Chapter 60: The Demon Lord, Profound Art of Yin-Yang and Netherworld

"The Dragon Master is elusive; I have no idea where she is. I'm waiting for her just like you," Zhou Xue replied calmly, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

Below the cliff stretched a barren wasteland, endless and desolate. At the edge where sky and earth met, bursts of intense light flickered intermittently. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that two cultivators were locked in battle, their magical artifacts producing the dazzling flashes.

Cao Ran followed her gaze, clicking his tongue in amazement. "After witnessing Fang Wang's strength, these so-called geniuses are nothing special. You weren't lying, were you? He’s only been at the Grand Abyss Sect for three years?"

Zhou Xue let out a soft laugh. "If you doubt me, believe what you will."

Cao Ran snorted coldly. "Always acting mysterious—how boring. I’m leaving." With that, he turned and departed.

Before he left, Zhou Xue called after him, "Don’t forget our business."

Cao Ran waved dismissively and transformed into a cloud of black mist, swiftly vanishing into the sky.

Zhou Xue turned back and continued to watch the battle.

…

For most cultivators, half a year in the Sanctum of the Great Sage was an ordeal, each day dragging on like a year. Yet for those with formidable strength, the time felt all too brief—they hadn’t yet explored every corner of the sanctum.

Since Cao Ran's departure, no cultivators had come to disturb Fang Wang. Occasionally, a demon beast would pass by, but Fang Wang needn't lift a finger; Little Purple handled them effortlessly.

Each day, Little Purple’s demonic aura grew stronger. Fang Wang felt it was now at least as powerful as Xu Lang’s. And that was just judging by its aura; after so many years in the sanctum, it had surely inherited some exceptional techniques.

"It's finally over."

Fang Wang rose and stretched lazily. Two days prior, he had broken through to the second layer of the Spirit Pill stage, so he'd spent these days relaxing by the lakeside with Little Purple, awaiting the sanctum's spirit to send them out.

Little Purple nestled at the opening of his shirt. Ever since learning the spirit would send the cultivators away, it had clung to Fang Wang, afraid that in a moment of carelessness, Fang Wang would be sent out while it remained.

"Master, how much longer?" Little Purple asked nervously, its voice soft and pitiable.

Fang Wang stroked its snake head, chuckling gently. "I don't know either. Don't worry, we'll get out."

Little Purple was bound by the Soul Binding Curse, belonging to him now. The sanctum’s spirit should be able to recognize that.

During this time, Little Purple had helped him collect many rare resources, filling both his storage bags to the brim. For all its hard work, he felt obliged to comfort it.

"Once we're out, I'll lift the curse and set you free. You can start thinking about where you want to go," Fang Wang said, stretching as he spoke.

Once back at the Grand Abyss Sect, he planned to retreat until he reached the ninth layer of the Spirit Pill stage. With his mastery of exceptional techniques, few in the Qi Immortal Realm would be able to threaten him.

"Where to..." Little Purple murmured in his arms, its snake eyes filled with confusion.

It had never truly considered this question. For centuries, it had only wanted to escape. Especially after meeting Fang Wang, all it thought about was how to please him, with no time for anything else.

Yes, where should it go?

---

It had spent over three hundred years in the Sanctum of the Great Sage. In the outside world, it had no kin.

Not only was it utterly alone, everything outside was unknown. Where should it go next?

Sensing its dejection, Fang Wang realized he hadn't comforted it adequately. He suggested, "If you don't know where to go, why not stay with me for a while? Whenever you want to leave, just say so. Once we're out of the sanctum, you won’t be of much help to me, and I have no reason to keep you bound. If I ever needed to ensure secrecy, I could just kill you."

He made his tone as gentle as possible, so as not to frighten Little Purple.

Little Purple found his words reasonable. Months ago, Fang Wang had stopped seeking the inheritance; if he truly wanted to kill it, he could have done so already.

After pondering, Little Purple snuggled closer, whining, "Then I'll stay with you for now, Master. Please be kind to me."

"Who taught you to say that?" Fang Wang rolled his eyes and tapped its head.

"A hundred years ago, a man and woman wandered into the sanctum. When they realized they couldn't escape, the female cultivator spoke to the man just like this. From then on, he spoiled her, even sacrificing himself to let her escape when faced with evil spirits," Little Purple replied, blinking.

Fang Wang snorted, "I won’t sacrifice myself to save you. If danger comes, I’ll throw you out to buy myself time."

