Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 53: The Demon Cult’s Recruitment Expansion

In the pitch-black hall, over a dozen pairs of eyes gleamed with an eerie, venomous light. Like vipers coiled in a cavern, they fixed their unblinking gazes on the Branch Master, waiting in absolute silence.

The Branch Master slouched in his seat. When he finally spoke, his voice was a raspy grind of stone on stone, carrying the heavy, suffocating weight of a man who hadn’t uttered a word in decades.

“Why aren’t the lamps lit?”

A Demon Cult deacon bowed deeply into the gloom. “Branch Master, have you forgotten? At the last assembly, you recounted your trip to headquarters. You mentioned the Yanjiang Branch severely lacked the proper ‘Demon Cult ambiance.'”

“I gave it some thought, and you were right. We are the lowest-ranking branch in the cult. Perhaps our aesthetic is to blame. Don’t the mortal storybooks always depict our kind plotting sinister conspiracies in the pitch dark? Thus, I specifically forbade the servants from lighting the hall.” The deacon sounded immensely proud of his initiative. “And you must admit, the darkness really sets the mood for villainy.”

Clearly, this deacon had a firm grasp on his career path. He knew the Demon Cult wasn’t a charity.

The Branch Master sat in silence for a long, agonizing moment. He stared into the dark, deadpan, trying to decipher the underlying meaning of this idiocy. Was the deacon indirectly hinting that he wanted to quit? Was this a passive-aggressive protest because the Yanjiang Branch hadn’t increased its monthly stipends? Or was he suggesting the cult should finally provide health insurance?

It probably wasn’t a resignation. The deacon was a dedicated, hardworking scumbag. He didn’t even distinguish between friend and foe—he committed atrocities out in the world and actively sabotaged his own peers within the cult. He was a true, unqualified menace.

It couldn’t be about the stipend, either. The Demon Cult’s pay scale was tied to local finances, sitting comfortably at three times the salary of a local government official. Yanjiang County was a remote backwater; they couldn’t possibly expect headquarters-level pay.

And it certainly wasn’t a demand for insurance. Most Demon Cultists didn’t live long enough to have heirs. If they bought life insurance, who would collect the payout?

More importantly, the Falling Coin Chamber of Commerce would never underwrite them. Sell personal accident insurance to the Demon Cult? The cultists would commit enough coordinated insurance fraud to bankrupt the Chamber down to their silk undergarments.

“Just light the lamps,” the Branch Master sighed.

“Yes, sir.”

The deacon blew a breath, sending a spark dancing onto a nearby wick. Fire flared, and instantly, the grand hall was bathed in warm, revealing light.

The Branch Master cleared his throat. “Everyone has heard the whispers regarding Little Qin. Cease spreading them immediately, lest we become a laughingstock to outsiders.”

“Little Qin’s character is beyond reproach—he commits every conceivable crime and perpetrates boundless evil. If the authorities ever caught him, a simple beheading would be a mercy. That alone proves his moral fiber perfectly aligns with our Demon Cult’s teachings.”

“The notion that he belongs to the righteous path is utter drivel. Anyone who joins us has passed the Cult Master’s personal trial. His Eminence evaluated Little Qin as having ‘demonic nature ingrained to the very bone.’ The Cult Master does not make mistakes.”

Qin Yuanhao bowed deeply, his fists cupped. “The Branch Master is wise.”

Hearing this public validation, Qin Yuanhao felt a fraction of his dignity return. To a demonic cultivator, being labeled a “Good Person” was a vile, unforgivable slur. He clenched his jaw, resolving that the moment he found the bastards spreading these philanthropic rumors, he would butcher them in the streets.

The Branch Master didn’t dwell on the matter. Defending Qin’s honor was merely a courtesy for the comfortable chair Qin had gifted him earlier.

“I have gathered you all today because headquarters has issued a mandate.” The Branch Master paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “They require all branches to recruit new disciples.”

Qin Yuanhao and the others blinked in surprise. The Demon Cult hadn’t held a large-scale recruitment drive in thirty years. For decades, entry had been strictly through personal invitation. Qin himself had recently tried to recruit a Tiger Demon, but the beast had stubbornly refused to leave Song Mountain.

“You should all be aware of the rumors concerning the Great Era,” the Branch Master continued. “Over the past century, unprecedented geniuses have risen. Renowned masters are being struck down by unknown youths. Countless ancient ruins and pocket realms, hidden for millennia, are reappearing across the world. This is an era where Fated Chance and lethal danger walk hand in hand.”

