I Tame Beasts by Feeding

The wind howled, but though Wu Yinglong waited for quite a while, there wasn’t the slightest stir.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the black-robed cultivator’s sword point just an inch from his forehead. Yet that inch seemed like an impassable chasm, preventing the blade from moving any further.

Suddenly, streams of fresh blood began to pour from the black-robed cultivator’s ears, nose, mouth, and tongue. It dripped down, drop by drop, staining the ground a crimson red. Blood also trickled down the length of the sword to its tip, where it fell onto the bridge of Wu Yinglong’s nose.

Wu Yinglong felt a warm sensation on his nose and blinked. He was stunned by the scene before him.

THUMP!

Three breaths later, the black-robed cultivator fell stiffly to the ground. His body was rigid, his aura completely gone. His mouth opened as if he was struggling to say something, but no words came out. He died with his eyes wide open, his face a mask of agony.

"He’s... dead?!"

Wu Yinglong stood frozen, staring blankly at the scene. It took him a long moment to react.

After taking a deep breath and wiping the blood from his nose, Wu Yinglong knelt in the direction of the Odd Demon Pavilion. His voice was sincere and his expression full of gratitude.

"Thank you, Senior, for saving my life. This junior, Wu Yinglong, is eternally grateful. I will carve this kindness into my heart. Should I achieve greatness one day, I will never forget your support!"

"I will remember this. I owe Senior my life!"

Wu Yinglong wasn’t a fool. In this world, the only one with both the reason and the power to intervene for him was likely the mysterious ancestor of the Odd Demon Pavilion.

’This transaction... was worth it!’

Having been snatched from the jaws of death, Wu Yinglong felt his legs go weak as he heaved a deep sigh of relief.

He knew that after this lesson, no one would dare to make a move on him for a long time to come.

’Perhaps Senior also wanted to use this to send a warning to those people?’

He shook his head, the thought flashing through his mind for only a moment. He didn’t dwell on it. Regardless of the motive, the fact remained that they had saved him. It was a debt he could never forget.

He glanced at the black-robed cultivator’s corpse on the ground and gave a cold smile. After snatching the Storage Pouch from the body, he didn’t linger. After one last, heavy look at his surroundings, he turned and strode away.

The difference was stark: before, he had moved with caution; now, he walked with confidence.

’I’ll turn this person’s Storage Pouch over to the Odd Demon Pavilion later...’

......

About the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, three figures appeared. They stood in silence, looking down at the corpse of the black-robed cultivator.

One of the three figures had a strange silhouette. A closer look revealed he was missing his left arm—it was none other than Chen Ronghua.

Standing beside Chen Ronghua was a middle-aged man in a cyan robe. He had a lean figure, a face as smooth as jade, and Lips Like Rubbed with Lipstick.

His every movement carried an inexplicable charm. More importantly, his cultivation aura was distinct from Qi Refining—like a blazing sun in a crowd, it was dazzlingly brilliant.

His features, especially around the brows, were remarkably similar to Chen Ronghua’s. This was his father, Chen Yang; Chenyangzi was his Daoist name.

The third person was tall and slender, dressed in robes whiter than snow. Beneath his perfectly shaped, sword-like brows, his long, narrow eyes were like trickling spring water, as gentle and warm as a spring breeze.

His nose was high and straight, like a distant, slate-blue mountain peak. His thin lips were pale, with their corners turned up in a slight, constant smile that made him seem dashing and unrestrained. Even when facing Chen Yang, he showed not the slightest reservation and said with a light laugh:

"Fellow Daoist Chenyangzi, it seems the Golden Core Ancestor of this Odd Demon Pavilion is the real deal."

"Jing Rong’s cultivation was quite impressive for a Qi Refining Peak, yet he died from a burst of Divine Thought. The person didn’t even show up. To kill from such a distance with a single move like this... it’s impossible without the Divine Sense of a Golden Core."

Chen Yang remained silent at his words, a thoughtful and grave expression on his face.

Just a moment ago, as Jing Rong—the dead black-robed cultivator—was about to reach Wu Yinglong, a monstrous wave of Divine Thought had erupted and instantly attacked Jing Rong’s spirit.

It gave Jing Rong no chance to resist, unstoppably obliterating all his vitality and felling him on the spot.

Chen Yang knew full well that such a technique was impossible for a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

"A Golden Core Great Power who just popped out of nowhere? Interesting."

Whatever Chen Yang and his son were thinking, the young man murmured to himself. His tone held little respect or apprehension, only a great deal of interest.

"No matter where they came from, let’s let this matter go."

After a long moment, Chen Yang’s expression became calm again as he spoke coolly.

His voice was devoid of emotion.

"Oh? Just like that? All these strange Spirit Beasts that suddenly appeared, and now some mysterious Golden Core Ancestor..."

The young man smiled in surprise, clearly enjoying the drama and not minding if it escalated. He continued leisurely, "If Fellow Daoist Chenyangzi needs any help, I’d be happy to offer what I can."

"There’s no need to trouble Fellow Daoist Shen. My affairs are not so great as to require the Wanxiang Sect’s intervention."

Chen Yang’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of apprehension flashing in their depths.

He knew full well that while this person seemed gentle, his ruthlessness surpassed even Chen Yang’s own. As for his apparent Qi Refining Cultivation? That was just a disguise. His true cultivation was likely also at Foundation Establishment.

Perhaps not as high as his own, but not far behind—and that was even considering that he himself was a top-tier existence among Foundation Establishment cultivators.

Hearing this, Shen Xingchen just smiled faintly and waved his hand. "Fellow Daoist Chenyangzi, what are you saying? This has nothing to do with the Wanxiang Sect. It’s merely a personal gesture of goodwill from me, Shen Xingchen."

Chen Yang was noncommittal. ’Personal goodwill? His status as a core disciple of the Wanxiang Sect’s Inner Sect means his actions can never represent himself alone.’

’He talks a good game now,’ Chen Yang thought, ’but if I truly offend that Golden Core Ancestor, Shen Xingchen will be fine with the Wanxiang Sect backing him. I, on the other hand, will be left to fend for myself.’

Glancing again at Jing Rong’s unavenged corpse, Chenyangzi remained expressionless. With a wave of his hand, the body disintegrated into dust, leaving no trace behind.

Only then did he turn to Chen Ronghua behind him and say coldly, "This matter is now over. Do not think of revenge. If you stir up trouble, I won’t be able to save you."

"Consider it a lesson learned. It’s high time you learned to control that temper of yours. Otherwise, someday you won’t even know what killed you."

"But..." Chen Ronghua faltered, looking down at his empty left sleeve. He gritted his teeth, unable to speak, as resentment flared in his eyes.

"But what?!"

Chen Yang’s brow furrowed. With a sharp crack, he slapped Chen Ronghua across the face. The blow was so forceful that his son’s cheek immediately began to swell and turn red.

"Don’t you understand the principle that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down? What, you’re still thinking about revenge? Have you taken a good look at your own cultivation level? If you’ve got the guts, then go cultivate until you reach Golden Core! You think you don’t cause me enough trouble as it is?"

Chen Yang berated him loudly, his voice filled with the frustration of a parent whose high hopes for their child have been dashed.

Chen Ronghua touched his swollen cheek, lowered his head, and didn’t dare to make a sound.