Chapter 154: Ancestor Xie Man!

Deep within the territory of the Nightmare Corpse Sect stood an enormous ancestral hall, its majestic appearance bearing little resemblance to the gloomy reputation of the organization that occupied it.

Golden pillars supported an elaborate ceiling covered in magnificent murals, while precious gemstones and polished jade decorated nearly every available surface.

The walls displayed portraits of distinguished ancestors, each accompanied by inscriptions celebrating their accomplishments and contributions to the sect.

Exquisite ceremonial weapons occupied ornate display racks, while priceless treasures and ancient regalia had been arranged throughout the chamber with such extravagance that even the imperial palaces of mortal kingdoms would struggle to compete.

It was an extraordinary display of wealth and prosperity!

Anyone unfamiliar with the Nightmare Corpse Sect might have assumed the hall belonged to some ancient righteous cultivation lineage, perhaps one renowned for its generosity and noble traditions.

After all, there was nothing particularly sinister about golden furnishings, elegant architecture or beautiful paintings celebrating the achievements of one’s predecessors.

Certainly, nobody would immediately imagine that the inhabitants spent their days cultivating Corpse Qi, refining dead bodies and performing atrocities that made ordinary cultivators shudder.

Yet appearances could be thoroughly deceiving.

At the far end of the hall, beneath an enormous portrait depicting a majestic ancestor overlooking countless kneeling cultivators, stood an extravagant black-and-purple loveseat.

Its enormous frame was adorned with precious metals and intricate carvings, while the cushions appeared softer than anything ordinary mortals could hope to possess.

And sprawled upon this magnificent seat was a man enjoying a degree of indulgence that bordered upon absurdity.

Beautiful women surrounded him from every direction, their appearances displaying an astonishing range of feminine charm.

Some possessed mature elegance and voluptuous figures, others were slender and graceful, while several were tall and statuesque enough to resemble legendary warrior maidens.

There were delicate beauties with refined features, charming women with fuller figures, and seductive companions whose revealing silk garments did very little to conceal their extraordinary physiques.

Each had clearly been selected for her attractiveness, and the sheer variety suggested that the owner of this magnificent residence possessed remarkably extensive preferences.

However, their beauty wasn’t the most striking thing about them.

It was their devotion!

Every woman seemed determined to claim the seated man’s attention, leaning against him affectionately, massaging his shoulders or competing to offer him refreshments and whispered compliments.

Their movements were accompanied by soft laughter and murmured endearments, while their eyes shone with an almost fanatical mixture of admiration and desire.

One mature beauty rested against his broad chest, gently stroking the muscles beneath his open robes, while another pressed an affectionate kiss against his shoulder.

Two others attended to his arms and legs, their elaborate jewelry occasionally chiming together as they competed for the privilege of serving him.

Even the women who couldn’t approach directly seemed content merely to remain nearby, watching him with expressions of extraordinary adoration.

And what of the man himself?

He appeared almost bored!

Reclining comfortably against the enormous cushions, he accepted their attentions with the indifference of someone who had experienced such treatment countless times before.

Occasionally, he would lift a hand to stroke a beautiful face or accept a piece of spirit fruit, but otherwise he seemed more interested in enjoying the afternoon than acknowledging the tremendous effort being made to entertain him.

It was a scene of extraordinary decadence.

The richest mortal emperors might have sacrificed entire provinces to enjoy such luxurious companionship, while countless cultivators would have considered the gathering sufficient motivation to abandon several decades of secluded cultivation.

Yet the mysterious man treated everything as though it were an entirely ordinary part of his daily existence.

A few attendants stood near the distant pillars with their heads lowered, carefully avoiding the central gathering.

Their rigid postures and the nervous manner in which they observed the seated figure revealed that the hall’s beautiful appearance concealed a considerably less pleasant atmosphere.

After all, not everyone present enjoyed the privilege of approaching its master so freely.

Then the enormous doors opened.

A tall young man entered with brisk, confident steps, his imposing appearance immediately distinguishing him from the ordinary cultivators serving within the residence.

He possessed broad shoulders, a powerful physique and handsome features that seemed better suited to some legendary hero than a disciple of an organization infamous for its demonic practices.

His bronze-colored skin complemented a magnificent mane of wild golden hair, while his piercing blue eyes and sculpted nose gave him an appearance remarkably reminiscent of the heroic figures celebrated in ancient Earth mythology.

