Pay-to-Win Cultivation: I Get 10,000x Returns

Chapter 211: Rich Divine Dragon Team Requests to Enter the Battle

Lin Xiaozhu stood at the prow of the flying boat, her hands dancing through a series of complex seals. Incantations spilled from her lips in a hushed, rapid rhythm.

A beam of unique spiritual light shot from her fingertips, striking the outermost barrier. The massive light membrane rippled like the surface of a disturbed lake, slowly parting to reveal a fissure just wide enough for their vessel.

Silent as a ghost, the ship slipped through the breach.

Then the second layer.

Then the third.

When the flying boat finally emerged past the last Realm-Severing Light Wall, the scene that greeted them made even Zhang Xian’s breath hitch in his throat.

Desolation. Absolute and total.

As far as the eye could see, the world was a thousand miles of scorched earth.

Wildfires raged across the plains, billowing thick, black smoke that blotted out the sun and turned the sky into a bruised canopy of ash and twilight. The air itself was heavy, reeking of pungent sulfur, charred flesh, and the metallic tang of old blood.

On that burning earth, countless figures swarmed like ants.

They formed a blackened, writhing torrent, frantically charging toward the three massive Realm-Severing Light Walls behind the ship.

Their faces were twisted masks of agony and rage, eyes flashing with the distinct, chaotic light of madness. There were human cultivators, Demon Beasts, and grotesque, mutated horrors that defied classification. They surged forward, wave after wave, crashing against the defensive lines with no regard for their own lives. The sheer number of them stretched beyond the horizon.

Standing against this tide were the Central Continent Allied Forces.

Cultivators from the Heavenly Abyss Alliance, the Guiyuan Sect, the Great Xia Dynasty, and countless smaller factions stood shoulder to shoulder. They formed a literal Great Wall of flesh and blood, engaging the frenzied attackers in a meat grinder of spellfire and steel.

From his vantage point, Zhang Xian could even spot the familiar robes of Yunmiao Sect disciples amidst the chaos.

Looking down at this hellscape, Zhang Xian finally understood the weight of Xia Chengyan’s earlier words about the “tense situation.” This wasn’t a skirmish. This was a war against an entire realm that had descended into madness.

Yet, his sharp eyes caught a disturbing detail.

These creatures corrupted by [Hatred] were frenzied, yes, but they weren’t mindless.

While the lowest-tier cannon fodder tore at each other, the stronger entities maintained a terrifying degree of coordination. Their assault had direction. Their target was unified.

There was a will behind the madness, driving them relentlessly toward the Western Region’s barriers.

“Haven’t you captured any for investigation?” Zhang Xian asked, his gaze fixed on the battlefield below. “Someone has to be controlling them.”

Xia Chengyan sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “We tried that long ago. We captured plenty of prisoners, hoping to interrogate them or scour their Divine Sense. But it was useless. Their minds are a chaotic mess of noise and violence. We couldn’t extract a single coherent thought.”

He shook his head. “We eventually realized the pattern. The deeper the corruption of [Hatred], the more frenzied they become—and the further they charge to the front lines. If we want answers, we won’t find them here. We have to go deep into the hinterlands of the Western Region to find the true source.”

Speaking of the deep expedition, Xia Chengyan seemed eager to break the grim mood.

He suddenly tapped his Storage Ring. With a sharp swish, he produced a banner trimmed with gaudy gold thread and slammed it into the deck at the ship’s prow.

The flag unfurled in the wind, revealing a massive, flamboyant golden character: DRAGON.

“Alright!” Xia Chengyan puffed out his chest, his voice dripping with misplaced heroic spirit. “This mission will be executed by our elite squad: the Rich Divine Dragon Team!”

Zhang Xian stared at the banner, his brain momentarily stalling.

“The… ‘Rich Divine Dragon Team’?” Zhang Xian repeated slowly. “What on earth is that?”

