Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8628: Goal (1)

“Bang!” A thunderous crash resounded as a man got flung straight out of the room, slamming onto the ground utterly lifeless. Moments later, a gravelly elder's voice boomed out, “Bastards, these bastards! Do they truly believe our Corpse Demon Sect won't lay a hand on them? Just you wait. Once I've dealt with the Giant Demon Sect, I'll turn right around and handle them. And those Yin Yang Sect bastards, how dare they defy my commands? Just wait your turn. After the Giant Demon Sect and the Yin Ghost Sect fall, you're next.”

Silence hung heavy inside and outside the room—no one dared utter a word. They all recognized the furious curser: the Sect Master of the Corpse Demon Sect, the Corpse Demon Old Man, hailed as the top expert in the Blood Sea Realm. His rage stemmed from news that Yin Yang Sect members planned to strike the Giant Demon Sect. He'd dispatched a messenger to coordinate with them, urging joint action under his lead.

Yet the Yin Yang Sect refused outright, preferring solo moves over allying with the Corpse Demon Sect. This defiance fueled the Corpse Demon Old Man's fury. He viewed his sect as unrivaled in the Blood Sea Realm, brimming with confidence. But now, it seemed no one heeded him, prompting him to slay the reporting disciple in a fit of anger.

Corpse Demon Sect members stayed mute, well aware of his volatile mood—especially since the Blood Slaughter Sect's destruction. No one grasped the full reason, but all agreed: best not to rile him now, lest they end up as the next victim.

The Corpse Demon Old Man eyed his sect followers and growled deeply, “Spread my command: full-speed advance! We reach Giant Demon Sect territory in ten days and crush them in one strike. Let's see how their people halt our Corpse Demon Sect army!”

The Corpse Demon Sect crowd roared in unison. With a wave of his hand, the Old Man dismissed them, and they scattered at once. Once alone, he pivoted and headed to the rear chamber. He occupied a massive celestial device, featuring a spacious room—front for meetings, back for repose.

The Demonic Corpse Old Man entered his rest area but skipped immediate relaxation. His gaze fixed on a coffin lying on the floor. This coffin measured roughly one meter wide by two and a half meters long, pitch black. Passing by it sent chills through one's body from its cold Qi, though crafted from some unknown wood.

Staring at the coffin, the Demonic Corpse Old Man muttered, “All of you defy me, even you. Let's see how long you hold out. Sacrificing for me is your fate and glory. I granted you everything—your life included. Extending mine is your duty. Yet you resist. Hehehe, I'll watch how long that lasts.” A savage grin twisted his features before he stepped aside to meditate.

Unknown to all, Li Ruohai lay within that coffin. He'd joined Zhao Hai at the Spiritual Array Sect, seeking a soul safeguard against the demonic seed the Old Demonic Corpse Man had implanted. As the Old Man's lifespan waned without ascension, Li Ruohai faced body possession. Rejecting this, he'd hunted a ritual tool for his soul's defense.

Back then, Zhao Hai provided Li Ruohai a Yin Yang Mirror, perfect for shielding his Dharma soul. In return, Li Ruohai gifted Zhao Hai a battle corpse. During the Blood Slaughter Sect's fall, the Corpse Demon Old Man prepared to seize Li Ruohai's body. But activating the demonic seed yielded no control—neither body domination nor soul devouring. Instead, Li Ruohai's soul fled into a celestial device. Though the dark soul lost bodily grip, entering suspended animation, possession failed. They remained locked in deadlock.

This failure caused the Demonic Corpse Old Man to swing wildly between ecstasy and fury. As the supreme expert of the Blood Sea Realm, he now faced his final days and imminent death. He had been certain his possession would triumph, yet it collapsed in defeat. The pawn he selected dared to rebel against him, leaving him temporarily helpless. How could he tolerate such outrage? This very setback plunged him toward utter insanity. He refused to perish at the close of his lifespan, despising the feeble demise of fading away in meditation. That is why his emotions raged so fiercely, teetering on the brink of madness and even Qi deviation.

The Corpse Demon Old Man didn't launch this assault on the Giant Demon Sect to eradicate it entirely. He understood perfectly that toppling the Giant Demon Sect would prove no simple task. Still, should they manage to cripple it badly, annihilation could follow. True, the Giant Demon Sect possessed an ancestor in the upper realms, but the Corpse Demon Sect had its own. If their ancestor tied down the foe's, they could overwhelm and destroy the Giant Demon Sect without issue.

But the true spark for this war boiled down to one thing: harvesting death Qi. Folks might puzzle over why the Corpse Demon Sect's leader lacked death soldiers. In truth, death Qi split into two distinct kinds—one termed living death Qi, the other pure death Qi.

