406: Blood Infant Spirit! I don't want to be human anymore!

Chapter 398: Spirit of the Blood Infant! I Don't Want to Be Human Anymore!

"You…who exactly are you?"

The Red-Robed Daoist's throat bobbed, his voice trembling uncontrollably. The veins on his hand, clutching the Magical Artifact, were taut, and his knuckles were white.

He feigned composure, yet the surging terror in his eyes was undeniable. He shrieked, "Who sent you? I warn you, don't mess around!

The evidence against those corrupt officials is all in my hands!

If anything happens to me, the evidence stored on the cloud server will flood the entire internet by tomorrow morning, ruining their reputations!"

But as these threats left his mouth, the Red-Robed Daoist grew even more panicked.

The oppressive Aura emanating from the other party was like an invisible giant net, making his breathing labored and his body tremble uncontrollably.

He had lived for nearly fifty years, traveling north and south, and had met countless extraordinary individuals.

Whether it was the Hua Jin Grandmaster from powerful Families, who could shatter stones with a single punch and possessed a profound Aura, or the fellow masters who walked between Yin and Yang, skilled in Talismans and incantations, and could communicate with ghosts and gods—he had dealt with them all, even fought some.

Yet, even those powerful figures who once filled him with dread were like fireflies compared to the bright moon when placed against this mysterious old man. They couldn't be mentioned in the same breath.

With this mysterious old man simply standing before him, without even needing to act, the unfathomable Aura around him sent a chill down his spine.

It was as if he wasn't facing a Mortal, but an unfathomable abyss.

In a flash!

"Die—!"

The Red-Robed Daoist, plunged into extreme panic, suddenly let out a furious roar.

His previously frantic eyes instantly turned sinister and ruthless. The fear on his face vanished, replaced by a desperate madness.

The Red-Robed Daoist's wrinkled old face suddenly became shrouded in a thick, inky black Qi of malevolence, as if countless vengeful souls surged beneath his skin, making him terrifyingly grotesque.

The next second, his withered hands shot up, his fingers tightly clutching the dark red crescent-shaped Magical Artifact hanging on his chest.

With a crisp "crack," the Magical Artifact shattered!

In an instant, countless dazzling red lights burst forth from the fragments, illuminating the entire room like a bloody Hell.

Immediately after, piercing screams, extremely shrill and resembling the wails of Hell's wronged souls, penetrated their eardrums, echoing madly through the space, making everyone's hair stand on end and their minds reel.

This kind of sinister and evil sorcery, capable of directly piercing the Divine Soul and disturbing the mind,

even a National Art Hua Jin Grandmaster, whose internal energy had reached the Transcendent state and whose Physical Body was as hard as refined iron, would lose control of their mind if caught off guard and suffer greatly.

More severely, a Hua Jin Grandmaster could even have their Sea of Consciousness invaded by vengeful spirits and malevolent Qi, leading them to madness.

"Hmm? That's somewhat interesting. It actually contains a power somewhat similar to martial Dao Will?"

Lu Xuan stood still, his expression unchanged, merely raising an eyebrow. His tone betrayed no ripple of emotion.

His deep, abyssal eyes subtly narrowed, and the malevolent Qi, invisible to the naked eye in the Void Realm, instantly had nowhere to hide.

Twisted black Qi coalesced into clumps, forming terrifying ghostly figures with distorted faces and exposed fangs.

They swept forward, carrying bone-chilling coldness and shrieks, pouncing on him with bared fangs and claws, as if to tear and devour his Divine Soul.

"However, it's still a bit too weak…"

The moment his words fell, a faint golden halo quietly shimmered around Lu Xuan.

The golden halo appeared faint, yet it acted as the most solid barrier, isolating the pouncing ghostly figures.

No matter how they bit and slammed, they couldn't get a single inch closer.

Then, Lu Xuan slowly retracted his right hand, which had been clasped behind his back, before fully completing the movement.

A searing, hot gust of wind already rushed forth, instantly igniting the surrounding air, causing visible high-temperature distortion ripples.

Even the light became ethereal, the temperature in the secret room suddenly soared, and moisture evaporated into wisps of white mist.

He slightly curled his five fingers, slowly clenched his fist, and then swung it.

This punch appeared unremarkable, without any earth-shattering roar, yet the secret room suddenly trembled violently. Cracks spread across the ground like a spiderweb, and dust fell from the walls.

At the same time, an boundless illusion of a majestic mountain peak suddenly appeared above the Void Realm.

The mountain peak was towering and majestic, wreathed in clouds and mist, carrying a boundless Aura that seemed to suppress all ages, and it crashed down from the Nine Heavens!

That all-crushing might seemed to solidify space itself.

The ghostly figures that had been baring their fangs and claws earlier didn't even have time to let out a scream before they were instantly crushed by the mountain peak's illusion, turning into wisps of black Qi and vanishing without a trace.

The room's malevolent Qi also dissipated completely.

The Red-Robed Daoist in the distance was struck as if by a heavy hammer. His entire body was sent flying backward, crashing heavily against the cold stone wall with a dull thud.