“It’s logical,” Xia Chengyan explained, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “There are five exploration teams heading deep into the Western Region. We’re the fourth. Since Sister-in-law is the strongest among us and our team leader, the name obviously needed to include ‘Dragon.’ I came up with it. I asked her, and she said ‘whatever,’ so it’s official. I thought she told you!”

Zhang Xian: “…”

At some point, Long Zhi had emerged from the Sword Chamber. She leaned against the railing, watching the “Dragon” banner snap in the wind. Her cold, beautiful face remained completely expressionless, as if she had simply accepted this fate.

Lin Xiaozhu stared at the flag. The corner of her mouth twitched violently.

Without a word, she spun on her heel and marched to the other side of the deck. “I’m going to check the Heavenly Mechanism Disk for our route.”

“I’ll deploy the puppets to scout ahead,” Zhiyin added instantly, following Lin Xiaozhu’s lead to escape the embarrassment.

Zhiyin raised her arms, spreading them like wings.

Whoosh!

In an instant, countless tiny puppets—miniature versions of herself—poured from her wide sleeves like a swarm of bees leaving the hive. Their movements were swift and silent, scattering in all directions beneath the flying boat before vanishing into the smoke-choked landscape.

Above the Western Region, the flying boat cut through the clouds.

For seven days, the vessel glided like a ghost through a sky stained with blood and soot. Below them lay a world of scars: charred forests, collapsed mountain ranges, and riverbeds cracked dry by intense heat.

Lin Xiaozhu held a formation disk that swirled with starlight, her brow furrowed in concentration as she made minute adjustments to their course.

Zhiyin stood by the railing like a detached battlefield commander. Her eyes were half-closed, processing the flood of data streaming in from the thousands of “Little Zhiyin” puppets scattered across the desolate land.

“Three hundred miles northeast,” Zhiyin’s voice was cool and mechanical. “Ruins of a mortal city. No life signs. Heavy concentration of low-tier [Hatred] entities entrenched.”

“Dead ahead. Traces of large-scale spiritual power residue. Suspected aftermath of a Nascent Soul-level battle.”

“Left flank. A group of surviving cultivators discovered. Approximately 20 individuals. They are besieged by three times their number of [Hatred] cultivators. Situation critical.”

Zhiyin relayed the intelligence without a hint of emotion.

In the first few days, Zhang Xian and the others had intervened to save survivors. But as they ventured deeper, such encounters became disturbingly frequent. Zhang Xian spread his Divine Sense and felt dozens of similar tragedies playing out simultaneously within a hundred-mile radius.

They simply couldn’t save them all.

Lin Xiaozhu’s eyes grew dim with helplessness, and she fell into a heavy silence.

Zhiyin, however, remained a creature of absolute logic. To her, finding the source of the [Hatred] was the primary objective. Stopping to rescue stragglers would slow them down and risk the mission. It was a necessary calculation. Many of her Little Zhiyins had been destroyed along the way, yet she didn’t so much as frown.

On this day, the boat was cruising steadily. Lin Xiaozhu had retreated to the inner cabin to rest, with Xia Chengyan accompanying her. Long Zhi, as always, was cultivating in the Sword Chamber.

Only Zhiyin and Zhang Xian remained on deck.

Suddenly, Zhang Xian’s gaze sharpened. He looked toward the starboard bow. “Fifty miles to the right. That valley shrouded in gray mist. What’s happening there?”

Zhiyin didn’t ask why. “I’ll take a look.”

With a mere thought, the Little Zhiyin closest to the coordinates banked sharply, diving silently into the churning gray fog.

However, barely a minute passed.

Snap.

A faint streak of light, weak as a dying firefly, shot back and vanished into Zhiyin’s chest. It was the core of the puppet—it had been destroyed.

“Inside the valley,” Zhiyin reported instantly, “there is a ruined Demon Beast cave dwelling. A group of half-demons is under siege by dozens of [Hatred] cultivators. The enemy leader is at the peak of the Golden Core realm. He detected my puppet and crushed it. The half-demons have suffered heavy casualties. They won’t last much longer.”

“I’ll be right back.” Zhang Xian replied.