Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 43: Cloud Mist Mountain Range, Killing Innocents to Claim Merit

Chu Xuan stowed his Heavenly Dipper Flying Sword and continued on foot, his pace unhurried.

The jagged peaks of the Cloud Mist Mountain Range loomed ahead, shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog. Just as he stepped toward the tree line, four figures descended from the sky, boxing him in.

Two wore the crisp, arrogant robes of the Shenggang Sect. The other two were clad in the austere monk habits of the Jinlong Temple. All four were merely at the Qi Condensation realm.

They glared at Chu Xuan, their eyes filled with predatory malice.

Chu Xuan frowned inwardly. This was his first time setting foot in the Cloud Mist Mountain Range. How had he managed to offend both the Shenggang Sect and the Jinlong Temple simultaneously?

Concealing his cold amusement, Chu Xuan immediately schooled his features into a mask of trembling panic. He cupped his hands, bowing low. “Esteemed masters, I am but a lowly rogue cultivator. May I ask why you block my path?”

The Jinlong Temple monks exchanged a faint, condescending smile. “Where do you come from, benefactor, and where do you intend to go?”

“I hail from Baishui Prefecture,” Chu Xuan replied, his voice quivering with feigned anxiety. “I only wish to enter the Cloud Mist Mountain Range to hunt demon beasts and earn a few Spirit Stones.”

Baishui Prefecture sat right at the foot of the mountain range. He deliberately avoided mentioning his true origin in Qinghe Prefecture. After all, Qinghe was located in the central part of Tongzhou, far too distant for a mere Qi Condensation cultivator to travel just to hunt beasts for pocket change.

The Shenggang Sect disciples sneered, their eyes raking over him with disdain. “You claim to be a rogue cultivator. Where is your proof?”

Chu Xuan scratched his head, the very picture of a helpless old man. “Proof? I… I’ve been a rogue cultivator for over fifty years! How does one prove such a thing?”

“I think you are deliberately disguising yourself!” the Shenggang Sect disciple barked, his tone dripping with self-righteous fury. “You intend to slip into the Cloud Mist Mountain Range to rescue your vile brethren!”

“He is clearly a demonic cultivator!” a monk chimed in, his eyes gleaming with greedy piety. “Brothers, strike! Purge this evil!”

They moved with practiced, lethal synchronization. The Shenggang Sect disciples summoned their Green Dipper Swords, the blades humming with violent energy. The Jinlong Temple monks thrust forward their Vajra Pestles, radiating a blinding, oppressive golden light.

In the blink of an eye, the four Magical Artifacts wove an inescapable net of destruction. No matter which direction Chu Xuan tried to flee, he would be caught in the blast radius.

The four exchanged knowing, triumphant smiles. They had used this exact formation to butcher eight passing rogue cultivators in the last few days alone. No Qi Condensation cultivator could survive such a coordinated encirclement. They could already taste the Sect contribution points.

Then, the world blurred.

Their smiles froze. Where the trembling old man had stood a fraction of a second ago, only a wisp of freezing Yin-Fiend energy remained.

The four hypocrites blinked, their minds struggling to process the empty space.

A thin, crimson line flashed through the air.

*Schlick.*

Four heads detached from their shoulders simultaneously. Geysers of hot blood erupted from their severed necks, painting the mountain mist red.

Chu Xuan didn’t even blink. With a casual wave of his hand, he swept the four headless corpses and their severed heads straight into his Storage Bag.

He sifted through their belongings, his lips curling into a cold smirk as he found a pile of stolen Storage Bags. These “righteous” disciples had been busy. But the real prize was a jade slip containing orders from a Foundation Establishment elder.

*So that’s how it is,* Chu Xuan mused, reading the spiritual imprint. *Liu Zhenxiong and the Wuji Sect remnants were flushed out. They fled south and vanished into the Cloud Mist Mountain Range.*

The orders detailed a massive manhunt. Several Foundation Establishment cultivators were leading packs of Qi Condensation disciples deep into the mountains, while the weaker disciples formed a blockade at the base. The bounty on a demonic cultivator’s head was staggering.

*No wonder these outer disciples resorted to slaughtering innocent rogue cultivators to claim the merit,* Chu Xuan thought, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. The hypocrisy of the righteous sects never failed to amuse him.

Without another moment’s delay, Chu Xuan melted into the thick, swirling fog of the mountain range.

Originally, he had planned to settle for the life souls of Foundation Establishment demon beasts to forge his Sha Souls. But now? The heavens had delivered a far superior harvest. Those righteous Foundation Establishment cultivators hunting Liu Zhenxiong weren’t threats. They were walking, breathing life souls, ripe for the taking.

It was the perfect opportunity to gorge his Ten Thousand Souls Banner!

***

Deep within the Cloud Mist Mountain Range, inside a damp, lightless cave.

Xu Ming, Chen Ge, Wei Hua, and Bai Feng huddled together, shivering in the cold. They didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

On the rocky floor before them lay Wu Teng, his face ashen and his eyes rolled back in unconsciousness. A jagged, narrow gash tore across his chest. A stubborn, parasitic golden light clung to the wound, burning away the flesh and preventing it from healing.

Liu Zhenxiong knelt beside him, his face slick with sweat as he forced his own spiritual power into Wu Teng’s meridians. But no matter how hard he pushed, the golden light refused to yield.

