enough coin to buy extra food then you were prey to their machinations.

Dong ZhenKang sighed deeply. The maelstrom of thoughts running untethered in his mind promised to eviscerate his scant brutish ideologies and attempts to keep a humbler–

He growled. Shook his head as hard as he could. This was why he hated contemplating. It brought back the urge to become what he had been meant to be, the person he should have been now if the world didn’t collapse sixty years ago.

It was just his luck to be caught in the bosom of the most voluptuous village widow he had ever met, when his sect had suddenly closed all their gates and activated the greatest array barriers they had available to them. Once fully powered, no one was going in or out for at least seventy years.

“Sixty fucking eight.” He rumbled like a tornado. That was how long it had been since he had been forced out of his home, his family, his fucking future!

He felt his already taxed core come to life in a fit of thunder and raging wind. It called to him. Begged him to release its awe inspiring power. Fill the sky with dark clouds. Let there be screaming winds that threatened to tear the entire town to shreds.

And he would have…

If there wasn’t a real monster residing in said town. With a force of will, he hadn’t needed to keep for a long time, he pressed his living Liquid Core down and told it to shut its trap. It was a struggle, but he lived it for years before finding his own power.

Better silent then dead.

That was his motto. Alone and by himself he couldn’t have possibly done anything but be dead within the year with the sudden rush of evil cultivators and demons invading the lands. How many villages had he seen burned to the ground?

How many pyramids of heads had he had the distaste of witnessing?

Until he was strong enough to fight back. That was the day his Silver Mountain Gang came into being. A group of weak idiots and one strong cultivator swore to never let anyone take advantage of them again.

Now, all his friends were dead, leaving him alone with their legacy. Yes, it was stronger than before, but these people around him would stab a knife in his back if it meant they had domain over this barrier and land. They believed that was the reason the Spider Cult Valley had yet to eliminate them.

Dong ZhenKang looked down a far distance to the home he had gifted Hu Xinyi. It was a perfect spot to spy from and if worse was to come, then protect what would have been an investment.

He felt his body deflate. The Hu ‘ancestor’ was showing the tiny Hu Shui how to throw a proper punch. It was a very orthodox motion with no wasted moments. It had the most simplistic goals. To hit the enemy fast and hard. Nothing fancy. No spinning kicks to gather energy, no long winding combinations that led into a crescendo of devastating power.

Just simple punches. Straight and narrow. Some hooked, others came from below, but it was the same. A mortal technique. Made for either the fundamentalists, of which no longer exist outside of the secluded sects, or the weakest mortal to fight other mortals. And yet here he stood, feeling waves of energy coarse through his limbs from every strike the ancient thing threw.

Wide hooking strikes that seamlessly led to dodges that again led to counters and light strikes. Every punch thrown caused reverberations in the Qi around them. All without an ounce of his inner strength.

He dared not imagine the destruction that could be wrought by a serious strike. Or worse, an actual Martial Technique wielding Qi so old it out dated his very existence.

Hidden masters. Hidden sages. Hidden legends tired of the worldly life and only wanted solitude.

So why in all that is holy did this guy–

“Dong ZhenKang? Watching your pretty thing again, are we?” said the slimiest voice he had ever heard.

Dong ZhenKang had the urge to dry heave. Instead he closed his eyes and allowed the thrum of his core to slowly bring him equilibrium. Only then could he reply without killing the pest and dooming himself and everyone living here–other than the ancient monster and maybe the Hu girls–within three days.

“Lang Tu.” Dong ZhenKang said with as much hate and disdain.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He turned to look at the thin sickly elder before him. A weak Gaseous core cultivator he would have, in normal circumstances, killed without hesitation at such disrespect. But not this Gaseous core filth.

No, this filth called the Spider Cult Valley his family. A representative of sorts he claimed to be, but Dong ZhenKang knew better. Lang Tu was nothing more than a worthless mouthpiece they had sent if he ever raged out of control and killed someone. An unknowing sacrificial lamb that thought it was the wolf.

But, he knew better than to fall for such an obvious trap. The second he killed the fool with a grating voice would be the moment he found an army of Spider Cult Valley filth at his doors. And at the head of them are their two Peak Immortals.

Alone, he could escape, but burdened with the legacy of his only friends, it was impossible to survive such a siege.

Lang Tu walked to stand next to him, peering over the edge of his window. His wispy white hair and pock marked face crickled into a mess of wrinkles that was meant to be a smile. It was made for Dong ZhenKang’s prodigious height, not some short bastard that needed a stool to look out of. Lang Tu giggled.

Dong ZhenKang struggled not to tear his head off.

“You know.” Lang Tu began. “They say they aren't even from this province.”

