Nine Venoms Sect Founder - Chapter 110: Destructive Identity

“How did you know that the Flame Spirit King’s strength went so far beyond what he first showed?” Gulseni asked the Serpent Totem. As the head of the Vermilion Brides, she had access to kilometers worth of information, and knew the Flame Spirit King’s true identity: Azad Diljem.

Over 20,000 years ago, Azad Diljem led the Diljem Blood Crows as the clan master. Just like Sangar, he first served as Blood-Feather City’s lord, but after becoming a top-tier Celestial Knight, was promoted to become one of the Edict Supervisors of the Divine Palace. A promotion from the sixth to the fourth rank of officialdom wasn’t unheard of. But as such graces were typically reserved for the top clans, Agiri’s move drew much criticism. Azad, however, did his job to perfection, and shut down all the voices.

A pity that he committed the one mistake all sane men under the heavens stayed clear from—falling for the God-Emperor’s wife: Dilnaz. After the matter was exposed, the mad Agiri considered that a man couldn’t be held accountable for his heart. And since Azad never attempted anything improper, he merely expelled him from the palace.

At first, Azad sank into depression. Hedonism soon replaced it, turning the hardworking celestial into a notorious rake and dual cultivator that gave zero fuck for his clan’s wellbeing. So deep was his fall that he willingly worked for the Dragon clan to learn their core Dual Cultivation methods. Sangar was only one of the many children he sired across the years.

Following the Grand Cataclysm, Azad fled for the Mountain Edge World, founded a divine kingdom in the Second Range, and thenceforth proclaimed himself the Flame Spirit King.

“According to Sangar’s memories, he drained a fifth-level Ascending Goddess’ cultivation to breakthrough to the same level. The gap between each God level is extreme. Those who can cross it often rely on extraordinary means. Either they cultivated better methods, have unique physiques, souls, bloodlines, treasures, or Forbidden Techniques. He belongs to the last category and holds more tricks than he just showed,” the Serpent Totem replied.

“Since you already know that, why didn’t you share it with us?” Recalling how she seriously warned the totem about the three, Gulseni couldn’t help but feel stupid.

“I am Master’s guardian and extra shell. What I learn, he learns. Only Master matters. The rest of you are not worth a fart…unless Master states otherwise, of course,” the Serpent Totem directly replied, then shifted his attention to the mortals below.

The Flame Spirit King’s betrayal brought the border disturbance to an end. Without any divine force to lead the vanguard, and a strength gap the size of the multiverse, the mortal forces lost any hope of breaking into the Dark Stone Country. At the same time, the generals received news from their respective monarchs and families, warning them of the dangers thrashing their land—that soon proved unnecessary.

Crevasses opened beneath the armies, making thousands tumble down pits of unfathomable depth. Screams and chaos flared among the troops. Some butted into one another as they broke into desperate sprints—stumbling, rising, lurching—all to escape the crevasses and pits. With a breath of time, the pits had ravaged half the army. Only those cultivators riding their flying disks and shuttles escaped the disaster.

Gulseni didn’t even have the time to rage and rebuke the Serpent Totem that this apocalyptic spectacle grabbed her attention. “The fuck is this?” She lost her language. The brides at her side were scared out of their wits. But the totem maintained its cool, as if such scenes were common matters, with no weight on its soul.

“Back to the clan. You’ve spent too much time between Master and Mukri. Language shows. Might as well settle with one. When Master needs ladies to bear him an invincible army, don’t forget to sign up.”

“Funny.”

“I never jest.”

…

In the meantime, a youth sat underneath a tree which glowed in rainbow light as if to reflect his enlightenment. Even in this chaotic land where the sky had turned red, and the ground split open to swallow the living en masse, everything around this youth remained in complete harmony. Birds chirped on the tree branches. Foxes, racoons, rabbits, cats, dogs and hyenas, animals that should have never stood together, freely played, raced and rolled around the youth—around Birandar.

Mukri, who for days had been captivated by this incomprehensible scene, couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps…this wasn’t the legendary Pure Land. He wasn’t incorrect. Everything in a five meters radius of Birandar had turned into a land of purity and harmony where enemies of a lifetime could gather and hold a civil debate.

But though doing so broke his heart, Mukri knew that with the cataclysmic changes conquering the First Range, they had to leave as soon as possible, and either return to the clan or find Harun. Thus, after preparing an all-conquering speech, the Bull emerged from hiding and trotted toward Birandar. Instantly, the boy’s three eyes opened, and calmly stared at Mukri, who felt disarmed by the stare, and floundered for a moment.

“Hum, hum! I am the Bull of Heaven, the divine envoy dispatched by His Glorious Eminence, the Venerable Lord Birusk, to lead you ac—” Mukri regained his confidence and started his speech. But before he could finish, Birandar cut: “I know who you are.”

Again, Mukri staggered. Not only did the boy not fear the appearance of a mammoth-sized, talking bull, but his three eyes seemed to see through his entire existence, leaving him exposed and defenseless. It was almost as if Harun had been playing the imposter all along, forcing the true Lord Revelation to return to the world and expose the false idols.

Birandar’s lips curved into a smile, and after giving each of his many pets a gentle pat, he stood up. In Mukri’s eyes, the tall and muscular youth had never looked more imposing. Gentle, yet inviolable. If he again stepped into those villages, even with 10 heads and 20 arms, the villagers would merely kneel and ask for guidance.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.” Birandar declared and walked past Mukri.

“Where?” More confused than ever, Mukri asked as he followed Birandar’s steady steps.

The youth’s eyes looked beyond the forest, beyond the Dark Stone City, bypassing even the Obsidian Soul Stone mine as it sought one person: “To find my master.”

…

In a distant verse far beyond the Heavenly Dream Land’s reach, in the most exalted palace of the omniverse, the Devil Ancestor sat on an irresistible woman’s lap. With calf-length black hair, slit eyes of an alluring emerald hue, and a figure that put goddesses to shame, that woman oozed enough sex appeal to make seasoned priests question their faith.

The two fed cherries to one another, she first, he next, and so on.

“You haven’t peeped on him for a while. Sure you don’t want to take a glance?”

“With you here, I can’t split my focus.”

“Smooth. I like.” The emerald-eyed woman gleefully replied and rewarded her man with another cherry.

“Though, I must admit that they all face a greater struggle than we ever did back then: a destructive identity. Find the identity, challenge the identity, then either accept or transcend the true self,” she mused in an absentminded tone.

“Why can’t they do both?”