Chapter 386 - 368: That’s What Masters’ Masters Do

Chapter 386: Chapter 368: That’s What Masters’ Masters Do

[Within Ghost Nether’s Consciousness]

The excruciating pain, sharp enough to tear his very soul asunder, receded like the tide.

Ghost Nether finally recovered from the inescapable torment. He scrambled to reconnect with his body.

Yet, in the next instant, a chilling realization froze his mind.

The link to his body had been completely severed.

To his horror, he realized that while he could still see the world and hear its sounds, the body that had been his constant companion was no longer his own. It had been utterly usurped.

The man wearing his face slowly raised a hand, methodically adjusting his tattered robes. The face... *his* face... broke into a smile. It was a smile weathered by the ages, one he knew all too well, one that had haunted him with terror his entire life.

It was over.

It was well and truly over.

This place—his own mind—was no longer his alone. It had become his master’s private playground.

As the current Direct Disciple of Mr. Youquan, he knew all too well what this meant.

The Second Life Body.

From this moment on, he was no longer a high and mighty Core Formation elder. He was now officially one of his master’s "spare treasures," a living vessel ready to be possessed for rebirth at a moment’s notice.

His life and death were no longer his own to decide. They belonged entirely to his master.

Should his master’s original body near the end of its lifespan, suffer a catastrophe, or need to escape some form of restraint, his own consciousness would be wiped out in an instant. He would become a sacrifice, allowing his master to live a second life.

He had always known. Or rather, they had all always known.

Back when they were just grunts in the Qi Refining Stage, kneeling before their master and accepting the *Ten Thousand Souls Blood-Devouring Scripture*, many of them had known it was a trap.

But in the dog-eat-dog world of a demonic sect, a world where it was kill or be killed, devour or be devoured, what choice did he have if he wanted to survive?

If he didn’t cultivate it, he could be a corpse in the wilderness by the next day. If he did, at least he could stay alive.

It was a cup of poisoned wine. But to survive, he had no choice but to drink it down to the last drop, and even smile and express his gratitude.

To claw his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, to win his master’s favor, he cultivated and slaughtered with frenzied desperation. He climbed his way up from the outer sect to the inner sect, from Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment. Finally, from all the disciples of his generation, he was the one who caught the old monster’s eye and became a so-called "Direct Disciple."

But the moment he truly broke through to the Core Formation realm and became an elder, he was terrified.

For he knew that the stronger he became, the riper the "fruit" grew, and the closer he was to the day of the harvest.

And so, over the past century, he had changed.

He no longer did the killing himself. Instead, he had Qi Refining disciples slaughter mortals and Foundation Establishment disciples absorb their essence. Only then would he step in to perform the final, pure harvest.

He tried everything he could think of to remove the mark his master had left within the Cultivation Technique. He wanted to slow the process of assimilation, to fight for even a sliver of autonomy on this path to certain death!

He thought he had done enough. Even when his master had sent him to "collect" the city, he had no intention of personally carrying out the massacre. He thought he would have plenty of time later to figure out how to remove the mark and survive as an independent being.

If he hadn’t run into those two maniacs, if he hadn’t encountered this natural-born demon seed who appeared out of nowhere, if he hadn’t been pushed to the absolute brink, he would have died before inviting his master to possess his body.

Even at the final moment, he had only intended to borrow his master’s power to break the stalemate. He had even harbored the naive belief that if he just guarded his consciousness with all his might, if his will was strong enough, he could eventually wear his master down and reclaim control of his body.

’How laughable.’

’Utterly laughable.’

It wasn’t until the Descendants’ Extinction Fist slammed into him that he finally understood just how utterly he had lost.

’No, I had already lost the moment I chose to let my master possess me.’

’Master clearly could have dodged it.’

’With his Nascent Soul Stage consciousness, even as a mere sliver of his divine soul, dodging an attack from that Foundation Establishment-level female cultivator should have been effortless.’

’But Master... that treacherous old bastard... he *let* me get hit. He *forced* me to take the injury!’

’Master wanted to use that gut-wrenching pain, to exploit the single moment my spiritual defenses wavered while I was preoccupied with resisting him. He seized that opening to slip in, shatter my mental fortitude, and complete the Second Life Body conversion in one fell swoop!’

’So that was it. All my so-called struggles, watched by those ghostly, phosphorescent green eyes, were nothing more than a clown’s monologue.’

’Perhaps Master never cared about me at all. He never even noticed my petty little schemes.’

’Master... is Master, after all...’

...

[Back on the Battlefield]

In mid-air, Lin Qingfeng, controlling Su Ling’er’s body, frowned slightly as he watched the man across from them. The man’s entire aura had transformed, and his eyes now held a profound, ancient weariness.

He could clearly sense that the spiritual soul fluctuations radiating from the person before him were incredibly domineering and sickening.

"Possession?"

"Even the most venomous tiger won’t eat its own young. For a sect patriarch such as yourself to be so ruthless to a disciple you personally raised... to usurp his body like this..."

"Isn’t such an act a bit too despicable? Too shameless?!"

Faced with this accusation, Mr. Youquan—now possessing Ghost Nether’s body—wasn’t angered in the least. Instead, he simply shook his head as if he’d just heard a funny joke.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his phosphorescent, ghostly eyes filled with apathy and an air of self-evidence. "My young friend, you are mistaken."

"This is not possession, nor is it usurpation."

He stretched out a withered finger and gently tapped his temple.

"This... is simply the tradition of our Ghost Spirit Sect."

"Tradition? You call taking your disciple’s life a tradition? The traditions of your Ghost Spirit Sect are certainly... enlightening."

Mr. Youquan’s voice was hauntingly calm. "What is so strange? My own master did the very same to me."

"And his master did the same to him."

"And his master’s master before him... and so on."

Mr. Youquan’s voice remained placid. "In our Ghost Spirit Sect, a disciple enjoys the Cultivation Technique, resources, and protection granted by their master. It is only natural, then, that when the time comes, they repay their master by becoming the very foundation for the continuation of his Great Dao. If one cannot find a way to break this cycle before their time is up, then such an end is simply fate."

"We have all come through this path. His little tricks were nothing more than things I’d already tried and discarded in my own youth."

This speech left the onlookers utterly dumbfounded.

’Holy hell.’

’Is this the legendary "matryoshka-doll cannibalism"?’

’This is some next-level Dark Forest shit. So your sect’s list of successors is basically just a recipe book?!’

Mr. Youquan offered Su Ling’er a gentle smile. "Of course, I am not a heartless man. Unless it becomes absolutely necessary, I won’t be so quick to erase this defiant disciple’s consciousness. After all, one grows fond of a dog one raises, to say nothing of a person."

At this, Mr. Youquan’s tone shifted. His gaze turned fervent as he began making his grand pitch to Su Ling’er. "But you, my young friend... you are different."

"You are a natural-born demon seed, a once-in-a-lifetime genius for cultivating the demonic arts. If you were willing to enter my tutelage..."