The cultivation master

Far away from the Mist sect and its conflicts, on a lofty peak that kissed the moonlight every night, stood a stunning woman on a high balcony with a view that stretched across vast plains for miles. She shone in her magnificent palace, as if she were the moon's lost half.

The Matriarch of the supreme Moon Sect, deep in thought after hearing the words of the Dark King, pondered something she could barely fathom: if that zombie truly was the true demon Bai Mo.

Her anxiety had a simple reason. If Bai Mo was as dangerous as to unsettle even one of the heavenly Kings, why would she bring him to the supreme Moon Sect?

Someone of such power, capable of threatening a heavenly King, could easily destroy a sect like the supreme Moon Sect without breaking a sweat.

The Matriarch couldn't refuse the Dark King, so she decided to strengthen every possible defense in hopes of containing the monster in his presence.

In her heart, she fervently wished that zombie was not Bai Mo, a sentiment the Dark King secretly shared. But since neither voiced their thoughts, they remained unaware of the other's fears.

The Matriarch withdrew into seclusion and issued orders to fortify the sect's formations and barriers. She armed the magical towers and summoned sorcerers from all over under the guise of a grand assembly.

These decisions were all made in a single night.

******

As the sun still shone in the sky, its warm orange light gradually fading, a train bound for the Eastern Lands finally arrived at its station.

Fang Yuan stepped off the train but used magic to make himself invisible, ensuring no one would spot him. The last thing he needed now was attention.

The station was crowded with refugees, displaced by the cultivators' battles. Fearing the constant threat of roaming bandits, they sought the relative safety of nearby immortal sects.

Those in this region chose villages near the Mist Sect. The Mist Sect was one of the few places with relative security. Aside from occasional bandit attacks on travelers, there was no danger as long as one stayed within the villages.

Unbeknownst to them, a notorious bandit gang had been annihilated by an immortal master just hours before. When this news reached the refugees, they wept with joy.

Travelers eager to ingratiate themselves with the immortal master scoured the area but found no trace of him. Disheartened after hours of fruitless searching, they eventually moved on.

The Eastern Lands, unlike the forested paths from which they had come, were less densely wooded. The further east they traveled, the fewer trees they saw, replaced by golden meadows stretching to the horizon.

On a road flanked by rows of spruce trees, Fang Yuan rode on a cart toward a hilltop village, the perfect place to begin his mission.

Fang Yuan played with a stalk of wheat between his lips, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Occasionally, he spotted birds soaring through the blue sky, disappearing into the intertwined branches of the trees.

A man he'd met by chance, a local of this area, spoke of cultivators, bandits, and demonic beasts that had recently grown in number. Yet, he failed to clarify any connection between these events.

[Cultivators are greedy people who won't lift a finger unless their interests are at stake. If they've come here, there must be some opportunity for advancement or insight in this region. Still, there might be more to this than meets the eye, and I won't judge until I'm certain.]

Fang Yuan glanced at the stone walls surrounding the village and smiled faintly.

Thousands of years ago, when he was still known as Saint Bai Mo, he had spent some time in a similar village. Back then, he was part of the righteous Path Sects, defending people against the Dark Path and demons. These memories transported him to an era long past when he had yet to embark on the path of the True Demon.

The cart's wheels creaked, blending with the cicadas' songs. Occasionally, the bumpy road caused sudden jolts, but Bai Mo, lying atop a haystack, barely noticed.

Eventually, the cart entered the village, and Bai Mo leaped off the haystack.

"Thank you, sir. Please accept these copper coins," he said, offering payment.

"Oh no, sir! I merely brought you along my route. Besides, you protected me and my goods from demonic beasts along the way. Please consider it my small debt of gratitude for saving my life."

Fang Yuan stepped closer, gently placing the coins into the farmer's hand. "Brother, saving you was my duty, and these coins are a token of my goodwill. Please accept this humble offering."

Witnessing Fang Yuan's humility, the villagers were impressed by his lack of arrogance.

"That man's clearly a cultivator! Yet, he speaks without pride. He's a true master who doesn't judge others by their status. A hero of justice!"

"My heavens, a savior has come to rescue us…"

The farmer reluctantly accepted the coins, bowing deeply.

Behind his mask, Fang Yuan wore a sly smile, satisfied that the villagers had fallen for his act.

People in hardship clung to any glimmer of hope, embracing it with open arms. In their desperation, they never questioned the true intentions of the hand extended toward them.

A hero of justice? Fang Yuan, cloaked in anonymity, exploited their plight for his gain. They could never discern the true nature of someone who even deceived his own shadow.

This small performance was just the first step in gaining their trust—and perhaps the trust of those watching him from the shadows. Fang Yuan knew cultivators were present in the area, so he naturally hid his true identity.

If they belonged to the righteous Path, he could ally with them to uncover the truth. If they followed the demonic Path, they would come after him, and he'd be ready.

It was a flawless plan. Demons lacked unity, and even within the righteous Path, hierarchy ruled. Even if he secured the lowest rank, he could, when needed, strike unexpectedly, wiping everyone out and claiming ultimate victory.

Now, he only had to wait for the bandits to attack the village again.

Clenching his fist, Fang Yuan headed for the village's sole inn.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a cloaked figure watching him. The figure, encouraged by Fang Yuan's friendly demeanor, murmured under their breath, "Immortal Master…"