Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 68: If Senior Uncle Chu Joins In, We’ll Definitely Make a Fortune!

Chu Xuan circled the sky atop his Heavenly Dipper Flying Sword. Sweeping his senses over the area, he noted that his three Senior Brothers—Li Xuanming, Liu Zhenxiong, and Wu Teng—were still in Secluded Cultivation.

Truly, time lost all meaning in the mountains; years slipped by unnoticed in the pursuit of the Dao.

This was to be expected. Once a cultivator broke through to Foundation Establishment, their lifespan expanded to at least two hundred years. Even for demonic path cultivators, who often burned their own vitality to fuel forbidden arts, they could still expect to live for a hundred and seventy to eighty years. A single session of Secluded Cultivation lasting three or four years was merely a blink of an eye.

As for their Master, Wan Wuying, his closed-door sessions routinely lasted a decade or more.

However, Chu Xuan noticed that the four Qi Condensation disciples—Xu Ming, Chen Ge, Wei Hua, and Bai Feng—were constantly on the move.

As he soared through the clouds, he spotted Chen Ge and Wei Hua below, escorting a long caravan of mortal craftsmen. Judging by their trajectory, they were relocating the mortals to a plain within the Extreme Yin Cave’s territory.

Perfect timing to gather some intelligence, Chu Xuan thought.

With a flicker of movement, he descended, materializing in the air directly above the caravan.

Sensing the sudden, oppressive aura, Chen Ge and Wei Hua instantly drew their weapons, their faces tight with vigilance. But the moment they recognized Chu Xuan, the tension drained from their shoulders.

“It’s Senior Uncle Chu!” Chen Ge called out, his face lighting up. “Senior Uncle, you’ve only been in Secluded Cultivation for a few months. Why have you emerged so soon?”

Chen Ge and Wei Hua used to consider Chu Xuan a peer. Now that he had ascended to Foundation Establishment, the hierarchy demanded they address him as Senior Uncle. Yet, deep down, they still harbored a sense of pride that they had once been friends with him.

Wei Hua turned to the awestruck mortal craftsmen and puffed out his chest. “Behold! This is the Foundation Establishment Daoist of our Extreme Yin Cave, Senior Uncle Chu Xuan!”

When Chu Xuan had first descended on his Heavenly Dipper Flying Sword, the mortals had already been staring at him with wide-eyed reverence. Hearing Wei Hua’s booming introduction only deepened their awe.

A Foundation Establishment Daoist! To these powerless mortals, he was no different from a living god.

“I happen to have some free time. I’ll escort you to your destination,” Chu Xuan said casually.

Chen Ge and Wei Hua were deeply moved. “Thank you, Senior Uncle!” The mortals immediately dropped to their knees, kowtowing and expressing their profound gratitude.

Wuzhou was a hostile wasteland, teeming with venomous snakes, mutated insects, and feral beasts. At night, the danger escalated as evil spirits and wandering ghosts emerged to hunt. Even with two Qi Condensation Daoists acting as guards, casualties were inevitable. The mortality rate for the previous batch of relocated mortals had been a staggering thirty percent.

But with a Foundation Establishment expert personally holding the line, their survival was practically guaranteed.

“Chen Ge, come here,” Chu Xuan commanded softly.

Chen Ge hurried over, his head bowed submissively. He braced himself, assuming Chu Xuan was about to reprimand him for some perceived inefficiency.

Seeing the disciple’s nervous posture, Chu Xuan let out a faint, amused chuckle. “Relax. I’m not here to punish you. I just need an update on the outside world.”

Chen Ge exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. “Please ask, Senior Uncle.”

Chu Xuan quickly extracted a summary of the past few months. As he had calculated, the five righteous Sects had maintained the status quo.

The explosive incidents—Wan Wuying’s bloody escape from the Misty Cloud Manor and the death of Jinlong Temple’s genius monk, Huikong—had been completely swept under the rug.

It made perfect sense. The Shenggang Sect and Jinlong Temple were too ashamed to let the truth slip. It was a catastrophic PR nightmare. If the broader cultivation world discovered that the Shenggang Sect—the undisputed leader of the righteous path—had secretly imprisoned Wan Wuying, bleeding him dry to feed ghosts and temper their sword qi, the resulting uproar would tear the Yu Kingdom apart.

The Shenggang Sect’s pristine reputation would be shattered. Every cultivator under heaven would realize that the Shenggang Sect and Jinlong Temple were nothing but hypocrites. Outwardly, they paraded as righteous demon-slayers; in the shadows, they were as ruthless and parasitic as the demonic cultivators they condemned.

