Chapter 218: Accepting the Mission and Leaving the Sect — Demonic Cultivators Massacre a City

Sect missions were something that every disciple had to undertake—no exceptions.

After all, no sect was a charitable organization.

You think you can just enter, be granted cultivation methods, a place to cultivate, enjoy the dense spiritual qi of the sect’s land, and peacefully train without contributing anything in return?

That’s nothing but a pipe dream.

One must put in effort—blood, sweat, even their life—to earn contribution points, which could then be exchanged for needed resources, techniques, and ultimately, strength.

And if you say, “Then I don’t want contribution points, I won’t take any resources, I’ll just quietly cultivate,”—that’s still not allowed!

Every disciple had a quota of mandatory missions they must fulfill. If one consistently refused to complete them, they would be expelled from the sect.

This was the price of enjoying spiritual resources. Without contribution, one had no right to even breathe the rich spiritual qi of the sect.

And the pyramid structure of a sect meant that all resources generated at the bottom would be funneled upward, endlessly.

That was the true goal behind the powerful founding a sect.

Some cultivators might complain, “Isn’t this just laboring for the strong? I’d be better off as a rogue cultivator!”

Then go be a rogue cultivator—no one will stop you.

But do you really think rogue cultivators have it easier than sect disciples?

Sects were created by powerful cultivators. They had order, safety, and standardized cultivation environments, along with locations rich in spiritual qi. That was not something the lawless wilderness, ruled by the strong preying on the weak, could offer.

Otherwise, why would so many people fight tooth and nail to enter a great sect—so much so that the sects could afford to be picky about talent?

Yu Xian stepped out of his courtyard with a calm expression.

Outside stood a late-stage Qi Condensation disciple, who bowed deeply upon seeing him.

“Senior Brother Yu, the Grand Elder of Administration has issued a mission. Please head over to receive it. I’ll go notify the others.”

With that, he ran off to another courtyard.

Yu Xian closed his door with a wave of his hand and made his way toward the Pill Refinement Hall.

This was the first time missions were being distributed since Hong Shao had been assigned to her new administrative role.

Clearly, You Xiaohua was taking her new duties seriously—meticulously matching missions to each disciple’s cultivation, alchemy skill, and other talents. It had taken her some time.

Yu Xian wondered what kind of mission he would be assigned.

He didn’t care much for contribution points. He lacked nothing at the moment.

He simply wanted to complete the mission quickly, maybe even do a few more, so he could take a few months to go into closed-door cultivation and fully master his current techniques.

Upon arriving at the Pill Dao Hall, Yu Xian saw You Xiaohua seated in meditation. About thirty other Foundation Establishment disciples were nearly all present. Su Xiaoduo was absent—but as a personal disciple of the Sect Master, she had the privilege of skipping missions.

Yu Xian calmly took a seat and waited.

Chu Lier and Guo Pin couldn’t help glancing at him but quickly looked away.

Once everyone had arrived, You Xiaohua opened her eyes and swept her gaze across the crowd.

“This Elder has personally assigned missions to each of you today, according to your abilities. The distribution is fair and impartial. Once assigned, missions may not be refused.”

Yu Xian’s eyes gleamed with a wry smile.

She may think she’s being fair, but could anyone truly believe such words?

Fair or unfair—didn’t it all depend on how hard the mission was for the person who received it?

If it was easy—it felt fair.

If it was hard—it felt unfair.

That was human nature.

She began calling names:

“Guo Pin.”

“You are to refine ten high-grade fourth-rank pills within three months. Take this.”

Guo Pin took the scroll, glanced at the pill names, calculated in his mind, and nodded. “Yes, Elder.”

“Ma Rufeng,” she continued. “You are to gather four fourth-rank demon cores.”

Ma Rufeng’s expression turned sour. When he looked at the scroll and saw the task, he blurted out:

“Elder! I can’t do this! Where am I supposed to find four fourth-rank demon cores?”

