The Lu clan of Sharp Sand Island had survived for nearly a thousand years. Through generations of struggle, they had amassed over a dozen Foundation Establishment cultivators, including three late-stage experts. Yet, the Golden Core remained an elusive dream, blocked by the lack of an inherited technique. When a group of Demon Cultivators sought refuge on their island, desperation warped into opportunity. Instead of reporting them to the Qingyuan Sect, the Lu patriarch, Lu Chengfeng, offered them shelter. In exchange, he embraced the Demonic Path, twisting his own cultivation until he finally shattered the bottleneck and achieved the Golden Core.

With their power surging, the Lu clan chafed at the confines of their island. Yet, the shadow of the Qingyuan Sect loomed large, forcing them to temper their ambition with caution. They turned to banditry—a “capital-free business” to supplement their income. Through murder and plunder, their strength swelled, attracting a swarm of rogue cultivators until the original Lu bloodline became a minority in their own house.

Zeng Qiang was one such recruit. A former rogue who had scraped a living doing odd jobs in the market, he had possessed decent aptitude but no backing. He had clawed his way to the late stages of Qi Refining, only to hit the unbreakable wall of Foundation Establishment.

The Lu clan offered him a ladder. He seized it, abandoning his humanity for power.

Ten years later, Zeng Qiang was a Foundation Establishment cultivator and a captain in the Lu forces. He had two duties: guard the family, or hunt for prey. Guard duty was safe but paid poorly. Murder offered a rich salary and a twenty percent cut of the spoils.

Zeng Qiang had chosen murder without hesitation. He had tasted poverty, and the Demonic Path allowed for no regrets. Demonic cultivation required different resources—tainted Qi, blood, and flesh—but Spirit Stones were universal. Through the Lu clan, he laundered his plunder into power.

Zeng Qiang stood before Lu Chengfeng, presenting a ledger with trembling hands. “Elder Lu, this is the inventory from our recent operation in the Severed Origin Mountains.”

Lu Chengfeng, seated on his obsidian throne, scanned the list. His brow furrowed. “Why is there so much material? Did you hit a clan convoy? I told you to keep a low profile.”

Zeng Qiang swallowed hard. The Old Demon was becoming impossible to please. “Subordinate ambushed a group suspected to be a merchant convoy. They fought back hard—killed two of our men and a few escaped—but we secured their cargo.”

“A merchant convoy…” Lu Chengfeng’s eyes narrowed. “Only major powers run convoys through the Severed Origin Mountains. You fool… was it the Qingyuan Sect?”

Before Zeng Qiang could answer, the world shuddered.

A deafening boom tore through the air, shaking the very foundations of the hall. Dust rained from the ceiling as a disciple stumbled in, face pale with terror.

“Old Ancestor! The Qingyuan Sect is attacking!”

Wang Hao had not expected the war to be amphibious. The Qingyuan Sect’s territory bordered the sea, and many islands possessed spirit veins occupied by vassal clans. Sharp Sand Island was one of the largest.

Above the island, Daoist Master Baili stood in the void, a god of judgment. His hands weaved complex seals, raining destruction upon the island’s defensive array. The barrier flickered and groaned, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Below, the faces of the conscripted family cultivators were pale. Some had traded with the Lu clan and feared guilt by association. others were disturbed by Baili’s ruthlessness—attacking without a declaration or investigation. If this was a mistake, the Qingyuan Sect would never apologize. They would simply bury the evidence.

“Baili, you old dog!” A roar echoed from the island as a streak of black light shot into the sky. A middle-aged man in black robes materialized, his aura seething with malice. “Why are you attacking my home?”

“Hm? Demonic Qi?” Baili’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to absolute zero.

“So it is true,” Baili declared, his voice amplifying to reach the entire fleet. “I wondered why you had vanished from the world. You secretly embraced the Demonic Path to form your Golden Core! Evil demons and heretics deserve execution by all under heaven. Today, I uphold justice!”

Lu Chengfeng sneered. “The Southern Sea has always held both Righteous and Demonic paths. My cultivation is none of your business! Do not think I fear you just because you are in the Mid-Golden Core stage!”

Below, the island’s formation split open. Forty black-clad demon cultivators surged out, flanked by a dozen Lu family members who still practiced orthodox techniques. Lu Chengfeng had not forced his kin to turn, viewing his own corruption as a necessary sacrifice to pave the road for their future.

On the Qingyuan battleship, a disciple pointed a trembling finger at a figure below. “Old Ancestor! That man—Zeng Qiang! He led the ambush!”

Lu Chengfeng followed the finger and his heart sank. He glared at Zeng Qiang, cursing the fool’s incompetence. But it was too late for apologies. Surrendering Zeng Qiang would only destroy morale.

“Speaking so grandly of justice,” Lu Chengfeng scoffed, “when you are merely here for revenge!”

He stomped the air, transforming into a streak of black light that shot away from the island. It wasn’t cowardice; a Golden Core battle fought directly over the island would vaporize his family. He was a monster, but he was still a patriarch.

Daoist Master Baili understood. He snorted and streaked after him, unwilling to let his collateral damage harm his own disciples.

With the titans gone, the battlefield belonged to the ants.

A Late-Foundation Establishment elder from the Qingyuan Sect took command of the deck. He pointed his sword at the swarm of cultists below.

“I am Elder Xie of the Qingyuan Sect! Hear my promise: Kill one Early-Foundation Establishment Demon, and earn ten thousand contribution points! Kill three, and exchange them for a Foundation Establishment Pill! For a Late-stage Demon, one kill is enough! If you do not need the pill, exchange the points for any treasure in our vault!”

The promise of the Foundation Establishment Pill was like blood in the water. The eyes of the vassal cultivators turned red with greed.

“With Elder Xie’s word, I will risk my life!”

“Slay the demons! Eliminate the evil! It is our duty!”

Elder Xie nodded, satisfied with the bloodlust he had whipped up. He slashed his sword downward. “Kill them all! Leave none alive!”

Wang Hao turned to Wang Wenxin and the trembling Qi Refining disciples. “Stay with the main group. Do not be greedy for merit. Do not rush ahead. Your only job is to survive.”

“Yes, Fifth Brother!” Wenxin shouted, gripping his weapon.

Wang Hao exchanged a glance with Li Yaozu. “Let’s go.”

They dove into the fray.

Above, the sky flashed with the terrifying colors of the Golden Core duel, booms echoing like thunder. That battle could last for days. Down here, however, Qi reserves were shallow. These fights would be brutal, fast, and decisive.

The Qingyuan coalition outnumbered the Lu forces two to one. Wang Hao and Li Yaozu moved in tandem, selecting a Mid-Foundation Establishment Demon Cultivator to double-team.

Wang Hao kept his power in reserve, his strikes precise but restrained. He would not reveal his true strength to the Qingyuan Sect unless he had no other choice.