Had Damian been present, he might have compared the fellow to a Greek demigod!

The newcomer wore luxurious cultivation robes tailored to accommodate his formidable build, their dark fabric embroidered with subtle patterns.

Every movement carried a relaxed confidence suggesting considerable personal strength, and the faint smile upon his face made him appear thoroughly comfortable within the magnificent hall.

Until he noticed what was happening around the loveseat.

The young man’s lips twitched slightly.

He had evidently encountered this particular scene many times before, but familiarity didn’t necessarily make it any less ridiculous.

His father’s capacity for indulgence remained astonishing, especially considering the difficult circumstances currently confronting their organization.

Nevertheless, the newcomer quickly regained his composure.

"Father, I come bringing news of my dear little sister," the young man announced respectfully, approaching the loveseat before lowering his head in a formal bow.

The effect was immediate.

Without a single command being spoken, the women surrounding the seat gradually withdrew, their movements displaying a remarkable degree of practiced coordination.

Those leaning against the man reluctantly separated themselves, while the attendants offering refreshments hurriedly cleared the nearby tables.

Within moments, the magnificent loveseat had been emptied of its numerous companions.

The women retreated toward the sides of the hall, where they waited quietly with lowered heads and carefully composed expressions.

The sudden transformation was remarkable, considering how enthusiastically they had been competing for the man’s affection only moments earlier.

Yet none appeared foolish enough to complain about the interruption.

Finally, the man occupying the loveseat slowly straightened.

He placed one enormous hand against the armrest before rising to his feet, and the sheer size of his figure immediately became apparent.

Although the young man standing before him was already unusually tall, the older cultivator exceeded him in both height and physical breadth.

His physique was absolutely monstrous!

Dense muscles filled his enormous frame, creating the impression of a man who had spent his entire life cultivating physical strength alongside his spiritual abilities.

Numerous scars crossed his exposed chest and arms, their varying shapes suggesting countless battles against opponents who had possessed enough power to injure him.

His face bore similar evidence of a violent past.

Old scars interrupted otherwise handsome features, while his strong jaw and imposing brow gave him a distinctly intimidating appearance.

His head was completely bald, emphasizing the muscular thickness of his neck and the powerful proportions of his upper body.

Most striking of all were his eyes.

They burned with an intense amber radiance, containing a mixture of towering ambition, supreme confidence and an almost complete disregard for the lives of others.

There was something deeply unsettling about those eyes, as though their owner regarded every person he encountered as either a useful possession or an obstacle awaiting removal.

Looking between the two men, the family resemblance was unmistakable.

It was almost as though someone had taken the handsome young cultivator, aged him several decades, removed his golden hair and subjected him to a lifetime of brutal warfare.

The resulting figure possessed the same magnificent proportions, but every trace of youthful charm had been replaced by overwhelming physical dominance.

And then there was his cultivation pressure!

Even without deliberately releasing his aura, the older man’s presence resembled a vast furnace burning with terrifying intensity.

The surrounding Spiritual Energy seemed to grow restless beneath his influence, while an oppressive heat gradually filled the space immediately surrounding him.

Despite standing several steps away, the golden-haired youngster felt sweat gathering beneath his robes.

He was hardly weak himself, possessing a formidable cultivation foundation and considerable authority within the Nightmare Corpse Sect.

Yet standing before his father still produced an instinctive pressure that reminded him just how enormous the gulf between them remained.

This was Xie Man!

The Ancestor of the Nightmare Corpse Sect, the father of Ning Ruomei, and the terrifying figure whose decisions had plunged the Azure Water Sector into its current war!

His enormous frame cast a shadow across the polished floor as he examined the kneeling young man with mild interest.

"Ah, my son Wentian. You’ve come rather quickly today, haven’t you? Speak, what news do you have for this old man?" Xie Man inquired casually, his deep voice carrying a strange warmth that contrasted sharply with his terrifying appearance.

Xie Wentian raised his head with a confident smile.

"Your plan worked perfectly, Father. My silly little sister was captured by that mysterious young man, while those two useless fools, Fang Lu and Tang Yuyen, were killed during the confrontation," Wentian reported, appearing remarkably pleased by the developments.

Xie Man showed no particular distress upon hearing that his daughter had fallen into enemy hands.

Instead, his amber eyes narrowed slightly with interest, and the corners of his mouth curled into an approving smile.

