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

Inside the side hall.

Jiuyou sat alone in silence, running the day’s information through his mind.

The Daoyang Sect’s foundation was far deeper than he had anticipated. With thirty to forty Nascent Soul cultivators presiding over it, they still considered themselves ”in decline.” What, then, must their peak have looked like? Weighing the matter silently, he was in no rush to make a move. He would wait until he had earned their complete trust before making any further plans.

At noon the next day.

The sky over Southern Frost remained a hazy ash-gray. The clouds hung low, letting little sunlight bleed through.

The side hall was perfectly quiet. Jiuyou sat cross-legged in the center, his breathing deep and steady as spiritual light slowly flowed around him.

A moment later, he cracked his eyes open and looked toward the doors. With a blur of motion, he was already standing before them.

Almost simultaneously, a few light knocks sounded from outside, and Zhou Chengshan called out, ”Junior Brother Qing, are you settling in all right?”

Jiuyou paused for a moment before pulling the doors open to welcome him inside. The two took their seats across from each other. Jiuyou brought out a packet of spiritual tea, brewed two cups, and pushed one in front of Zhou Chengshan.

”Senior Brother Zhou,” he asked with a smile, ”is there any news from the Great Elder?”Zhou Chengshan nodded and picked up his teacup, though he didn’t drink right away.

Jiuyou’s thoughts stirred. He had assumed the Supreme Great Elder was still in seclusion, yet a reply had come in merely a day. It seemed the Daoyang Sect placed considerable importance on him as a ”returnee.” In that case, until he had completely secured their trust, it would be best to avoid any suspicious moves.

He let a well-timed touch of joy show on his face.

”That is wonderful news,” he said. ”With the support of you senior brothers, I imagine the other junior disciples won’t have any objections to the ancestral master’s legacy returning to the sect. Thank you for making this possible, Senior Brother.” As he spoke, he bowed slightly to Zhou Chengshan, his posture perfectly measured.

Zhou Chengshan waved a hand, his tone mild. ”There is no need for such formalities, Junior Brother Qing. Eldest Senior Brother has already given his consent. He said that since you are the successor of Martial Uncle Jinli and Martial Ancestor Zhiyang, your return to our sect is perfectly justifiable. Furthermore, as a Nascent Soul Late Stage cultivator, you could easily hold your own if you chose to establish a sect in the outside world. Yet you chose to return, and you even brought the Heavenly Spirit Ring back to the sect. The Daoyang Sect will not turn a blind eye to such sincerity.”

He paused, his gaze drifting past the teacup as if looking at some fog-wreathed mountain in the distance. ”Times have changed. Martial Ancestor Zhiyang’s ashram is long gone, but Martial Uncle Jinli’s Ember Sword Peak has remained empty all this time. It was left for him, and it has stayed that way for a thousand years. Now that you are here, it’s time someone moved in.”

After speaking, he picked up his teacup and set it back down, as if the tea was merely a prop to punctuate his words; he was in no hurry to drink.

”Eldest Senior Brother means to have you reside on Ember Sword Peak. It has been a long time since the Daoyang Sect produced a sword-path Great Grandmaster at the Nascent Soul Late Stage,” he said, looking at Jiuyou with a gaze that held a mix of expectation and relief. ”Perhaps you can fill that void, Junior Brother Qing.”

Jiuyou picked up his own cup of tea, not answering right away. He lowered his head to watch the tea leaves bobbing in the water. After a moment, he looked up, his tone growing a shade more solemn.

”I will do my best,” he replied.

He didn’t say much else. Those few words landed in the quiet hall, sounding neither flippant nor timid.

Outside the window, a breeze swept past the eaves. A small patch of snow blew off, rustling as it fell onto the steps and quickly melted away.

Zhou Chengshan gave him a look and fell silent. It was as if he had already passed the message along; whether the other man could carry its weight was another matter entirely.

Ember Sword Peak.

The entire peak was shrouded in clouds and mist. From a distance, it looked like a blunt sword plunged point-down into the earth—its blade already rusted, yet still standing tall. At the foot of the mountain lay a dense forest where the trees grew wild and branches tangled together, showing years of neglect. Occasionally, the silhouettes of beasts flashed through the shadows, carrying faint ripples of spiritual energy; they were likely low-tier demonic beasts.

Jiuyou and Zhou Chengshan’s escape lights touched down at the edge of the mountain’s base.

Zhou Chengshan raised a hand and pointed ahead. ”This is Ember Sword Peak. No one has set foot here since Martial Uncle Jinli left. If there are any remnants inside, consider them your rightful inheritance, Junior Brother.”

He spoke casually, but after a pause, he added, ”When Martial Uncle left, he set up a sword array in the mountain. Even though it has fallen into disrepair over the years, it is still the handiwork of a sword-path Grandmaster. You had best keep your wits about you.”

Jiuyou nodded and began walking up the mountain. He didn’t ask any more questions, nor did he look back. Zhou Chengshan did not follow him in; he stayed where he was, watching the golden-robed figure vanish into the mist before turning and walking away.

The instant Jiuyou set foot on the mountain path, the surrounding white mist suddenly thickened, as if someone were drawing curtains closed from all sides.

He didn’t break his stride, but his divine sense silently rolled out, covering a radius of several dozen zhang. A razor-thin hiss cut through the air from his side, moving with blistering speed. Jiuyou didn’t turn around; he merely tilted his body. The phantom image of a golden longsword grazed past his neck, its biting wind severing a few stray hairs.

’So fast,’ he thought, though he also sensed that the strike lacked real power. It felt more like a long-forgotten echo, endlessly repeating its cutting motion.

After missing its mark, the golden sword phantom didn’t dissipate. Instead, it abruptly exploded into dozens of golden rays that shot out in all directions. The sword qi was razor-sharp; wherever it passed, vast swaths of the bamboo forest were leveled. Severed bamboo went flying, and crisscrossing cuts were gouged into the earth.

Jiuyou tossed out the Golden Sun Mountain, which expanded into a massive peak to shield him. The golden rays crashed into the mountain’s surface, erupting in blinding sparks as they deflected away. The rays changed direction in midair, raining down behind him. Unhurried, he activated the Golden Luo Bowl. Its golden light cascaded down, intercepting every last stray streak of sword qi.

Several breaths later, the sword light faded away, as if that gust of wind had finally blown itself out.

Jiuyou didn’t put his magical treasures away immediately. His gaze swept over the severed bamboo trees around him. The cross-sections were perfectly smooth and clean; even after a thousand years, the cuts were just as sharp. ’A ruined array from a millennium ago still wields such might,’ he praised silently. ’If this man were still alive, what a sight it would be.’

Just as he was about to recall his treasures, a low rush of wind sounded from above, as if something incredibly heavy were slowly bearing down on him. He looked up. A massive shadow blotted out the light of the sky.

Jiuyou’s pupils contracted as he stared at the descending shadow.