Cultivation, Inc.I Use Capitalism to Fix a Dying Sect

Chapter 151: The End of Evil Spirit Valley

Distance served as a temporary shield for Evil Spirit Valley; the news of Black Wind Stockade’s total annihilation had not yet traveled far enough to reach them.

Ignorance was bliss. The valley was currently steeped in a festive atmosphere. Having scavenged several resource-rich territories from the Black Wind Stockade’s grasp during the recent chaos, the local cultivators were drunk on their newfound wealth.

Inside the sect’s main hall, the Evil Spirit Valley Master sat upon his throne, his face flushed with arrogance. Below him sat eight Golden Core Elders, the backbone of their power. The conflict with Black Wind Stockade had been profitable; several other Elders were currently stationed abroad, securing their new prizes.

“Valley Master,” one Elder reported eagerly, “we seized Black Luo Mountain three days ago. The defensive formations are already being laid. Our initial surveys suggest the mountain will yield nearly half a million Spirit Stones annually.”

“Excellent!”

“The Black Wind Stockade monopolized that spirit mine for fifty years,” the Valley Master sneered, stroking his chin. “Now, the wheel of fortune finally turns to Evil Spirit Valley.”

He looked down at his subordinates with a benevolent, conqueror’s gaze. “You have all done well. I will petition the Ancestor personally regarding your contributions. When the dust settles, rewards will be distributed.”

“Thank you, Valley Master!” The Golden Core cultivators beamed, their greed openly displayed.

“However,” a sycophantic Elder chimed in, bowing low, “the greatest credit belongs to you, Valley Master. If not for your strategic brilliance—maneuvering the Black Wind Stockade and the Qingyun Sect into crippling each other—we would never have seized such wealth without lifting a finger.”

The Valley Master’s lips curled. He did not deny it. He was quite pleased with his own perceived intellect. In his mind, he was the puppet master of the Chaos Demon Commandery. He was already plotting the next phase: utilizing these resources to fuel a rapid expansion, then crushing the weakened remnants of both rival factions to claim absolute hegemony.

Ideally, he would sit atop the mountain of corpses and rule alone.

Boom.

The daydream shattered.

A terrifying pressure descended from the heavens, heavy enough to crack the floor tiles. The air in the hall grew viscous and cold. Every cultivator froze, their faces draining of color.

“That aura… Nascent Soul stage?”

“And not just one… there are dozens!”

“Run!” The Valley Master screamed, abandoning his dignity instantly.

He shot out of the hall as a streak of light, with his Elders scrambling frantically behind him. They reappeared in the sky above the valley, hearts pounding against their ribs.

Simultaneously, deep within the bowels of the valley, inside a hidden mountain chamber, a figure in blood-red robes sat cross-legged within a pool of visceral fluid. The Evil Spirit Ancestor snapped his eyes open.

“Activate the Grand Formation! Now!” His hoarse voice exploded like thunder in the Valley Master’s ears.

Terrified, the Valley Master fumbled for his command token. He injected his True Qi frantically. A massive, blood-colored barrier rose from the perimeter, enclosing the entire valley in a protective dome.

Below, the ordinary disciples were thrown into panic.

“What’s happening? Why is the Sect Protection Array active?”

“It hasn’t been used in decades…”

“Look! The Valley Master and the Elders are all in the sky. We’re under attack!”

Unlike the high-ranking experts, the low-level disciples couldn’t sense the terrifying magnitude of the approaching threat until it was right on top of them.

A massive flying vessel tore through the clouds, casting a long shadow over the valley. It carried over a dozen Nascent Soul powerhouses and a small army of Golden Core cultivators.

Standing at the prow, the coalition of experts looked down at the blood-red barrier with undisguised disgust.

Wen Zheng, radiating the aura of a righteous judge, scoffed. “A den of filth. Just looking at this formation… one can only imagine how many innocent lives were sacrificed to fuel it.”

“This place is a cancer,” another agreed. “It must be excised.”

Below them, the air above the valley shimmered, condensing into a giant, blood-red projection of the Evil Spirit Ancestor. It was merely a soul manifestation, but it carried the weight of his authority.

The projection looked up at the flying vessel. When the Evil Spirit Ancestor sensed the sheer number of Nascent Soul auras—and spotted Patriarch Qingxuan among them—his heart plunged into an abyss of ice.

