The Demon Cultivator sneered, flicking his wrist. Two dark figures materialized from his storage bag, landing heavily on the ground. They were Evil Corpses—the reanimated remains of Foundation Establishment cultivators slain in previous ambushes. Though devoid of intelligence, they retained their former cultivation strength and were refined into bodies of steel, impervious to pain and fear.

“Little friend,” Li Yaozu called out, “handle those two corpses. I will take the cultivator.”

Wang Hao suppressed a smile. Assigning the two mindless brutes to him was Li Yaozu’s way of protecting the younger generation. The corpses were Early-Foundation Establishment—dangerous, but predictable.

“Understood.” Wang Hao nodded, drawing the corpses away from the main melee.

He engaged them with fluid swordplay, weaving through their clumsy strikes. He had no intention of ending this quickly. His strategy was simple: don’t be a hero. He would stall until the tide of battle turned, avoiding the limelight while preserving his strength.

The corpses were resilient; ordinary artifacts barely scratched their iron-hard skin. However, their attacks were linear, and they couldn’t fly. Wang Hao danced just out of reach, easily dodging their occasional bursts of corrosive corpse Qi.

The Qingyuan Sect’s bounties were generous, but they weren’t worth dying for.

As he fought, Wang Hao observed the wider battlefield. The Qingyuan Sect disciples were undeniably superior to the vassal families. Their techniques were sharper, their talismans more potent, and they pressed the Lu clan forces hard. In contrast, the family cultivators struggled to maintain parity, even when outnumbering their opponents two-to-one.

Is this it? Wang Hao mused. No wonder the Sect offered such high rewards. They knew we wouldn’t claim many.

Suddenly, a deafening boom shattered his contemplation.

Nearby, a Qingyuan disciple had just decapitated an Evil Corpse with a triumphant shout. The moment the head fell, the body detonated.

The explosion blasted the disciple backward, spraying him and several nearby cultivators with black, viscous blood. The liquid hissed on contact, eating through spiritual shields and dimming the glow of artifacts.

The contaminated cultivators didn’t react immediately. Then, the fallen disciple began to convulse. His skin turned grey, and his eyes rolled back, devoid of life, as dark Qi poured from his pores.

“The blood corrupts the mind!” someone screamed.

One family cultivator, seeing the horror, gritted his teeth and severed his own infected arm with a single stroke. Others were less decisive, retreating in panic to swallow detoxifying pills.

The momentum shifted instantly. The fear of the explosive corpses broke the coalition’s formation.

The Qingyuan elders reacted quickly. Wang Hao watched two disciples coordinate: one struck the killing blow while the other used a force technique to launch the corpse away before it detonated.

“Do as they do!” an Elder roared. “Launch them before they blow!”

But the Demon Cultivators were not idle. Seeing their enemies adapt, they pressed the attack, entangling the cultivators to prevent them from supporting one another.

Suddenly, Zhao Gaofang, leading a corpse, retreated toward Wang Hao.

“Little Friend Wang! How about we cooperate to handle these three?”

Wang Hao internally rolled his eyes. Do I need your help? But refusing an elder would be impolite. “Thank you, Senior Zhao.”

With Wang Hao’s hidden strength and the new tactic, they dispatched the three corpses efficiently. Others were not so lucky. Five or six more cultivators were dragged down to hell by the self-destructing bombs.

Despite the losses, numbers eventually told. As the corpses were whittled down, the Demon Cultivators began to panic.

In unison, their demonic Qi flared, doubling in intensity. They had activated a blood-burning secret art.

The sudden burst of power caught several cultivators off guard. Artifacts shattered, and bodies fell. Even Li Yaozu took a heavy hit, saved only by a Tier 2 talisman.

A desperation move, Wang Hao noted. Like the Blood Burning Pill. They can’t sustain this.

True enough, the burst was short-lived. Realizing they couldn’t break the encirclement through force, the Demon Cultivators scattered, fleeing in all directions amidst streaks of bloody light.

“Family cultivators, pursue the fleeing demons!” the Qingyuan Elder commanded. “Sect disciples, attack Sharp Sand Island! Leave no one alive!”

Wang Hao frowned. The Sect was claiming the easy, lucrative target—the Lu family’s accumulated wealth—while sending the vassals to chase dangerous, cornered rats.

“Come,” Wang Hao signaled to Li Yaozu, releasing his Flying Cloud Boat. “We’ll take that one.”

He pointed to a Mid-Foundation Establishment cultivator fleeing southeast. It was better to pick a ‘soft persimmon’ than risk the unknown. His goal was simple: Not seeking merit, but seeking to avoid blame.

They chased the figure across the waves until he descended onto a small, uncharted island.

The cultivator turned to face them, his expression cold. It was Zeng Qiang, the man who had started this entire war.

“You dare chase me here?” Zeng Qiang sneered. “Do you think I, Zeng, am made of mud?”

“Careful,” Li Yaozu warned. “Ambush.”

Two streaks of black light shot from the island, landing beside Zeng Qiang.

“More Demon Cultivators?” Wang Hao narrowed his eyes.

It was Zeng Qiang’s personal lair. The reinforcements were a beautiful woman in a black bamboo hat (Early-Foundation Establishment) and a grim elder in black robes (Mid-Foundation Establishment).

As soon as they landed, they released four more Foundation Establishment Evil Corpses. The odds had instantly shifted from 2-vs-1 to 2-vs-7.

“Little Friend Wang,” Li Yaozu transmitted, his voice tense. “Three cultivators and four corpses… we should retreat.”

It would be easy to leave. The corpses couldn’t fly, and Zeng Qiang was injured. They wouldn’t dare pursue.

“We cannot,” Wang Hao replied calmly. “We don’t need the glory of a kill, but we cannot afford the shame of fleeing. If we run, the Qingyuan Sect will use it as an excuse to purge us later.”

“You have a plan?”

“I have two spirit beasts to handle the corpses,” Wang Hao said. “We stay. We kill at least one to satisfy the Sect.”

Li Yaozu hesitated, then nodded grimly. “Very well. Let’s do this.”