Is It Wrong to Bully the Novice Village for System Rewards?

Chapter 241: This Demonic Sect Leader is Actually Kinda Hot

Wait, my righteous verbal cannon is actually this overpowered?

Amidst the deathly silence, Qi Yuan was genuinely startled.

Ever since he managed to Awaken his innate divine ability, the Word of Punishing Sin, he hadn’t found a single opportunity to test it out. Naturally, he had zero clue about its actual damage output.

Seeing some random arrogant young master practically begging for a slap to the face, Qi Yuan figured he might as well take it for a spin. He attached a fraction of the skill’s power to a simple “scram.” Who knew the AOE effect would be this ridiculous?

Looking at the miserable, crumpled heap that used to be a proud cultivator, Qi Yuan realized something. If he hadn’t deliberately choked the skill’s area of effect, every single Demonic Cultivator in the vicinity would have caught the splash damage. Now that would have been a hell of a spectacle.

Of course, the sheer devastation was largely thanks to his opponent’s massive karma debt. If he had shouted at some saintly philanthropist, they might have just blinked in confusion. They definitely wouldn’t be coughing up blood.

Surveying the sea of dumbfounded faces, Qi Yuan instantly scrapped any plans for an encore.

The Word of Punishing Sin was technically a curse-type attack—formless, invisible, and completely unpredictable. Since he hadn’t fully mastered the mechanics yet, a misfire could easily blow his perfect cover.

Yeah, let’s keep this trump card hidden for now, Qi Yuan mused.

A moment later, the victim in question, Shen Junting, finally rebooted his brain.

Realizing he had quite literally been shouted to the floor, Shen Junting’s face flushed a violent shade of puce. He glared at Qi Yuan, his eyes brimming with venomous hatred—and a lingering, humiliating trace of absolute terror.

“Big Qi, you… what foul sorcery is this?!”

Qi Yuan just gave a light, dismissive chuckle, his posture practically radiating moral superiority.

“Please, hold your baseless slander. I merely told you to step aside. What ‘evil technique’ are you raving about?” he scoffed smoothly. “Perhaps my voice simply carries the vast, untainted aura of righteousness. And you, weighed down by your myriad sins and guilty conscience, were simply terrified by my reprimand, losing your footing in your panic!”

The surrounding Demonic Cultivators exchanged incredibly strained looks. Those who were fully aware of “Big Qi’s” extensive and colorful rap sheet felt a collective urge to claw their own eyes out.

Are you kidding me? Does this guy have zero self-awareness? If the legendary founding Demonic Ancestor crawled out of his grave right now, he’d probably ask Big Qi for pointers. And this lunatic had the sheer audacity to lecture someone else about doing evil?

Untainted aura of righteousness my ass. That was pure, unfiltered demonic suppression!

Across from him, Shen Junting looked ready to pop a blood vessel. “You are courting death!” he roared, his voice cracking with fury.

He knew all too well that if he didn’t butcher this arrogant prick right here, his reputation would be permanently dragged through the mud.

A murderous glint flashed in his eyes. Forcing himself upright, Shen Junting violently channeled his energy. Howling dark winds and a thick, suffocating black mist coiled around him. He was clearly charging up his ultimate killing technique.

Suddenly, a dense cloud of crimson mist exploded in mid-air, condensing into a beautifully sinister blood lotus that instantly shot toward him like a guillotine.

BOOM!

The two distinct bursts of spiritual energy violently slammed together. Shen Junting’s momentum was utterly shattered; he stumbled backward, his carefully gathered energy dissipating into the wind.

The rage contorting his face instantly evaporated, replaced by utter shock. “Yan’er, you… you actually struck me?” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Situ Yan looked at him like he was a cockroach that had just crawled onto her shoe. “Shen Junting, you and I are nothing to each other,” she stated, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Do not address me as ‘Yan’er.’ Keep your distance, or do not blame me for forgetting our ties as fellow disciples.”

She narrowed her eyes, radiating killing intent. “And let me make one thing perfectly clear. If you so much as harm a single hair on Big Qi’s head, I will personally butcher you into a thousand pieces.”

Standing just a few steps away—having already moved to shield Qi Yuan herself—Ji Chan’er’s jaw practically dropped. She stared at Situ Yan, her beautiful eyes wide with sheer disbelief.

What the hell? Situ Yan was famously arrogant, a tyrant who looked down on the entire world. Yet here she was, vehemently defending a lowly Outer Sect Disciple?

Even if she was trying to recruit a promising lackey, the price was ridiculously steep.

Shen Junting wasn’t some nobody; he was the most doted-upon son of the Shen family’s patriarch. His status was infinitely higher than that trash Shen Wuji she had killed earlier.

Rumors had been swirling that the Situ and Shen families were on the brink of an ironclad alliance, largely fueled by Shen Junting’s very public, very desperate obsession with Situ Yan. Half the Sect assumed a marriage contract was imminent.

Naturally, knowing Situ Yan’s personality, she would rather eat glass than agree to the arrangement, which was likely why the alliance had stalled. But rejecting a proposal was one thing; publicly humiliating and attacking the Shen family’s golden boy was entirely another!

Yet here she was, ruthlessly burning the bridge. Her absolute decisiveness made even Ji Chan’er do a double-take.

What exactly is this crazy bitch planning?

