Transcending two realms to become an earth immortal

In the blink of an eye, March has passed and the Zhengyang Daoist Temple has been rebuilt. Newly recruited ordinary people and Daoist boys come and go to perform their duties, like worker ants building a nest, and life is already in sight.

Inside the core hall, however, the elder in charge sat upright, his face ashen, his withered fingers resting on an open human skin scroll.

Several elders and disciples stood around, all holding their breath and their faces ashen.

The scroll records the fate of several demonic forces that Fang Chen "persuaded" to solicit spiritual materials and money during the previous Dharma assembly, over the course of three months.

After donating his magic money, the Blood Raven Demon, whose blood tax was in deficit, brazenly slaughtered the people under his rule and forcibly refined blood money to make up the shortfall.

However, what it did not expect was that the tax collectors of the underworld deliberately concealed one thing: once the number of living beings killed exceeded the limit, more blood tax would have to be paid.

This caused the original 50% quota to immediately increase by more than 70%. His savings were emptied in an instant, his temple was immediately taken back by the underworld, and his body was also stripped of the city's protection and banished to the streets and alleys of the Taoist city.

With nowhere else to turn, he had no choice but to seek refuge with the Zhengyang Path. However, because he ate living people, he was not allowed by the Three-Headed Immortal, so he had to seek refuge with other demon forces.

The result was repeated exploitation and oppression, followed by severe injuries sustained during an exploration of the old world's shadows outside the city. Finally, he was possessed by a tax collector who, in full view of everyone, sucked away his life essence and soul bit by bit, leaving only a withered crow corpse, which was then discarded in a ditch.

The giant corpse demon, whose soul was damaged due to being intimidated by Fang Chen's sword energy during the previous donation, was soon ambushed by the leader of the evil cult and severely injured.

He went to seek elixirs to prolong his life, but ended up being sold poisonous pills, which drove him mad and caused him to lose his mind.

In his madness, he devoured the demons under his command in the center of the temple, causing the blood tax to be overdue. As a result, within ten days, the underworld's "Black Impermanence" arrived in person with chains, publicly taking away his mad demon soul to be refined in the furnace, and the temple's foundation was also confiscated.

The remaining families either died in attacks by enemies who took advantage of their vulnerability, or their extra expenses led to a blood tax surplus that was pierced through, resulting in them being haunted by the underworld... Within just three months, they all died one after another, with none escaping unscathed.

The scroll was covered in blood, and the stench of blood lingered.

Although it was merely the tragic death of a demon, a chilling sense of unease, a feeling of shared sorrow, arose in the hearts of everyone present.

This demonic city, with its blood tax as sharp as a knife, has carved out an invisible line of death.

Once the funds for the Dharma cease to be available and the foundation is depleted, a dead end will immediately follow, with demons devouring the offerings and tax ghosts demanding souls.

Its ferocity and cruelty even surpass those of a battlefield with flashing swords!

After carefully reading through each document, the elders and core disciples were ashen-faced, exchanging glances in shock.

After a long pause, someone finally spoke through gritted teeth:

"Elder, we cannot sit idly by any longer. Although Senior Brother Fang Chen has amassed a wealth of spiritual resources and magical money from reaping the rewards from various demons, we must not allow our resources to run out. Otherwise, if the blood tax remains unchanged and no new wealth comes in, it will surely lead to disaster!"

"Absolutely right! Without a continuous flow of new revenue, once the funds for the ritual run out and the blood taxes cease... the temple will be reclaimed by the underworld, and when the tax collectors come knocking, no one in our sect will escape unscathed!"

"Indeed! Even if it means sacrificing some mortals, Daoist disciples, or even the foundation and lifespan of some disciples, it's still better than the entire Daoist sect being bound by tax ghosts and annihilated!"

Upon hearing this, the elder in charge turned ashen-faced.

He knew in his heart that no matter how much the Dao Lord had advanced to the Day Travel Realm, as long as he had not ascended to the floating island and transcended this city, he would still have to pay blood tax to the Underworld.

This is an ironclad rule, and there is no going back on it.

Otherwise, if they resist paying taxes, the people who come to their door will not be ordinary tax officials, but the entire underworld will be mobilized, and it may even trigger the great powers of the floating island to bring down calamity.

At that time, the entire lineage would be destroyed in an instant, and the soul and spirit would be annihilated, leaving no chance of survival!

Within this city, you may kill and refine souls, wreak havoc on the region, and all the ghosts of the underworld and the powerful beings of the floating islands may turn a blind eye.

