Chapter 86 – The Limits of Madness

  The new stronghold of the demonic cultivators sat hunched like a cancerous growth on an island just off the southeastern coast of the Southern Continent. What had once been a lush jungle paradise filled with spiritual energy and beasts living in peace was now a barren wasteland surrounded by dark mist and a concealing barrier.

  It was here, protected by distance and strong arrays, that the demonic cultivators had taken root after the battle with Han Zhengwu.

  Few knew of its existence, and the new residents named it Ghost Fang Island for the pale, broken cliffs that resembled the jaws of a buried leviathan.

  At the very heart of the island, a strong vein of spiritual energy pulsed faintly beneath the now blackened stone. It had been corrupted by the new arrivals.

  Where it had once produced serene, nourishing spiritual energy that was a haven for the local beasts and birds, now it only exuded twisted and aggressive energy that was thick with resentment and the faint touch of decay.

  The demonic cultivators had erected cruel siphoning formations that forcibly accelerated the vein’s output. Where the vein should have offered steady energy for millennia, and a stable supply of spirit stones could be safely mined, it was now burning itself much more quickly.

  Worse, the spiritual essence that was being drawn forth and condensed into spirit stones reeked of blood and had an aura of resentment around it.

  Still, there was always a market for spirit stones, regardless of their condition, and the exploitation of the spiritual vein was responsible for sustaining tens of thousands of cultivators.

  The demonic cultivators, now going by the Crimson Rebirth Sect, had built tall, spire-like buildings from the dark stone that jutted from the cliffs like spears aimed toward the heavens. Their interiors were carved with symbols and arrays that were powered by the resentment of those they had sacrificed for power, or who no longer served a purpose.

  Lanterns lit by ghostly green flames swung in the salty wind, casting flickering shadows on the broken terrain.

  The central structure for the new Sect was a black tower that spiralled high into the sky, with veins of red energy that seemed to pulse like the heartbeat of a living thing. Inside it, demonic cultivators wearing their new, black Sect robes cultivated in silence.

  Their eyes were hollow from the forbidden technique, and most of their foundations were shaky and on the verge of collapse.

  The air around them was heavy with the stink of blood and corpses, while wild demonic beasts roamed the perimeter. These were twisted things with too many teeth and no eyes, remnants of the few inhabitants of the island that had managed to survive but were changed in the new environment.

  Apart from them, nothing else was on the island. No birds sang in the skies, nor were there fish in the waters near the island’s shores. Even the clouds above moved uneasily, changing colour as if they were tainted in some way by the demonic Qi.

  In the deepest chamber of the newly constructed stronghold, located directly above the now-tainted spiritual vein, Xun Beiming sat cross-legged on a dais of black stone. Cracks ran through the floor beneath him, pulsing with a sickly light.

  The spiritual energy seeping into the chamber was dense, violent and unstable, sourced straight from the vein beneath. Xun Beiming drew it into himself with greedy abandon, as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

  His black robes were tattered and stained with old, dried blood. His eyes, which had once been cold and calculating in his youth, now glowed with a feverish light, while his pupils had shifted to a crimson colour.

  Xun Beiming’s Qi surged and plummeted at random. His Nascent Soul stage cultivation was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of its corruption by the resentment and refinement of blood essence. His blackened veins stood out against his dry, white skin that had a severely desiccated appearance of an old corpse.

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  His mind was in as bad a shape as his body. There were times when he laughed to himself in short, ragged bursts, or he would mutter nonsense that no one around him could understand. He was clearly insane, but no one dared to speak against him.

  Surrounding Xun Beiming were a dozen Core Formation cultivators, each seated on low stone thrones that had been placed in a circle. These were the newly installed Elders of the Crimson Rebirth Sect. Each was powerful, ambitious and deeply addicted to the Crimson Rebirth Sutra, which made their new status possible.

  A thick tension hung in the air, as they had assembled for a dire reason that went beyond the ongoing hunt by the Orthodox Sects.

  “The Crimson Rebirth Sutra is no longer working as it should. The more we refine and consume blood essence, the faster our cultivation destabilizes. To make matters worse, apart from the newcomers, consuming others who practice the Sutra yields no results at all.”

