The Cold and Aloof Palace Master's Daily Demon-Slaying Life

Zuo Qingqiu raised her hand and gently dusted off non-existent dust from her straw hat, as if she had just waved away an annoying mosquito.

She didn't even glance at the dissipating blood mist and lightning before re-entering flight mode and slowly flying towards the Yanfu Mountains, which were already close at hand and shrouded in gray-black miasma.

The night rain was misty and the mountains and forests were silent.

Only the faint smell of burning and the lingering aura of thunder in the air told the story of the brief, bizarre, and unequal battle that had just taken place.

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After killing the third Purple Mansion Demon Cultivator who blocked his way, Zuo Qingqiu finally arrived at the foot of the Yanfu Mountains.

Looking up, one sees a steep and precipitous black mountain, as if cleaved by a knife and axe, shrouded in gray-black miasma and mist, which adds to its eerie and sinister atmosphere.

A wide but exceptionally steep stone staircase, like a twisted giant python, winds its way up from the foot of the mountain, through layers of miasma, and extends into the darkness at the edge of sight.

The stone steps were paved with some kind of unidentified black rock, the surface of which was slippery and covered with dark green moss, reflecting a cold luster as it was washed by the rain.

The air was filled with a thick, nauseating, and sweet-smelling stench—the smell of resentment accumulated from years of blood sacrifices and slaughter, mixed with the poisonous miasma from the earth.

An ordinary Qi Refining cultivator would probably die from the poison within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Zuo Qingqiu stood at the beginning of the stone steps, and instead of flying up immediately, she chose to walk.

She firmly suppressed her spiritual energy fluctuations at the "early stage of the Purple Mansion" level, and even deliberately imitated a bit of "weakness" and "caution" after a fierce battle.

Then, she lifted her foot and stepped onto the first slippery black stone step.

"despair."

The soft footsteps sounded exceptionally clear on the quiet, rainy mountain path.

And so, step by step, unhurriedly, she walked up the steep, winding stone steps.

His steps were steady and his rhythm even, as if he were truly a visitor who had come from afar and needed to conserve his energy.

But her divine sense, like the most sophisticated radar, spread silently and imperceptibly throughout the entire Yanfu Mountain Range, centered on her.

How powerful is the divine sense of a Golden Core True Monarch?

In the blink of an eye, one can easily cover thousands of miles and see the smallest details.

At this moment, she only slightly extended a portion of her divine sense, and it penetrated through layers of miasma, rocks, and buildings, allowing her to "see" everything on the mountain.

At the summit stands a massive black architectural complex built against the mountain, which is the core of the Diluo Sect's mountain gate.

The palaces stood in rows, their style grotesque, mostly decorated with skulls and demons, creating an atmosphere of evil.

At this moment, the huge plaza in front of the highest and most magnificent "Hall of Ten Thousand Souls" was packed with people.

On the outermost edge were tens of thousands of Qi Refining stage demonic disciples, dressed in uniform black outfits, arranged in neat square formations. Although most of them were pale and had fearful eyes, they still maintained a basic formation under some kind of forced command and years of training.

They held all sorts of magical artifacts in their hands—knives, swords, banners, flags—that gleamed with a dark and ominous light.

Above the Qi Refining disciples' formation, hundreds of Foundation Establishment stage demonic cultivators floated in the air.

Their auras were noticeably stronger, most of them had cold expressions and fierce eyes, surrounded by black energy. They each occupied their own positions, vaguely forming some kind of battle formation, their energy linked together, radiating a combined pressure that should not be underestimated.

Above the Foundation Establishment cultivators, higher in the sky, were seven figures with exceptionally powerful auras.

All seven were at the mid-stage of the Purple Mansion realm.

They stood apart, each occupying a side, like seven pillars stabilizing the sea, suppressing the large, somewhat restless army below.

These seven individuals varied in appearance, some male, some female, some old, some young, but without exception, they all exuded a powerful divine might belonging to cultivators of the Purple Mansion realm, as well as a fierce and malevolent aura formed from long-term immersion in the demonic path.