“Fellow Daoists,” the projection boomed, trying to keep a steady voice. “You are not from the Chaos Demon Commandery. May I ask how Evil Spirit Valley has offended you?”

“Hmph.” Wen Zheng stepped forward, his voice amplified by True Qi, echoing like a divine verdict. “Your sect and the Black Wind Stockade have plagued this land, slaughtering the innocent and defying the natural order. Today, we act as the sword of Heaven. We are here to conduct an extermination.”

“Heretics deserve death!”

“Black Wind Stockade is already ash,” another Nascent Soul cultivator announced coldly. “You are next.”

The news hit the Evil Spirit Ancestor like a physical blow. Black Wind Stockade… destroyed?

Panic seized him. The projection bowed rapidly, shedding all dignity. “Fellow Daoists, please! Show mercy! Evil Spirit Valley surrenders! We will offer up our entire treasury! We swear to reform—”

“Save your breath for the afterlife,” Wen Zheng cut him off. “Die.”

Wen Zheng took a single step forward, space seemingly warping beneath his feet. He extended a finger and tapped the air.

A beam of pure, concentrated fire pierced the sky.

Poof.

The Evil Spirit Ancestor’s soul projection didn’t even have time to scream. It disintegrated into sparks.

“Break the formation,” Wen Zheng commanded.

He summoned his Eight Trigrams Mirror. Two of his junior brothers immediately flanked him, pouring their True Qi into the artifact. The mirror hummed, rotating violently as it gathered energy.

A pillar of crimson light, thick as a city gate, erupted from the mirror and slammed into the blood-colored barrier below.

BOOM!

The earth shook. The protective dome rippled violently, shockwaves tearing through the valley and collapsing nearby structures.

Inside the barrier, the Valley Master and his Elders felt the sky falling. Their arrogant dreams of conquest had evaporated, replaced by the primal fear of prey.

“All disciples!” The Valley Master’s voice cracked with desperation, amplified over the sect. “Pour your energy into the array! Hold it, or we all die!”

Driven by terror, thousands of evil cultivators rushed to the formation nodes, injecting every ounce of their True Qi to reinforce the shield. The wobbling barrier began to stabilize, glowing with a sickly, reinforced light.

Deep underground, in the blood pool chamber.

The true body of the Evil Spirit Ancestor wore a grim expression. He could feel the formation buckling. It was only a matter of time.

He hesitated for a split second, then retrieved a jade box from his Storage Ring. Inside lay a white Jade Silkworm, wriggling slightly.

A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. He tapped his own forehead, drawing out a droplet of heavy, dark-gold essence blood. With a flick of his finger, the blood merged into the silkworm.

The creature convulsed, absorbing the essence.

The Ancestor wrapped the silkworm in a gentle layer of True Qi and cast it toward the stone wall. The solid rock rippled like water, and the silkworm vanished into the earth, fleeing deep underground without a trace.

As the worm disappeared, the Ancestor’s face turned paper-white. His aura plummeted, as if he had severed a piece of his very soul. He slumped, gasping for breath, before forcing himself to stand.

CRACK-BOOM!

Above ground, the stalemate ended.

The combined might of the Nascent Soul bombardment overwhelmed the formation. The blood-red dome shattered like glass, exploding into a rain of dissipating energy.

Backlash struck instantly. Thousands of disciples maintaining the array vomited blood in unison, their meridians ravaged.

Wen Zheng looked down at the exposed valley, his eyes void of pity.

“Leave no one alive. Kill.”

“Yes!”

The dozens of Golden Core cultivators behind him, waiting like hounds on a leash, roared and dove toward the valley. It was not a battle; it was an industrial slaughter.

Evil Spirit Valley only had nine Golden Core cultivators remaining. Facing dozens of enemies of the same rank, along with the overhead pressure of the Nascent Soul experts, they didn’t stand a chance.

Suddenly, a blood-red streak shot out from the depths of the valley, moving with desperate speed toward the horizon.

“Trying to run?”

A Nascent Soul cultivator in the sky sneered. He casually tossed a bowl-shaped Spirit Weapon into the air. “Stay.”

The bowl expanded, emitting a curtain of golden light that sealed the space ahead.

Thud.

The Evil Spirit Ancestor’s escape light slammed into the invisible wall, forcing him to reveal his form. Before he could turn, the sky around him darkened.

He looked up. A circle of Nascent Soul cultivators looked down at him, their expressions cold and indifferent. He was trapped.