Dong ZhenKang frowned, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Lang Tu licked his lips. “They say…” he drawled. “They come from a certain Family clan with a bounty over their head. I wonder what the price on their desecrated corpses would be? Has to be something special to reach this far out, right?”

Lang Tu turned to look back at Dong ZhenKang, only for the hulking Bandit Lord to grab him by the neck. He squeezed.

The reason Dong ZhenKang had survived until this day was for a simple reason, he knew when to bend and when to be as firm as iron. And this was the time to be cold iron, sharpened and thirsty for blood.

He had a chance to survive the Spider Cult Valley, but death was merely a formality if he or anyone insulted that ancient monster into action. The stories were quite clear on this fact. Mountains disappearing, entire millenia old forests filled with unfathomable beasts burned to a hellscape, waves of water that eclipsed the clouds.

Dong ZhenKang would take his chances on the minimal percentage he would make it out a serious siege. If he played his cards right, he could come out relatively fine.

Lang Tu’s eyes nearly popped out from his slowly purpling face. He struggled to speak mouth miming words. Terror filled his eyes.

He saw the slime gather his inner strength as though it would help. There was nothing that could stop–

“...Shao Yating!”

Dong ZhenKang dropped him. “W-what?”

Lang Tu struggled to breathe, gulping massive lungfuls. He could see the pitiful old thing shake like a branch. He probably would die from a heart attack at any second.

Dong ZhenKang was not going to wait. He grabbed his robe and picked him up. “Speak or they won't find enough pieces of you to stitch back together.”

“Shao Yating! Shao Yating! He’s coming to teach you a lesson!”

Dong ZhenKang threw him across the room, sending him crashing into a desk and chair. His mind searched for what the hidden goal could be, but from what he had heard of the Prince of Spiders, it could very likely be a whim of sadism.

No clan, sect, cult, or gang could claim an entire stretch of land as large as the Spider Cult Valley with their strongest in the Immortal Peak Rank. They had to be at the very least one rank higher in the Heavenly Immortal Rank.

But the Spider Cult Valley was different. While they themselves had very little power compared to their neighbors, no one dared to mess with them in case a bigger more dangerous foe appeared.

The second son of their current patriarch had married into one of the hegemons of the Evil Sects. He had somehow reeled in one of their youngest core members into courtship. How they finished the deal and got the Dark Gate Palace to agree to the marriage, he had no clue.

Last he had heard, the kid had broken through to the Immortal Peak rank at just the twenty seventh of age. Now its been nearly eight months since then. With the resources and heavenly weapons available to the Dark Gate Palace, it put him in a position of great trouble.

He would need to kowtow.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. After all this time, after all the preparations he made to hide away from– “Fuck.”

If a stronger person shows up, which was very likely to protect Shao Yating, then they would see through his cultivation and find out he had the base of a righteous cultivator. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Did everything he worked so hard to accomplish mean nothing?

The years of manipulating the courts and convincing the remaining neutral clans and cities to force the evil sects into an unchanging stalemate.

Devising his plan to hide deep within Evil Sect territory as a bandit where he could rely on his strength more than political ploys to survive. A place that wasn’t meant to have anyone strong enough to ever come back to it. The supposed backwaters… and yet some spoiled brat was going to bring everything down on a fucking whim?!

Lang Tu got up from the ground and dusted himself. “He’ll be here in two weeks. Shao Yating was passing by and decided to visit your little village.” He then threw a scroll onto the ground then turned around and stalked out through the shadows. “I hope you rot in hell.”

Dong ZhenKang called the scroll mindlessly. The wind picked it up and it shot to his waiting hand. Without looking he opened it up.

“I used the last ‘Core Deception Talisman’ six years ago. How am I supposed–” His eyes fell onto the words of the scroll.

His mouth dropped open. Dong ZhenKang ran to his window and stared down at the Hu girls.

It was those Hu?!

Wait…

Xinyi had joined the previous pair in the striking practice. She seemed faster? Lighter on her feet? Stronger? If anyone could recognize a difference in her it would be him, he had watched her nearly every day, watching her wordlessly apply herself to her martial techniques.

She was different.

Then a thought ran through his head like a bolt of lightning. His worried expression turned into a mischievous smile that promised suffering. Shadows detailed his face.

Dong ZhenKang was no brute. Savages like that don’t live long enough in this world of theirs. Just ask his friends and family. Now, another would fall in his continuous rise.

Maybe that ancient ancestor protecting Xinyi wouldn’t be much of a problem after all. He wondered what kind of forces the Dark Gate Palace would bring out for the death of one of their most talented sect members.

At the cusp of their fight, he would swoop in and take that Hu girl for himself. With them none the wiser.