Chapter 140 Breaking up and joining the evil path
Holding Dylan’s severed head, Carl stood alone before the ruins of the banquet hall.
As the echoes of his destruction faded, the commotion had already startled the entire
stronghold.
One by one, the members of Yellow Heaven Stronghold rushed toward the scene, their
expressions filled with shock and confusion as they took in the devastated remains of the grand
estate—and the lone figure standing amidst the wreckage.
A braver member hesitantly stepped forward, carefully clasping his hands in respect as he
asked,
“Chief… what happened here? This place… why does it…”
“It’s nothing.”
“Just an enemy attack.”
Carl’s voice was casual, dismissive.
Of course, he had no intention of telling them the truth—
That he had massacred the upper ranks of Yellow Heaven Stronghold,
That he had sacrificed his own men,
That he had refined his adoptive father into a Living Pill.
Hearing his indifferent reply, the gathered subordinates exchanged uneasy glances.
They still had doubts, but none dared to question him further.
If their chief said it was an enemy attack, then that was the truth.
To question Carl directly… would mean inviting death.
With Dylan dead, Carl had no reason to linger in Yellow Heaven Stronghold.
Under the cover of night, he departed, carrying his adoptive father’s head toward the Abyssal
Emperor’s army camp.
He wasn’t so naïve as to believe that a single severed head would be enough to earn him an
audience with the Abyssal Emperor—let alone win his favor.
But with Dylan’s head, he could at least secure a foothold, a place within the ranks of the
Abyssal Emperor’s forces.
If nothing else, he could find himself a patron, someone within the demonic faction willing to
back him.
That was all he needed for now.
As Carl disappeared into the night, a different army marched into Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s
territory.
At its head—
Lucian.
With his forces in tow, he arrived at the very gates of the stronghold, leading a procession of
elite armored guards.
At least on the surface, Lucian had not yet completely severed ties with Carl.
Officially, he was still the Second Chief of Yellow Heaven Stronghold, and in name, he was still
under Carl’s command.
But in reality…
Many of Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s members had long since stopped viewing Carl as their
leader.
Carl’s methods were ruthless.
His presence is suffocating.
To most of them, Lucian was the leader they truly wanted to follow.
“Second Chief!”
“Second Chief!”
As Lucian entered the city, the stronghold’s members lined the streets, bowing to him with
genuine respect.
There was no forced submission, no fear in their voices—
Only true loyalty.
The moment Lucian stepped foot inside the main city, he felt it—
A lingering, chaotic aura, thick with death and corruption.
Following its trail, he soon arrived at the ruins of the banquet hall.
Standing before the crumbled estate, his gaze settled upon the massive stone marker erected
within the wreckage.
His brows furrowed.
He turned to one of the nearby Yellow Heaven Stronghold members, his tone calm but sharp.
“What happened here?”
The man hesitated briefly, but under Lucian’s gaze, he dared not delay.
“Reporting to the Second Chief…”
“The Great Chief said there was… an enemy attack.”
As the man explained the situation, Lucian’s frown deepened.
He had spent too many years by Carl’s side—he knew his ways too well.
Something about this didn’t add up.
At that moment, a hoarse voice spoke from beside him.
“Second Chief…”
“If my guess is correct, this massacre… was the Great Chief’s doing.”
The speaker was an old hermit, a long-time advisor to Lucian.
His words were soft, but pointed.
“The Great Chief is aligning himself with the Abyssal Emperor—with the demonic faction.”
“Dylan was merely a sacrifice to prove his loyalty.”
“And these others? They were just collateral damage.”
The words were spoken with care, but Lucian was not a fool.
At the mention of the demonic path, his expression darkened.
He had seen too much of the ruthlessness and cruelty of the demonic cultivators.
Even the so-called “righteous factions” still held some semblance of restraint—
But the demonic sects?
They were slaughtered without reason, without mercy.
Wherever they passed, they left only ruin in their wake.
“Second Chief, you must decide.”
