Nine Transformations of the True Spirit.

"What a clever feint! A demon beast is a demon beast after all... cough cough, this Xuan Sha Tiger is too stupid. It didn't even see through the Foundation Establishment cultivator's plan. A good battle only lasted for a quarter of an hour. It was really boring."

Inside the private room, the gaunt cultivator leaned against the soft couch, shaking his head slightly with a hint of regret on his face.

Through the array, one could see a faint blood-red light curtain covering the area, with a giant tiger lying on the ground and a strangely shaped spiritual weapon stuck in its back.

Ten feet away opposite it, a middle-aged cultivator of about forty years old was suspended in the air, panting heavily, his eyes fierce yet filled with the joy of surviving a calamity.

His face was pale and he looked somewhat haggard, completely lacking the otherworldly and refined temperament that a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator should possess.

His dark robes were tattered, with the left sleeve completely torn, revealing an arm covered in wounds and bloodstains. The arm looked old, indicating that it existed before he fought the giant tiger.

A Foundation Establishment cultivator dressed in blue robes flew down from the high platform and arrived in front of the blood-red light screen. He glanced at the giant tiger's corpse on the ground, a hint of dissatisfaction on his face, and said loudly, "Tang Qihu wins!"

Many cultivators in the stands looked annoyed, while others glared at the middle-aged cultivator and cursed him incessantly.

They had all placed bets with spirit stones, hoping that the Xuan Sha Tiger would win, but now all their bets had been lost, so they were naturally very disappointed.

The pale-faced cultivator saw a Foundation Establishment cultivator on the opposite platform pounding his chest and stamping his feet, and laughed: "Fellow Daoist Luo, since you enjoy watching deathmatches so much, why not place a bet?"

The maid in his arms was now completely limp, her eyes glazed over, her cheeks flushed, her clothes disheveled, revealing her fair shoulder and one of her full breasts.

Her long legs were draped over the edge of the soft couch, her shoes and socks off, her feet arched forcefully, her toes pressing heavily on the carpet, trembling incessantly, and her breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

The gaunt cultivator seemed oblivious to the sight of spring in the air, and said indifferently, "If one were to place bets, their mind would be preoccupied, and all the fun would be lost. However, Brother Ling has come to this deathmatch arena many times, yet he seems to have never placed any bets. I wonder why?"

Ling Shuoye looked at the middle-aged cultivator in the arena. The bright sunlight pierced through the blood-red light curtain, dyeing him a blood red.

He sighed inwardly, but smiled and said, "Like Fellow Daoist Luo, I only enjoy watching cultivators fight to the death with demonic beasts. Betting on them would only diminish the fun."

The gaunt cultivator laughed heartily: "Great minds think alike. How can a few spirit stones compare to the thrill of this deathmatch? It's a pity that no other royal beasts are participating in the deathmatch..."

"Fellow Daoist Luo, be careful what you say!" The pale-faced cultivator's expression changed slightly as he interrupted.

"what……"

He was kneading the maid's plump right hand when he suddenly increased the pressure, causing the maid to cry out in pain.

The gaunt cultivator's expression stiffened, and he chuckled dryly, "Although this Xuan Sha Tiger has some bloodline of the Sha Tiger royal family, its strength is still somewhat weak, hehe..."

Ling Shuoye watched from the side, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Neither of them were devout believers in the Dragon God or loyal to the demon race; they were only there to improve their cultivation.

And it is precisely these kinds of people who are easy to get information from.

The pale-faced cultivator frowned, looked down at the beautiful maid in his arms, gently kneaded her breasts with his right hand, and sighed softly, "What a pity..."

The maid gasped for breath, forced a smile, and looked obediently at the pale-faced monk.

The pale-faced monk withdrew his left hand and stroked the maid's delicate face.

A faint wisp of black energy emanated from his palm and merged into the maid's flushed cheeks.

