Every now and then, I would return to the Yunmiao Sect. I had to put on the mask, playing the role of the dignified, benevolent Head Seat.

I took three personal disciples.

The eldest was a slab of beef—honest, simple, loyal to a fault. A perfect prop. Having a student like that cemented my reputation as a virtuous master.

The second and third were female. I “unintentionally” nudged them toward the Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra. They took the bait, obediently cultivating themselves into vessels. But honestly? With the Black and White Essence in hand, these little sect games felt like child’s play.

Eventually, the conflict between the Southern Region and the demonic forces began to heat up. The old Emperor was a useful idiot, but he was too big a target. Too conspicuous. I needed a pawn that was more flexible. More hidden.

My gaze fell upon Xuan Zhou.

He had a family. He had attachments. He had weaknesses.

He was perfect.

I meticulously orchestrated an “accident.” I crushed him and his pregnant wife, Yun Wanqing. I made sure to specifically damage the Life Essence of the fetus in her womb.

Watching Xuan Zhou weep in despair… I felt a twisted flutter of joy in my chest.

Weren’t you Heaven’s favored one? Weren’t you blessed with a perfect, happy family?

Look at you now.

Sure enough, when his daughter was born, her soul was fractured. She was a candle in the wind, destined to die young.

Xuan Zhou ran around like a headless fly, begging for doctors, hunting for remedies. His Dao Heart was on the verge of shattering. I watched from the shadows. Coldly. And when he hit rock bottom, I “accidentally” let slip a few clues about ancient methods that could repair a soul.

He came to me. He begged me to explore the forbidden with him.

See? It’s so simple. A pawn belongs on the chessboard.

The plan went smoothly. I let the old Emperor play the villain, bewitching Xuan Zhou with twisted, seductive whispers, while I pretended to be a fellow victim struggling against “dark evil thoughts.”

I saw the conflict in Xuan Zhou’s eyes. The struggle. And that faint, desperate glimmer of hope.

Life Essence could save his daughter.

He believed it. Or rather, he had to believe it. It was the only straw left to grasp while drowning.

He began trying to refine the Life Essence. I stood by, sneering inwardly.

Purify it? Strip away the Hatred and the black threads?

Naive.

They had long since merged into one sludge. Forcibly separating them would only cause the essence to collapse—or eat the refiner alive.

Every attempt Xuan Zhou made was a dance on the edge of a blade.

He never saw pure Life Essence. Instead, the resentment and black energy clung to him like maggots in the bone, eroding his sanity with frantic hunger. His eyes would drift between clarity and turbidity, his agony growing sharper by the day.

And me? Naturally, I played my part.

When he failed, when he was writhing in pain, I would appear by his side. My face would wear the same tortured weariness. A helpless empathy born of shared suffering.

I told him about the pain of the black threads eating at my soul. I spoke of the horror of being controlled against my will. I comforted him, lied to him, told him we were brothers in this hell and that we would find a way out together.

Sometimes, the fool would even try to warn me. He’d say he was already too deep in the mud, but I was different—I could still pull back.

Hah. He couldn’t even save himself, yet he was worried about my shoes getting wet.

Truly, laughably naive.

Watching the trust and dependence in his eyes… it was delicious irony. He had no idea that every painful attempt, every crack in his mind, was part of my calculation. I was accelerating his slide into the abyss.

The other cultivators who entered the secret realm with us weren’t so malleable. Even my simple, honest eldest disciple tried to lecture me. He earnestly advised me to “turn back from the shore” before Desire consumed me.

Sigh. Another group of pedantic, pitiful insects.

I waved my hand. The power of the Black and White Essence ground over them like a millstone.

Silence returned.

Except for one.

The female cultivator, Nangong Yao.

When the black threads eroded her, she didn’t scream. She glared at me. Her gaze was so acrimonious it felt like physical venom.

My heart stirred. I sensed an unusual fluctuation in her.

I forcibly injected a wisp of black thread into her body. And then, a mutation occurred.

The thread didn’t break her mind like it did the others. Instead, it seemed to catch fire, ignited by her Hatred. It became exceptionally active. The black energy around her turned a dark, bruising purple, emitting an aura I had never felt before.

A new essence?

This was an unexpected delight. Her hatred could actually nourish and mutate the black threads. This was a brand-new power with immense Potential.

Unfortunately, she was too weak. A Golden Core ant couldn’t bear the weight of this growth.

And I couldn’t either. At least, not yet.

Looking at her face, twisted by pain and fury, an idea surfaced. I extended a finger and tapped it between her eyebrows. My powerful Divine Sense crushed through her defenses.

The Heart Severing Art, bolstered by the black threads, allowed me to rewrite reality. I modified her memories.

I sealed that wisp of mutated black thread, along with the false memories, deep within her soul. Let it sleep. Let it ferment.

After that, everything proceeded step by step.

The names “Black Venerable” and “White Venerable” began to circulate in the shadows. I was just a minor underling.

The Yunmiao Sect? I heard my second disciple died trying to break through her realm. Her Dao extinguished.

Dead is dead. She was just a backup furnace vessel anyway. The third disciple, however… her cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds. Interesting.

But none of that mattered. In my eyes, there was only the Black and White Essence.

Time passed. Both Xuan Zhou and I smoothly broke through to the Nascent Soul stage.

Nascent Soul!

Feeling the vast power coursing through me, I was drunk on the pleasure of control. But Xuan Zhou showed little joy. His daughter’s illness hung over him like a sword suspended by a horsehair. He was still drowning in despair.

I continued to play the confidant. I appeared at his darkest moments, spouting nonsense like “the cart will find its way around the hill.”

He probably thought I was the only glimmer of light in his darkness.

Right up until a kid named Zhang Xian burst onto the scene.

That kid was a stone thrown into stagnant water. He shattered the calm. He exposed the Black and White Essence to the light of day. The major forces of the Southern Region woke up. The encirclement tightened.

Trouble.

But I didn’t panic. I knew that if I just had a little more time—enough to reach the mid-Nascent Soul stage—I could win. With the miraculous nature of the essence, plus centuries of accumulation and schemes, I would sweep the board.

The six major forces? The righteous path? They would all prostrate themselves at my feet.

I reached out to the Central Continent. I found Daoist Qianji, a freak obsessed with puppets and forbidden arts.

I had him help me refine living puppets. In exchange, I gave him Nangong Yao’s Hatred.

Of course, I knew Qianji couldn’t refine that brand-new Hatred essence. But that didn’t matter.

It was just a casual move. A seed.

Perhaps in the future, in the broader world of the Central Continent, it would stir up unexpected storms.

I will master Desire first. Then, I will return for the ultimate Hatred.

Power must be controlled step by step.