“If you continue following the Great Chief, you will only be dragged deeper and deeper into his
path.”
“The longer you delay, the harder it will be to turn back.”
Lucian stood there, silent.
The weight of a decision pressed down upon him—
The choice between loyalty and self-preservation.
Between brotherhood and righteousness.
Between following Carl… or breaking away forever.
Hearing the old hermit’s words, Lucian’s expression grew more resolute.
He too harbored ambitions of reaching immortality and claiming the pinnacle of power—
But his path, his principles—
They were nothing like Carl’s.
“I’ll wait for him to return.”
With this declaration, Lucian led his followers out of Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s main city,
establishing camp outside its gates.
By now, his cultivation had already surpassed Carl’s, reaching the Peak of Organ Tempering.
And with the hidden trump cards at his disposal, he was no longer afraid—
Even if Carl unleashed his Late-Stage Level 1 refined corpse, Lucian had absolute confidence
he could face him.
Before officially severing ties, Lucian made no effort to conceal his intentions.
He openly declared his independence, making it known to every member of Yellow Heaven
Stronghold—
Those who wished to follow him were welcome.
His influence had always been strong, and now that he had decided to break away, nearly half
of Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s members chose to side with him.
The other half remained—some were Carl’s diehard loyalists, unwilling to abandon their ruthless
yet capable leader.
Others simply believed following Carl offered greater prospects.
For all of Carl’s ruthlessness, there was no denying one fact—
Yellow Heaven Stronghold had risen to its current power because of him.
And with Carl, there were riches, power, and opportunity.
Lucian, on the other hand…
He was just and righteous, but perhaps too idealistic.
Following him was a gamble—one that not all were willing to take.
Lucian did not resent those who stayed behind.
He let them go freely, neither coercing nor threatening them.
That was simply his nature.
Had it been Carl in his place, anyone who refused to submit would have been slaughtered on
the spot.
Carl had no tolerance for disloyalty.
To him, people were merely pawns to be sacrificed—
Even his most trusted subordinates were expendable, just like those he had used to silence
witnesses when he killed Dylan.
In the Abyssal Emperor’s military encampment, Carl was escorted by two Early-Stage Level 1
cultivators into the presence of a seemingly frail, elderly man.
The old man, dressed in simple robes, appeared no different from a common scholar.
He held a book in his hands, reading leisurely, exuding an air of refined wisdom.
He looked like a man who wouldn’t even be able to kill a chicken.
And yet—
Standing before him, Carl felt an indescribable pressure.
He had once stood before Jackson, a man on the verge of breaking through to Level 4.
And yet, compared to this old man’s presence, Jackson’s pressure paled by at least a
hundredfold.
A terrifying thought crossed his mind—
“Is this man… a Level 4 cultivator?!”
His breath stilled.
He had originally assumed that, at most, his offering of Dylan’s head would allow him to meet a
Peak Level 1 cultivator, perhaps even a Level 3 expert.
But to be personally summoned by a Level 4 grandmaster…
This was something he had never anticipated.
Just as his mind swirled with speculation, the old man finally spoke.
“I am Jeffrey Vallery, an elder of the Velmorian Sect.”
“I’ve just finished reviewing your ‘achievements.’”
“I hear this Dylan was once your adoptive father… and you killed him as an offering to prove
your loyalty.”
The old man’s voice carried a strange amusement, his laughter low and eerie.
“Hah. Now that—”
“That is the kind of conviction my path admires.”
“The Path of True Liberation is one of absolute freedom.”
“We cast off all shackles, abandon the constraints of morality and false virtue.”
“We do not pretend to be righteous, nor do we submit to the hypocrisy of the so-called
‘orthodox’ sects.”
“Now, tell me…”
The old man continued flipping through his book, never once lifting his gaze to meet Carl’s.
Yet every word he spoke rumbled like a divine decree, shaking Carl to his very core.
“Do you wish to walk the Path of True Liberation?”