Puzzled as she was, Ji Chan’er was internally celebrating. If this petty drama fractured the Situ and Shen families’ alliance, the Ji family would profit immensely. Of course, she was still blissfully unaware of her own ancestor’s “rejuvenation” disaster. If she knew about that, she’d be singing a very different tune.

But Ji Chan’er wasn’t the only one short-circuiting. The surrounding Demonic Cultivators looked like their entire worldview had just been brutally suplexed.

Who the fuck is this Big Qi?! He somehow had Ji Chan’er AND Situ Yan—two of the most untouchable, peerless beauties in the Sect—ready to throw down for him at the exact same time?

These weren’t your average jade beauties. Both were elite true disciples, possessing terrifying talent, noble backing, and unparalleled looks. They were firmly seated among The Saint Sect’s Four Great Beauties, with a line of suitors long enough to encircle the mountain.

And Situ Yan, the ice queen herself, had just assaulted the Shen family’s quasi-heir over a lowly Outer Sect Disciple? If there wasn’t something insanely fishy going on, they would eat their own flying swords.

Could it be…

A completely absurd, paradigm-shifting theory bloomed in the collective minds of the crowd, only to be immediately and violently suppressed. No. Impossible. A gigachad of that magnitude simply could not exist in reality.

While the peanut gallery was having an existential crisis, Shen Junting finally clawed his way out of his pit of despair. His face was ghastly pale, and the light in his eyes had dimmed considerably. It looked like his very Dao heart had taken a critical hit.

Grasping onto a final shred of dignity, he took a deep, shuddering breath. He locked eyes with Qi Yuan, a flash of pure, venomous resentment burning in his gaze.

Catching the look, Ji Chan’er furrowed her brow and stepped forward, her voice ringing out clearly. “Senior Brother Shen, the Demon Tower trial is a sacred Sect event. It is not your personal playground. Your aunt is the Sect Leader of The Saint Sect. I highly doubt she would appreciate you throwing a tantrum here.”

Shen Junting let out a derisive scoff. He ground his teeth together, his jaw tense. “Big Qi,” he snarled. “I’ll remember this. You better pray you don’t die inside the tower. I would be extremely disappointed if I didn’t get to handle you myself.”

Faced with such a textbook villainous monologue, Qi Yuan didn’t feel a shred of fear. Honestly, he kind of just wanted to laugh.

“Then I deeply thank Senior Brother Shen for his heartfelt concern,” Qi Yuan replied dryly.

What a try-hard. He usually couldn’t be bothered engaging with these brain-dead trust-fund kids. But hey, if the idiot actively wanted to sprint into the afterlife, Qi Yuan was more than happy to hold the door open for him.

“We’ll see if your bones are as tough as your mouth,” Shen Junting spat.

Having successfully delivered his painfully cliché parting line, he spun on his heel and stormed off.

Incredibly, right up until he left, he was still privately convinced that his humiliating fall was just a temporary spiritual backlash from a flaw in his new Cultivation technique. Yeah, definitely a spiritual energy hiccup. Nothing else.

The moment he was gone, under the intensely jealous and bloodshot glares of hundreds of Demonic Cultivators, Situ Yan’s icy demeanor melted. She turned toward Qi Yuan, her eyes practically dripping with affection, and sent a private voice transmission.

“Qi Lang… do you want me to quietly dispose of that Shen pest for you?”

Whoa. Qi Yuan blinked, mildly taken aback by the casual murder proposal. He subtly shook his head, replying through transmission, “No need. I’ll handle him myself.”

Internally, he was giving a standing ovation to the Heart-Tying Talisman. One flimsy piece of paper, and the Sect’s most notoriously cruel, untouchable demoness was now acting like his fiercely loyal, heavily-armed puppy. It was basically a mind-control cheat code.

Thank God Ancestor Ling Yu is just a massive shut-in who only cares about trashy novels, Qi Yuan thought, a chill running down his spine. With broken, reality-bending talismans like this, if she actually had any ambition, she could treat the entire Cultivation world like her personal sandbox. Terrifying.

Right as his inner monologue was spiraling, the distant horizon abruptly darkened. A massive, suffocating blanket of pitch-black clouds rolled over the sky, blotting out the sun in an instant.

Atop the roiling sea of darkness sat a breathtaking expanse of floating palaces, their grand eaves and ancient architecture projecting an absolute, crushing majesty—like a divine court descending into the mortal realm.

Silhouetted against the dark clouds were several figures seated in an imposing row. Every single one radiated an apocalyptic pressure, their mere presence warping the void around them.

But all eyes were instantly drawn to the central throne. There sat a woman in a magnificent, floor-sweeping gown, a jeweled crown resting perfectly atop her head. Her features were flawless, her skin like pristine snow under a dark moon. She exuded an aura of supreme, unapproachable grace and suffocating nobility that instinctively forced onlookers to avert their gaze.

“We welcome the Sect Leader!”

“Greetings to the Sect Leader!”

Like dominoes, the thousands of Demonic Cultivators crowded on the platform dropped into deep, reverent bows. Their synchronized shouts of absolute submission echoed out like a tidal wave, piercing straight into the heavens.

Hidden within the sea of bowing heads, Qi Yuan dared to steal a quick glance at the legendary sovereign of the Demonic Sect. He instantly froze, an unexpected thought surfacing in his mind.

Damn. This Sect Leader… she’s actually kinda hot.