“Brother Situ.”

“Brother Qi.”

Now that their allegiances were “confirmed,” the tension between the two evaporated. The atmosphere became so relaxed and brotherly that one might expect them to sacrifice a chicken and swear a blood oath on the spot.

After a few rounds of polite conversation, they quietly struck a deal.

Qi Yuan would escort Situ Yun safely back to the Demon Domain. In return, Situ Yun promised to recommend Qi Yuan for a position as an Outer Sect Disciple of the Saint Sect and take him under his wing.

This was the limit of Situ Yun’s current influence. He had just lost a critical mine stronghold—a massive blunder. According to sect laws, even if he escaped the death penalty, he would likely be skinned alive.

He was barely keeping his own head above water and would need to spend a fortune in bribes to survive the coming inquiry. He simply didn’t have the political capital to push a random rogue cultivator directly into the Inner Sect.

However, a starving camel is still bigger than a horse. As a Legacy Disciple of the prestigious Situ Clan, shoving a worthless nobody into the Outer Sect was as easy as breathing.

To the Demonic Sects, Outer Sect disciples were nothing more than Gu vessels—cannon fodder raised in a jar to kill each other until the strongest survived. Adding one more to the pile cost the sect nothing.

Qi Yuan, of course, was perfectly happy with this arrangement. The System had specifically tasked him with becoming an Outer Sect Disciple. If Situ Yun had tried to promote him to the Inner Sect, it would have actually ruined his plans.

With the deal set, Situ Yun looked at Qi Yuan with growing approval. He glanced at the sky outside the cave and spoke urgently.

“It’s getting late. We should move. It would be disastrous if those Hypocrites doubled back to search for us.”

Then, a thought struck him.

“Brother Qi, do you happen to have any healing pills? My injuries are severe, and I need to replenish my essence.”

Qi Yuan spread his hands, his expression a mask of helpless poverty.

“Brother Situ, you know my situation. I only just escaped my life as a slave laborer. I’m destitute. Forget healing pills—I can’t even scrape together a single Low-Grade Spirit Stone.”

Qi Yuan wasn’t about to hand over resources. He had worked hard to weaken this mid-Nascent Soul cultivator to the point of vulnerability. If he helped Situ Yun recover now, who knew what treacherous thoughts might pop into that demonic head?

Situ Yun was a bona fide Demonic Cultivator. His tenure as the mine overseer proved his moral baseline was non-existent. For people like him, repaying kindness with betrayal was just standard operating procedure. It was better to keep the tiger toothless.

Hearing this, Situ Yun’s face fell. He looked utterly depressed.

“Fine. It seems I must wait until we return to the Sect. Fortunately, the border isn’t far. Once we cross into the Demon Domain, those Hypocrites won’t dare to pursue.”

The next day.

Western Demon Domain.

Qi Yuan escorted the limping Situ Yun through the wilderness, soon crossing deep into the territory of the Nether Fiend Sect.

In this world, scattered evil factions could not survive the relentless purges of the Righteous Path. To avoid extinction, the major demonic sects had huddled together for warmth, forming a massive coalition known as the Five Regions Demon Domain.

Internally, these sects were rife with conflict and constantly at each other’s throats. But the moment the Righteous Forces attacked, they would lock shields and fight as one—a strategy that gave the Seven Great Holy Lands endless headaches.

The domain was vast and rich in resources.

Nether Fiend Sect: The leader of the coalition. They controlled the Central, Northern, and Western Demon Domains.

Nine Nether Sect: Occupied the Southern Demon Domain.

Eternal Night Palace: The absolute overlords of the Eastern Demon Domain.

All other demonic forces were merely vassals to these three giants. For instance, the Nether River Cult—which Qi Yuan had scammed previously—was a subsidiary of the Nine Nether Sect.

As the pair emerged from a lush mountain forest, several streaks of black smoke tore through the sky on the horizon. The dark clouds descended rapidly, blocking their path with aggressive intent.

The figures that emerged were clad in black robes, their bodies shrouded in an eerie, obscure dark aura.

Nether Fiend Sect patrol.

The leader was a short, stout cultivator with dark skin. He hovered in the air, looking down at the two travelers with a predatory sneer.

But the moment his eyes landed on the specific insignia embroidered on Situ Yun’s torn robes, his fierce expression vanished. It was instantly replaced by a fawning, ingratiating smile.

“Ah! A Legacy Disciple in the flesh! This lowly one has eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai. Please forgive my offense!”

Situ Yun snorted coldly, his arrogance returning in full force.

“Cut the crap. I am Situ Yun, Legacy Disciple of Soul Fall Peak. If you know what’s good for you, get lost!”

“Situ Clan…” The stout cultivator’s eyes narrowed slightly, his wariness increasing. He bowed lower. “My apologies, Senior Brother. But duty demands protocol. Could you please show your Identity Token so this lowly one can verify it?”

Situ Yun frowned. His voice dropped to a menacing growl.

“What kind of thing are you, daring to check my token? I have an appointment with my clan cousin, Situ Jun, right here. He’ll be arriving any moment. If you want to check tokens, why don’t you wait and check his too?”

Hearing the name “Situ Jun,” the stout cultivator’s pupils contracted sharply. Terror flashed across his face before he forced another awkward, terrified smile.

“This lowly one wouldn’t dare! We’re leaving! Please, proceed, proceed…”

He didn’t dare to linger a second longer. gesturing frantically to his subordinates, the patrol turned tail and fled as if escaping a plague.

Watching them disappear over the horizon, Situ Yun finally let out a long, shaky breath.

“Brother Qi, you might not know,” he explained, wiping sweat from his brow. “When the Hypocrites captured me, they took my Identity Token along with everything else.”

“The Saint Sect’s rules are ironclad. Anyone entering or leaving without a token is to be killed on sight as a spy.”

“Normally, with my face and status, these patrol dogs wouldn’t dare hassle me too much. But I just lost the mine. If they found out about my current predicament, they would have made trouble. That’s why I had to use my cousin’s name to scare them off.”

Qi Yuan nodded. “I see.”

So, the Demonic Sects weren’t total anarchy. They had rules—even if those rules were enforced by fear and nepotism rather than justice. It was better than chaos.

Situ Yun’s tone suddenly turned serious.

“Brother Qi, listen to me. In the Saint Sect, being a patrol disciple is a ‘fat gig’—extremely lucrative. Those men looked polite just now, but in reality, every single one of them is ruthless, greedy, and corrupt.”

“Once you enter the Outer Sect, do not leave the safety of the sect gates casually. If you must leave, bring friends.”

“If a disciple without a strong backing runs into a patrol team alone… best case scenario, they strip you of your wealth. Worst case? They kill you, take your loot, and report your corpse as a ‘Righteous Spy’ to claim a bounty.”

Holy shit.

Qi Yuan stared at him, stunned.

Even walking out your own front door is a death sentence? This place really lives up to the name ‘Demon Sect’.