Ch. 204 - Young Demon Lord

Eighteen verdant mountains rose, wreathed in faint mist, each adorned with thousand-foot waterfalls cascading down, stirring wisps of vapor. Green waters wound around the peaks, the lush scenery vibrant and alive with blooming flowers and gurgling springs. In the barren Northern Region, where stones and sparse grass dominated, such a landscape was a rare, ethereal paradise, a pristine haven of misty waters, floating palaces, and vibrant flora.

“Who are you?” Sunset Clouds Sect’s disciples shouted. Ye Fan flicked his finger, and the giant stone inscribed with “Sunset Clouds” at the gate shattered into dust with a puff. The onlookers gasped, realizing this visitor meant serious business, demolishing their sect’s marker without hesitation.

“Courting death?!” The gatekeepers, enraged, couldn’t believe three people dared claim to establish a sect here, underestimating Sunset Clouds. They unleashed their weapons, flying swords, divine hammers, and more, raining light toward Ye Fan.

Unfazed, Ye Fan waved his sleeve, and with a crack, every weapon shattered, falling to the ground. Life Spring realm cultivators, even in hundreds, couldn’t challenge him. With another sweep, the gatekeepers flew backward, splashing into the waterfall’s pool.

“Report to the Sect Master!” they cried, recognizing the depth of their trouble. This was no ordinary madman.

Ye Fan stood before the gate, and with a flash, 108 banners appeared behind him, crafted over the past day. In the Southern Region, after Elder Han of Desolate Spirit Grotto-Heaven failed to refine him and perished, Ye Fan acquired two ancient beast-hide scrolls from his cave. One detailed Daoist inscriptions, which Ye Fan, now in the Dao Palace realm, could comprehend. Though not a profound ancient text, it had unique insights.

The 108 banners, etched with Daoist patterns, were designed to seal and trap. Ye Fan tossed four, locking the gate, then soared skyward, casting the remaining 104 across the landscape, sealing all directions. The banners fluttered, shrouding the area in mist, isolating it from the outside.

“Who… are you?” The gatekeepers retreated.

Before the gate, a path of bluestone steps stretched like a dragon, flanked by lush grass, coiling vines, and trickling streams. “I’m your future Sect Master,” Ye Fan said, ascending the steps with light, graceful strides, exuding no killing intent, only ethereal elegance.

“You…” The disciples backed away. The more serene this youth appeared, the more uneasy they felt.

“What a fine place!” Ye Fan nodded approvingly. The Stone Village’s tiny oasis, barely ten miles wide, was often dusted by sandstorms, ill-suited for him. He loved mountains and scenic beauty, and Sunset Clouds' setting was ideal for cultivation.

“Who dares cause trouble?!” A long whistle sounded as an elder descended like a meteor before the gate.

Ye Fan continued his unhurried ascent. “A mere wanderer, my name’s not worth mentioning.”

“You want to found a sect here?” The elder’s gaze was icy, his face stern. Such news would sour anyone’s mood.

“Indeed, that’s my intent,” Ye Fan nodded.

“At your age, such arrogance!” The elder sneered, unsurprised. Ye Fan, looking barely fifteen, seemed no match for Sunset Clouds, even compared to sacred ground’s heirs.

Ye Fan, calm and poised, reached the top of the steps, standing by the pool, water mist cloaking him like a banished immortal. Only then did the elder sense something amiss, Ye Fan, though close, seemed intangible, elusive.

“Bandits plague the five hundred miles around, tied to Sunset Clouds. Are you involved?” Ye Fan asked.

“You know that?” The elder’s unease slipped out. “Then there’s nothing more to say. Time to go.”

Ye Fan drifted forward, pressing his palm.

Buzz.

The elder’s seven weapons, swords, spears, halberds, surged like rainbows, striking Ye Fan’s hand. To his shock, they crumbled like rotten wood, ineffective.

That jade-like palm held a baleful power, reducing the weapons to dust. The elder, horrified, retreated.

“You condone bandits. No more words, off to the underworld you go.”

Ye Fan pressed again, and the elder flew dozens of yards, then shattered into pieces. The gatekeepers gaped, trembling. An elder, slain by a single palm, this youth was a demon lord, unstoppable. Even the Sect Master might not subdue him.