“You’re at late-stage Foundation Establishment,” she replied coldly. “Hunting low-grade fourth-rank beasts shouldn’t be difficult for you. Unless you want to trade with Guo Pin?”

Ma Rufeng looked even worse. Refining pills? He was even worse at that!

Meanwhile, Yu Xian had already accepted the mission and traveled beyond the sect, heading southeast by flight. After traveling over a hundred miles, and ensuring no one was around, he summoned his spiritual beast—the Cloud Heron—from its pouch.

After forty days of cultivation, the beast had grown stronger, sharper, and more intelligent.

Yu Xian stroked its head and smiled.

“The skies are wide, the world vast—go!”

He leaped onto its back, and the Cloud Heron took off like a shooting star.

The target was the ruins of the Feathering Immortal Sect—once a mid-tier power among the ten great sects. After being destroyed by the Blood River Cult, its survivors had fled to join Haotian Orthodox Sect.

Now, like the rest of the nearby sects, it was stripped of spiritual resources and turned into a wasteland.

With the fall of the sect, the mortal kingdoms that relied on it were thrown into chaos.

Rogue and demonic cultivators ran rampant, slaughtering mortals to refine blood pills, bone puppets, corpses, or practice Yin dual cultivation.

Some even seized entire kingdoms, killed kings, and took over royal harems.

For a while, no one stopped them.

Only after the Blood River Cult and Haotian Orthodox Sect had stabilized did the righteous sects begin purging these rogue evildoers.

Because even if a sect was founded by a demonic cultivator, once it became a great power, it had to keep such atrocities in check—or mortals would be annihilated.

After 13 days of travel, Yu Xian reached Chuyang Kingdom, a large mortal nation of several million.

The seven demonic cultivators had taken over Luoshui City, killing over 100,000 residents to refine blood pills.

Yu Xian dismissed the Cloud Heron and continued on foot, quickly approaching the city.

From thirty miles away, he smelled thick blood.

He saw 14 blood-red banners surrounding the city—a grand formation had been erected for mass blood refining.

Compared to the invading Sky Demons, these seven were far more vicious.

At least the Sky Demons left some survivors. These people… they treated every mortal as mere material.

Yu Xian narrowed his eyes. The seven demonic cultivators were still there.

They had underestimated the speed of the sect’s response.

According to estimates, refining the blood of 100,000 mortals into pills would take them a full month. Yu Xian had arrived just in time.

He slowed his pace and hid in a thicket.

As night fell, the banners absorbed moonlight and formed a crimson web of power over the city.

He needed to be cautious. Storming in recklessly would only get him killed.

When the moon rose high, he summoned Little Phoenix Cat, who had completed the first stage of its cultivation technique.

Smaller and stealthier than him, the cat would scout ahead. Even if discovered, it was fast enough to escape.

He patted its head and whispered, “Check their locations and see if there’s a weak spot in the array.”

The cat understood and zipped away like a shadow.

Soon, it returned and meowed quietly on Yu Xian’s shoulder.

Yu Xian’s eyes brightened.

There was indeed a flaw in the blood refining array—it wasn’t designed for defense.

“Lead the way.”

They slipped through the formation unnoticed and crept closer to the city center.

Inside the city, the corpses had formed a small hill, and a water-tank-sized pool of blood hovered in the air, glowing red.

Seven cultivators sat around it, channeling energy into the pill-refining ritual.

In five more days, they’d produce 140 blood pills—each as potent as a fourth-rank pill.

They joked and laughed, already planning the next massacre.

In their eyes, righteousness was a joke.

The Blood River Cult and its infamous elders had committed even greater atrocities and still became powerful.

Why shouldn’t they?

Their twisted philosophy: Once I’m strong enough, I define what’s righteous!

Outside the city, Yu Xian waited patiently for night to deepen—then moved like a shadow.

It was time to kill.