Chapter 139: Father, I’ll Lend You My Head
“Adoptive Father, please take the honored seat!”
Surrounded by a crowd of charming women, Carl personally escorted Dylan to a lavish
tiger-skin throne at the head of the banquet hall.
Seated comfortably, Dylan basked in the affection of the dancers nestled against him, his hand
lifting a cup of fine wine.
For a brief moment, it was as if he had returned to the glorious days of power, back when he
commanded vast armies and revealed in unchecked authority.
“Drink!! Let’s all drink our fill!”
His spirits soared.
As he indulged in the pleasures before him, his mind clouded by desire and nostalgia, he failed
to notice the eerie glint in Carl’s eyes.
“Adoptive Father, allow me to toast to you.”
“For the years of guidance and generosity you’ve shown me—I will never forget your kindness.”
Raising his cup, Carl’s voice carried nothing but sincere respect.
Despite the fact that Dylan had used him as nothing more than a tool, there was no denying the
man had provided him with opportunities.
This first toast—Carl gave from the heart.
“Good!”
“Since my son offers me wine, as his father, I shall drink to the last drop!”
Dylan, still oblivious to the impending danger, lifted his cup without hesitation.
But at the same moment—Carl took a quiet step back, distancing himself by several feet.
“Adoptive Father, for all that you have given me, I thank you.”
“And for this second cup—I send you to the afterlife!”
“The immortal path is boundless, and the road to kingship is paved with blood. Allow me to
borrow your head—to smooth my ascent!”
The moment Carl’s words fell, a monstrous figure erupted from the tiger-skin throne—
A refined corpse, its body covered in crimson fur, exuding a sinister aura of death and decay.
BANG!!
Before Dylan or his men could even react, the undead abomination struck with a single palm—
And Dylan’s head was sent flying.
Scarlet blood splattered across the banquet hall, dyeing the luxurious feast in violent crimson.
The dancer who had been in Dylan’s embrace let out a terrified scream, her delicate face
drained of color.
His remaining cultivator guards were momentarily stunned—before their expressions twisted
into fury.
“How dare you!!”
“You would assassinate General Yates in cold blood?!”
“Unforgivable! You deserve death!”
Their angry shouts echoed through the great hall.
Yet despite their outrage—not a single one of them charged forward.
They all knew the truth—
Even if they attacked together, Carl alone would be difficult to subdue.
And with that monstrous refined corpse still present, they would be fighting a losing battle.
As Dylan’s severed head rolled to his feet, Carl carefully removed his outer robe, using it to
wrap the head securely.
This was his offering—his ticket into the Abyssal Emperor’s ranks.
Dylan wasn’t just any cultivator.
He was the son of Jackson—a once-powerful commander under the Sea Sand King.
Had it not been for the Sea Sand King’s complete downfall, Dylan would have likely become a
great general himself.
Now, his severed head carried significant weight.
When the time came for Carl to pledge loyalty to the Abyssal Emperor, this would solidify his
worth.
As for the rest of Dylan’s corpse…
He had once been a Level 1 cultivator, his body rich in qi and blood essence.
If refined into a Living Pill, it would yield exceptional results.
“Adoptive Father, rest in peace.”
“I will handle your affairs properly.”
“You won’t be journeying into the afterlife alone—your men, and these beautiful women… will all
accompany you.”
As Carl spoke to himself, the entire estate was suddenly engulfed in a crimson formation.
To be frank, had Dylan’s subordinates rushed him all at once, even with a Late-Stage Level 1
refined corpse, he might not have escaped unscathed.
But now…
It was already too late.
With the formation activated, no one without at least Level 1 power could escape.
The strongest among Dylan’s men were merely at the Peak of Organ Tempering—nowhere near
strong enough to break free.
Had this been before Dylan’s fall, his forces would have included several true experts.
But after battle after battle of crushing defeats, those experts had either died, surrendered, or
fled.
If those powerhouses had still been here, even if Carl had been reckless enough to try, he would
never have dared to make his move.
“This is a demonic formation… You’re a demonic cultivator?!”
As the formation’s eerie glow spread, realization finally dawned upon Dylan’s remaining
subordinates.
At first, they had thought that Carl simply wanted to eliminate Dylan—perhaps to seize control of
their forces.
They had assumed he would spare their lives, perhaps even demand their servitude.
But now…
They understood.
He was going to kill them all.
And worse—he was going to refine them into Living Pills.
Living Pill Refinement—a forbidden art of the demonic path.
Unlike orthodox alchemy, it didn’t require spirit fires, complex pill furnaces, or high cultivation
expertise.
As long as the right demonic techniques were practiced, living beings could be sacrificed and
refined into potent elixirs.
It was a cruel, vile, and taboo method.
And the most ironic part?
Carl had learned it because of Dylan.
Being Dylan’s adopted son had granted him access to countless demonic techniques over the
years.
His own cultivation method—Heavenly Demon Nirvana Art—was itself a forbidden technique,
neither righteous nor demonic, existing somewhere in between.
With such a foundation, Carl had found that practicing demonic techniques was far easier for
him than even for true demonic cultivators.
“You’ll die a miserable death!”
“Just wait—when the Righteous Alliance discovers this, they will hunt you to the ends of the
earth!”
“Why, Chief?! Why would you do this to us?!”
“Please! Spare me! I don’t want to die!”
From within the formation, cries of fury, grief, and desperate pleas for mercy echoed through the
hall.
The subordinates of Dylan cursed him.
The loyal officers of Yellow Heaven Stronghold begged him.
The dancers and servants, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, wailed in horror.
But Carl’s expression remained cold and unmoved.
He had already made his decision.
There was no turning back now.
The night grew darker.
Above the city, thick storm clouds loomed, pressing down upon the land like a suffocating iron
weight.
From his position atop the estate, Carl stood motionless, gazing at the unfolding massacre
within the blood-red formation.
His most trusted men, the high-ranking officers of Yellow Heaven Stronghold—
All of them perished before his eyes.
Yet his face showed no remorse.
“The great Dao is an unfeeling path…”
“Without cruelty, a man is no true ruler.”
As the screams inside the formation faded into silence, Carl slowly scanned the carnage that lay
across the ruined banquet hall.
The luxurious estate, once filled with music and laughter, was now nothing more than a
blood-stained tomb.
But he did not hesitate.
Not even for a moment.
“Rest in peace.”
“I will ascend to the peak of the immortal path, and I will claim the throne at the summit.”
With a wave of his hand, Carl collected the freshly refined Living Pills, each one gleaming with
potent energy, sealing them inside a jade bottle.
With another wave of his mid-stage Organ Tempering strength, he unleashed a powerful strike,
obliterating the banquet hall entirely.
From the ruins, he lifted a massive slab of stone.
Taking a dagger, he carved a single, ancient character into its surface—
“Grave.”
One word.
A marker for those who had perished here tonight.
A burial site for his former allies, for the innocents caught in the crossfire…
And for his adoptive father, Dylan.
“I take lives today without hesitation—”
“For when I reach the heavens, I shall not regret.”
As he whispered this vow, the storm above finally broke.
A silver bolt of lightning tore through the blackened sky, illuminating the endless mountains for
miles—
A single, blinding strike of divine fury, splitting the night in two.