Chapter Forty-Nine: The Old Demon of Black Mountain
“Run!”
Dunxuan was trapped in terror without realizing it, a faint demonic influence sprouting within. At Xu Zhong’s urgent shout, he snapped awake, the shadow of his inner demon receding.
All three turned to look at Xu Zhong.
He suddenly raised his head, eyes wide and bloodshot, terror etched across his face. “Run, there is great horror here.”
“What are you running from?” Prince Zhu Zhen scoffed. “What great horror could possibly be here? Even if there is, Elder Tianhe is present—he can suppress anything.”
Although Elder Tianhe had not yet become a primordial deity, he was a true master of internal cultivation, his powers vast as the heavens, just a step away from attuning with the cosmos. Even if this was merely a projection of his divine consciousness, what horror could he not suppress?
“He’s about to die!” Xu Zhong’s words were shocking.
He could not explain. At that moment, he was entangled with a demon in his heart, half-human, half-demon—a demon able to sense other demons.
To understand one’s heart, to abide by one’s true nature—that is human. To be swallowed by inner demons, dominated by them—that is demon. The earliest demons of time originated from this.
“He intercepted my inner demon, lured out a greater one.” Xu Zhong spoke as he opened the gourd. “I saw that demon—now, it’s about to awaken.”
A powerful surge of sword energy escaped from the gourd.
Xu Zhong practiced the Way of the Sword. With a sword, he wielded it. Without a sword, he wielded his energy—his sword energy.
That surge of sword energy split into three, binding the three companions. Despite struggling, they could not break free for the moment.
The sword energy followed Xu Zhong, trailing behind him like three clouds.
“Now, the great horror is about to awaken and devour us.”
No sooner had he spoken than the entire sea of Nightmare Grass began to tremble violently. Silver streams flooded the grass, becoming a silver sea, rolling up gleaming bones.
Bones surged like waves—each fresh and alive, a nightmare demon lurking in the skull, flickering like ghostly flames, tendrils of black smoke swirling like ribbons.
These white bones seized the living nearby, stuffing them into their mouths.
Strangely, they had no internal organs, yet those they devoured were digested all the same.
Thousands present were engulfed by the sea of bones, sinking beneath the surge. In a single breath, hundreds died tragically.
“Abomination, you court death!” Elder Tianhe was first shocked, then enraged.
He struck furiously, the Nether River manifesting behind him, waves layered upon waves, shrouding the sky. His palm descended.
The Nether River surged forward, countless bones submerged and erased within, only a wisp of soul returning to the Nether River, freed to drift toward Fengdu.
They could not enter Fengdu, for the Nether River was severed.
Elder Tianhe’s eyes widened in agony.
His body was dissipating bit by bit—just as Xu Zhong foretold, he was dying. Not merely a projection, but the true self.
The sky was suddenly dyed red.
The celestial river was cut off, boundless primordial energy flooding the entire city of Tianyong.
Elder Tianhe was slain.
Xu Zhong dared not look up.
But Prince Zhu Zhen and his companions saw clearly.
Those eyes appeared once more.
In the void, his visage emerged.
“It’s the Old Demon of Black Mountain,” Prince Zhu Zhen cried.
The Old Demon of Black Mountain—renowned thirteen thousand years ago, slayer of gods and men, infamous for his cruelty.
He looked down.
“It’s time to feed.”
The celestial river fell into his hands, kneaded into a ball, then tossed into the sea of Nightmare Grass.
Within the Nightmare Grass, something roared in anger.
Then, a crimson tongue stretched out from the bones, wrapped around the celestial river, and retracted into the Nightmare Grass.
That was Elder Tianhe’s divine soul.
Prince Zhu Zhen and Dunxuan were entranced, their minds in disarray.
Was the Old Demon of Black Mountain the cultivator who reversed the celestial signs?
Why did he do this?
From his tone, it seemed he regarded the Nightmare Grass Sea as a pet he reared.
“Careful!” Lingguang warned.
Bound by sword energy, they could not move.
She spoke because behind them, several cultivators suddenly attacked Xu Zhong.
Yet with a sweep of sword light, heads rolled.
The falling skins became grains of flowing sand.
“Don’t bother running—you can’t escape!” The Old Demon of Black Mountain suddenly appeared before Xu Zhong.
Xu Zhong frowned and released the three companions.
Sword energy within three hundred miles was summoned, condensed into a single beam, compressed into a line—from Xu Zhong to the Old Demon of Black Mountain.
It was a strike against himself, and against the Old Demon.
The Old Demon shook his head, reached out, and seized the sword light.
A gentle squeeze shattered it.
Xu Zhong spat blood, his face pale.
Black smoke billowed from his body, forming demon heads one after another.
He struck himself, focusing on his inner demon.
He was not striking his body, but his heart’s demon.
Meanwhile, the three behind him turned pale, sensing a horror so pervasive it seemed to seep from everywhere.
They were tainted by Xu Zhong’s inner demon, falling into their own demonic torment.
“I have no intention to kill you,” the Old Demon of Black Mountain reassured.
