Nine Venoms Sect Founder - Chapter 147: All Hail the Holy One

Nearly two centuries ago, before the Grand Cataclysm, the world transformation and subsequent Hundred Infernal Years, Crossed Vicissitude level sects dominated the Mountain Edge World’s Sixth Range—chief among them being the Daoist Creed Mountain. Head of the righteous path, the Daoist Creed once lorded over the Sixth Range, commanding Range-wide hunts for all unorthodox cultivators on the globe. Using this pretext they coerced weaker factions into submitting to their rule while plundering the resources of their victims. When the Gods descended on the Mountain Edge World, the Daoist Creed Mountain was the first to bend the knee. Unfortunately, they faced the renegades that would later form the Slaughter Syndicate and were butchered to the last baby—almost.

Few escaped the tribulation, and for nearly 200 years, hid among mortal countries of the First Range—changing identities every decade to avoid raising suspicion. The First Range was the last place were mortals still owned land. Beyond, everything belonged to celestials and deities. One of those survivors, once a dreaded elder of the Daoist Creed Mountain, was drinking his fill in a deserted tavern of the Treasured Jewel Country, a ritual he repeated once a year to reminisce his lost glory. Ten mugs of ale lay on his cedar table, with alcohol stains still trickling down. Two other customers occupied other tables, both several meters from the cultivator, both dead-drunk.

In a slow, grating pattern, the door opened, revealing the towering shadow of a humanoid figure that hunched forward to push its head past the entrance door. That head, a veiny, emerald elk face carrying a mild and peaceful gaze, snatched the three drunkards’ attention. Only the cultivator ignored it, focusing on his booze.

“Ehhh…I think I had one too many drink…the heck why I’m seeing a standing deer?” One of the three stammered. Not all mortals were familiar with Monstrous Beasts. For most of them, in the First Range at least, Monstrous Beasts still belonged to fairy tales. But even if he didn’t wish for anyone to disturb his drinking session, thanks to his sharp senses, the Crossed Vicissitude cultivator heard the drunk mortal’s words, and from the corner of his eyes, glanced at the door. The emerald elk’s peaceful gaze welcomed him. Instantly, the cultivator shifted his eyes back on his drink, not daring to glance at the door again.

The bipedal elk walked in, straightening his back to stand at 2.4 meters. Lustrous vines coiled around his furred, muscular arm, and with every one of his steps, the tavern shook. Polite, the elk closed the door behind him before striding toward the cultivator with purposeful steps. Feeling the alien beast’s shadow loom over him, the cultivator couldn’t resist the urge, and raised his eyes to again face the elk. The same calm pair of black eyes awaited, the elk opened his maw, revealing a sharp set of jagged fangs that dropped on the cultivator with no warning. Too fast for him to handle, the cultivator couldn’t resist the elk’s move, and by the time he realized the threat, the beast had already ripped his head off. Not bothering to chew the meal, the elk directly swallowed it, letting the worm within his heart refine the nutriments—turning them into strength.

Blood spurted from the cultivator’s neck, the drunk mortals and the lazy tavern owner’s jaws dropped. Turning heels, the elk walked back to the door, politely opened it, and left the tavern—the cultivator’s bleeding corpse tumbled down, and scared out of their wits, the four mortals dropped on their rears—screaming no end. Across the Treasured Jewel country, similar events abounded. As if guided by flawless detectors, the mutants tracked down and mauled all cultivators to death, never causing harm or destruction in mortal ranks, but at the same time, not caring for right or wrong. What kind of individual the cultivator was didn’t matter. As long as they possessed a cultivation base, the mutants struck and devoured them. Worse, a significant percentage of the cultivators’ strength fed the mutants’ growth, enabling them to rise through butchery. Giving the rogue Celestial Kin and World Association branches top priority, the mutants feasted their way through their ranks, yet always maintained a minimum of poise.

As days of clean carnage went on, the packs grew more structured, with several making their way toward the massive mountain range separating the First Range from the second. Unable to fly, the mutant hordes crouched and leaped across the mountain range’s wall, shrugging off the suppression forces as they climbed toward the Second Range. Meanwhile, the Dark Stone City’s rulers, Harun’s folks, realized that the barrier they put their confidence in had failed them at last.

Just like all other cities of the First Range, 15% of the citizens mutated into walking abominations that assembled in packs of 1,000 each as they strode toward the royal palace. When the phenomenon started, Mehran dispatched the city guard to observe the afflicted, but forbade them from taking any further action. That move saved their lives—well, most of them. Indeed, once the mutants arose, they did the exact same thing as all the others: hunt cultivators. From the Mortal Path’s experts to the few, unaffiliated celestials, the Dark Stone City’s cultivators suffered a brutal purge. Strangely, however, the mutants spared the World Association branch, spared the Vermilion Brides running the Salvation Hall in lieu of Harun, then marched on the royal palace.

