All Chapters of The Rejected Disciple, Successor to The Demonic Path: Chapter 61
- Chapter 70
161 chapters
FOLLOWING MO ZHENGSHENG
Qi Yu understood her mistake at once. Her face turned red, and embarrassment spread through her so quickly that even her ears seemed to burn.She apologized repeatedly to the eight Taoist cultivators. Even after they had already walked away, she remained bent forward in a deep bow far longer than necessary, and when she finally straightened, no one nearby could see the expression hidden behind her veil.“Stupid boy,” she muttered as she merged into another group of cultivators who had just descended from a Spirit Ship. “Just wait until I find you.”Rong Tian had not become lost, and he had not taken the wrong path. From the moment they left Qingyun Mountain, his attention had remained fixed on Mo Zhengsheng.The man had gradually lowered his guard after convincing himself that seeing Rong Tian at the sect gathering had been nothing more than an illusion. That false sense of safety gave Rong Tian the opening he had been waiting for.Only moments earlier, Qi Yu had been enjoying the pra
THE CONFLICTING MAPS
Night descended over the Hadarac Desert and brought a deceptive calm to the vast landscape. A crescent moon hung near the horizon, casting pale light over the dunes beneath a cloudless sky. The dry air grew cold, and the silence felt too deep for a place that had been filled with thousands of people only hours earlier. Yet the Taoist cultivators did not notice the stillness because they remained occupied with searching for the Black Bat King’s inheritance. A strange and almost ridiculous problem soon spread among the groups. When the cultivators began comparing their maps, their confidence quickly turned into suspicion and confusion. “Why do you also have a map of the Hadarac Desert?” one cultivator asked, narrowing his eyes at the scroll held by the man beside him. “Where did you obtain it?” “I bought it from a merchant in Biratama City,” the other replied d
MO ZHENGSHENG’S SECRET GROUP
While the dispute over the maps continued, no one noticed Mo Zhengsheng’s movements. He had already formed a secret agreement with several important figures from the Pure Sky Sect, including core disciples and experienced elders. There were twenty people in the group. Long before the expedition entered the Hadarac Desert, Mo Zhengsheng had approached them with promises delivered in a confident voice. Before speaking, however, he had stood before twenty skeptical faces and questioned whether he truly knew as much as he claimed. The doubt lasted only a moment, and he forced it down before anyone could see it. “There is no need to depend on those maps,” Mo Zhengsheng told them. “I know exactly where the Black Bat King’s inheritance is hidden.” The meeting had taken place inside a secluded restaurant in Biratama City. The room was small, the lamps were dim, and the doo
AT THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS OF SUFFERING
“Elder Fan, should we not descend together?” Mo Zhengsheng asked with a tremor that sounded like concern. “Something may have threatened Elder Duan, and he might need our help.” Several elders and core disciples immediately agreed. Their apparent concern for Duan Meng’s safety was false, because each feared that the old man had already found the inheritance and intended to claim it alone. The longer they waited, the stronger that suspicion became. No one wanted to remain above while another person gained access to a super sect technique. At the edge of the Abyss of Suffering, trust had already disappeared before any treasure was found. The twenty cultivators had entered the plan as allies, but greed made each of them view the others as competitors. Elder Fan Liu stepped closer to the rope and looked down. His face showed impatience rather than concern.
GREED AT THE ABYSS
Driven by the greed that had taken root from the moment they accepted Mo Zhengsheng’s proposal, the nineteen figures from the Pure Sky Sect decided to descend into the Abyss of Suffering. Several of them exchanged brief glances at the edge, and a few drew long breaths as if trying to convince themselves that they would not regret the decision. No one spoke openly about turning back. To speak would have given hesitation a chance to spread, and none of them wanted to become the only person who appeared unwilling to pursue the inheritance. One core disciple swallowed hard and looked into the darkness for too long. The person behind him nudged his shoulder with an elbow, forcing him to move closer to the rope. None of them was truly ready. The pressure of the group had already taken control of the decision before any individual courage could be tested. The atmosphere around them was tense and fille
THE DESCENT INTO DARKNESS
The nineteen cultivators began descending into the Abyss of Suffering using the only rope available. Some tried to control their movements with Qinggong, while others clung to the rope with both hands and forced themselves downward as quickly as possible. The narrow descent left little room between them. Sleeves became tangled, boots struck shoulders, and whispered curses echoed against the stone walls. Those above pushed downward while those below tried to create more space. Every cultivator believed the others were slowing him deliberately. Mo Zhengsheng joined the final group. He allowed the elders and stronger core disciples to go first because they would encounter any danger at the bottom before he did. The darkness deepened with every step. The opening above grew smaller, and the crescent moon became nothing more than a thin mark of pale light. The walls around them were co
THE SEVERED ROPE
All the cultivators looked upward with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The height of the abyss prevented them from seeing anything beyond darkness and the blurred light of the crescent moon. “What was that?” one of them asked. His right hand had already moved halfway toward the hilt of his sword. “Who is still above us?” another demanded. Concern entered his voice despite his attempt to sound firm. “Did we not all descend into the abyss?” No answer came from above. The silence only deepened their unease. One cultivator suddenly cried out when something struck his head. The object fell beside him, causing him to step back in alarm. “Why are you shouting?” another man asked. “What happened?” Several cultivators quickly ignited the special firewood they carried. Bright flames flickered to life and
THE UNDEAD ARMY
Mo Zhengsheng’s fear overcame his attempt to remain quiet. He raised his voice and warned every cultivator gathered in the darkness. “The heir of the Black Bat King’s demonic cultivation is here.” His shout echoed between the walls of the abyss. Everyone who heard it needed a moment to understand that his warning had not been created merely to frighten them. The pause felt longer than it truly was. Their minds rejected the meaning before their eyes were forced to accept what was moving beyond the firelight. Figures emerged slowly from the surrounding darkness. Their movements did not resemble those of ordinary people walking. Their knees remained stiff, and their bodies swayed as if something outside them controlled every step. They moved with unnatural slowness but ignored every threat shouted in their direction. “An army of the
THE ZOMBIE ENCIRCLEMENT
The sight before them made every cultivator recoil in horror. Dozens of zombies had already surrounded the group, forming a tightening circle that left less space with every step. “We are finished. We are going to die here,” one cultivator shouted, his voice filled with fear and despair. Another man looked rapidly from side to side, trying to count the figures approaching from every direction. “One zombie alone possesses strength equal to the fifth level,” he muttered. “How are we supposed to defeat so many of them?” The panic did not last long once they saw Fan Liu begin to act. He drew talismans from inside his robe and threw them one after another with efficient movements, never hesitating as the undead closed in. Each talisman struck its target and erupted into spiritual fire. The flames spread quickly across the rotten bodies, and within the time needed for on
THE ANCIENT TOMBS
“Ancient tombs,” one cultivator whispered after the first stone structures came into view. Another man raised his torch higher and saw that the burial ground extended farther into the darkness than the weak flames could reveal. “These graves must have been built hundreds of years ago,” he said. His voice carried both wonder and fear because the place did not resemble anything created for ordinary people. The group slowed as they entered the burial ground. Tombs of different sizes stood across the uneven stone floor, some low and broken, while others rose high enough to cast long shadows beneath the wavering firelight. The flute grew louder. Its disorderly notes moved between the tombs and echoed in ways that made it difficult to determine the direction of the player. Every sound seemed to enter their bodies. The cultivators felt the melody vibrating through their bones, as tho