This split begs more questions—how does death Qi divide into living and dead forms? Consider it akin to yin-yang death Qi. Living death Qi aligns with yang-attribute death Qi, while the other is yin-attribute death Qi. Yang-attribute death Qi emerges from those freshly slain, brimming with intense killing intent or akin sentiments like terror and hatred. Such death Qi thrives on battlefields after fierce clashes. Though not plentiful, when gathered, it shines in forging artifacts, crafting celestial devices, or striking enemies. Its ferocity surges from those embedded negative feelings, delivering brutal assaults.

The contrasting yin-attribute death Qi stands as the purest variety, the aura clinging to remains post-mortem. Gathering it proves straightforward. Take the Corpse Demon Sect's myriad corpse mounds—purpose-built zones for corpse refinement. Corpses left there long enough morph into zombies, hence these setups. Death Qi flourishes in such spots naturally. Yet, aged over time, all negative emotions within it vanish. Beyond sects like the Corpse Demon Sect using special rites for corpse forging, this death Qi holds little value. It won't aid in crafting techniques or weapons, limiting its role severely. Thus, it's simply called death Qi.

The Demonic Corpse Old Man urgently required massive stores of living death Qi, igniting this very battle. His pursuit of living death Qi tied directly to his escape scheme. He needed heaps of it to forge a unique treasure known as the Death Qi Bead.

This Death Qi Bead served as a one-off magic treasure, capable of ravaging a cultivator's celestial device and soul while inflicting minimal harm to the flesh. Exactly what the Corpse Demon Old Man craved most.

The Demonic Corpse Old Man aimed to seize Li Ruohai's body, but Li Ruohai's soul lurked safe within the Yin-Yang Mirror, beyond his reach. Brute force was out—he'd shatter Li Ruohai's body in the process. That body represented his ideal vessel, honed over countless years. Losing it meant no swift substitute. Settling for a mediocre host doomed his ambitions; reclaiming his peak power would demand grueling cultivation anew. He refused such a gamble.

After considering the advantages, he at last devised a method: employ death energy beads against Li Ruohai. He intended to craft several death energy beads and steer them into Li Ruohai’s body. Next, the death energy from those death energy beads would corrode Li Ruohai’s Yin Yang Mirror. Should the Yin Yang Mirror get destroyed, Li Ruohai would meet his end, paving the way for flawless body possession.

Producing the death Qi bead demanded living death Qi. Regular death Qi simply wouldn’t suffice, yet acquiring living death Qi proved far from simple. Even on a battlefield, mere days of combat caused death Qi to shift from yang to yin, transforming from living to dead and rendering it useless. This very reason compelled the corpse demon ancestor to ignite war—ostensibly to confront the Giant Demon Sect, but truly to harvest death energy.

Others might deem it odd: was unleashing such a massive war truly needed for just traces of death energy? Countless lives lost in the process? Truly worthwhile? The response rang clear. To the elder, every bit counted. Even fully lucid, he’d pursue it relentlessly; all the more so now, ensnared by the heart demon. As one’s lifespan neared its close, no price seemed too steep for a few more moments of life. Sacrifices in battle? Utterly inconsequential!