However, the blood tax must be paid, regardless of whether you are a demon, a monster, a human, or a ghost; none of you can avoid it!

"If that's the case..."

Thinking of this, the elder in charge of affairs struggled with his expression, gritting his teeth as he prepared to make a decision.

But at that very moment, a figure silently entered the quiet room:

"What happened?"

Upon hearing this, everyone was startled, then their faces lit up with wild joy, as if they had seen a savior.

"Senior Brother Fang!"

"Senior brother has emerged from seclusion!"

Ok?

Seeing the expressions on everyone's faces, Fang Chen looked puzzled:

"What exactly happened? Isn't the Dao Lord, the Day Traveling True Man, in charge? Why are you so panicked?"

The elder in charge of affairs quickly stepped forward and said bitterly:

"Senior brother, you may not know this... but it concerns the blood tax!"

"Blood tax?" Fang Chen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Master has already advanced to the Sun-Traveling Realm; hasn't the tax already been reduced by 20%?"

In the past, as a true disciple, he only needed to focus on cultivation. He had only heard of the heavy burden of the blood tax, but had not yet felt its cruelty.

However, as the elder explained in detail, Fang Chen's expression gradually darkened.

Even with reductions, the temple still has to pay 30% of its total output as blood tax annually. In addition to this 30%, there are various other exorbitant taxes and levies… For everything they do—management, mining, medicine making, cultivation, healing—they must pay tribute!

This means that the temple must constantly generate Dharma money, which is then converted into blood tax for payment.

Otherwise, once growth stops or even declines, they will be slaughtered by blood taxes.

When the time comes, everything in the city, including temples, shops, and houses, will be taken back by the underworld. Everyone will be left to wander the streets, haunted by tax ghosts, and drained of their life force. No one will be spared!

"Demons devour human flesh and blood, and must even rip out their own hearts and livers, selling their demonic blood to pay a blood tax. Cultivators, regardless of righteousness or evil, must risk venturing into the shadows of the old world to search for spiritual treasures to offer as tribute. As for mortals…" the elder's voice was low, "their lives, possessions, souls, and essence are themselves a blood tax; the tax ghosts will come and devour them completely, leaving not a trace!"

Upon hearing this, Fang Chen took a deep breath, his face turning ashen.

He suddenly understood why the powerful beings on the floating islands never directly attacked low-level cultivators and mortals.

Because this blood tax system is an invisible giant net that covers the whole world, and it is a far more efficient and thorough way of harvesting than killing and plundering.

Even without killing, countless creatures can be driven by the instinct for survival to actively exploit themselves and kill one another, squeezing every last drop of flesh and soul clean, and then offering it up layer by layer.

Thinking deeper, in order to pay this blood tax, the cultivators in the city had no choice but to spend their days engaging in the activities of killing to refine souls and slaying demons to obtain their blood.

All the sins, resentments, and boundless karma that arise from this are borne and endured by these lowly cultivators until they are devoured, their bodies and souls scattered.

Meanwhile, the powerful beings on the floating islands can peacefully reside high in the clouds, enjoying the blood and food that gathers here, and they themselves are not entangled in cause and effect, nor do they bear sins. In this filthy and evil world, they cultivate their pure immortal and true Dao fruits alone!

"Forcing lower-level cultivators to become bloodthirsty, while they themselves sit high in the clouds, practicing pure and virtuous cultivation... What a clever tax system, what a cunning scheme!"

Fang Chen's expression was calm and composed, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

This incident strengthened his resolve:

He must cultivate to the realm of "Spiritual Connection with the Earth" as soon as possible in the Pure and Spiritual World, and then devote himself to exploring the Black Mountain of the Old World, trying to open up a pure and blessed land that belongs to him alone, and even the Dao Realm of the Cave Heaven!

Otherwise, no matter which realm of cultivation one enters, one will ultimately be dependent on others, at their mercy, like fish on a chopping board. Day after day, one will be bleed and drained, and one day, one will be completely exploited and harvested, leading to death and the dissipation of one's cultivation.

"We must strengthen this lineage, recruit many disciples, explore the old world, open up blessed lands, and lay a solid foundation... Only in this way can we avoid forever becoming meat on someone else's chopping block!"

At this thought, a resolute glint flashed in Fang Chen's eyes. He swung his sleeve sharply, his voice like metal, and issued the order with unwavering force:

"Issue my decree! Immediately summon all novice practitioners, eligible young disciples, inner and outer disciples, and elders to gather before the main hall of the Daoist temple. This Daoist decrees—"

He imparts unorthodox and heretical teachings, and transmits the methods of cultivation in this corrupt world!