I, a Demonic Nascent Soul Patriarch, Begin by Snatching a Cheat

”Since it’s so much trouble, I won’t ask you to make the trip,” Jiuyou said, patting the older disciple’s shoulder like a familiar junior.

He immediately flew up and hovered in midair. No longer concealing his aura, he let the majestic spiritual pressure of a late-stage Nascent Soul Grand Cultivator unfurl like a tide, stifling the wind and snow across a radius of hundreds of li for a brief moment.

Below the mountain gate, the two disciples stared blankly up at the golden figure, as if they hadn’t yet registered what was happening.

One of them opened his mouth, only to swallow his words. The book in the other’s hands slipped and hit the ground with a smack; the wind ruffled its pages as the snow quickly soaked their corners.

Jiuyou stood on high, looking down at the Daoyang Sect’s mountain gate.

He knew perfectly well that the Daoyang Sect was no ordinary faction. The information he had gathered was fragmented, but piecing it together revealed a clear outline: at least three late-stage Nascent Soul Grand Cultivators held the fort here, and they most likely practiced the Daoyang Ten Palaces Art. Their foundation was profound. Forcing his way in would be no different from throwing himself into a net.

Sneaking in wasn’t necessarily safe, either. The Heavenly Spirit Ring, the Soul-Eating Insects, the Golden Sun True Flame—these things all originated from this sect. Their arrays and restrictions were definitely not to be underestimated, and his appearance-changing arts might not slip past their eyes. If he were exposed on the spot, he would end up in a far worse position.

So he came up with a third option: show up openly. Even if negotiations collapsed, he would still be outside the mountain gate and could leave whenever he pleased. He refused to believe they would mobilize their entire sect to hunt down a cultivator of the same tier just because his ”intentions were unclear.”

Instantly, a deep shout rang from the depths of the Daoyang Sect: ”How audacious!”

Four auras belonging to late-stage Nascent Soul Grand Cultivators erupted all at once. Four streaks of golden light shot into the sky from deep within the mountain gate, carving four perfectly straight lines through the blizzard.The spiritual light faded to reveal four figures hovering in the void hundreds of zhang away from Jiuyou. They lined up in a row, their auras intertwined, sealing off the surrounding space so tightly it was completely impenetrable.

’To think there are four of them,’ Jiuyou thought as he stood opposite them, his golden robes fluttering lightly in the wind.

Looking at the four people before him, he vaguely sensed a familiar, homologous aura radiating from them and reached a conclusion. Sure enough, they all cultivated the Daoyang Ten Palaces Art, and their attainments were likely quite high.

He was in no rush to speak. His gaze swept unhurriedly over the four, carefully memorizing their appearances, positions, and auras.

The two middle-aged cultivators on the left wore white Daoist robes accented with golden patterns. One had a cold, stern expression, while the other looked completely placid. They stood tall and straight, like two trees rooted deeply in the snow. At a single glance, it was obvious they were stalwarts who spent their years holding the fort deep inside the sect.

The old man in the center had grayish-white hair and a thin face. He leaned on a wooden staff that had been polished smooth and warm from years of handling. His gaze was peaceful, yet it lingered on Jiuyou’s face the longest, as if he could see through many things at a single glance.

Beside the old man stood an elegantly dressed woman in a gold-patterned skirt. Holding a small white fox in her arms, she had gentle features but remained silent.

”Who are you? Why are you trespassing on my Daoyang Sect’s territory?” the stern middle-aged cultivator on the left demanded, his tone hostile. ”To be so flagrant as to leave your aura entirely unhidden—do you think we can’t do anything about you?”

Jiuyou waved his hand, a perfect smile hanging on his face. ”Senior Brother, there’s no need to be nervous. Strictly speaking, we could be considered family.” He delivered the line evenly, yet it made all four people opposite him twitch their brows simultaneously.

”Who is your Senior Brother?” The middle-aged cultivator’s face darkened. ”Who is family with you?”

The elegantly dressed woman beside him narrowed her eyes slightly. Her gaze swept back and forth over Jiuyou twice, her expression shifting from doubt to alarm, and then to hesitant realization. ”Senior Brothers, the aura of this person’s magical power... is identical to our sect’s Daoyang Ten Palaces Art.” She paused, seemingly confirming it. ”He really does cultivate our sect’s Ten Palaces Art.”

