Chapter 191: Demonic Blade

The mark upon Lu Yang’s palm read One, while Gu Zha’s bore the number Eighty-Seven; once Lu Yang claimed Gu Zha’s life, his own mark shifted, reading Eighty-Eight.

"So this is that fiendish blade of rumor? Every previous master slain by its own edge, save for Gu Zha, who managed a brief reprieve?"

It was plain to see that Gu Zha possessed little in the way of manners, tossing things about carelessly, leaving it to Lu Yang to retrieve them.

The demonic saber was a dull, crimson hue, its hilt fashioned from the horn of some colossal, monstrous beast; where hilt met blade, a deep red gemstone lay embedded, gleaming like an eye.

Aside from its bizarre appearance, Lu Yang could discern nothing particularly extraordinary about it.

"An intriguing weapon," the Immortal Fairy mused. "The hilt is a dragon's horn, the blade forged of refined steel, and that dark red gem is actually the eye of a Fei."

The Fei was a mighty beast of the wild wilderness, possessing the body of an ox, a stark white head, a single eye, and the tail of a viper.

At long last, the Immortal Fairy was acting the part of a divine mentor, explaining the wondrous secrets of the blade to Lu Yang.

"The materials are excellent, capable of birthing a spirit if properly forged. Yet the blacksmith’s skill was lacking, leaving it a hollow vessel, never granting it true sentience."

"Even as a mere shell, it remains a rare and precious magical treasure."

"This blade hungers instinctively for a spirit, and so it grows bloodthirsty and murderous; the more it slays, the closer it comes to awakening."

"How does one claim ownership?"

"A single drop of blood will suffice," the Immortal Fairy advised. "Though I would not recommend it. This blade is insatiable; once you become its master, the more blood you feed it, the more it longs to devour you, and should you withhold blood, it will devour you all the same."

Such treacherous artifacts were common in the ancient era; the Fairy had seen many arrogant geniuses who believed themselves unique, capable of subduing the weapon, yet only a meager few ever succeeded.

"I see." Lu Yang finally understood why every past bearer had met a violent end; the blade had never intended for its master to live. "A fascinating weapon indeed."

"Gu Zha only escaped its backlash because he held it for too brief a time; his hour simply had not yet arrived."

Lu Yang inquired further, "If the blade were to birth a spirit, how great would its quality be?"

The Immortal Fairy sniffed disdainfully, "It wouldn't even serve as a decent footstool for me."

Lu Yang uttered a soft acknowledgment; it seemed the demonic blade was not so grand after all.

The Eldest Senior Sister remained silent throughout, quietly immersed in her book.

She believed that with the capabilities of Lu Yang and his companions, claiming the top spot in this trial would be an effortless task.

Even as they spoke, the mark on Lu Yang’s palm shifted once more, jumping twice from Eighty-Eight until it settled at One Hundred and Thirty-One.

The Meat and Wine Monk had drawn the collective focus of the crowd, failing to secure the Ginseng Fruits, which fell instead into the hands of two moderately renowned Foundation Establishment cultivators; without exception, both were instantly poisoned to death.

The remaining two Ginseng Fruits were likewise coated in deadly toxins; at this distance, Lu Yang could no longer sense the state of his fruit clones.

Dispelling the technique, Lu Yang returned to his original height.

He stowed the demonic blade within a storage ring and set off in search of his next target.

The ring was a temporary measure; given that they were deep within the territory of the Immortal Sect, using his Ask Faith Sect identity token as storage would be far too reckless.

"What is this? Whose blood is this?" Lu Yang noticed several fresh droplets on the ground nearby, looking as though someone had been wounded and fled.

"Let us follow it and see."

An injured foe meant diminished combat strength—a victory practically waiting to be claimed.

Just as Lu Yang suspected, the trail grew more pronounced as the distance closed, turning from scattered droplets into a crimson pool; the individual was evidently grievously wounded.

Finally, Lu Yang caught sight of the injured party: it was the Meat and Wine Monk!

The monk’s massive hand was currently wrapped around a man’s throat, and with a sickening snap, the neck was broken.

"Another fool lured by my bait," the Meat and Wine Monk muttered, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

During the scramble for the Ginseng Fruits, he had feigned defeat and fled in feigned injury, enticing several competitors to pursue him, only to turn and slaughter them one by one.