Prince Zhu Zhen and the other two stood behind Xu Zhong, terror preventing them from looking skyward—it felt like a sin, as though thunder would descend to strike them.
At the same time, they sensed an overwhelming demonic intent pouring from the Old Demon of Black Mountain—a force that spanned all time and space.
Once possessed by their inner demons, the endless sea of bones receded from this place, like the tide withdrawing.
“You won’t kill me because you can’t devour us,” Xu Zhong said, head bowed.
“You fear being influenced by my demon, even devoured by me?” Xu Zhong glanced sidelong at the Old Demon.
He replied calmly, “Yes, I fear being swallowed by your demonic intent.”
Demons are born in the human heart—a thought, empowered by will.
The strength of a demon comes from the intensity of that will.
Xu Zhong’s inner demon originated in the Heavenly Dao.
If he were swallowed by his demon, it would be akin to being swallowed by the Dao itself, instantly comparable to the Dao.
He had not succumbed because he had witnessed someone slay the Dao—this memory anchored his mind.
The Old Demon of Black Mountain was also a demon, but not purely so—a demon born from myriad thoughts.
Thoughts can transform; demons may devour each other.
If the Old Demon devoured Xu Zhong, there was a possibility that Xu Zhong’s demon would in turn devour him.
Xu Zhong’s strike against his own inner demon had split off three strands, planted them within Dunxuan and the others, causing the Old Demon to hesitate.
“Is your true form below?” Xu Zhong asked.
He saw a mountain.
A towering black mountain.
Dark energy swirling, flesh circling—filth and ignorance incarnate.
“No!” The Old Demon shook his head. “I am the true self!”
He stretched out his hand.
The black mountain shuddered, countless scraps of flesh clinging to it like patched garments.
The mountain came alive, sprouting nine tentacles—rotten, filthy, suffused with a stench that pierced the soul.
A mere glance subtly affected the mind.
“In ages past, the Dao Patriarch preached to dispel ignorance for all beings.”
The Old Demon of Black Mountain strummed the tentacles as if plucking harp strings.
Each tentacle instantly lost its strength, severed into countless pieces, which fell to the ground and melted into pools of pus, reeking foully.
“Once they gained wisdom, they pursued the Dao.”
The black mountain roared, its voice a maze of confusion.
Xu Zhong felt discomfort; Prince Zhu Zhen and the others behind him collapsed rigidly to the ground.
That voice nearly scattered their souls.
“That ignorance descended to the mortal realm, entangled for ten thousand years, giving birth to this black mountain.”
The Old Demon of Black Mountain scolded, suppressing its roar.
“For tens of thousands of years, the mountain cultivated, gained consciousness. But suffering from being mere stone, it split its spirit, and over the ages, these spirits became what you call Nightmare Demons.”
“The Nightmare Demons devour flesh and blood, refine it into essence, and send it into the mountain.”
“The mountain receives the essence and begins forging a body, but its true form is too vast. Tianyong City manifests once every ten thousand years, and the sea of Nightmare Grass lies at its deepest layer—the essence from cultivators of Dao and Five Luminaries is insufficient.”
“It realized that even after waiting a million, ten million years, it could never forge a body.”
The Old Demon’s palm pressed upon the mountain.
His hand glowed with flames.
Intense solar fire burned the mountain.
Wisps of green smoke rose from his palm, becoming demon heads that fled, only to burn themselves in the solar fire.
He began erasing the mountain’s consciousness.
“So, it conceived the plan to possess cultivators. It split its spirit, gave them vitality, controlled their bodies, left Jade Capital Terrace.”
“Cultivated outside for ten thousand years. When Tianyong City reappeared, it harvested these split spirits as crops, season after season.”
“But, all demons are born from human ignorance—why should it be the true self, treating us as crops?” The Old Demon grinned.
He had thoroughly erased the mountain’s consciousness.
From his Five Luminaries, countless treasures and spiritual herbs flew forth; from his mind, lunar and solar fire emerged, forming a cauldron, melting treasures and the mountain together.
“It is Black Mountain—I am also Black Mountain. If it can harvest us, why can’t I in turn harvest it?” The Old Demon smiled gently. “After a century of cultivation outside, I understood this truth.”
“I endured ten thousand years of hardship, finally attaining the internal realm.” The Old Demon controlled the cauldron.
The mountain’s vast bulk shrank, finally becoming a palm-sized seal.
“See? It’s just one of my magical implements—how can it be my true self?”
He dangled the seal before Xu Zhong.
The seal vanished in his hand.
His cultivation surged.
He had refined the Black Mountain—in that moment, he became the true Black Mountain.
Countless Nightmare Demons rushed toward him.
His divine soul emerged from his mind.
That soul reached the sky, feet submerged in the River of Forgetfulness.
Boundless, vast beyond measure.
As the Nightmare Demons fused with him, his soul grew more complete—yet smaller.
Finally, the soul matched the size of his body, merging as one.
“The Past—I have seized it!” He laughed madly.
Within him, past, present, and future blended as one.
In that instant, he attained Qi, becoming a primordial deity.
“See? I devoured it, achieved godhood—now, do you still believe I am a false Old Demon of Black Mountain, and it the true?”