Chapter 42: Signs of the Monster

Mo Jiang was nearly thrown to the ground by the force of the blast.

He climbed to his feet, still somewhat dazed. Who would have thought that Master Mingkang, out of fear of being “corrupted” by him, would choose to self-destruct on the spot?

A fourth-level self-destruction at standard power was no trivial matter—the shockwave left Mo Jiang aching all over. But that was the extent of it.

In Mo Jiang’s memory, only one stingy old fellow—Zhong Kui, a character from a game—would choose self-destruction to take someone down with him.

“But what kind of ideology has this Demonic-Heavenly Dao been instilling in these cultivators?” Mo Jiang’s gaze wandered until he suddenly noticed the tea tree was still there, though half of it was gone.

Unlike his own skin and bone armor, which was remarkably durable, this tea tree was not. Recalling Master Mingkang’s dying words about the “divine tea tree,” Mo Jiang’s interest was piqued, and he went over to pull it out.

Blue arcs of electricity danced across his hand upon contact, but they couldn’t harm him.

“This should count as a rare resource, right?” Mo Jiang mused, planning to trade it for a first-level Wish Fruit—though the relevant exchange function in the Realm Gate would only unlock once he killed the Heavenly Dao of this demonic world.

“If the Demonic-Heavenly Dao won’t act directly, but instead sends unlucky disciples like this to their deaths, is it trying to mimic some clichéd villain, making each disciple come at me one by one, like those grandsons rescuing their grandfather in a children’s tale?”

Just as Mo Jiang finished speaking, his phone vibrated.

In this world, no one could possibly be calling him. The only one who could make his phone vibrate was Mo Qingqing.

He pulled it out, his face breaking into a broad grin.

“Haha, so after the Demonic-Heavenly Dao incarnated as a ‘human,’ it can no longer leave its Dao Abode. Well then, I’ll just deal with your disciples one by one!”

Mo Qingqing had just sensed this. Her “eye-planting” ability was practically omnipotent—all-seeing and all-knowing!

Mo Jiang didn’t know the locations of all the places in this world, but at the fourth level of standard power, any commotion would surely cause energy fluctuations. These would be subtle if no power was being exerted, but with Mo Jiang’s shortcut, any test would send out ripples, drawing them to him.

However, before Mo Jiang even left the city, he ran into two more cultivators head-on.

Both were young, about seventeen or eighteen, and both at the fourth-level standard power—a major force in this virtual realm!

They seemed to be a couple, arriving together with a clear purpose: they had received orders from the Demonic-Heavenly Dao and learned of Master Mingkang’s death. They had come for revenge.

“Demon from another world, you killed Senior Brother Mingkang! I’ll kill you to avenge him!”

Shouting this, the pair launched their attack.

Since they were so direct, Mo Jiang had no patience for small talk. Gripping his bone-handled battle-axe, he charged at them. Their spells struck him, erupting into bursts of flame.

The flames scorched Mo Jiang badly, filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh; his hair and eyebrows were gone in an instant.

He couldn’t help cursing aloud.

Driven to fury, he brought the axe down and lopped off the woman’s head without hesitation. Then, wasting no time, he cleaved through the man’s spell and ended his life as well.

“It’s always a slog for a shield warrior to fight spellcasters,” Mo Jiang muttered. These were genuine spells, wielded with fourth-level standard power.

“But they’re nothing compared to the feats of Monk Wuxing!”

Mo Jiang had witnessed Monk Wuxing’s powers before: a single chant of “Namo Amitabha Buddha” had slain the corporeal form of the Mad Ghost Monk, forcing his spirit to flee, only to be destroyed by a middle-aged Daoist’s sword.

These two young cultivators might be major powers here, but facing them felt like playing a game—they were clearly not at full strength.

“Or maybe it’s just that I've reached the pinnacle of the fourth level,” Mo Jiang reasoned, then set the thought aside. At that moment, Mo Qingqing informed him that a large group of cultivators—three of them at the major power level—were gathering in one location. Mo Jiang hefted his bone-handled axe and headed there.

It was a neighboring town, large but sparsely populated, surrounded by barren mountains.

In the town’s best hotel, three major powers took the lead, assembling hundreds of cultivators to besiege the foreign demon. Among them were Gate-Knocking and My-Dao cultivators. None were at the initial refinement stage—perhaps they were simply too weak, not even fit to serve as cannon fodder.

These three major powers were also young, only in their teens, yet they had already advanced from initial refinement to the major power level.

In the history of the demonic world’s cultivation, such major powers were reputed to be geniuses seen only once in a hundred years!

Though young, these three prodigies commanded great authority, for their master was the Heavenly Dao of this world.

The only fact acknowledged by the current cultivation world was this: the Heavenly Dao had vanished; a former major power had merged with the Dao to mend the world’s flaws, annihilated the demons and ghosts, and restored order to the world.

Had Mo Jiang known this, he would have scoffed.

But as it was, he arrived oblivious to these details. He strode straight into the hotel and swung his axe—the building collapsed in a thunderous crash, and all the gathered cultivators, save for the three major powers and a few My-Dao-levels, were buried in the rubble, unable to escape.

“Demon from another world!”

Upon seeing Mo Jiang, the three major powers were furious, but they immediately turned to flee.

“This demon is too strong! We’ll retreat for now and wait for our senior brothers and sisters to gather. Then we’ll strike together!” one shouted, but before he could finish, a massive axe flew toward him.

It was Mo Jiang’s bone-handled battle-axe, hurled with deadly precision. It struck true, beheading the speaker—a spellcaster by all appearances. Strangely, his soul did not appear, nor did he revive.

The Mad Ghost Monk’s soul had managed to escape, after all!

Mo Jiang took this in stride. He then swung a powerful punch at another man, an older My-Dao-level cultivator who seemed to have survived the Heavenly Dao’s return. Remarkably, the man dodged, spitting something out that made Mo Jiang’s fist ache and allowed him to escape.

“These so-called major powers really are overrated,” Mo Jiang mused, realizing that this man was not inferior to the Mad Ghost Monk, and decided not to pursue him—he might have some resurrection trick up his sleeve.

As for the others, they lacked such abilities and were swiftly dispatched with an axe or a punch each.

Mo Jiang glanced at the rubble, sensing survivors. He casually toppled another building, burying the entire site.

On a whim, he dragged over a stone monument and inscribed upon it: “Grave of Ten Thousand Cultivators.” Only then did he walk away, satisfied.