Their eyes were all fixed on the direction of the mountain path, clearly having already sensed the commotion below the mountain through their divine senses.

Before the towering and menacing gates of the Hall of Ten Thousand Souls, a red figure sat upon a throne carved from black jade and decorated with skull and ghost patterns.

It was a woman wearing a blood-red dress.

The dress was so brightly colored it looked as if it had just been soaked in blood, and it was shocking to behold in the dim candlelight.

She was extremely beautiful, yet possessed an eerie and bewitching aura. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, while her lips were as red as if they were smeared with blood.

What's most striking are her eyes; the pupils are eerie vertical lines, gleaming with a dark red luster, like a venomous snake ready to devour its prey.

Standing to the left of the throne was a female cultivator wearing a pink dress, heavy makeup, and with a beautiful face but cold eyes. She was also in the mid-stage of the Purple Mansion realm, and her aura was yin and strange.

Standing to the right of the throne was an old man, hunched over, so old he was almost unrecognizable, leaning on a white bone skull cane.

His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his eyes were sunken, with only two faint green lights remaining. His breath was weak and his blood was depleted, as if he would take his last breath at any moment.

However, Zuo Qingqiu's divine sense keenly perceived that although the old man seemed to be on his deathbed, he actually possessed an extremely condensed magical power within his body.

The Great Perfection of the Purple Mansion.

Moreover, he was an old demon who had remained at this level for countless years and had long since cultivated his demonic arts to the extreme.

However, with his lifespan nearing its end and his life force waning, his true combat strength is probably less than half of what it was at its peak.

Thirteen Purple Palaces.

She killed three of them on the way, leaving seven guarding the mountain gate. Adding the three in front of the throne, that makes a total of thirteen.

Zuo Qingqiu quickly made a decision in her mind.

As a first-class power on par with Taihua Sect, Diluo Sect at its peak should have had around fifty Purple Mansion cultivators.

Currently, only thirteen statues remain, meaning that nearly four-fifths have fled.

It seems that the defectors did indeed take a large number of core personnel with them.

This resulted in the remaining people being unable to even activate the sect's protective formation properly.

Yeah.

Fewer people mean fewer potential "variables".

Her divine sense scanned everything on the mountain in great detail.

From each person's aura, cultivation level, and position, to the hidden fluctuations concealed deep within the buildings and array nodes, and even the flow of the earth's spiritual energy...

She wanted stability and to ensure that everything was under control.

Conversely, she could also sense that several powerful divine senses on the mountain were repeatedly and carefully scanning her.

Especially the red-clad witch on the throne, and the old man at the Great Perfection of the Purple Mansion beside her, their divine senses were the most refined, carrying scrutiny and vigilance.

Both sides are testing each other, and both are wary.

What Zuo Qingqiu feared was the True Monarch-level killing weapon that the Diluo Sect might be hiding within its tens of thousands of years of history.

Once that thing is activated, even if it doesn't kill her, it could cause a lot of trouble, or even injure her.

Therefore, instead of launching a direct attack, she chose to use this slow, methodical approach to apply continuous psychological pressure to her opponent.

The longer the time drags on, the deeper the other party's fear and suspicion will become, and the more likely they are to make mistakes in decision-making. The more difficult it will be to activate those ultimate trump cards that require precise coordination and operation by multiple people.

What the Diluo Sect fears is a "living" Golden Core True Monarch, and what unpredictable methods he possesses.

They had never fought against beings at this level; all their knowledge came from ancient texts and legends.

The unknown is the most terrifying thing.

They also dared not act rashly.

Thus, in this eerie and oppressive atmosphere, Zuo Qingqiu stepped step by step, treading on the slippery black stone steps, passing through layers of miasma, and constantly approaching the core of the Demon Sect at the top of the mountain.

Footsteps echoed on the empty mountain path, like a countdown to death, pounding in the hearts of every member of the Diluo Sect.

The rain, without me noticing, gradually intensified again.