Many children, many blessings; the twelve ancestral witches forced marriages throughout the primordi

The lowest level of the underworld, the eighteenth level of hell.

This place should have been the coldest and most desperate place of exile in the entire primordial world. Even the waters of the Yellow Springs flowing from the earth would be frozen into ice blocks by the extreme death energy here.

But now, the scene here has completely changed.

As Lin Xuan followed behind the Styx Ancestor down the last few black stone steps, an extremely terrifying wave of scorching heat, mixed with a strong stench of burning flesh and the aroma of meat, rushed towards him. The heat wave was even mixed with extremely ear-piercing screams and uniform roars.

Lin Xuan looked up and saw that this huge underground plaza, which was originally dark and boundless, was now illuminated by a thousand top-quality bronze oil cauldrons, each a hundred feet wide.

The fire burning under the oil pot wasn't ordinary firewood; it was entirely composed of extremely cold and malevolent ghost fire, a specialty of the underworld. The black oil boiling in the pot bubbled and churned, each burst releasing terrifyingly hot and toxic liquid.

Beside these thousands of oil fryers.

Hundreds of bald, shirtless men covered in black ash knelt in neat rows.

These people were none other than elite disciples of the Western Sect, sent by Zhunti to infiltrate the human race or captured for causing trouble in the underworld. The leaders were none other than the once high and mighty Venerable Kasyapa and other great Arhats.

Now, Kasyapa has lost even the slightest trace of the grandeur of a venerable one.

His once-proud golden body was now riddled with dents and his back was covered in deep, bone-revealing whip marks. He knelt miserably on the edge of the largest oil cauldron. His left hand gripped a broken wooden basin tightly, while his right hand held a large, barbed iron brush, frantically scrubbing the thick layer of soot from the cauldron's rim.

Her movements were extremely skilled, even more efficient than those of professional cleaning ladies.

Directly in front of these labor camp inmates stood the Demon Lord Wutian, dressed in a pure black robe. His hands were clasped behind his back with an extremely domineering air, and in his hands he held a dark purple whip that exuded a strong demonic aura. His cold, expressionless face revealed not a trace of emotion; he was a veritable emotionless overseer.

"Everyone, stop what you're doing and start your evening recitation." Wu Tian's extremely cold voice boomed across the sweltering square.

Upon hearing this, all the Western Sect disciples, including Kasyapa, trembled violently.

Almost reflexively, they threw the iron brushes on the ground, expertly covered their heads with their hands, and began to shout at the top of their lungs with their already hoarse and cracked voices.

"Western doctrines are all rubbish! The Sage Zhunti is a scoundrel!"

"The Great God Pangu created heaven and earth, and the Thirteen Ancestral Witches were the greatest under heaven!"

"I don't cultivate paradise, I only repair oil pans! Cleaning every pan perfectly is my only pursuit in this life!"

Hundreds of monks shouted at the top of their lungs at the same time. The extremely absurd slogans echoed wildly in the eighteenth level of hell, creating a very shocking scene, and even carrying an extremely bizarre comedic effect.

Lin Xuan stood in the shadows, watching this scene, feeling an intense, exhilarating sensation.

Wu Tian is truly a rare talent. This kind of reverse brainwashing that completely destroys their minds is even more painful for them than stabbing these bald monks with a god-killing spear.

Just then.

A minor Arhat at the Taiyi Golden Immortal level, reciting his lines at the back, was perhaps unable to withstand the scorching heat, his throat parched. Halfway through his recitation, a lump suddenly formed in his throat, and he couldn't help but mumble, with barely a whisper, "Buddha... help me..."

The sound was even softer than a mosquito's buzz.

But to Wutian, who was at the peak of the Great Luo realm, it was as clear as thunder.

"Snapped!"

Without uttering a single word of nonsense, Wutian swung his right hand with extreme ferocity.

The dark purple demonic whip left an extremely dazzling afterimage in mid-air, accompanied by a terrifying whooshing sound, completely ignoring the hundred-foot distance, and lashed hard at the little Arhat's bald head.

"ah--!"

The little arhat let out a bloodcurdling scream. His entire scalp was whipped off, and the immense force sent his body tumbling twice in mid-air before he slammed with pinpoint accuracy into the boiling oil pot in front of him.

"Sizzle—!"

The extremely piercing sizzling sound of frying rang out instantly. The little monk struggled desperately in the boiling black oil, his screams lasting less than half a breath before he was fried into a golden, crispy "human fried dough stick," floating upright on the oil.

"On my turf, there's only one rule. Those who obey me prosper, those who defy me are destroyed. Pull him out, feed him the Blood Pill, and let him continue carrying it." Wu Tian coldly issued the order.

Two burly minotaur guards immediately and skillfully picked up large iron forks, scooped out the "fried dough stick," and threw it on the ground. They then roughly pried open his mouth and poured in half a bottle of cheap healing potion.

The entire square fell silent. The remaining monks were so frightened that their crotches were wet, and their chanting voices instantly rose an octave, fearing they would be the next ones to be cooked.

"Slap! Slap! Slap!"

A series of crisp claps suddenly came from behind.

Lin Xuan clapped his hands as he swaggered out of the shadows.

"Well done. Wutian, I made the right choice in giving you this captain position." Lin Xuan nodded with great satisfaction and strode over to Wutian's side.

Upon seeing Lin Xuan, Wu Tian's cold expression instantly vanished. He knelt on one knee without hesitation, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and his voice was filled with absolute fervor and loyalty.

"Your humble servant Wutian greets Your Majesty! This is nothing to boast about. If Your Majesty is pleased, I will teach them to wash pots while doing handstands tomorrow!"

The Venerable Kasyapa, who was kneeling beside Lin Xuan washing the pots, acted as if he had seen a living ancestor the moment he saw Lin Xuan. He abruptly dropped the brush and crawled to Lin Xuan's feet, banging his forehead against the hard black stone floor tiles with tremendous force until his face was covered in blood, but he couldn't stop.

"Grandpa Lin Xuan! Thirteenth Ancestral Witch! Please, have mercy and let me go! I'll never dare to offend the Great Shang again! I scrub pots every day, and now when I close my eyes, all I see is soot from the bottom of the pots!"

Kasyapa wept bitterly, his face streaked with tears, a far cry from the grand display he once displayed riding a white elephant in the Xiqi Valley.

"Let you go?"

Lin Xuan looked down at the once extremely arrogant bald monk, casually placing his large foot on Kasyapa's shoulder. With a slight exertion, he pinned Kasyapa to the floor tiles, unable to move.

"I provide food and lodging in the underworld, and I even discipline you bunch of brain-dead bald monks. Where else can you find such good benefits? Just stay here and wash the pots for me until you die."

Lin Xuan kicked Jia Ye several feet away. He turned his head, looked at Styx and Wutian, and a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

"Playing with these little Arhats every day is no big deal for that old bald monk Zhunti. I'm coming down here today to pull off something big. I'm going to give Mount Sumeru an extremely exciting and super-gift!"