"My fierce reputation precedes me; if I did not play the victim, I would never find anyone to fight," the monk explained with a laugh.

As one of the three most prominent seeded contestants, others fled at the mere sight of him, leaving him no opportunity to engage.

It was far better to reveal a flaw and let the fish take the bait.

The Meat and Wine Monk let out a soft exclamation of surprise, "You look familiar. No matter, whoever you are, consider it your misfortune to have crossed my path!"

The familiarity arose because the Ginseng Fruit bore a striking resemblance to Lu Yang, like father and son, though the monk failed to make the connection in the moment.

The monk clenched his fists, tightening his muscles until his bleeding wounds instantly sealed; he drew forth his golden alms bowl, intending to trap Lu Yang beneath it.

Lu Yang silently drew the demonic blade from his storage ring, knelt down, and swabbed it in the blood the monk had left behind.

The blade instantly recognized the Meat and Wine Monk as its master.

The demonic weapon hovered in midair before driving forward with a sharp hiss, plunging straight toward the monk.

Perhaps the blade had never encountered so generous a master and wished to grant him a warm embrace—with its edge.

The Meat and Wine Monk turned pale with horror; where had this weapon come from, and why was it turned against him?

The golden bowl that had accompanied him for so long was pierced through in an instant, leaving the monk to fight a desperate battle.

Lu Yang watched from the sidelines, clicking his tongue, "With this level of skill, how could you ever hope to be chosen by the Hanging Temple?"

As the most exclusive of the Five Great Immortal Sects, the Hanging Temple accepted only those of extraordinary talent; given the monk's abilities, he would barely qualify as a menial servant there.

"The Hanging Temple claims that everyone has a chance to enter, so naturally I had that chance! I simply chose to forfeit it!" the monk bellowed, struggling against the blade.

"...You certainly know how to flatter yourself."

The monk proved useless, unable to overcome the weapon, and the demonic blade pierced his heart through in a single stroke.

Once more, the blade was left without a master.

"How tragic, losing your master the very moment you found him."

Lu Yang retrieved the blade and resumed his journey.

"The Underworld Drowned in Blood!" out creaked a voice from the shadows as an ambush was launched!

A torrential wave of crimson surged toward Lu Yang, thick with a metallic stench that left no doubt it was composed of blood.

Unfazed, Lu Yang drew the demonic blade once more; as a possessor of the Sword Spiritual Root, he possessed a natural affinity for all bladed weapons, and comprehending the way of the saber was no difficult feat.

He unleashed a technique he had only just devised.

"The Master-Claiming Saber Style!"

The demonic blade hacked into the crimson torrent like a shark catching the scent of blood, flashing with an eerie red light as it plunged straight into the heart of the ambusher.

"The Raging Wave Blood Palm!"

"The Master-Claiming Saber Style!"

"The Crimson Skull!"

"The Master-Claiming Saber Style!"

True to their reputation as a demonic sect, the spells these cultivators practiced were invariably bound to vengeful spirits, skulls, blood, and lost souls—all perfectly suited for selecting a new master for the blade.

Relying solely on his Master-Claiming Saber Style, Lu Yang proved invincible across the realm.

Alas, every single master of the blade proved to be short-lived, failing to survive even three seconds before the weapon turned upon them.

Lu Yang shook his head in disappointment; he merely wished to find a suitable master for the weapon, yet why was it so incredibly difficult?

"Such a fine magical treasure, yet none of you have the fortune to enjoy it."

More and more people became aware of Lu Yang's existence, and rumors were now spreading across the outside world that he had become the master of the Demonic Blade, slaughtering indiscriminately and proving far more brutal than Gu Zha.

Some also recognized that Lu Yang bore a striking resemblance to the Ginseng Fruit, and drawing a connection to those who had been poisoned to death, they deduced that the Ginseng Fruit had been a hoax all along.

Deep within the dense forest, after the Demonic Blade had stabbed another of its masters to death as was its custom, Lu Yang crossed paths with Meng Jingzhou.

Meng Jingzhou stared at Lu Yang, his teeth gritted in resentment.

"Brilliant skills indeed, disguising yourself as the Ginseng Fruit and deceiving everyone!"

(End of this chapter)