“…Oh, right, Senior Uncle Chu. There is one major development,” Chen Ge said, lowering his voice. “The Tianyin Sect is finally preparing to launch a massive offensive against the native Sects of Wuzhou.”

“Rumor has it that one of their Golden Core Patriarchs was ambushed by a coalition of native Sects. He was severely injured and remains unconscious.” Chen Ge shook his head. “That attack finally forced the Tianyin Sect to accelerate their invasion plans.”

A cold, mocking smile touched Chu Xuan’s lips.

He had always found the Tianyin Sect’s methods pathetically inefficient. With their overwhelming power, they should have mobilized their entire Sect from the start, marching east to crush the native Wuzhou Sects in one decisive, brutal stroke.

Instead, they had trickled their forces in, establishing the Flying Mountain Hall and slowly relocating mortals. They had turned what should have been a ruthless blitzkrieg into a sluggish war of attrition.

Now, only after a Golden Core cultivator had been maimed—only after they truly felt the pain—were they committing to a full-scale war.

Fools, Chu Xuan thought. But the reason is obvious.

It was basic internal politics. The native Sects of Wuzhou weren’t top-tier, but they weren’t entirely defenseless either. If the Tianyin Sect attacked with full force, they would undoubtedly win, but the cornered native Sects would fight back with the desperate ferocity of dying beasts. The Tianyin Sect would inevitably suffer heavy casualties; Foundation Establishment and even Golden Core cultivators might Perish.

Therefore, deciding which faction within the Tianyin Sect had to bleed on the front lines became a vicious political game. Every elder wanted to preserve their own faction’s strength while maneuvering to steal the lion’s share of the post-war spoils.

Where there were people, there was conflict. Cultivators, despite their long lifespans, were no less greedy or petty than mortals. As one of the five righteous Sects, boasting vast territories and thousands of disciples, the Tianyin Sect was a breeding ground for such toxic internal struggles.

Chen Ge leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. “A massive wave of cultivators has already arrived at the Flying Mountain Hall from the Tianyin Sect’s main headquarters.”

“There are five Foundation Establishment cultivators and over seventy Qi Condensation disciples. And that’s just the vanguard. But honestly? They all look like dead men walking. It’s obvious they’re the losers of the Sect’s internal politics, exiled here as cannon fodder.”

Chu Xuan nodded slightly. No one wanted to be the first over the wall. The vanguard always suffered the highest mortality rate. This first batch of troops was entirely composed of the factionless, the outcasts, and the political sacrifices.

Chen Ge chuckled, a sly, fox-like glint in his eyes. “Senior Uncle Chu, these guys are terrified. They know they’re going into a meat grinder, so they are desperately buying up anything that can boost their combat power. They don’t even care if it’s demonic path methods anymore. Survival is all that matters.”

Chu Xuan glanced at him. “Judging by that look on your face, you’ve been profiting off their desperation.”

“Hehehe, just skimming a little off the top from the Qi Condensation disciples,” Chen Ge admitted, rubbing his hands together. “But… if Senior Uncle Chu were to join in, with your resources? We would make an absolute fortune!”

Chu Xuan’s mind immediately began running the calculations.

It was a flawless business opportunity. These vanguard cultivators were dead men walking. To survive the impending slaughter, they would pay exorbitant prices for immediate power.

And Chu Xuan? He was sitting on a massive, unused inventory. He had hoards of Blood Beads, Great Blood Beads, Yin Evil Qi, and Yin Corpses. Even better, he had a massive stockpile of righteous path cultivation techniques, spells, and Magical Artifacts looted from the corpses of the enemies he had slaughtered.

In this market, his inventory was worth its weight in gold.

“Not bad,” Chu Xuan said, nodding approvingly at Chen Ge.

Catching the hint, Chen Ge immediately straightened up. “I know exactly where the black market is located. As soon as we deliver this batch of mortals, I’ll guide you there personally, Senior Uncle!”

Chu Xuan smiled faintly. This kid knows how to make himself useful.

For the remainder of the journey, Chu Xuan didn’t bother hiding his presence. He let his Foundation Establishment aura roll outward, a heavy, suffocating pressure that blanketed the caravan.

The journey was entirely uneventful.

Hidden in the dense foliage, several native Wuzhou cultivators who had been stalking the caravan with the intent to slaughter the mortals felt the crushing weight of Chu Xuan’s aura. Without hesitation, they turned and fled into the swamps, cursing under their breath.

Damn it all, they thought bitterly. What kind of lunatic Sect uses a Foundation Establishment expert to escort a mortal migration? It’s sheer bullying!