“The Five Great Immortal Sects, the super-grade sects, and the first-grade sects are overflowing with prodigies. Dual Spiritual Roots, once considered a rarity, are now commonplace. If we sit back and allow these ‘geniuses’ to mature, we will have no place left in this Great Era.”

“If we want to compete, we must strike now!”

“Seize a Fated Chance, and a carp may transform into a dragon upon encountering the rain! You could soar through the Nine Heavens and become a carefree immortal!”

The Branch Master’s tone darkened. “But Fated Chances are paid for in blood. The damned Great Xia Dynasty and the Five Great Immortal Sects have intensified their purges. Many of our brethren have Perished as a result.”

“To secure our survival, we must expand our ranks. The four major demonic sects have reached a unanimous consensus. Your task is to use your respective underworld channels to spread the word. Gather every rogue demonic cultivator in Yanjiang County and the surrounding regions. Bring anyone with the stomach to join us.”

A deacon raised a hesitant hand. “Branch Master, with such a massive, open recruitment… won’t this give the righteous path the perfect opportunity to plant spies among us?”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall. The Demon Cult survived on paranoia. If even a handful of righteous undercover agents slipped in, the entire branch could be annihilated.

The Branch Master shook his head, a reverent gleam in his eye. “This recruitment is being overseen by the Cult Master himself, utilizing his supreme supernatural arts. The trials he has set are absolute. It is fundamentally impossible for anyone of the righteous path to pass.”

The doubts vanished instantly, replaced by a wave of boundless fanaticism. To the cultists, the Cult Master was an omnipotent god. He was the very sky above them, the singular force that would lead their Immortal Cult to eternal glory!

***

The moment the assembly concluded, Qin Yuanhao mobilized every underworld contact he had to hunt down the source of the slander.

Through a web of threats and bribes, he finally traced the rumors back to a dingy little tavern.

“The customer?” The tavern owner gestured wildly, his eyes wide with remembered awe. “He was eight feet tall and eight feet wide! A perfect square of a man! Face like a cratered moon. A massive brute who looked like he could eat three toddlers for breakfast!”

The description was so vivid that Qin Yuanhao immediately drafted a wanted poster. Naturally, the resulting sketch looked absolutely nothing like the real Lu Yang, who had been heavily disguised at the time.

Qin Yuanhao stared at the grotesque drawing, his expression icy. How dare someone so conspicuously ugly slander my good, evil name? Do they think I’m an easy target?

It was late into the night, but the Great Xia Dynasty enforced no curfews. Seeking comfort in calories, Qin Yuanhao led a gang of his underlings to a bustling street-food night market.

They commandeered a table at a barbecue stall and ordered a feast: pork skewers, beef skewers, whole roasted lamb legs, charred chicken feet, crispy pork skin, chewy beef tendons, river shrimp, tender roasted kidneys dripping with oil, grilled chives, smoked potatoes, and garlic eggplant.

The culinary spread was a masterpiece of street-food engineering. The skewers were heavy with tender meat and dusted with a rich, intoxicating blend of spices. Slathered in a dark, savory secret sauce, the fat hit the glowing charcoal, sending up thick plumes of fragrant, sizzling smoke.

The pork, threaded onto long bamboo sticks and roasted over a massive fire pit, offered a perfect bite—the fat was sticky and rich without being greasy, while the lean meat packed a savory punch.

The lamb legs had been slow-roasted in a tandoor-style clay oven, locking in the juices before being seared over open flames. The result was a flawless balance of crispy skin and melt-in-the-mouth tenderness.

The chicken feet were a textural marvel, braised in a master stock before hitting the grill, rendering the skin, tendons, and cartilage into a rich, gelatinous chew.

Even the humble potatoes were elevated, smoked and roasted before being brushed with a secret soy glaze, leaving them crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.

The gang ate like starved wolves, their faces shining with rendered fat and grease.

Finally full, Qin Yuanhao leaned back, picking his teeth with a splinter of bamboo. He arrogantly waved a greasy hand at his subordinates. “You lot. Go scour the entire city for this square-shaped giant. If you can’t find him, don’t bother coming back!”

“Yes, Big Brother!” the underlings chorused, scattering into the night streets.

His stomach full and his vengeance in motion, Qin Yuanhao felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The annoyance of the rumor-monger faded from his mind.

He stood up, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

People rarely pay attention to the dirt beneath their boots. Qin Yuanhao was no exception. And so, he never noticed Lu Yang, who was currently buried deep underground, lurking silently right beneath his feet.