The maid's smile froze on her face, and her beautiful, alluring eyes slowly lost their luster.

The pale-faced monk released his hands, and the maid's body slowly slid down onto the carpet without making a sound.

Ling Shuoye's heart sank. The pale-faced cultivator straightened his slightly disheveled robes and said, "This deadly battle is over. I'll treat you, Brother Ling and Fellow Daoist Luo, to drinks and merriment at the Eight Treasures Pavilion. What do you say?"

The gaunt cultivator glanced at the maid, his smile widening: "How could I let Fellow Daoist Wang spend money? I'll treat you today."

The pale-faced cultivator laughed heartily: "Then I shall respectfully accept your offer, Brother Ling. What do you think?"

Ling Shuoye lowered his eyes slightly, looked at the maid lying on the ground, and said indifferently, "Since you two fellow Daoists are willing, I, Ling, will naturally accompany you to the end."

The pale-faced cultivator immediately stood up: "In that case, let us set off now..."

"Fellow Daoist Wang, please wait a moment." The gaunt cultivator spoke up to stop him, "The death match is not completely over yet, why not wait a little while?"

The pale-faced cultivator was startled and turned to look out the window.

Within the crimson light barrier, the middle-aged cultivator retrieved the strange magical artifact embedded in the back of the giant tiger's corpse, clasped his hands in a respectful bow to the Foundation Establishment cultivator, a hint of fear flashing in his eyes: "I, Tang, have already slain this tiger, and according to the agreement, I should be pardoned..."

The Foundation Establishment cultivator sneered, interrupting him: "Pardon? No one has ever been able to leave this deathmatch arena alive!"

The middle-aged cultivator was stunned. After a long while, he exclaimed, "Senior Zhao said that as long as I can kill this Xuan Sha Tiger, he will spare my life. Does the Divine Sect intend to break its promise?"

The Foundation Establishment cultivator's expression became even more sarcastic: "How can you be accused of betrayal when dealing with someone as disrespectful to the Dragon God as you?"

"You are destined to be a sacrifice to the Dragon God. Killing this Xuan Sha Tiger will only prolong your life. This place will be your altar!"

He raised his hand and flicked the storage pouch at his waist, taking out an array plate. He then formed his right hand into a sword-finger gesture, pointed it at the array plate, and shouted, "Activate!"

The crimson light curtain flickered slightly, and the light became increasingly intense.

On the ground paved with black boulders, a stone platform several meters in size slowly rose, only a dozen meters away from the middle-aged cultivator.

The middle-aged cultivator's expression changed drastically, and he retreated rapidly.

The Foundation Establishment cultivator smiled dismissively and tapped the array plate again.

With a flash of crimson light, hundreds of crimson streams shot out, condensing into thin ropes that shot towards the middle-aged cultivator like lightning, binding him tightly.

The middle-aged cultivator struggled desperately, wielding his strangely shaped spiritual weapon, which resembled both a knife and a sword, to slash at the blood-red ropes, but to no avail, not even leaving a trace.

The crimson rope moved gently, placing the middle-aged cultivator on the stone platform.

A dragon's roar suddenly rang out, echoing throughout the entire deathmatch arena, and all the cultivators on the surrounding high platforms stood up.

The blood-red rope suddenly flattened, transforming into countless thin, cicada-wing-like blades that contracted inwards, silently slicing the middle-aged cultivator into hundreds of pieces.

Blood and flesh rained down on the high platform, as if the rainwater seeped into the loess and completely merged into the hard stone platform, disappearing without a trace.

The Foundation Establishment cultivator declared loudly, "This is the consequence of disrespecting the Dragon God and rebelling against the Dragon King's clan!"

The cultivators on the platform were fanatical, cheering loudly, and some even cursed the middle-aged cultivator through gritted teeth.

Some cultivators had never seen such a bloody scene before, and fear was shown on their faces, but they quickly covered it up and dared not show it.

