Chapter 142: A Demon's Path

Elder Kaelen of the Asura Demon Clan was, for the first time in over a century, utterly speechless. His mind, which had been preparing a dozen different diplomatic phrases for a graceful retreat, simply blanked. The four words Li Yu had spoken hung in the air of the receiving hall, so simple and direct they were completely disarming.

“You… you will come?” Kaelen finally managed to stammer, his carefully constructed composure completely shattered. “Just like that? You have no questions? No demands? No suspicions?”

Li Yu offered a calm, placid smile. “You have traveled a long way, Elder. You came bearing generous gifts and spoke with sincerity. Your Clan Lord, Mo Jian, was an honorable ally in a time of great crisis. He seeks my help for a creature that is important to him. To refuse a sincere request from an honorable man would be a discourtesy. Why would I not come?”

The simple, straightforward logic of it was so contrary to the world of demonic cultivation—a world of suspicion, backstabbing, and hidden motives—that Kaelen found himself at a complete loss. He had expected a negotiation, a list of demands for priceless treasures, or a flat, suspicious refusal. He had not expected simple, honorable reciprocity.

“I… I see,” Kaelen said, slowly regaining his composure, though his view of this young man had been fundamentally altered. He was not naive. No one who had survived the Beast Tide was naive. This was a deep, unshakeable confidence, a self-assurance so profound that the concept of a demonic sect being a ‘trap’ was not even a concern for him. “My Lord will be… very pleased. We can depart whenever you are ready, Disciple Li.”

“Tomorrow at dawn,” Li Yu replied. “I must inform my sect’s elders of my travel plans. It is a matter of respect.”

After Elder Kaelen was escorted to a guest courtyard—an act of hospitality that further bewildered the demonic cultivator—Li Yu made his way to the Sect Master’s peak. The news of his decision had already reached the sect’s leadership, and they had summoned him.

He entered the hidden chamber to find the Sect Master and the two Grand Elders waiting for him, their expressions a mixture of surprise and deep concern.

“Li Yu,” the Sect Master began, his voice grave. “We have heard of your decision. To travel to the heart of the Asura Demon Clan’s territory… it is a risk of unimaginable proportions. We cannot forbid you from going, but we must advise you against it. Their clan is not like ours. They are a demonic sect. Their ways are cruel, their promises are fleeting.”

“Sect Master is right,” Grand Elder Chen added, his brow furrowed with worry. “Even if their intentions are sincere now, the moment you are within their borders, you are at their mercy. What if this is a plot to capture you? To learn the secrets of your beast-taming arts?”

Li Yu listened to their concerns with a patient, respectful expression. He understood their fears. They were looking at the situation from a political, strategic standpoint. He, however, was looking at it from a position of absolute power.

“Sect Master, Grand Elders,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “I appreciate your concern for my safety. But I do not believe this is a trap.” He recounted his experience with Clan Lord Mo Jian during the Beast Tide, emphasizing the man’s honor and decisive leadership. “He is a man who keeps his word. As for my safety, please do not worry. My cultivation may appear to be at the 1st level, but you know that my foundation is… different. I have my own methods to protect myself.”

He paused, letting them recall his past deeds. Internally, his thoughts were far more specific.

Their Clan Lord is at the 1st level of the Core Formation Realm. On the surface, we are equals. But my inner sea has been condensed by the void itself. I possess the raw power of

probably an upper stage Core Formation

expert, compressed into the frame of a 1st-level cultivator. Even if they have hidden ancestors, I doubt any are a match for my true combat strength. I am not walking into the dragon’s den; the dragon is inviting me into its cave, unaware that I am the far more dangerous predator.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He pushed these arrogant thoughts aside, his outward expression remaining humble. “And in the unlikely event that they do possess a hidden power that exceeds my estimations,” he added aloud, “I have a trump card prepared. I will not be caught unprepared.”