  The second fact was likely the reason any of them were still alive and hadn’t been devoured by Xun Beiming long before their isolation on the island. Initially, using the blood essence from another Demonic Cultivator gave their own cultivation a boost, but the effect was quickly diminished after repeated use.

  Now, even if Xun Beiming killed and refined all the Elders in the Sect, he would gain nothing. In fact, it would result in an even greater destabilization of his own cultivation.

  Another spoke, her voice edged with panic.

  “We can’t continue to sustain ourselves by harvesting small villages and towns. The Orthodox Sects are watching more closely than ever. If we push further, we will draw their eyes here.”

  “There is no balance anymore. We are all bleeding power, and at this rate, even Sect Master Xun may-” A third said, only to be cut off by a surge of murderous intent that silenced them. Despite his madness, Xun Beiming had no trouble enforcing discipline amongst the Elders.

  “I have reflected on this matter and have come up with a solution.” Xun Beiming stated, and his voice was hoarse. He gave the impression to the Elders that they were speaking to a Corpse Puppet, one sustained by the corrupted energy of the spiritual vein and the blood essence of those he killed.

  The Core Formation Elders fell silent as Xun Beiming slowly rose to his feet. His presence felt oppressive, like a blade pressed against the throat of everyone in the chamber. His Qi had reached its peak in its ebb and flow, and the aura of a Nascent Soul expert radiated out from him.

  “You have all tasted the power of the Crimson Rebirth Sutra. But, as all things require in the mortal world, it needs refinement. It had been tainted by the blood essence of the weak and the impure.”

  Xun Beiming extended a hand and let some of the corrupted spiritual energy from the vein beneath them coil around his fingers.

  “The answer is simple. Special bloodlines are required. Rare constitutions that can be refined for their essence. Bodies born to cultivate, blessed by the heavens. Talents and prodigies that send the Orthodox into a frenzy to possess.” Xun Beiming declared.

  “With them, the corruption in our own cultivation can be tempered and our foundations stabilized. The Crimson Rebirth Sutra will be perfected, and we will rise beyond our current shackles.”

  There were murmurs, cautious but intrigued by the idea.

  “These required bloodlines will be protected by the clans that possess them, or jealously guarded by the Sects. It will be difficult to obtain them.” One Elder added, his voice low and wary.

  Xun Beiming’s eyes shifted to him, slow and deliberate like a predator fixing its gaze on its prey. The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop.

  “The Sects are weak.” Xun Beiming said, each of his words laced with contempt.

  “Their foundations are rotting beneath the weight of their own rules. They play at righteousness while their Disciples seek out the Crimson Rebirth Sutra for their own benefit! How many of our number came from these so-called ‘Orthodox’ Sects!?” Xun Beiming hissed, and the Elders flinched.

  “They hoard talents they don’t understand, protecting bloodlines they don’t deserve. They think themselves untouchable behind their ancient lineages and spiritual arrays. But they do not realize that the decay they are trying to prevent is already within their walls!”

  His voice dropped to a whisper, and that was somehow more terrifying for its quiet certainty.

  “Allow the initial secrets of the Crimson Rebirth Sutra to make its way across the continent, and tell those who wish to practice it that we are here to support them, if they obey our commands. They will open every door, unseal every gate, to allow us entry when the time comes.”

  Xun Beiming’s tone turned venomous.

  “Search the continent for talented bloodlines or those who possess a unique constitution. Leave no stone unturned, from the noble Clans to the lowliest Sect Disciple. I want to know of everyone with a spiritual physique, a pure Yin or Yang body, or an ancient bloodline trait.”

  It was then that the Ren Clan Patriarch, silent until now, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before speaking slowly.

  “At my last birthday celebration, there was a boy from the Tranquil Mountain Sect. There was something strange about his Qi; it was far too refined for someone of his level and age. I thought little of him at the time.”

  He met Xun Beiming’s eyes and shuddered as he saw the eagerness within those glowing red orbs.

  “But he was present again at the battle against Han Zhengwu. He even shielded the City Lord’s granddaughter from your spear. The Sect values him greatly, and I have heard that Han Zhengwu himself has taken an interest in the boy.”

  Xun Beiming’s cracked lips pulled upwards into a terrible, broken smile.

  “Good. Great. Excellent. Find him, along with anyone else who possesses such a talent!”