Obviously, when the mayhem began, Jiyan, Mehran and co. didn’t stay idle. However, Gulseni soon reported news that forced them to consider their position carefully.

“As we speak, the mutants are settling in a rough structure of packs and hordes that seems to revolve around unique specimens. We believe they will get increasingly more organized as time goes by, however, they’re clearly driven by entities of superior intelligence with a clear objective in mind: the end of the cultivation world,” Gulseni started. Unbeknown to herself, the Vermilion Brides mistress had taken the gravest tone in her existence, and who could blame her? This was an unprecedented situation that heralded no end of disasters.

“Strength-wise, we can’t accurately estimate their abilities. All we know is that Celestial Kin don’t even have the means to struggle before their jaws. That is terrifying enough, but I strongly believe that their individual strength goes beyond Celestial Knights…and there are billions of them.” Here, she paused, took a deep breath to suppress her anxiety, and swept the clan’s top brass to assess their reactions. As expected, none took this news stoically.

“Nevertheless, one thing we can say for sure is that they make clear exceptions to their hunting rules. They didn’t target the Birusk clan and the Vermilion Brides headquarters. Even here in the Dark Stone City, we can see that all cultivators with a strong karmic bond to our master don’t have to fear them. The barrier doesn’t react to their presence, further cementing this truth. Rumors are starting already, and some believe that this…is Lord Revelation’s attempt to wipe out the unbelievers,” Gulseni stressed those last words, then sank back in her seat. Gathered around a round table, the Birusk clan’s top brass carefully weighed the implications.

Mehran, who was pulled out of his coffin and healed by Jiyan’s Abyssal Water, lightly tapped the table. “We have to blow up those rumors. We must convince the citizens that the mutation is a blessing, that the hunted are unbelievers erased for their sins against our master and turn this country into a true theocratic state,” Mehran declared, startling the audience.

“You are going too far. These are rampant beasts with overflowing murderlust whose true goals we cannot appraise. Is this Harun’s work? I don’t believe it. Not only does it not fit his style, but if Harun had the power to create billions of Celestial-Knight-level experts or above, all divine sects across this world would already be bowing to him. For crying out loud, Heaven itself doesn’t have that many such experts.

How were they born? Why were they born? For how long will they avoid us? What if they later turn against mortals as well? We know nothing, and you want us to convince the devotees that this is Harun’s will?” Jiyan snapped, wracked with guilt at having allowed this catastrophe to take place. Birandar and Mukri firmly stood on her side, though Mehran could spot a strange glint in the first disciple’s eyes.

“You’re being naïve. First, the hypothetical is irrelevant here. Our strongest defense mechanism is the Dharma Sheltering Array. If it could prevent the Landgraves and that puppet of yours’ assault, it can prevent all threats across three Ranges at least. Keeping it stable is our top priority, and for that, we need the devotees unwavering faith. Unless we convince them that all this is the lord’s work, they will start doubting him. Doubt will lead to unrest, and chaos shall ensue. Assuming you’re correct, when those mutants become genuine threats, I have no doubt that the barrier will send them packing. It doesn’t affect them because we do not have to fear them. Because, like it or not, they’re somehow acting in the lord’s interest.

But if they later turn coats, at a moment when Harun is still in a coma and the barrier no longer functions, what are we going to do?” Mehran seriously asked, leaning forward to challenge Jiyan’s beliefs.

“This is not the time for pedantry. We’re talking about 2.4 billion experts that likely possess Celestial Knight level strength. They could level the First Range before any of us could react. And that’s only assuming that they are indeed at Celestial Knight level. What if they each possess God-level powers. Who knows? Should they rebel now, can you single-handedly wipe them all out? Of course you can’t. You’d have to gather 2.4 billion in one place, use your puppet and river, all of that while they stand still and watch you strike. If we can’t secure the barrier, we become powerless. That is the only fact. If you do not wish to be involved in the nasty business, leave that to me.

The barrier’s expansion cannot stop. This a time for bold reforms. I will proclaim an abdication decree to give up my throne to Harun, downgrade myself to State Governor, promote him to Spiritual Monarch, and start building more statues across the country. Paintings depicting him with those kneeling mutants, songs promoting the end of wickedness. We will spare nothing to, within a week, cement the new narrative.”

Mehran declared, and as expected, Gulseni supported his position. Mental messages echoed in their minds, making them take a quick glance at one another before shifting back to the opposition.

“I guess the mutants are attempting to give me reason. As we speak, all of those in the Dark Stone City are forming lines before the royal palace, and prostrating themselves to sing All Hail the Holy One,” Mehran said with a helpless shrug.