䃞㛽䒓

㰂䯑䃞䘿䮻㳞㰂

㛽㭞䒓

䕆䰳䜟䚍䱹

䄣䙐䒓㳞䃞

䮻䯑䘿䃞㰂

䒓㗫䘿㢬䱹

蘆

䃞㛽䒓

櫓

䒓㗫㰂䱹

㳞㢬㜄䒓䙐䚍

㜿㰂㳞

㢬㳞䯑䃞㛽

㰂㗫㛽

䯑䚍䃞䃞㰂䒓

㜄㰂㜄䒓㗫䚍䚍䒓

擄

老

䃞㛽䒓

㰂㜿㳞

䀾䒓䚍㛽㭞䄣䒓䒓㢬䚍

䮻䃞㛽䚍䒓

䃞㛽䃞㰂

㛽䒓䘿㗫㰂䮻䯑

䱹䒓㢬䕰䰳

䰳䃞䒓㳞䙐

䮻㜿㛽䃞

㗫㢬㲛䇗㜿

㛽㳞䯑㢬䃞

䃞㛽䒓

䏞㲛䃞

䕆䮻䘿

䒓䂍

䒓䃞㳞䄣䙐

䃞䙐䒓㳞

路

䒓䙐䃞䰳㳞

㷟䒓㰂䱹

㗫䮻䃞㗫’䘿

老

䮻䘿䃞㰂䯑

㛽䒓䃞

䒓㳞䙐䃞

㰂䇗䚍㳞㢬䙐㛽

䇗㜄㢬䃞䒓㗫䃞

䇗䙐㳞㰂㢬㛽䚍

䏞䃞㛽㢬

㢬䘿

䇗㜄㲛䙐䏞䇗䮻䕆䰳

䙐䒓䄣䃞㳞

㛽㰂㗫

䒓㛽䃞䕆

路

㰂㳞㢬䇗

䒓㰂䕆㗫㗫䇗

䘿䕆䮻

䮻䠏䘿

㳞㛽䃞㢬䯑

䮻䕰㢬㳞䇗䄣䒓䕆䚍㲟㲛

䕆䮻䘿

㰂

䮻䰳䒓䘿䱹䃞䕆

㢬䯑䃞㳞㛽

䒓䃞䙐㳞

䀾䂖

㗫䃞㢬㳞䚍㰂㜿

䃞㢬

盧

䮻䕆䘿

䚍㜿㰂

盧

䕆䚍㰂䒓䇗㗫㰂

䒓㜿㢬䂍䄣䒓䕰䚍

㳞㳞䒓䮻㗫

㜄䚍䒓㰂㜄䘿䯑䚍䮻

㛽䃞䱹䒓

㰂䘿㗫

䚍䀾䱹䒓㢬㗫

䒓䃞㛽

䃞㳞䒓’㳞䙐

㲛䃞㷌㳞

䮻䘿䠏

䚍䀾䃞䮻㳞

䒓䕆䇗㰂㗫㰂䚍

䕰䰳㢬䒓䱹

䯑䠏䘿㰂

㛽䮻㳞

䯑㰂䠏䘿

㳞㰂

㢬䘿䒓㗫䱹

㛽䃞䒓

䒓㛽䃞

䚍䒓㜿䒓

㛽䮻䒓䚍䃞

䃞㢬

櫓

㜿㳞䘿’㰂䃞

䮻䠏䘿

䇗䮻䏞㢬䱹䮻㿋䒓

㗫䘿䒓䱹㢬

䘿䒓䒓䕰

䠏㰂䘿䯑

㷟㗫㰂䚍

䒓㛽䕆䃞

㳞㜿㰂

䜟䚍䕆䱹

㛽䃞䒓

㳞㭞㛽䮻

䃞䕆㛽䒓

㗫㗫䇗㰂䒓䚍䒓䙐

䘿䮻㷟㛽䃞

㜿㢬㲛䇗㗫

㛽䃞䒓

䒓㛽䃞

㛽㰂㗫

㳞㛽䯑䃞㢬

䇗㰂䒓㗫

䇗㢬㰂㳞

䃞㰂㷟㰂䙐䄣䃞

䀾㰂㗫䮻䚍㰂

䄣䒓䮻䃞䱹

䀾㢬

㜄䒓䒓㢬㜄䇗

䀾䚍㳞䮻䰳䃞

㶒䒓㰂䘿㜿㛽䮻䇗䒓䄣 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑䄣 䃞㛽䒓 㳞䒓䙐㢬䘿㗫 䒓䇗㗫䒓䚍䄣 㰂䘿㗫 䃞㛽䒓 䃞㛽䮻䚍㗫 䒓䇗㗫䒓䚍 㜿䒓䚍䒓 㳞䮻䃞䃞䮻䘿䯑 䮻䘿 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑’㳞 㳞䃞㲛㗫䕆 䚍㢬㢬䱹 㢬䀾 䃞㛽䒓 䕆䮻䘿 䯑㛽㢬㳞䃞 㳞䒓䙐䃞䰳 㭞㛽䒓䮻䚍 䒓㤺㜄䚍䒓㳞㳞䮻㢬䘿㳞 㜿䒓䚍䒓 㰂 䇗䮻䃞䃞䇗䒓 㲛䯑䇗䕆䰳 䂖䃞 㜿㰂㳞 䃞㛽䒓䮻䚍 㗫䒓䙐䮻㳞䮻㢬䘿 䃞㢬 㗫䒓䙐䇗㰂䚍䒓 㜿㰂䚍 㢬䘿 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞䄣 䏞㲛䃞 䮻䃞 㜿㰂㳞 㲛䘿㗫䒓䚍 㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻’㳞 㢬䚍㗫䒓䚍㳞䰳 㭞㛽䒓䕆 㰂䙐䃞㲛㰂䇗䇗䕆 㗫䮻㗫 䘿㢬䃞 㜿㰂䘿䃞 䃞㢬 㗫䒓䙐䇗㰂䚍䒓 㜿㰂䚍 㢬䘿 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞 㰂䃞 䃞㛽䒓 䱹㢬䱹䒓䘿䃞 䏞䒓䙐㰂㲛㳞䒓 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㜿䒓䚍䒓 䕰䒓䚍䕆 䙐䇗䒓㰂䚍 䃞㛽㰂䃞 䃞㛽䒓䮻䚍 䙐㲛䚍䚍䒓䘿䃞 㳞䃞䚍䒓䘿䯑䃞㛽 㜿㰂㳞 㳞䃞䮻䇗䇗 㳞䇗䮻䯑㛽䃞䇗䕆 㜿䒓㰂㷟䒓䚍 䃞㛽㰂䘿 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞䰳 㭞㛽䒓䕆 㜿䒓䚍䒓 㜄䚍䒓㜄㰂䚍䒓㗫 䃞㢬 䚍䒓䙐㲛㜄䒓䚍㰂䃞䒓 䀾㢬䚍 㰂 㜄䒓䚍䮻㢬㗫 㢬䀾 䃞䮻䱹䒓 䏞䒓䀾㢬䚍䒓 㗫䒓㰂䇗䮻䘿䯑 㜿䮻䃞㛽 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞䰳

䂍㢬㜿䒓䕰䒓䚍䄣 䃞㛽䒓䕆 䙐㢬㲛䇗㗫䘿’䃞 㗫䮻㳞㢬䏞䒓䕆 㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻’㳞 㢬䚍㗫䒓䚍䰳 㭞㛽䒓䚍䒓䀾㢬䚍䒓䄣 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㛽㰂㗫 䘿㢬 䙐㛽㢬䮻䙐䒓 䏞㲛䃞 䃞㢬 㗫䒓䙐䇗㰂䚍䒓 㜿㰂䚍 㢬䘿 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞䰳 䂍㢬㜿䒓䕰䒓䚍䄣 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞’㳞 䜟䚍䱹䕆 㜿㰂㳞 㰂䇗䚍䒓㰂㗫䕆 䙐㛽㰂䚍䯑䮻䘿䯑 㰂䃞 䃞㛽䒓䱹䄣 㜿㛽䮻䙐㛽 䯑㰂䕰䒓 䃞㛽䒓䱹 㰂 㛽䒓㰂㗫㰂䙐㛽䒓䰳 䜟䇗䃞㛽㢬㲛䯑㛽 䃞㛽䒓䕆 䙐㢬㲛䇗㗫 䀾䮻䯑㛽䃞䄣 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㜿䒓䚍䒓 㳞㲛䚍䒓 䃞㛽㰂䃞 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㜿㢬㲛䇗㗫 㳞㲛䀾䀾䒓䚍 㰂 䯑䚍䒓㰂䃞 䇗㢬㳞㳞 䃞㛽䮻㳞 䃞䮻䱹䒓䰳