Inside the private room, the gaunt cultivator rose and went to the window. His eyes narrowed slightly, a smile playing on his lips. He murmured, "The human cultivators who survived the deathmatch all thought they could be pardoned. How naive..."

"Watching them think they've saved their lives, only to suddenly fall into the abyss, is just as entertaining as watching a death match. Brother Ling, don't you agree?"

Ling Shuoye slowly rose, his eyes slightly lowered, not looking out the window, and said calmly, "Fellow Daoist Luo is absolutely right. A deathmatch is endlessly enjoyable. If I have the time in the future, I will invite Fellow Daoist Luo to come and witness this again." The gaunt cultivator turned around and laughed heartily, "Good! It's truly boring for me to come here alone. I need a kindred spirit like Brother Ling to accompany me to fully enjoy the experience!"

The pale-faced cultivator watched the slowly descending stone platform, a strange light flashing in his eyes: "This deathmatch is quite interesting..."

Ling Shuoye walked towards the door of the private room, and paused for a moment as he passed the maid's corpse.

The maid stared blankly at the roof, her eyes vacant, a hint of bewilderment still lingering.

Ling Shuoye raised his head, stepped over her as if stepping over a stone on the road, and said indifferently, "The Eight Treasures Restaurant is full of customers. Fellow Daoists, you should hurry up and make your way before there are no seats left."

……

Two hours later, Ling Shuoye stepped down from the carriage in the night and rewarded the middle-aged man driving the carriage with two low-grade spirit stones. Amid the man's profuse thanks, he walked towards a mansion.

Logically, spiritual veins need to be attached to earth veins to exist, and they are often found in towering mountains and deep valleys.

The larger the spiritual vein, the more solid and robust the earth vein it is attached to, and the more magnificent the mountain range becomes.

However, the spiritual vein where Dragon God City is located is somewhat special. It is situated on an underwater mountain range that extends into the sea, but its source is on the shore, where the terrain is flat.

The dragon clan controls several large spiritual veins. They chose this particular spiritual vein because of its unique terrain, and built Dragon God City here, setting up the headquarters of their cult within the city.

The cultivators at the main altar also reside in the courtyards within the temple, which is not as convenient for absorbing spiritual energy as living in caves in the mountains.

However, the residences of cultivators above the Foundation Establishment level are all equipped with spirit-gathering arrays, so their cultivation speed is not much slower.

Ling Shuoye, as a mid-stage Core Formation Grand Priest, is a very shrewd and charming person. He even won the favor of a Nascent Soul elder. His residence is also extremely luxurious. It is a three-courtyard mansion with rich spiritual energy, comparable to a late-stage Core Formation Grand Priest.

Ling Shuoye flicked his sleeve, the array dissipated, and the gate opened wide.

Without stopping, he stepped over the high threshold, and without turning back, he flicked his sleeves, slamming the courtyard gate shut. The array once again enveloped the entire mansion.

He habitually spread his divine sense and scanned the entire courtyard. Finding nothing unusual, his calm expression suddenly turned gloomy.

Ling Shuoye's mind flashed back to the lifeless eyes of the dead maid and the despair on the face of the middle-aged cultivator as he died, and his eyes darkened.

He somewhat regretted going to the deathmatch arena, but the gaunt cultivator loved watching deathmatches, and the region he governed happened to be near the Iron Mist Mountains, making it extremely important.

The news that fifty additional Foundation Establishment deacons had been dispatched to attack Ping Le City was obtained from the gaunt cultivator.

In order to continue to extract information from him in the future, Ling Shuoye had no choice but to befriend him in a roundabout way, and inviting him to the deathmatch arena was the best way.

Although he couldn't bear to see the middle-aged cultivator sacrificed, and even less did he want to see the innocent maid die a tragic death, he could only silently endure it.