The old man hadn’t spoken until now. He slowly shifted half a step forward and lightly tapped his wooden staff against the void. He looked at Jiuyou with no anger in his eyes, only a heavy, probing scrutiny. ”Just who are you? Why do you cultivate our sect’s secret art? If you can’t give a proper explanation today, I’m afraid it won’t be so easy for you to leave.”

His tone wasn’t heavy, but his words left no room for negotiation.

The moment the old man finished speaking, the two middle-aged Nascent Soul cultivators behind him stepped forward in unison, their auras suddenly surging. Five streaks of golden light echoed each other in the pure white snowstorm, standing like five silent mountain peaks, pressing down heavily on the surrounding hundreds of zhang of space.

Down the mountain, the Daoyang Sect disciples and elders all raised their heads to stare at the five golden gleams above the mountain gate. Low exclamations rippled through the crowd, shock and bewilderment written across many faces.

Hearing the old man’s question, Jiuyou’s expression slightly blanked, as if an ancient memory had been stirred. He fell silent for a moment. A faint layer of sorrow surfaced in his eyes, and his voice dropped a few tones lower. ”Senior Brothers, Senior Sister, my name is Qing You. I hail from the distant Lingchuan Continent, and I am the grand-disciple of the Heavenly Sun Supreme One.”

”The Heavenly Sun Supreme One?” The expressions of the four people across from him changed simultaneously.

”Could it be Patriarch Zhiyang, who betrayed the sect and stole our supreme treasure four thousand years ago?” the man surnamed Ge shouted in a deep voice.

A perfectly measured trace of surprise flashed across Jiuyou’s face. He didn’t rush to answer, seemingly weighing his phrasing before speaking. ”I truly do not know what my Ancestral Master did in your noble sect; after all, that was four thousand years ago. But what I do know is that after leaving the Daoyang Sect, my Ancestral Master founded the Azure Sun Sect in Lingchuan. The cultivation methods passed down within the sect were all simplified versions based on the Daoyang Ten Palaces Art. He never taught the complete Ten Palaces Art to outsiders, merely sealing it away in a secret realm to await a destined person.”

As he spoke, he brought out the Qingyang Nine Gates Art and held it up with both hands. ”This is the Qingyang Nine Gates Art, simplified by my Ancestral Master based on the Ten Palaces Art. After I breached the secret realm, I met the remnant soul left behind by the Ancestral Master. He told me that he had done many things in his life—some right, some wrong—but there was one thing he never regretted: he was once a disciple of the Daoyang Sect. He hoped that if the Azure Sun Sect was ever lost, I could return here in his stead to take a look, finally settling a matter that had always weighed on his heart.”

Supporting the Qingyang Nine Gates Art with his magical power, Jiuyou slowly pushed it toward them.

The yellowed ancient record hovered several zhang in front of the four people. It didn’t fall to the ground, nor did anyone reach out to take it.

After a moment of silence, the leading old man was the first to inspect the manual with his divine sense.

Immediately after, the other three also successively flipped through it with their divine sense, their expressions stirring in varying ways.

The man surnamed Ge withdrew his hand, his brows furrowing slightly as if reevaluating the words just spoken. The white fox in the young woman’s arms looked up at Jiuyou, then settled back down without showing the slightest hostility. She gently stroked the white fox’s back, exchanged a glance with the old man, and gave a slight nod.

The old man remained silent for a moment. His gaze fell upon the floating manual before he looked up at Jiuyou. ”Are you truly Patriarch Zhiyang’s grand-disciple? Do you really not know what he did?”

Jiuyou nodded, then shook his head. His tone was a few degrees more sincere than before. ”It is absolutely true. If there is a single sliver of falsehood in my words, may I be plagued by inner demons in the future, fall into the Demonic Path, and die a miserable death.”

As he said this, the Daoyang magical power on his body naturally circulated once more. His aura faintly resonated with the four of them, like several tributaries branching off from the same river.

The old man stroked his beard. His gaze shifted from Jiuyou’s face to the manual and back again, as if he were making a decision that required repeated weighing.

The wind blew past the wooden staff in his hand, making a very soft sound, as if something hadn’t yet landed and was slowly finding a place to settle. In the distance, the sky grew a shade darker, the clouds pressed lower, and the snow showed no signs of stopping.