"Master, you jest! How could you possibly be in danger? Anyone who tries would be courting death!" Little Purple’s words were so earnest and heartfelt that Fang Wang felt comforted.

Thus, man and beast idly chatted, passing the time.

At noon, a beam of intense light descended from the sky. Fang Wang looked up in shock, unable to dodge before it enveloped him and blurred his vision.

"Master!"

Little Purple’s alarmed cry echoed in his ears, making Fang Wang’s heart sink. Was Little Purple left behind?

Unfortunately, he couldn’t move; there was nothing he could do.

Moments later, Fang Wang felt his feet touch the ground and regained control of his body. Instinctively, he reached for his chest.

"Master?" Little Purple’s voice sounded again, timid and tentative, as if afraid it was all a dream.

"Yes, we’re out," Fang Wang replied, stepping forward.

After five steps, his vision cleared, revealing the vice leaders and elders of the nine great sects standing before him.

Zhao Chuanqian, upon seeing him, visibly relaxed. The stern expression he always wore softened with a smile.

"Come on, why are you dawdling?" Zhou Xue approached from behind, bumping him with her shoulder.

Fang Wang immediately fell in step beside her. As for Little Purple, it hid in his arms, terrified of being seen; Fang Wang could feel it trembling.

The disciples of each sect moved toward their own, quickly forming nine distinct groups.

---

Only seven disciples from the Grand Abyss Sect returned alive: Fang Wang, Zhou Xue, Gu Li, Lu Yuanjun, Xu Lang, Ye Xiang, and Yan Feiyue.

Other sects suffered heavier losses; the Grand Abyss Sect fared relatively well. Fang Wang noticed the disciples of Green Cicada Valley numbered only three, their atmosphere tense and somber.

Vice Leader Chen Anshi glanced at Xu Lang, whose missing arm made him almost unrecognizable from when he first entered. Though battered, his gaze was fiercer than ever.

"Only two dead—not bad," Chen Anshi remarked. It was a harsh statement, but Fang Wang and the others were hardly naïve; none took offense.

The other elders of the Grand Abyss Sect did offer words of comfort.

At that moment,

Xu Qiuming and Xu Tianjiao of the Hanging Flood Sword Sect approached, drawing the attention of Fang Wang and his fellow sect members.

"Fang Wang, thank you for saving my sister. I owe you a debt. If you ever need my help—so long as it doesn’t harm the interests of the Hanging Flood Sword Sect—send me a letter anytime," Xu Qiuming said seriously. Though he appeared young, his unsmiling demeanor exuded a commanding presence.

Fang Wang nodded, exchanging polite words with Xu Qiuming. Xu Tianjiao also expressed her gratitude.

Without lingering, Xu Qiuming left with his sister.

After they departed, Chen Anshi wasted no time. With a sweep of his sleeve, the wooden boat that had carried them to the sanctum appeared in midair. The disciples quickly followed him aboard.

When the nine great sects first arrived, they exchanged pleasantries. Now, as the sanctum ended, there was little interaction; as the Grand Abyss Sect prepared to leave, the others did likewise, as if facing imminent catastrophe.

The wooden boat soared swiftly through the sky. Fang Wang stood at its edge, watching the other eight sects speed off in different directions.

"On the way back, everyone stay vigilant; do not be careless," Chen Anshi’s voice rang out, explaining why the sects departed so quickly.

They had agreed to set aside grudges upon entering, but that was only a superficial promise.

Take Green Cicada Valley, for example—with only three disciples left, how could they swallow their anger?

"Brother Fang, how did you fare?" Lu Yuanjun came to Fang Wang’s side, smiling warmly. His sunny, enthusiastic demeanor put others at ease, lowering their guard.

Fang Wang smiled back. "Not bad."

Lu Yuanjun leaned in and whispered, "To be honest, I obtained one of the three supreme techniques of the Extreme Hao Sect—the Yin-Yang Profound Nether True Art. If you wish to learn it, just come find me once we're back at the sect."

Fang Wang replied quickly, "I couldn’t possibly. You risked your life for it; I shouldn’t benefit from your efforts."

"Brother Fang, with your extraordinary talent, sharing these arts with you is a way to nurture you for the sect. When I become sect leader in the future, you’ll be my vice leader. No need for modesty," Lu Yuanjun laughed.

Though their voices were low, all aboard were cultivators; none failed to hear. The elders paid them no mind, but the disciples couldn’t help but glance their way.