Ye Fan ignored them, advancing. They cowered, parting to the sides. “When can I walk into the Ji Clan or Radiant Light Sacred Ground like this?” he mused, knowing it would require vast amounts of source.

Alarms rang, ancient bells tolled, and Sunset Clouds’ disciples swarmed, many flying toward him. By a tinkling stream, vibrant flowers bloomed near a spring. Figures landed, encircling Ye Fan, Wang Shu, and Lei Bo.

“Brother Ye…” Wang Shu tensed.

“Who’s the bandit?!” Lei Bo roared, furious.

“Where are you three from, spouting nonsense?” the crowd shouted.

“You backed Big Beard Chen, preying on mortals. Am I wrong?” Ye Fan remained calm.

“So, Chen’s mysterious death was your doing?” An elderly man with white hair and beard, exuding an immortal air, stepped forward.

“Dao Palace realm?” Ye Fan raised an eyebrow.

“Chen was my disciple, offering enough source for my breakthrough beyond Other Shore. You killed him and dare come here!” The elder’s killing intent surged, ordering, “Kill him!”

Figures flashed, weapons gleaming as dozens attacked. Ye Fan, realizing they all knew of Chen, sneered, ready to slaughter.

“Step back, watch!” he told Wang Shu and Lei Bo. Like a dragon, he soared, unleashing the second of the Nine Secrets. Pointing skyward, he whispered, and a colossal seal appeared overhead, a towering mountain, etched with birds, beasts, and ancient trees.

Boom. Unstoppable, the mountain seal crushed down, reducing all weapons to ash. Screams echoed as dozens of attackers disintegrated, their bodies cracking and turning to dust in an instant. The distant disciples froze, sweating, trembling at the sight.

The celestial mountain seal faded slowly. This was the War Paragon Art, the second of the Nine Secrets, the pinnacle of offensive arts, capable of endless killing forms with each insight.

“What… what secret technique is this?” The white-haired elder, stripped of his immortal aura, recoiled in fear.

“A killing art,” Ye Fan said lightly, withholding the Nine Secrets’ name.

“I’m Sunset Clouds' Grand Elder. You really want to oppose us?”

His shout, like thunder, roused the Sect Master and other elders from seclusion. Ye Fan shook his head. “No one can save you.”

“I’m a Dao Palace cultivator. Killing me comes at a cost!” the elder blustered, stalling.

“Join your dear disciple Chen.” Ye Fan stepped forward, each step blooming lotus flowers, radiating Daoist charm.

The elder roared, his face twisted, hair bristling. From his Oceanic Wheel, a dozen weapons surged; from his Dao Palace, a green-armored god-spirit, wielding a broadsword, towered several meters, cracking the ground with each step.

The three-meter sword swung, green qi surging, emitting a wailing sound as thousands of light rays rained down. Divine lights flooded the area, the weapons and god-spirit sealing the space with boundless killing intent.

Sunset Clouds' disciples cheered, believing Ye Fan was doomed. But their shouts died.

Boom.

Ye Fan formed the Grand Solar Seal.

A radiant sun rose, vast as an ocean, filling the sky with fiery red light, incinerating everything. The green-armored god-spirit burned to ash instantly, the dozen weapons vaporized. The colossal sun, like a mountain, loomed above, its overwhelming aura forcing many disciples to kneel.

The elder screamed, his god-spirit destroyed, gravely wounded. He fled, desperate to live. Ye Fan quaked the Grand Solar Seal, and nine golden crows, blazing with golden light, soared from the sun, three-legged and shrieking.

Thud.

Many disciples collapsed under the pressure. The nine crows streaked past, and the elder, hundreds of yards away, burned to black ash silently.

Screams continued as the crows swept through, reducing all in their path to dust. The terrifying might overwhelmed, lingering until Ye Fan released the seal, the sun and crows fading.

Farther off, Sunset Clouds disciples collapsed, drained, the supreme aura chilling their bones. This was a Nine Secret, the ultimate combat art, endlessly transformative, each insight birthing new killing techniques.

All Sunset Clouds disciples trembled before this serene youth, a demon king whose aura alone subdued them without fighting.

Long whistles echoed as the Sect Master and other Grand Elders rushed out, ten figures landing to encircle Ye Fan.

“Ten Dao Palace cultivators. Today, I can go all out,” Ye Fan said calmly, utterly fearless.

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