The Sect Master and the Grand Elders looked at him, seeing the quiet, unshakeable confidence in his eyes. They did not know the nature of his trump card—be it Khaos, his other sovereigns, or his own hidden depths—but they had learned to trust his judgment implicitly. The fledgling dragon they had sought to protect had already grown wings of steel and was ready to soar into unfamiliar skies.

A slow, proud smile spread across the Sect Master’s face. “You have grown, Li Yu. Far beyond our expectations.” He sighed, a sound of resignation and pride. “Very well. We will not stand in your way. Go. See this demonic world for yourself. But be cautious. Not all demons are as honorable as Mo Jian.”

The next morning, under a sky the color of pale steel, Li Yu met Elder Kaelen at the sect’s main gate. They did not travel by foot or by horse. Kaelen produced a wicked-looking flying artifact—a ‘demon ship’ shaped like a great Skeletal Roc, its massive wingspan constructed from the bones of some ancient, powerful avian beast, all held together by a shimmering, blood-red energy field. It radiated a baleful, intimidating aura.

They boarded the ship, and with a silent, powerful surge of demonic energy, it rose into the air and shot off, towards the untamed, mountainous lands that served as the border between the righteous and demonic territories.

The journey was a revelation for Li Yu. The further west they flew, the more the land below changed. The lush, green forests and rolling hills of the righteous sects gave way to jagged, black mountains that clawed at the sky, deep, mist-shrouded chasms that seemed to have no bottom, and twisted, ancient forests where the trees grew in grotesque, unnatural shapes. The spiritual energy in the air itself changed, becoming thicker, heavier, and tinged with a wild, untamed, and faintly bloodthirsty quality.

After a full day of travel, they passed through a great, natural gate of black stone mountains and entered the true domain of the Asura Demon Clan. The sight was both terrifying and magnificent. The clan’s main city was built into the caldera of a massive, dormant volcano. Buildings of black, obsidian-like stone clung to the inner walls of the caldera, connected by a web of bridges and suspended walkways.

A river of molten, red-hot magma flowed at the very bottom, casting a fiery, hellish glow upon the entire city. It was a place of stark, brutal beauty, a testament to a people who had carved a civilization out of the harshest of environments.

As their Skeletal Roc ship descended, alarms did not blare. Instead, great, armored demonic cultivators, their faces grim and disciplined, saluted from watchtowers. They landed on a massive, obsidian platform, where a delegation was already waiting for them.

Leading the delegation was a man who radiated an aura of absolute authority. He was tall and powerfully built, with the same sharp, angular features and obsidian horns as Kaelen, but his presence was far more commanding. This was the Asura Demon Clan Lord, Mo Jian.

“Disciple Li Yu,” Mo Jian said, his voice a deep, powerful baritone. He stepped forward and gave Li Yu a formal, respectful bow, an act that caused the other demonic cultivators to stare in shock. “You have honored my humble clan with your presence. I had hoped, but did not dare to believe, that you would accept our desperate plea. I thank you.”

“Clan Lord Mo is too courteous,” Li Yu replied, returning the bow. “You were an honorable ally. It is a privilege to be a guest in your home.”

Li Yu’s gaze swept over the assembled demonic cultivators. Everything about this place was a study in contrasts. The energy was violent, the architecture was brutal, and the people looked fierce and battle-hardened. Yet, there was an undeniable, iron-clad discipline that permeated everything. A command was given, and it was followed without question. It was a society ruled by absolute power, a dictatorship that was, in its own way, brutally effective.

And he could feel their eyes on him. The whispers had already spread. This was the young genius of the Green Mountain Sect. The boy who had weathered the Beast Tide like a god of war, whose power seemed inexhaustible as he cut through the endless horde. not a boy; he was a legend, a power to be respected and feared.

“Come,” Mo Jian said, his expression grim. “Let us not waste time with pleasantries. Our Guardian awaits. I pray that you can do what no other has been able to.”