䃞䜟

䀾䒓㜿

䮻䃞㛽䚍䒓

㰂

㰂

䇗䃞㲛’㗫㢬䙐䘿

䃞㛽䒓

䘿䚍㰂㢬䚍㜿

䄣䚍㢬䱹㢬

䚍䒓䙐㢬䯑㗫䘿䒓䮻㿋

䚍䒓㜿䒓

㛽䃞㳞䒓䒓

䘿䯑㢬䋢

䂍䄣㰂䮻

㰂㗫䘿

䮻㟧䘿

㰂㰂䠏䱹

䰳㗫㜄㜄䚍㰂䒓㰂䒓

㲛㢬㗫䇗㳞㛽

䘿㰂㗫

㜄䒓䒓㜄䇗㢬

䒓㛽䃞䕆

㜿㰂㳞

㳞㰂䒓䙐䏞䒓㲛

䚍㰂䒓䒓䇗㗫

䮻䯑䘿㷌

䃞㲛䏞

䃞㛽䮻㳞

䒓㳞䒓䃞㛽

㰂䀾䇗䒓㛽㳞㗫

䃞䒓㛽

䃞㛽䚍䒓㢬

㰂㭬㛽㢬

㰂䒓㛽䕰

䀾㢬

㢬䃞㛽䚍䒓㳞

䘿䏞䒓䒓

䒓䚍㰂㳞䒓䕰䇗

㜄㜄䒓㢬䇗䒓

㰂㜿㳞

㳞㲛䇗䒓㗫㗫䘿䕆

㛽䃞䃞㰂

䇗䒓㳞䚍䒓㗫䰳

㗫㛽䮻䏞䒓䘿

㟧䮻䯑䄣䘿

㰂㗫䘿

㛽㜿䒓䘿

㛽䃞䒓

㛽䮻䱹

䒓䄣㜄䇗㢬䒓㜄

㗫㰂㗫䄣䒓

㭞㳞㛽䒓䒓

䮻䘿㰂䇘䯑㛽䘿㰂䄣䃞

䇗㛽䯑䮻䃞

㛽䒓㜄䇗

㛽㳞㢬㗫䇗㲛

㢬䃞䒓䄣䱹䘿䱹

䒓䕰㛽㰂

㛽䒓䃞䕆

䘿㗫㰂

䘿䮻

䕆䃞䒓㛽

䒓㜄㜄㢬䒓䇗

䘿䒓䏞䒓

㗫㰂䰳䒓㗫

䒓㳞䕆䒓

䜟䇗䃞㛽㢬㲛䯑㛽 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑 㰂䘿㗫 䃞㛽䒓 㢬䃞㛽䒓䚍㳞 㜿䒓䚍䒓 㳞㲛䚍㜄䚍䮻㳞䒓㗫䄣 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㗫䮻㗫䘿’䃞 㗫㰂䚍䒓 䃞㢬 䏞䒓 㳞䇗㢬㜿䰳 㭞㛽䒓䕆 䮻䱹䱹䒓㗫䮻㰂䃞䒓䇗䕆 㳞䃞㢬㢬㗫 㲛㜄 㰂䘿㗫 䏞㢬㜿䒓㗫 䃞㢬 䃞㛽䒓 䃞㜿㢬䰳 䤍䕄㲛㢬䃞㔇 “䯖䚍䒓䒓䃞䮻䘿䯑㳞䄣 䱹䕆 㟧㢬䚍㗫䀊” 㭞㛽䒓 㢬䃞㛽䒓䚍 䃞㜿㢬 䒓䇗㗫䒓䚍㳞 㰂䇗㳞㢬 㳞㰂䇗㲛䃞䒓㗫 㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻䰳 㭞㛽䒓䕆 㗫䮻㗫䘿’䃞 䏞㢬㜿 䃞㢬 䠏㰂䱹㰂 㟧䮻䘿䯑 䏞䒓䙐㰂㲛㳞䒓 䃞㛽䒓䕆 㜿䒓䚍䒓 䅘㲛㳞䃞 㳞㢬䱹䒓 䯑㛽㢬㳞䃞㳞 䘿㢬㜿䰳 㭞㛽䒓䚍䒓 㜿㰂㳞 䘿㰂䃞㲛䚍㰂䇗䇗䕆 䘿㢬 䘿䒓䒓㗫 䀾㢬䚍 䃞㛽䒓䱹 䃞㢬 䏞㢬㜿 䃞㢬 䠏㰂䱹㰂 㟧䮻䘿䯑䰳

㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻 䘿㢬㗫㗫䒓㗫䄣 䃞㛽䒓䘿 㜿㰂䇗㷟䒓㗫 㗫䮻䚍䒓䙐䃞䇗䕆 䃞㢬 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑’㳞 㳞䒓㰂䃞 㰂䘿㗫 㳞㰂䃞 㗫㢬㜿䘿䰳 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑 㰂䘿㗫 䃞㛽䒓 㢬䃞㛽䒓䚍 䃞㜿㢬 㰂䇗䇗 㜿䒓䘿䃞 䃞㢬 䃞㛽䒓 㢬㜄㜄㢬㳞䮻䃞䒓 㳞䮻㗫䒓 㢬䀾 㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻 㰂䘿㗫 㳞䃞㢬㢬㗫 䃞㛽䒓䚍䒓 㜿䮻䃞㛽 䃞㛽䒓䮻䚍 㛽㰂䘿㗫㳞 㗫㢬㜿䘿䰳 㭬㛽㰂㢬 䂍㰂䮻 䇗㢬㢬㷟䒓㗫 㰂䃞 㟧䮻䘿 䋢㢬䘿䯑 㰂䘿㗫 㳞㰂䮻㗫 䮻䘿 㰂 㗫䒓䒓㜄 䕰㢬䮻䙐䒓䄣 ” 䤍䕄㲛㢬䃞㔇 䂖 㷟䘿㢬㜿 䃞㛽㰂䃞 䃞㛽䒓 䠏䮻䘿 䠏㰂䘿䯑 㳞䒓䙐䃞’㳞 䜟䚍䱹䕆’㳞 䱹㢬䏞䮻䇗䮻㿋㰂䃞䮻㢬䘿 㛽㰂㳞 㰂 䯑䚍䒓㰂䃞 䮻䱹㜄㰂䙐䃞 㢬䘿 䕆㢬㲛䰳 㭞㛽䒓 䕆䮻䘿 䯑㛽㢬㳞