“The Jinlong Temple’s signature spells are truly a plague,” Liu Zhenxiong muttered bitterly. Exhausted, he finally withdrew his hands, his spiritual reserves dangerously low.

Xu Ming leaned in, his voice a terrified whisper. “Uncle-Master, what do we do now?”

Liu Zhenxiong let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “We survive one breath at a time. Who could have predicted that Wu Teng’s own flesh and blood—his own grandson—would sell us out to the righteous sects? Sigh…”

Suddenly, the sharp, piercing whistle of Magical Artifacts tearing through the sky echoed from outside the cave.

The remnants of the Wuji Sect stiffened, terror flashing in their eyes.

“Not a sound,” Liu Zhenxiong commanded, his tone dead serious. “I will investigate.”

Xu Ming and the others nodded, clutching their weapons with white-knuckled grips.

Liu Zhenxiong formed a rapid series of hand seals, suppressing his aura until he was nothing more than a ghost in the spiritual spectrum. He slipped out of the cave, drifting through the dense, fog-choked forest like a phantom breeze.

He hadn’t traveled far before the scent of fresh copper hit his nose. He crept forward, parting the brush to reveal a clearing scarred by recent violence. Yet, there were no bodies. Only a massive, steaming pool of blood soaked into the dirt.

*These scorch marks… the residual spiritual pressure…* Liu Zhenxiong’s eyes narrowed. *This was a clash between Foundation Establishment cultivators.*

He inspected the shattered trees and the singular, massive bloodstain. *The fight ended in an instant. One side possessed absolutely overwhelming, crushing power. Strange… could it be a rogue cultivator?*

The Cloud Mist Mountain Range was a sprawling wilderness, a common hunting ground for rogue cultivators desperate to harvest herbs and slay beasts for a meager handful of Spirit Stones. Over the past few days, Liu Zhenxiong had witnessed the butchery of countless such wanderers.

It wasn’t a mystery. The bounty on a Wuji Sect demonic cultivator was astronomical. But there were only so many demonic cultivators to go around. Driven by greed, the “righteous” disciples had begun slaughtering innocent rogue cultivators, mutilating their corpses to pass them off as demonic cultivators for Sect contribution points.

The elders of the Shenggang Sect and Jinlong Temple naturally turned a blind eye to the atrocities. To those lofty sects, rogue cultivators were nothing but weeds—rootless, powerless, and entirely expendable.

Not wanting to push his luck, Liu Zhenxiong melted back into the shadows and retreated toward the cave.

Mere moments after he left, several figures descended into the blood-soaked clearing.

The man leading the pack was a middle-aged cultivator with a severe, hawkish face—Sun Shi. This was the very same Sun Shi who had previously dispatched He Liang to capture Chu Xuan. Beside him stood a younger, sharp-eyed cultivator named Zhang Ze. Both were veteran Foundation Establishment experts of the Shenggang Sect, their reputations forged in blood.

Flanking them were five elite Qi Condensation disciples. Their eyes were cold and alert, a stark contrast to the incompetent rabble guarding the mountain’s base.

“Junior Brother Zhao’s distress signal originated from this exact spot,” Zhang Ze said, his face twisting into an ugly scowl as he stared at the coagulating pool of blood. “We were too late.”

Sun Shi’s expression darkened, a murderous aura leaking from his pores. “That rat Liu Zhenxiong is truly something. To think he could slaughter Junior Brother Zhao so quickly, even while nursing heavy injuries.”

Sun Shi took a deep, ragged breath, his voice dropping to a venomous growl. “Keep searching! Even if we have to tear this mountain range apart stone by stone, we will exterminate every last remnant of the Wuji Sect!”

“Yes, Elder!” Zhang Ze and the disciples roared in unison.

Miles away, just as Liu Zhenxiong slipped back into the safety of the hidden cave, he violently sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, thoroughly perplexed. *Strange… since when does a Foundation Establishment cultivator catch a cold? Is someone cursing my name?*

He shook his head, completely oblivious to the blame he had just shouldered.

***

Elsewhere in the Cloud Mist Mountain Range, deep within a spacious cavern.

The original owner of this cave had been a massive, blind bear—a mid-stage Qi Condensation demon beast. Chu Xuan had very politely evicted the beast by inviting it into his own stomach, roasting its rich, spiritual meat over a crackling fire.

“Not a bad haul,” Chu Xuan murmured, tossing a bloodstained Storage Bag in his palm. “One Foundation Establishment life soul and a hefty sum of loot. They say murder and arson pave the road to a golden belt. Truly, nothing beats the profit margins of killing and plundering.”

He clicked his tongue in admiration as he sifted through the dead man’s wealth.

Shortly after entering the mountains, he had crossed paths with a Foundation Establishment cultivator from the Shenggang Sect. The self-righteous fool hadn’t even bothered to ask questions. He simply pointed his sword at Chu Xuan’s nose, branded him a demonic cultivator, and attacked with the intent to kill.

Left with absolutely no other choice, Chu Xuan had been forced to invite the gentleman to an early grave.

Furthermore, as a strict advocate for resource recycling, Chu Xuan had conscientiously ripped the man’s life soul from his shattered body. He then tossed the bleeding corpse into his Corpse Nurturing Tower to serve as premium fertilizer for his Yin Corpse.

It was, in Chu Xuan’s pragmatic opinion, the most respectful way to honor the righteous cultivator’s selfless donation.