Chapter 1076: The Little Weird Daoist
Blood and Flesh Labyrinth, Blood Pool.
Mo Hua lay on the sacrificial altar at the center of the blood pool, a ritual dagger plunged into his chest.
Threads of blood formed a cocoon, sealing him within.
Around the pool stood four Golden Core demonic cultivators.
One was a bald demon cultivator, burly and muscular, with a fierce blood-red tiger pattern carved into his scalp. He was dipping a beheading blade into the blood and sharpening it.
Of the other three, one was tall and thin, seemingly an evil formation master, drawing a blood-red sinister formation.
The remaining two were dissecting several massive demonic beasts, piecing together a fleshly body.
As the evil god stirred, a terrifying tremor spread. The four felt fear rise in their hearts, which then turned into boundless reverence and worship.
Their blood boiled, and their divine senses became frenzied.
Then, the bald demon cultivator asked, "Is it time?"
"It is," replied the evil formation master. "According to Mr. Tu's instructions—once the divine lord awakens and his might spreads to every corner of the grand formation, we'll sever this brat's head and soak it in the blood pool. Once it's assimilated by the blood qi, we'll sew it onto the body of the Sin Dragon Demon Beast…"
The bald demon cultivator didn't seem to care much.
The evil formation master then spoke solemnly:
"The beheading process must be handled with the utmost caution. We must use the blood sacrifice to empower the blade, sever the head, and then use the Living Blood Formation to preserve its vitality. We mustn't let him truly die…"
The bald demon cultivator grumbled impatiently, his voice muffled: "Why go through all that trouble?"
The evil formation master sneered coldly. "What do you know? Do you have any idea who this brat is? How can you be sure he doesn't have some life-saving means on him?"
"If we kill him outright, it could trigger some hidden protection. If we sever his head and he dies immediately, that'll definitely set off his life-preserving trump card. When that happens, we'll both be screwed."
The bald demon cultivator froze, then finally understood: "So that's how it is."
The evil formation master snorted. "Mr. Tu's orders always have deeper meaning. You don't have the brain to understand—just follow them."
Though displeased, the bald demon cultivator dared not object. He picked up the beheading blade and walked over to Mo Hua.
First, he pulled out the ritual dagger from Mo Hua's chest, dissolving the blood cocoon. Then he raised the blood-forged beheading blade over Mo Hua's neck, preparing to strike—when suddenly, he paused.
He had seen Mo Hua's eyes.
Those were natural, clear eyes, untouched by worldly dust—yet they carried a depth impossible to fathom.
The bald demon cultivator's heart skipped a beat.
"When did this brat wake up?"
And he was looking at him in such an eerie, bone-chilling way…
The bald demon cultivator hesitated for a moment, then thought, "Whatever, if he's awake, so be it. Better to die knowing than to be decapitated in a daze."
Besides, it was more enjoyable to sever the head of a living person.
Especially when it was the head of a handsome young prodigy from a grand orthodox sect—cleanly chopped off by his own hand. That was truly thrilling.
The bald demon cultivator grinned, raising the beheading blade, fully intending to sever Mo Hua's head. He even deliberately stared into Mo Hua's eyes, hoping to see fear, panic, despair—all those delightful emotions appear right before death.
But suddenly, that clear water-like gaze turned deep.
Those eyes, once limpid, now resembled an abyss—hiding unspeakable terror within.
Within them, a strange black-gray hue slowly wove and churned, sending chills down the spine.
The bald demon cultivator seemed entranced, frozen as though his soul had been captured.
In the depths of his pupils, a shadowy color reflected—as if some foreign thought was planted deep within his heart.
At that same moment, a voice—innocent, crisp, but laced with eerie malice—seemed to echo from within his mind:
"Why do you… obey Mr. Tu?"
"If he tells you to kill someone, you just kill?"
"Does he deserve that power?"
"You're not his dog…"
The bald demon cultivator's pupils darkened, his face twisted.
He stood there, still holding the raised blade, dazed like a statue.
But his expression kept shifting—his brow red, and his eyes showing a flicker of rage.
The evil formation master had finished drawing the Living Blood Formation. He was waiting for the bald demon cultivator to sever the sacrifice's head so he could use the fresh blood to "preserve" it.
But after a long while without movement, he turned to see the bald demon cultivator standing there stiffly, holding the beheading blade, doing who-knows-what.
The evil formation master's patience ran thin. Frowning, he urged:
"Hurry up and chop off the brat's head."
"Time is tight. What are you dawdling for?"
He repeated himself several times, but the bald demon cultivator didn't respond at all.
Now angry, the evil formation master barked coldly:
"This is an order from Mr. Tu. You dare disobey?"
At the mention of "Mr. Tu," it was as if something snapped.
