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

The western border, the Wuling Mountains.

Unlike the beautiful and ethereal mountains of Central China, the Wuling Mountains appear more rugged and desolate.

The mountains are mostly bare, grayish-brown rocks with sparse vegetation, consisting mainly of drought-resistant and cold-resistant thorns and low shrubs.

The sky is perpetually covered by a thin layer of yellowish-brown dust, making the sunlight appear somewhat murky and weak.

The air was filled with the dry smell of dust, and the wind blowing from the distant Gobi Desert, carrying fine sand.

However, deep within this seemingly barren mountain range lies a top-tier cultivation sect in the Western Lands—the Evergreen Sect.

The mountain gate of Changqing Sect is built against the main peak of Wuling Mountain. The halls and buildings are mostly built with local grayish-blue rocks, with a simple and heavy style that blends into the surrounding environment, revealing a kind of tenacity and vicissitudes rooted in this land.

The sect's protective formation emitted a faint blue halo, enveloping the core area of ​​the sect and isolating it from external winds, sandstorms, and prying eyes.

For thousands of years, the Changqing Sect, with its three Grand Elders at the early stage of the Purple Mansion realm, dozens of Foundation Establishment cultivators, and thousands of Qi Refining disciples, has firmly occupied the Wuling Mountains and the surrounding hundreds of thousands of miles, making it the undisputed overlord of this desolate land.

When disciples of a sect travel, they are respected by all ordinary people, and even small sects fawn over them.

But all of this, just a few hours ago, melted away like summer snow, turning into a bloody ruin.

At this moment, dawn breaks.

At the summit of the main peak of the Wuling Mountains, on the "Wangyun Cliff," which originally belonged to the sect leader for cultivation and sightseeing.

A figure dressed in a dark black robe embroidered with gold flying fish, with a long, narrow curved sword at his waist, and standing tall and straight like a pine tree, stood with his hands behind his back on the edge of the cliff, gazing at the churning sea of ​​clouds below, which appeared somewhat murky in the dim light of the sky.

The mountain wind was biting, blowing the hem of his flying fish robe and the few strands of black hair that were not tied up on his forehead, making them flutter.

He wore a hideous, blue-faced, fanged demon mask, revealing only a pair of deep, cold, hawk-like eyes. Through the eye holes of the mask, he calmly gazed at the swirling clouds below, as if admiring a painting that had nothing to do with him.

Behind him, the once tranquil and elegant Wangyun Cliff, and even further away in the sect square, halls and corridors, presented a completely different scene.

Corpses lay strewn across the fields, and blood flowed like rivers.

The corpses of the three Grand Elders of the Changqing Sect, all at the early stage of the Purple Mansion realm, lay in the most conspicuous positions in various miserable postures.

One person was cut in half at the waist, his internal organs spilling out onto the ground;

A head was missing, and the cut on the neck was smooth;

The last one was charred black all over, as if it had been repeatedly burned by lightning and fire, and was no longer human.

Their eyes were mostly wide open, still showing the horror, resentment, and disbelief they felt before their deaths.

More often, there were the corpses of Foundation Establishment cultivators and Qi Refining disciples.

Some were torn apart by violent spells while trying to form a defensive formation, some were caught and killed while fleeing, and some self-destructed in despair, perishing together with the enemy and leaving behind mutilated bodies.

Blood soaked the bluestone slabs, pooling into dark red streams that meandered and emitted a strong, nauseating stench of rust.

Severed limbs and remains were scattered everywhere, broken magical artifacts and shattered talismans lay strewn about, silently recounting the brief but brutal massacre that had occurred not long ago.

Dozens of cultivators, all dressed in flying fish robes and wearing various ferocious masks, were silently and efficiently moving through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

They were skilled and had a clear division of labor.

Some were examining the corpses, finishing off those who weren't quite dead, and looting the storage bags and valuables from the bodies;

Some were clearing important passageways and buildings, dragging obstructing corpses aside and piling them up in one place;

Some were sprinkling a special powder to neutralize the smell of blood and prevent the corpses from rotting too quickly and causing disease.

Several others, carrying compass-like magical artifacts, carefully searched various parts of the sect, looking for possible hidden secret rooms, treasure vaults, or remnants of warning formations.

The whole process was eerily quiet, with only the rustling sound of the body being dragged across the ground, the occasional thud of a heavy object hitting the ground, and the howling of the mountain wind.

No one spoke, no one talked, only the occasional cold, indifferent glances flashing beneath the masks.

The efficiency is chillingly high.

It was as if what they were doing was not the bloody work of slaughtering a sect and cleaning up thousands of corpses, but just an ordinary task that needed to be completed as soon as possible.

On the cliff edge, the figure wearing the demon mask seemed oblivious to the hellish scene behind him.

He remained standing quietly, as if waiting, or perhaps deep in thought.

until……

His right hand, gloved with black leather and clad behind his back, suddenly trembled almost imperceptibly.

Immediately, his left hand swiftly reached into the storage bag at his waist, and when he pulled it out, there was a jade pendant about the size of a palm, completely black, icy to the touch, and with complex and eerie patterns engraved on its surface.

Soul tablet.

Moreover, it is a specially made natal soul tablet that can sense regardless of distance and display the life or death of a specific object.

At this moment, the dark soul tablet, which should have emitted a faint but stable glow, now had its central point of eerie green soul fire, symbolizing the soul owner's life force, completely...

It's completely extinguished.

All that remained was cold, deathly darkness.

Just like the eyes beneath his mask at this moment, which suddenly contracted, then momentarily lost focus, and were ultimately swallowed by boundless darkness.

It is the junior sister's soul tablet.

Junior sister... is dead.

This realization, like the coldest awl, pierced his heart, which was wrapped in layers of masks, calculations, and ruthlessness.

Although... he had already foreseen this outcome the moment he made the decision to defect, leaving his junior sister and those stubborn old guys to die in the Yanfu Mountains.

Despite... in the past few dozen days, he led one-third of the elite forces of the Diluo Sect across hundreds of millions of miles, infiltrating from the prosperous Central Plains into the desolate Western Lands, annihilating the Changqing Sect with thunderous force, and establishing a new foundation on this unfamiliar land. Every step he took was calculated, planned, and paved the way for the "rebirth" of the "Diluo Sect." It seemed that he had long forgotten everything about Yanfu Mountain.

Although... he kept telling himself that this was the wisest and most rational choice. As long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood to burn.

but……

The moment that sliver of eerie green soul fire truly and completely extinguished before his very eyes…

All reason, all calculation, all the cold masks...

They shattered like glass struck by a heavy hammer.

An indescribable wave, a mixture of excruciating pain, suffocation, coldness, and emptiness, instantly overwhelmed him!

He and his junior sister... grew up together since childhood.

He was the first orphan adopted by his master and was the eldest disciple.

Junior Sister Xia Zhu was a little girl whom Master rescued from a group of starving people in a dilapidated temple many years later when Master was traveling. She was almost cooked and eaten.

He personally carried that thin, dirty little girl who could only tremble back to the sect, bathed her, fed her rice porridge, and watched her grow from the first timid girl who hid behind her master and called him "Senior Brother" to a graceful young woman.

They cultivated together, got into trouble together, were punished together, shared secrets together, and spent their youth together under the protection of their master, a time filled with warmth despite being in the Blood Demon Sect.