He slowly returned to the loveseat, settling his enormous frame against the cushions as though the news represented nothing more than a minor improvement in an already enjoyable afternoon.

"Oh? Excellent, excellent! It seems Mei’er performed her part adequately after all," Xie Man remarked with a pleased chuckle, tapping one thick finger against the armrest.

"However, my scouts could have informed me of her capture, and the deaths of those two idiots are hardly worth discussing. Surely you didn’t come all this way merely to repeat what I already know?"

Wentian nodded immediately.

"Naturally not, Father. I’ve brought something that I believe you’ll find considerably more interesting than ordinary battlefield reports," the young man replied, reaching into his robes before retrieving a small Storage Ring.

The moment Xie Man noticed the object, his expression became faintly curious.

Wentian held the ring between his fingers before presenting it respectfully with both hands.

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, he remained careful never to forget the difference between speaking to his father and addressing the Ancestor of the Nightmare Corpse Sect.

Xie Man extended one hand.

The Storage Ring immediately flew from Wentian’s fingers, crossing the intervening distance before settling neatly within his father’s enormous palm.

There had been no visible effort involved, and the precision of the movement suggested an extraordinary degree of control over his cultivated power.

"Oh? And what would this interesting gift contain?" Xie Man asked, turning the little ring between his fingers with an amused expression.

Wentian’s smile widened.

"The remaining residues of Fang Lu and Tang Yuyen, carefully collected from the battlefield after their deaths. I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to personally examine what that strange young man did to them," Wentian explained, his eyes shining with anticipation.

That finally captured Xie Man’s complete attention.

He directed his spiritual perception into the ring, immediately discovering two carefully sealed bottles containing small quantities of unusual residue.

Both vessels bore identifying inscriptions, allowing him to distinguish the remains of the two deceased cultivators.

He withdrew the first bottle.

Tang Yuyen.

The contents consisted of a fine, dark residue carrying the faint traces of an extraordinarily destructive elemental interaction.

Although most of the original energy had dissipated, enough remained for someone possessing Xie Man’s cultivation and experience to investigate its fundamental characteristics.

He removed the stopper and examined the contents closely.

A thin strand of spiritual perception entered the bottle, probing the remaining traces while his nostrils flared slightly.

The playful expression gradually disappeared from his scarred face, replaced by a thoughtful frown as he identified something distinctly unfamiliar within the residue.

Fire!

However, it wasn’t the ordinary Fire Qi employed by cultivators practicing conventional elemental Daoist Arts.

The remaining traces possessed a peculiar quality, behaving as though the flames had been generated through principles fundamentally different from those governing the circulation of Shengyuan’s Spiritual Energy.

Yet those differences hadn’t prevented the attack from interacting with Tang Yuyen’s cultivated power.

Quite the opposite!

The traces of Corpse Qi remaining within the residue had been severely damaged, suggesting that the foreign flames had reacted with the corrupted energy in an exceptionally destructive manner.

Xie Man gently shook the bottle, watching the fine particles move before finally speaking.

"Interesting. These flames carry an authority resembling the natural workings of the Heavens themselves, rather than the ordinary Fire Qi cultivated by our local practitioners," Xie Man observed thoughtfully, his amber eyes narrowing.

"Such power would be troublesome even for righteous cultivators, although its effectiveness against our Corpse Qi appears particularly severe."

Wentian nodded, evidently having reached similar conclusions during his preliminary investigation.

The Nightmare Corpse Sect’s techniques depended heavily upon the accumulation, refinement and manipulation of Corpse Qi.

Their methods granted extraordinary offensive capabilities, but they also introduced vulnerabilities that ordinary cultivators rarely needed to consider.

And Damian Baines seemed unusually well equipped to exploit those vulnerabilities!

Xie Man regarded the bottle for another moment before releasing a low chuckle.

"Well, well! I originally suspected Mei’er was exaggerating this fellow’s capabilities to excuse her failure, although I still decided to exercise caution by issuing that ultimatum," Xie Man remarked, placing the bottle upon a nearby table.

"It seems I was mistaken. If anything, the little girl understated the danger, because possessing such a tyrannical form of power at his cultivation Realm is thoroughly unreasonable."

Wentian’s expression became serious.

"Exactly, Father. He’s still comparatively weak right now, but his abilities have already altered the balance between our sect and those two righteous organizations," Wentian agreed, the earlier amusement gradually disappearing from his face.

