Chapter 13: A Demonic Invitation
“The devils sent an invitation?”
Even Young Master Bei Qing was surprised. He set his zither score on the dark agarwood table, his brow furrowing slightly.
In Carefree, only Eternal Night Valley qualified as a demonic sect, for two reasons: they extorted protection fees from nearby towns and were obsessed with performance art.
Devils, with their red eyes, were already unconventional. Eternal Night Valley’s members went further, dyeing their hair and sporting fierce, sect-exclusive tattoos, like Death Eaters flaunting their identity.
Thus, they were branded a classic demonic sect by Xuanshu, periodically targeted by righteous coalitions, beaten like a dungeon boss every few years.
Besides Eternal Night Valley, Carefree featured the devil race’s six city lords. As fellow ostracized barbarians, they’d naturally join this “Demonic Sect Sustainable Development Conference.”
The six lords were troublemakers, but their internal discord made them easy to manipulate. Zong Ji could subtly sow dissent, turning them into a scattered mess, fighting each other without costing him a single soldier.
In contrast, One Sword to Immortality’s demonic sects were far more formidable.
Ever heard of the Ten Thousand Devils Sect? (Lights cigarette)
Its name alone could make toddlers wail.
And it was formidable. Its headquarters sat in Beizhou’s Death Desert, ensuring no one dared invade—killing a thousand enemies at the cost of eight hundred allies.
Moreover, the Ten Thousand Devils Sect was truly vile.
Behind every bloodbath or massacre, their shadow loomed, including heinous acts like clan exterminations. Many hated them, but their Beizhou stronghold, millennia-old foundation, and abundant experts made them untouchable.
Beyond them, One Sword featured a devil overlord, the Devil Sovereign, commanding the entire devil race. The Ten Thousand Devils Sect followed his lead unquestioningly, both as major antagonists in the story’s first half, destined for Jing Zhe to vanquish.
Now, with the worlds fused, the six city lords, Devil Sovereign, Ten Thousand Devils Sect, Eternal Night Valley, and Zong Ji’s Dark Hall—five forces—had to sit amicably to discuss the devil race’s future.
The Dark Hall was the odd one out, a turncoat among them.
Crucially, its master wasn’t a devil. Though Zong Ji masked his golden eyes with secret arts, he wouldn’t wear red bunny contacts to play devil.
The Dark Hall wasn’t purely devil either, housing demons and humans aplenty. It could attend not just devil meetings but human or demon ones too, barging in confidently.
Thus, the Dark Hall’s relationship with Beizhou’s devils was ambiguous, carefully balancing a triangular dynamic. But the fusion upended everything.
Tap, tap, tap.
Zong Ji’s knuckles rapped the table absentmindedly, pondering Beizhou’s new dynamics.
What if the devils planned a trap to oust him first? That’d be bad.
“By the way, congratulations on claiming the title of number one.”
Bei Qing, having lit the incense, turned with a faint tone.
“Sword Sovereign Jing Zhe, at Saint-tier peak, caused a stir with the rankings’ shift. Your ‘Eternal Sword’ title even roused that figure from Tai Xu Sect.”
“Who?”
Zong Ji’s heart skipped, a bad premonition rising.
Please, no!
“Sword Immortal Ling He.”
…That damn familiar name.
“Eastern Kingdom’s Emperor Dong Yan and Night Devil Sovereign also marveled at the younger generation’s prowess.”
“And, of course, the sword-loving, challenge-hungry Sword Sovereign.”
Damn.
Zong Ji wanted to cry.
He’d planned to handle Eastern affairs and hide in Tai Xu Sect, but now, with tigers ahead and wolves behind, nowhere was safe.
Bei Qing named three One Sword titans, all Saint-tier Fourth or Fifth Star and above.
Sword Immortal Ling He, Tai Xu Sect’s founder, was recently reminisced about on Longevity Cliff. Now, with the fusion, Zong Ji realized he’d not only occupied Ling He’s cliff but renovated it, planting greenery and kicking aside the sole piece of furniture—a small meditation mat.
To a master, that was akin to a mortal grudge! Returning to Tai Xu Sect now might earn him a taste of Ling He’s “Frostbite Sword,” launched skyward to rival the heavens.
Emperor Dong Yan, One Sword’s Eastern ruler, was a true power. In Carefree, the Eastern king was a minor figure living off ancestral wealth.
That ancestor? Dong Yan.
A cunning, ruthless visionary with many advisors and immense strength, Dong Yan made the Eastern Kingdom the five continents’ undisputed leader, its treasury blessing descendants for millennia. A classic villain template, he was a One Sword antagonist, allied with the Night Devil Sovereign. In Zong Ji’s unwritten outline, Jing Zhe, reaching Immortal-tier, cleaved the Eastern palace with one stroke.
As for the Night Devil Sovereign… One Sword’s early major villain, he caused Jing Zhe’s childhood vendetta, a heartless, flag-laden antagonist.
Then there was Zong Ji’s “second son,” Jing Zhe, who’d likely hunt him, the “top swordsman,” for a duel after dealing with the Ten Thousand Devils Sect.
“I leave for the Eastern Kingdom tomorrow.”
With jade slips blaring his top ranking over Jing Zhe, he couldn’t stay.
Can’t fight, can’t I hide?
The Mysterious Rankings glitched, keeping Zong Ji as number one. The world, deducing Jing Zhe’s level, now believed Zong Ji was the first in millennia to reach Immortal-tier, drawing countless experts eager to challenge him for cultivation insights.
In One Sword, Zong Ji reused Carefree’s barrier, where only Jing Zhe’s Immortal-tier breakthrough would unlock higher realms. Now, he’d screwed himself.
Xuanshu’s cultivation was mystical—epiphanies could skip tiers. The record was a Third-tier jumping to Fifth-tier via enlightenment, like a cheat.
Thus, even if Zong Ji was only Seventh-tier peak before, people assumed he’d grasped a secret cosmic opportunity, soaring to Immortal-tier.
Zong Ji: No, I didn’t!
Despite countless logical flaws, the worlds’ fusion felt seamless, bafflingly so.
“The Eastern branch is hosting a new initiation ceremony.”
Bei Qing, sleeves flowing, brewed and filtered tea with fluid grace.
“Fine.”
Zong Ji understood. The Dark Hall Master hadn’t appeared publicly in ages—last time, Bei Qing used a stand-in to avoid suspicion. It was time for him to show himself.
Tomorrow, he’d head to the Eastern Kingdom and visit its border.
The Ancient Ruins there, relics of a divine-demon battlefield, held treasures meant for Jing Zhe’s future arsenal. No one could yet break its array, so Zong Ji could claim them—ideally an ancient beast bone for chess pieces.
This wasn’t urgent before, but with Xuanshu teeming with experts eyeing his “number one” title, he couldn’t hide his offensive skills anymore.
Steam rose from the tea table, veiling his face. Silent, Zong Ji’s features seemed aloof, like a fallen immortal, detached from the mortal world.
“Don’t worry too much. Fate will unfold.”
Bei Qing knew Zong Ji’s lazy, flippant nature beneath the facade, his sharp tongue drawing steady aggro.
Yet, standing there, he exuded an effortless charisma—wild, carefree, yet invincible—making countless followers willingly pledge loyalty.
“Not bad.”
Zong Ji, reverting to his lazy demeanor, propped his legs high, lounging on a cushion. “What tea is this? Send me some.”
Bei Qing, watching him guzzle thousand-gold tea like a brute, smacking his lips: …
“None left.”
With a cold snort, he swept the purple clay pot away with a flick of his sleeve.