He felt as if his head was being pierced by thousands of steel needles, and excruciating pain surged like a tide, his vision momentarily blacking out.

Dark red blood beads instantly oozed from his seven orifices, trickling down the Red-Robed Daoist's cheeks.

His already grotesque face now looked even more terrifying, like a vengeful ghost crawled out of Hell.

One must know, this malevolent sorcery was refined by him using his own essence blood and half a lifetime of cultivation. It was already intimately connected to his Divine Soul and Physical Body, practically a life-bound technique that depended on his very existence.

The sorcery and the main body were like a vine and its Foundation. Once the sorcery was forcibly shattered, the backlash would be doubly inflicted upon himself.

This damage was several times more intense than external physical attacks, enough to shake his Foundation and severely damage his cultivation.

However, the great terror of life and death, like a clinging Gu, completely shattered the Red-Robed Daoist's last line of defense.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he erupted with a terrifying speed he had never possessed in his life.

His entire being transformed into a blurry afterimage, leaving streaks of bloody footprints on the ground as he frantically rushed towards the ruins of the altar in the corner of the secret room.

Upon reaching the ruins, the Red-Robed Daoist, like a madman, completely disregarded his hands being cut and bleeding by the shattered stones. He used all his strength to frantically push away the piled-up broken wood and shattered Magical Artifacts.

He muttered incantations, seemingly trying to dig out a last sliver of hope from the wreckage.

Even though he was a master who could inspire awe in ordinary people and secret fear in the powerful,

once the magical enhancements were stripped away, he was still a Mortal with a Physical Body of flesh and blood.

In just a few short seconds, the Red-Robed Daoist's hands, frantically digging through the ruins, were covered in wounds from sharp wooden splinters and the edges of broken Magical Artifacts.

Deep, bone-visible wounds continuously oozed dark red blood, dripping through his fingers, forming winding bloodstains on the ground.

Yet, he seemed to feel no pain, still desperately clawing at the debris, his eyes solely focused on the obsession with survival.

This was the fundamental difference between a sorcerer and a National Art master.

National Art masters deeply cultivated their Physical Body, training their muscles, bones, and skin to the extreme, making their physical strength far surpass ordinary people.

Their brute strength could split stone, and their exquisite skill could deflect immense force. Their movements could change the weather, and that pure power was enough to shake Heaven and Earth and make ghosts weep.

Sorcerers, on the other hand, were more adept at hiding in the darkness, using the Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi they absorbed as a conduit.

They used Talismans and Magical Artifacts to communicate with Yin and Yang, manipulating mysterious forces that affected reality. While seemingly unpredictable, their own Physical Body was as fragile as paper.

It was precisely for this reason that the Red-Robed Daoist was filled with fear from the very beginning.

To be sought out by Lu Xuan, a National Art super-master who could crush everything with his Physical Body,

was, for him, like a defenseless lamb willingly entering the bloody maw of a tiger, with barely any room to struggle.

However, before the Red-Robed Daoist could find what he was looking for, a figure silently approached.

The figure's steps were steady, each one falling like a beat on the Red-Robed Daoist's heart.

Until the black shadow completely enveloped him, covering his hunched body kneeling on the ground, completely obscuring the last sliver of light.

The Red-Robed Daoist's entire body stiffened, and a desperate chill shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

He used his last ounce of strength to look up. In his blurred vision, he only saw a pair of golden eyes, as bright as a blazing sun, dazzling to the point of being blinding.

There was not the slightest ripple in those eyes, as if looking at an insignificant dead object.

This was the last scene that imprinted itself on his eyes before his consciousness dissipated.

In an instant, the boundless projection of thousands of rivers and mountains suddenly emerged from the Void Realm.

The mountains were majestic and continuous, the rivers surged violently, carrying an overwhelming Aura that crushed everything, sweeping towards the Red-Robed Daoist like a destructive force.

His already collapsing will, in the face of this might, was like fragile glass, instantly shattering into pieces.

Immediately after, Lu Xuan's indifferent voice slowly echoed in the silent secret room, devoid of any emotion.

"Tell me the whereabouts of any malevolent objects in Yifeng Province, and your origins."

"Yes..."

The Red-Robed Daoist's eyes were vacant, his pupils unfocused.

He was like a puppet controlled by strings, responding mechanically word by word, pouring out everything he knew without reservation.

It turned out that this Red-Robed Daoist was not a native of Yifeng Province.

Thirty-five years ago, he quietly infiltrated this place with a set of bizarre sorcery.

After establishing himself with his "dispelling disaster and bestowing fortune" methods, he began secretly taking Disciples, cultivating dozens of trusted followers.

These Disciples were like a spiderweb he cast, spread throughout every corner of Yifeng Province.

They scoured the region for special sacrificial items needed to refine malevolent sorcery, while also deliberately befriending and recruiting prominent local figures, weaving an impenetrable network of connections.

The Red-Robed Daoist, meanwhile, remained hidden behind the scenes, always maintaining the facade of a "living immortal" to the outside world.