The bald demon cultivator's eyes turned blood-red. In one sudden motion, he swung the massive blade—right at the evil formation master's neck.
The evil formation master's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. He couldn't comprehend why the bald demon cultivator had suddenly gone mad.
Then he saw that twisted face and burning fury in the other's expression.
Pain seared through his neck. A chill pierced his heart. Sensing danger too late, he tried to resist—but the giant blade came down again.
The bald demon cultivator hacked wildly at his neck and head, each swing filled with fury. As he hacked, he roared:
"Mr. Tu!"
"Mr. Tu!"
"Tu your damn mother, Mr. Tu!"
"Who the hell is he?!"
"He says jump, and I have to jump?!"
"Mr. Tu's orders—can't be disobeyed?"
"Screw that! What if I don't obey?!"
...
The bald demon cultivator kept swinging the blade, again and again, turning the evil formation master into a pulp of blood and meat.
The bald demon cultivator swung his execution blade again and again, turning the Evil Formation Master into minced flesh amid a spray of blood.
The Evil Formation Master's formations were sinister and vicious, but he was not adept at close combat—especially not when caught off guard. Attacked at close range by a bloodthirsty demon cultivator, he had no chance to fight back and was hacked to death on the spot.
The sudden change was shocking and inexplicable.
The other two demonic cultivators, who had been dissecting a demonic beast's corpse, only snapped out of it after the Evil Formation Master had already been turned into a bloody mess. Shocked and furious, they shouted:
"Are you insane?!"
"Have you lost your mind?!"
"Aren't you afraid Mr. Tu will hold you accountable?!"
It would have been better had they not mentioned "Mr. Tu." The moment those three words were uttered, the bald demon cultivator went completely berserk, his expression twisting:
"You're Mr. Tu's dogs too? You followed his orders to harm me?!"
One of the demon cultivators shouted angrily, "What the hell are you saying?!"
But before he could finish, a sudden stench of blood filled the air, and the bloodstained execution blade swung toward his head.
Cursing, the demon cultivator pulled out a skull-shaped cursed artifact and began fighting the bald demon cultivator.
The other demon cultivator wasn't about to sit still and die—he summoned a blood sword and joined the battle.
Both were formidable cultivators, well-versed in dark arts. One attacked with his blood sword; the other used the skull to suppress. Joined together, their combined power was immense.
Although the bald demon cultivator fought like a madman, with ferocious and ruthless techniques, he couldn't hold his ground. After 80 to 90 rounds, he was defeated—his left shoulder pierced by the blood sword, his entire body suppressed by the cursed skull's demonic energy.
Though subdued, the bald demon cultivator remained ferocious and continued to roar in defiance.
The skull-wielding demon cultivator frowned in confusion and muttered:
"What the hell is wrong with this fool? Is he possessed? He even dares defy Mr. Tu's orders. He—"
Before he could finish, a sharp blood sword pierced through his chest from behind.
Eyes wide, the skull demon cultivator slowly turned his head—only to see his former ally, now with a twisted face full of hatred, holding the blood sword that had run him through:
"So what if he defied Mr. Tu's orders? Are you just Mr. Tu's loyal dog too?"
"A dog of Mr. Tu doesn't deserve to live!"
The blood sword had pierced his heart, and the poisonous blood energy tore apart his organs. Though his face showed fury and disbelief, it was too late. He died with his eyes open.
The blood sword demon cultivator chuckled coldly.
But the laughter didn't last long.
The black-gray color faded from his eyes, his mind briefly clearing. Seeing the ally he had just killed lying at his feet, his face filled with shock and disbelief:
"What… what have I done?"
"How could I…?"
"I…"
Just then, with a splatter, a massive execution blade—surging with demonic power—came down on his neck, sending blood spraying everywhere.
Then came the second strike, the third, the fourth… no hesitation at all.
The blood sword demon cultivator was hacked to death on the spot, collapsing to the ground.
Behind him stood the bald demon cultivator, who had just broken free from the skull's suppression.
Covered in blood, he held the dripping execution blade.
That giant blade had originally been meant to sever Mo Hua's head. Now it was soaked in the blood of demon cultivators.
"No one tells me what to do."
"Not even Mr. Tu…"
"Whoever tries to control me—dies."
The bald demon cultivator's eyes held a faint black hue, and his expression bordered on madness.
The demon cultivators in the blood pool were all dead now. Those who tried to "tell him what to do" had all been slaughtered. With no more targets, his expression turned blank, almost lost.
At that moment, that innocent yet eerie voice echoed in his mind again:
"That's right. No one tells you what to do. Not even Mr. Tu…"
"Who does that Mr. Tu think he is?"
"He only throws his weight around because of the Divine Lord's power."
"The Divine Lord is wise and mighty."
The bald demon cultivator nodded in agreement. "Yes, the Divine Lord is wise and mighty."