For the safety of Ping Le City, and for the lives of his master and the cultivators in the city, he had to bury his hatred for the Divine Sect and the Demon Clan deep in his heart, without revealing the slightest flaw.

But this situation has lasted for 113 years, and Ling Shuoye doesn't know how much longer it will continue, or even if he will live to see the day when the Flood Dragon Clan is destroyed.

Ling Shuoye slowed his pace and stopped in front of the screen wall, gazing at the azure dragon carved on it.

This azure dragon is lifelike, with a proud posture, surrounded by auspicious clouds, and below it is the boundless blue sea, exuding a sense of vastness.

If a cultivator below the Core Formation stage were here, they would feel awe upon seeing this azure dragon.

In the residence of every Core Formation Grand Master, there is such a screen wall imbued with supernatural powers.

This will instill in the religious monks who enter the place a constant sense of awe and a devout reverence for the Dragon God.

But this was of no use to the Core Formation Master, and Ling Shuoye never felt any awe towards him, only disgust.

But the dragon clan, like the azure dragon on this screen wall, is majestic, powerful, and invincible.

All the human Nascent Soul cultivators who resisted the demon race combined were no match for the demon generals of the Flood Dragon Clan and its affiliated demon races, and the Nascent Soul elders of the Dragon God Sect.

Besides the Jiaolong clan, there are seven other royal clans, all with long-standing traditions, profound foundations, and unparalleled power.

Human cultivators have persevered for tens of thousands of years, but can they really overthrow the oppression of the demon race?

A look of confusion flashed in Ling Shuoye's eyes as he suddenly remembered the Tai Xuan Realm that his master had once mentioned.

He gave a wry smile. If only the Tai Xuan Realm truly existed, those Tai Xuan Realm cultivators who had once conquered it would surely be able to save their abandoned kin once again.

Unfortunately, this is just a baseless legend.

Ling Shuoye had secretly tried to find out about the mysterious Gu Hongzi mentioned by his master after joining the Dragon God Sect, but to no avail.

If this person truly possesses the strength described by his master, he could easily slay a mid-level demon general; how could he possibly be completely unknown?

That was probably just a Dharma name that a cultivator made up on the spot, and a story that he also made up on the spot, but his master believed it to be true.

Perhaps tens of thousands of years from now, the demon race will still be as high and mighty as it is today, and all the resistance of the human race will be in vain...

A slight wavering suddenly appeared in Ling Shuoye's heart, but he quickly suppressed the thought.

He blinked, his gaze hardening again as he coldly stared at the azure dragon on the screen wall.

No matter how slim the hope, he will not give up.

Ling Shuoye started walking again, bypassing the screen wall, and strode towards the main hall.

But when he arrived at the entrance of the main hall, he suddenly stopped, one foot hovering in mid-air, his expression frozen on his face.

In the main hall, a person was sitting prominently in the main seat.

Beside this person stood another young man, looking over curiously.

Ling Shuoye's heart sank, but he did not turn around and run away, nor did he summon any magic weapons. He just paused for a moment, then stepped into the main hall and came to stand in front of the two people.

Ling Shuoye quietly spread his divine sense and looked at the cultivator sitting in the main seat. His face was sallow and his skin was dry, like a consumptive ghost. He was obviously injured.

The young monk standing to the side was much more normal, with a rather handsome appearance.

If one joins the cult, one will surely be chosen by a female demon general, or a demon general who prefers male lovers, and taken as a male concubine.

However, he could not find the two people in his consciousness, as if they had never existed.

Ling Shuoye took a deep breath, withdrew his divine sense, and clasped his hands in a bow: "Junior Ling Shuoye greets Senior. May I ask what brings you here so late at night?"

The consumptive man sitting in the main seat seemed somewhat surprised and chuckled, "Faced with an uninvited guest, young friend Ling remained calm and composed, which is truly remarkable. No wonder you were able to remain hidden in Dragon God City for a hundred years without ever revealing a flaw." (End of Chapter)