He specifically used the gimmick of "no side effects, only sorcery can dispel disaster and ward off misfortune, increasing fortune and extending life" to attract celebrities and powerful figures from both political and business circles.

Those people, either seeking peace for their Family or hoping for smooth official careers, all humbled themselves and sought his help, unaware that they had long become pawns for the Red-Robed Daoist to cultivate malevolent forces and consolidate his power.

"Dispelling disaster and bestowing fortune" was merely a facade for his deception and mind manipulation.

And those highly sought-after techniques for averting disaster and avoiding misfortune, touted as having "no backlash," actually concealed a monstrous Karma trap.

The Red-Robed Daoist forcibly altered others' fortunes with his sorcery, seemingly eliminating immediate calamities, but in reality, it was like forcibly severing the threads of fate, creating deep and irresolvable Karma in the unseen world.

The Law of Karma between Heaven and Earth has always been fair; every action has its consequence, with no room for luck.

Those powerful figures and celebrities who attempted to defy fate and escape their destined tribulations through sorcery, seemingly gaining an advantage, had in fact already accumulated a "Karma debt" to Heaven and Earth in secret.

Once this debt came due, it would transform into devastating calamities and backlash.

In minor cases, the individuals involved would suffer continuous divine retribution, either encountering sudden natural disasters or unexpected misfortunes caused by humans, leading to a life of hardship and destitution.

In severe cases, it would even affect their Bloodline, resulting in the extinction of their descendants, and they themselves would become a lone star, spending their entire lives alone, growing old in endless solitude and desolation.

Just like Fang Hai, who once held a high position in Yifeng Province, sought the Red-Robed Daoist's sorcery to alter his official career destiny in order to climb to higher power.

But he didn't know that this seemingly smooth "fortune alteration" had already laid the groundwork for his downfall.

Over a decade ago, Fang Hai's wife and child both died in a sudden "accident," a tragic car crash that sent him from the clouds to the depths overnight.

Yet, Fang Hai remained completely in the dark, believing it to be merely an unpredictable twist of fate, never suspecting the truth behind that "disaster-dispelling and fortune-altering" event years ago.

Later, he retired behind the scenes and moved into a retirement villa. To conceal his predicament of having no descendants and maintain his dignity in front of outsiders,

Fang Hai secretly adopted a child from an orphanage, claiming to outsiders that it was his illegitimate child from earlier years, thus silencing gossip and maintaining a false sense of Perfection.

Even more surprisingly, this Red-Robed Daoist had learned an extremely sinister and evil sorcery from an unknown source.

He could transfer all the Karma generated by his actions onto the powerful figures he deceived, and even innocent sacrificial victims.

This allowed him to completely avoid the backlash of Heaven and Earth's Karma, making him like a ghost detached from Karma.

It was precisely for this reason that he dared to wantonly sacrifice living beings, using countless vibrant lives as stepping stones to advance his sorcery and achieve his goals.

Those who were harmed by the Red-Robed Daoist under the guise of "sacrifices," whether they possessed special destinies or were innocent passersby, all became nourishment for the shocking conspiracy he had planned his entire life.

"For the Spirit of the Blood Infant!"

The Red-Robed Daoist's voice trembled as he confessed truthfully, "The Spirit of the Blood Infant must consume newborn infants annually to maintain its malevolent power!"

The reason he spent thirty years painstakingly helping those powerful figures dispel disaster and ward off misfortune was not for wealth or power at all.

Instead, it was to use this to control them, binding these political and business elites firmly to his side, turning them into the strongest protective umbrella.

Over these thirty years, many newborn infants in Yifeng Province mysteriously disappeared each year.

After families reported cases, investigations would often reach a dead end just as clues emerged, eventually all becoming cold cases.

Undoubtedly, behind this were those powerful figures who had received the Red-Robed Daoist's "favor," operating in secret.

They used their power to suppress and perfunctorily handle cases, erasing traces, covering up the Red-Robed Daoist's wicked acts of raising the Spirit of the Blood Infant.

They watched innocent infants become sacrifices, yet out of fear of their own misdeeds being exposed, they chose to aid the villain.

Under the fear of death, the power and wealth that countless people once coveted were, to the Red-Robed Daoist, fleeting clouds, utterly worthless.

His true obsession, from beginning to end, was that ferocious Spirit of the Blood Infant.

As long as he could completely refine it, he could use the boundless malevolent Qi and vital essence of living beings condensed by the Spirit of the Blood Infant.

This would help him break free from the shackles of his Mortal Physical Body, escape the suffering of birth, old age, sickness, and death, and truly transcend the limits of humanity.

Because in the Red-Robed Daoist's heart, he believed that the power of sorcery was like the vast starry sea, inherently without an upper limit.

However, the Physical Body and lifespan of the practitioner were like an invisible 鎖, firmly trapping the Red-Robed Daoist's progress.

It was this unwillingness that completely extinguished the Red-Robed Daoist's humanity.

He no longer wished to be a "human" constrained by life and death, but instead desired to achieve a bizarre symbiosis with the Spirit of the Blood Infant, thereby breaking free from all restraints and unleashing truly uninhibited, world-destroying sorcery.