Record of a Demon's Cultivation Chapter 1243: Fleeing into the Distance

A chilling smirk played on the lips of the middle-aged male cultivator as another vermin from the Demonic Path met its end beneath his blade.

His divine sense swept across the devastated cave, seeking the fallen foe's storage ring, but a sense of bewilderment washed over him. Where had it gone?

As he pondered, a sinister presence coiled behind him, freezing him in place.

His heart plummeted. Without a second to spare, he poured his spiritual power into a protective mana shield. Yet, the anticipated strike never landed.

He spun around, astonishment dawning as he saw the same vermin standing, inexplicably unharmed, a hundred zhang away.

Even more unnerving, nine writhing tentacles had erupted from its head, emitting a high-pitched, piercing screech that assaulted the ears.

Immediately, invisible blades seemed to stab into his Sea of Consciousness, shredding it with savage intensity.

"Agh—!"

A strangled cry of agony ripped from his throat. His eyes blazed red, his teeth gnashed together with brutal force, and his body convulsed violently. Veins bulged like thick roots beneath his skin, throbbing ominously.

The overwhelming pain clouded his mind, causing the mana shield around him to waver erratically.

Still, he grit his teeth against the torment, summoning a pearl the size of his fist.

This pearl, flawlessly round, shimmered with a soft, jade-like luminescence.

But before he could unleash its power, a streak of icy light sliced through his failing mana shield.

Crack!

With a sharp shattering sound, the weakened shield disintegrated, dispersing into myriad specks of light.

That cold light was the Soul Cleaving Blade. Though its potency had waned, it continued its relentless path towards the middle-aged cultivator's forehead.

Fear flashed in his eyes as he instinctively raised his left hand to intercept the strike.

Pfft!

The Soul Cleaving Blade sheared off a portion of his palm, but the sheer impact redirected its course. It angled downward, plunging into the cultivator's left shoulder.

Blood welled forth.

The blade tore through flesh and bone, leaving his left arm dangling, attached by only a sliver of skin.

Having missed its initial mark, the Soul Cleaving Blade arced back, slashing from behind.

Even before its arrival, the blade's edge unleashed a sharp qi that sliced through the cultivator's robes, exposing pale skin.

Suddenly, the Treasure Pearl pulsed with a silvery-gray light, completely engulfing the middle-aged male cultivator.

The agony on his face subsided, replaced by a malevolent grin.

A brilliant spiritual light erupted from his right hand, coating his palm in a golden sheen.

Twisting around, he channeled the power of wind and thunder into his palm, meeting the incoming Soul Cleaving Blade.

Clang—!

A thunderous impact resounded across the battlefield.

The Soul Cleaving Blade was violently repelled.

Song Wen's eyes narrowed slightly. The Treasure Pearl was evidently a Divine Soul Defense Spirit Treasure, though of only mid-grade. It couldn't fully negate the shadow void's spiritual attack, but it certainly blunted its force.

Cultivators at the Body Integration Stage were proving more resilient than expected.

Recognizing the futility of the situation, Song Wen recalled his Soul Cleaving Blade and prepared to retreat.

The middle-aged cultivator gazed at his mangled shoulder and detached hand, his expression twisting into a sinister grimace.

Without any outward movement, his flying sword, still embedded deep within the mountain, erupted forth, blasting through rock and rocketing towards Song Wen.

The sword struck Song Wen's skull, obliterating his head in an instant.

As the cultivator watched the headless corpse tumble from the sky, he noticed something peculiar: not a drop of blood stained the falling body.

"A Substitute Puppet!"

His face contorted in disbelief as he frantically scanned his surroundings. It dawned on him that the Demonic Path ant had already vanished over three thousand miles away.

Just as he prepared to activate his escape technique for pursuit, a searing pain ripped through his chest, and blood erupted from his mouth.

Earlier, when the Soul Cleaving Blade struck his shoulder, it had deposited a potent surge of Golden Sharp Qi, now wreaking havoc within his body.

The middle-aged cultivator glared at Song Wen's receding form, his eyes burning with hatred. However, he didn't immediately give chase. Instead, he focused all his spiritual power on expelling the Golden Sharp Qi.

Even with a head start, how far could a mere Void Refinement Stage cultivator truly escape?

Even with his pursuer gone, Song Wen couldn't shake off the sense of unease, continuing his frantic flight at maximum speed.

After traversing an immense distance, over three hundred thousand miles, a dark shape materialized on the far horizon – a human city.

A moment of reflection brought its name to Song Wen’s mind: Chu’an City, a major human metropolis under the direct authority of the Spirit Jade Palace. This city, under the palace’s direct administration, maintained a constant patrol by a cultivator at the Body Integration Stage.

A spark ignited in Song Wen’s eyes. Surely the Middle-Aged Male Cultivator would hesitate to act with such brazenness inside the city walls.

With a flick of his wrist, an iron mask appeared, which he promptly donned. Dampening his aura, he hastened towards the city’s entrance.

Upon crossing the threshold, Song Wen promptly found refuge in a nondescript inn.

He secured a private chamber and, once inside, swiftly altered his outward appearance.

In less than twenty breaths, he emerged, transformed into a young male cultivator in the early Divine Transformation Stage. A flowing cyan robe billowed gently, and the jade pendant at his waist emitted a soft chime, projecting an aura of effortless nobility, as if he were a pampered young master.

As he meandered through the thronging thoroughfares, Song Wen’s gaze lingered on the array of shops adorning the streets, his interest piqued. He occasionally stepped inside, engaging in casual conversation with proprietors or their assistants, and acquired various Spirit Herbs and the souls of demon beasts.

He now radiated an image of calm and serenity, betraying none of the desperate haste that had characterized his previous flight.

Abruptly, an immense pressure crashed down upon the entire city, akin to a colossal tidal wave, compelling pedestrians to tilt their heads and scan the sky – Song Wen included.

The Middle-Aged Male Cultivator had made his appearance!

He was clad in new attire, his injuries expertly concealed. A black glove encased his left hand, hiding the disfigurement of his severed palm. His countenance was dark, his eyes imbued with a chilling venom, and the very air seemed to congeal wherever his gaze fell.

His wrath was fueled by the utter failure to locate his severed hand after Song Wen’s escape. The Soul Cleaving Blade’s residual light had annihilated the hand, leaving behind only two mangled digits.

His divine sense then swept across the city with brutal, unyielding force.

Every cultivator, every residential dwelling, and even the most concealed private chambers were subjected to the merciless probing of this overwhelming divine sense.

The cultivators within the city cowered in terror, and a number of those with less robust cultivation bases collapsed, unconscious.

"Brother Gu Huang!"

A figure descended swiftly from the imposing mountain range adjacent to the city.

The newcomer was a female cultivator, appearing to be in her thirties, a subtle frown etching her features.

"Chu’an City does not fall under the dominion of your Myriad Swords Pavilion. Such a display of unchecked power constitutes a grave transgression."

The middle-aged male cultivator, identified as "Gu Huang," reluctantly reeled in his divine sense upon the woman’s arrival.

Despite the woman’s cultivation being at the early stage of Body Integration, even if he were in peak condition, he would still be at a disadvantage against her within Chu’an City. After all, the city’s formidable trapping and killing formation was not merely for show.

"Ah, Fellow Daoist Wang Qiuyue. I was pursuing a renegade cultivator whose hands are stained with the blood of numerous innocents. In my urgency, I acted without proper consideration. I pray you pardon my transgression."