The eerie voice continued, "Now that the Divine Lord has awakened, someone like Mr. Tu isn't even fit to be His 'servant.'"
The bald demon cultivator nodded. "Yes, he's not worthy."
"If he's not worthy—then who is?"
"Who?" The bald demon cultivator looked puzzled.
"You," the eerie voice said with certainty. "You are the Divine Lord's 'servant.' You are the only one worthy of being His 'servant.' Only you deserve to serve Him, to share in His supreme power, to follow the Lord of the Wilderness, and live forever…"
The bald demon cultivator's expression grew firm.
"Yes, only me. Only I am worthy of being the Divine Lord's 'servant.' Only I deserve to live forever…"
"But the Divine Lord has only one servant."
"Only… one?"
"Yes, only one," the innocent yet eerie voice asked, "So what should you do?"
"What should I do…"
The bald demon cultivator's expression grew savage. After a moment, he growled:
"I'll kill them all—then I'll be the Divine Lord's only 'servant'!"
The eerie voice praised, "Exactly. Kill them all! Only you can be the Divine Lord's servant!"
"Kill them all! Only I can be the Divine Lord's servant!" the bald demon cultivator murmured, grinning as bloodlust gleamed in his eyes.
He hoisted his execution blade, drenched in blood, and left the blood pool.
Outside was a labyrinth of flesh and blood—limbs scattered everywhere, white bones forming the walls. The layout was twisted and chaotic, with many paths sealed off.
But as the bald demon cultivator approached, the flesh parted and the bones withdrew.
A path unfolded before him.
This only strengthened his faith.
It was the Divine Lord calling to him.
It was the Divine Lord showing him the way.
This was a gift—a sign of recognition. Clearly, the Divine Lord acknowledged him as the chosen, the one true servant.
Dragging his execution blade, leaving bloody footprints with every step, the bald demon cultivator walked deeper into the maze.
...
Deep within the blood-flesh labyrinth stood the sacrificial hall.
Deep within the flesh-and-blood labyrinth, in the sacrificial hall—
Mr. Tu sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, guarding the Blood Anointment Formation, stabilizing the nightmare of the Evil God, and summoning servants to protect the deity.
In front of him burned a wicked lantern.
Surrounding him stood powerful demon and monster guardians.
In addition, within the great hall were hundreds of demonic cultivators.
As the Evil God awakened and its vast divine aura spread, every cultivator present was shocked, terrified, and ecstatic.
Their divine sense surged with excitement; their reason began to erode, inching toward madness.
Their faith in the Evil God, in that moment, reached its peak.
Just then, a loud banging sounded from outside the hall.
It was as if something sharp was being struck repeatedly against the gate—growing more frantic, more brazen, and entirely disrespectful.
The demonic cultivators present all turned with cold, killing intent in their eyes.
"Someone, open the door."
But one of the demon lords objected: "Mr. Tu gave strict orders. Before the Divine Lord awakens, no one is to open the sacrificial gate. We must avoid complications."
The other demon lords remained silent.
But the banging didn't stop. Instead, it grew louder, more arrogant.
The rage in the hearts of the demon lords ignited.
Their natures were already twisted and bloodthirsty, and now, influenced by the will of the reborn Evil God, their tempers burned ever hotter.
Not all of them regarded Mr. Tu's commands as absolute.
A Golden Core expert of the Profound Demon Sect sneered, "Open the door. I want to see which damn beast has the guts to knock like this."
"Do they not realize where they are?"
The other demon lords all wore icy expressions.
A demonic cultivator from the Blood Refining Sect was ordered to open the gate.
But the moment the doors cracked open—a massive, blood-drenched guillotine blade came flying straight at him. Fortunately, he'd been on alert and dodged to the side with a sneer.
Yet before his sneer could fully form, a bloodstained figure—like a specter—leapt at him and sank its jaws into his neck.
Blood sprayed, flesh was torn.
Everyone's pupils shrank in shock.
"What the hell is that?"
"A demon cultivator?"
"Has he gone mad?"
A late-stage Golden Core demon from the Demon Sword Sect immediately summoned his demonic sword, conjuring dark sword qi, and cleaved the blood-covered, bald-headed demon in half, blood splashing across the floor.
Yet even split in two, the bald-headed demon didn't immediately die. He writhed on the ground, grinning savagely and howling:
"I am the Divine Lord's servant."
"There can only be one servant of the Divine Lord."
"That servant can only be me."
"Only I shall live forever…"
…
His tragic state, his eerie words, his fanatical devotion to the Lord of the Great Wilderness—all echoed within the grand, wicked hall, imprinting themselves like a brand upon the minds of everyone present.
Without realizing it, a strange black gleam began to flicker in the eyes of many demon lords.
(End of this Chapter)