Chapter 45: Effortlessly Reaped

Beyond Demon Gate Mountain, Hong Yun and Fu Yue gazed into the mists ahead, making no move to ascend. Once they had set their goal, they traveled ceaselessly, day and night. Aside from the two hours each day spent instructing Chai Xiaoyue in cultivation techniques, nearly all their time was devoted to the journey. It took them almost two full months to reach Demon Gate Mountain.

Along the way, there had been minor incidents, but none were of consequence. Most troubles vanished the moment Fu Yue cleared his throat and declared, “I am the son of the Demon King!”—that alone sent most adversaries fleeing. In fact, they hardly needed to act at all. Merely soaring into the air was enough to deter any challenger. Although birds could fly, to soar in human form required the cultivation level of Nirvana. In this world, where life was fleeting and all cherished their existence, who would be so blind as to court death needlessly?

“Brother Yun, once we set foot on Demon Gate Mountain, there will be at least three Demon Kings stationed here. We must be extremely cautious,” Fu Yue reminded him again. Seeing Hong Yun nod calmly, he finally felt reassured. He could sense Hong Yun’s keen interest in the thousand-year-old Demon King, Dune Xuan, the Mystic Tortoise, and feared he might say something indiscreet.

Hong Yun, noting Fu Yue’s expression, understood the concern and replied with a gentle smile, “I only wish to ask one question.”

Fu Yue was not suspicious of Hong Yun’s intent. In his eyes, this powerful half-demon was likely a disciple cultivated by some half-demon king, newly arrived in the demon realm, journeying to observe its ways and seek the truths of heaven and earth.

At the foot of the mountain, Fu Yue produced a pale purple token, infused it with his demonic energy, and activated it lightly. The mists parted, revealing a narrow path winding up the mountain. Seeing the barrier’s gate persist, he turned to Meng Lian with a polite smile. “Brother Yun, after you.”

Hong Yun answered simply and, without further hesitation, entered.

No sooner had he stepped inside than he sensed several gazes upon him. Though his expression remained unchanged, he was quietly alert. Clearly, this was a stronghold of the demon clan; otherwise, there would not be so many Nirvana-level demons and Demon Kings present. By his perception, those who could catch the eye of his host body now must all possess cultivation exceeding his own.

Fu Yue, for his part, was on friendly terms with Hong Yun largely due to the latter’s sociable and benevolent disposition. Otherwise, removing Fu Yue’s head would be as easy as reaching into a bag.

As they were being led up the mountain, a mocking voice came from the side. “Isn’t this the would-be Demon King from years past? What brings you crawling back to Demon Gate Mountain?”

Hong Yun glanced toward the speaker—a demon with a human body and the head of a bird. The creature eyed Fu Yue with smug disdain. “You left like a dog with its tail between its legs, and now you return? And who’s this at your side? Another lackey you’ve picked up? Are they letting in just any stray these days?”

Would-be Demon King? Hong Yun was momentarily surprised, glancing at Fu Yue in confusion. He had never noticed that Fu Yue had once reached such a level; now, Fu Yue seemed only in the early Nirvana stage.

“Peng Yang, don’t be so arrogant!” Fu Yue’s face reddened with anger at the bird-headed demon. Noticing Hong Yun’s questioning look, he explained quietly, “That’s Peng Yang, the most talented son of the Roc Demon King. We’ve never gotten along. Years ago, when the Mystic Tortoise assessed my talent, he said I could reach at most the half-step Demon King realm in my lifetime. Since then, they mock me with that title…”

So that’s all it was—a taunt at his perceived limitations, nothing more. Hong Yun understood, though the bird demon’s smugness and words irked him. He responded with a trace of menace, “Ah, a roc. Would it not make a fine dish with wine?”

What! Fu Yue was startled, his heart pounding as he hastily replied, “You mustn’t! He is the Roc Demon King’s only surviving son. Should anything happen to him, the king would go mad.”

But, catching the look on Hong Yun’s face, Fu Yue added almost involuntarily, “Though… if you just wanted to rough him up a bit, that should be fine.”

“If it’s allowed, then I’ll pluck him bald!” Hong Yun laughed softly, raised his hand, and reached straight ahead. Sensing danger, Peng Yang tried to retreat, but before he could even move, Hong Yun had seized him with an iron grip.

Panic flashed in Peng Yang’s eyes. He summoned his demonic aura, but it was useless; he could not break free.

“You called me a lackey? A stray?” Hong Yun, aware of the many watching eyes, composed himself, smiled, and held Peng Yang fast. His hand was like a steel vise; he forced Peng Yang back into his true form and plucked nine gleaming feathers from his body, blood staining each one. The bird demon’s cries were wretched.

“Let this serve as a small lesson. In the future, you’d do well to think before you speak or act,” Hong Yun said, tossing Peng Yang aside, raising a cloud of dust as the demon wailed in pain.

“Brother Fu, I’ll keep these feathers. I trust that’s not a problem?” He smiled at the dumbfounded Fu Yue, tucking the feathers into his sleeve. Though he had taught Chai Xiaoyue many musical cultivation techniques, they were only supportive methods. For true cultivation, he needed offensive techniques—and suitable materials. Now, with this windfall, how could he not seize the opportunity?

“Please, do as you wish…” Fu Yue replied, barely containing his delight at Peng Yang’s humiliation. Still, he cautioned, “But be careful, Brother Yun. There is more than one Demon King here, and none can say how they are allied. If you offend the wrong one, things could turn dangerous.”