"If his cultivation continues advancing, he could eventually threaten interests that even our strongest protectors would struggle to defend."

Xie Man nodded appreciatively.

For the first time since Wentian entered, the older cultivator appeared to be giving the matter his full consideration.

His fingers tapped against the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm, while his terrifying amber eyes remained fixed upon the bottle.

Then he smiled again.

"Indeed. But this isn’t everything you’ve brought me, is it?" Xie Man questioned, reaching toward the second vessel.

Wentian immediately straightened.

"No, Father. The second residue is even stranger, and I couldn’t confidently identify the nature of the power responsible," the young man admitted, his expression revealing a trace of frustration.

"I was hoping your experience would provide an answer."

Xie Man lifted the remaining bottle.

Fang Lu.

Unlike Tang Yuyen’s remains, which bore unmistakable evidence of destruction through overwhelming flames, the second bottle contained a fine grey residue carrying a profoundly different spiritual signature.

Its remaining traces were extraordinarily faint, almost as though the energy that had destroyed the original cultivator had deliberately removed everything connected to his previous cultivation.

Xie Man’s brows furrowed.

He removed the stopper and directed a thread of spiritual perception into the bottle, carefully examining the microscopic remnants of Fang Lu’s Corpse Qi.

Almost immediately, his expression changed.

His enormous hand became motionless.

The oppressive furnace-like presence surrounding him suddenly intensified, sending an invisible wave of pressure throughout the ancestral hall.

Several nearby women stumbled backward, while the servants stationed beside the pillars instinctively lowered their heads until their foreheads nearly touched the floor.

Even Wentian felt his chest tighten.

The young man’s confident expression disappeared as he watched his father abruptly rise from the loveseat, his enormous body casting a terrifying shadow across the luxurious furnishings.

"Father...?" Wentian called uncertainly, having never expected such a reaction to the residue of an ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator.

Xie Man didn’t answer immediately.

His amber eyes had become extraordinarily cold, the earlier amusement vanishing beneath an expression of murderous concentration.

He examined the bottle once more, as though confirming something that contradicted his expectations.

Then he turned toward his son.

"Wentian, gather the core members of our sect and activate the Cicada Shedding Formation immediately," Xie Man ordered, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

Wentian froze.

For an instant, genuine horror appeared upon his handsome face, overwhelming the confidence he had displayed throughout their conversation.

His eyes widened as he realized that his father had just issued an order whose implications were far more serious than any ordinary military redeployment.

"Father, but that formation...!" Wentian began, his voice rising involuntarily.

He couldn’t finish.

Xie Man merely turned his head and looked directly at him.

There was no angry shout, no dramatic explosion of power and certainly no need for threats. The cold intensity contained within that single glance was sufficient to make Wentian’s remaining words perish inside his throat.

The golden-haired cultivator lowered his head immediately.

"Understood, Father. I’ll gather everyone and see to the arrangements personally," Wentian replied, bowing deeply before turning toward the enormous doors.

His footsteps were considerably faster as he departed, and the earlier confidence in his bearing had been replaced by unmistakable urgency.

Whatever he had witnessed in his father’s expression, it had convinced him that even a moment’s unnecessary delay would be unacceptable.

Soon, the doors closed behind him.

The ancestral hall became quiet once more.

The beautiful women remained near the walls, none daring to approach the magnificent loveseat without permission.

Even the servants appeared reluctant to breathe too loudly, sensing that the atmosphere had changed in a way none of them fully understood.

Xie Man paid them no attention.

He stood before the enormous seat, the bottle containing Fang Lu’s residue resting within his palm as he considered the implications of his discovery.

His powerful fingers gradually tightened around the vessel, their immense strength causing faint cracks to spread across its surface.

What he had detected wasn’t Fire Qi.

It wasn’t some unusual purification technique developed by the righteous sects, nor was it an obscure elemental Art that happened to possess extraordinary effectiveness against Corpse Qi.

The distinction was far more fundamental.

Tang Yuyen had been burned to death by a strange form of natural flame, but Fang Lu’s cultivated energy had been stripped away through something operating according to an entirely different authority.

Even the remnants carried an unmistakable signature that Xie Man recognized despite never having personally encountered its precise manifestation.

His expression grew colder.

Then the bottle shattered within his grip, releasing a small cloud of grey powder that dispersed between his fingers.

"Divine power..."