The Bitter Master of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Bufan

Seeing that there was no more drama to watch, the crowd dispersed.

The once-noisy corner instantly became quiet.

Gu Yang turned around and looked at Ruan Xiaoruan, who was still slumped on the ground.

The young girl was shivering like a quail drenched in the rain. Teardrops still hung on her eyelashes, making her look incredibly pitiful.

"Senior... Senior Brother Gu..."

Ruan Xiaoruan's voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz, laced with a sob. "This painting... is it really..."

"It's fake."

Gu Yang interrupted her with an expressionless face.

He casually rolled up the painting scroll and stuffed it into his robes.

"That was nothing but a speck of cinnabar left behind by a painter's slip of the brush. All that nonsense about the Blood Demon Cult, I made it up."

"Huh?"

Ruan Xiaoruan froze, her big, watery eyes filled with confusion.

She stared blankly at Gu Yang.

Under the sunlight, the profile of this senior brother in his coarse gray robes was as sharp and cold as a chiseled blade. Even though he had just been spouting a load of nonsense, at this moment, he gave her an unprecedented sense of security.

Gu Yang didn't explain. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy coin pouch.

It was the one he had just casually swiped off Zhou Tong.

"Here are fifty low-grade spirit stones. Take the money and treat your father's illness."

"This painting belongs to me."

Fifty pieces?!

Ruan Xiaoruan held the coin pouch, her hands trembling.

This was not just medical fees; this was a life-saving grace!

She knew that her senior brother had made up that lie just to get her out of trouble. To prevent her from getting involved in any mess, he had even paid a high price to buy this troublesome painting.

"Senior Brother..."

Ruan Xiaoruan's eyes reddened again. She scrambled to her feet and bowed her head deeply, giving a formal salute.

"For Senior Brother Gu's great kindness, Xiaoruan will work like a horse or an ox to..."

By the time she raised her head, she found that Gu Yang had already disappeared into the bustling crowd.

...

In the back mountains of the Falling Cloud Sect, at a desolate spot littered with jagged rocks.

The smell of mildew and damp, rotting soil permeated the air. Gu Yang stood in the shadows, his slender fingers precisely slicing open the wooden roller of the Old Pine and Withered Stone Painting.

Rip—

Following an extremely faint tearing sound, a roll of black silk, as thin as a cicada's wing, slipped into his palm.

The material was icy cold and carried an old, refreshing scent of vegetation. Dense, tiny characters covered it like swimming black ants.

Gu Yang closed his eyes slightly. The spiritual energy of his Desolate Ancient Extreme Yang Physique reversed its flow through his meridians along a bizarre route. A withered, icy, and stone-like aura quickly covered his entire body.

Crack...

His bones shifted, and his flesh and skin rearranged.

A moment later, the originally handsome and clean-cut Gu Yang disappeared. In his place stood an ordinary rogue cultivator with a sallow complexion and a scar at the corner of his eye.

His tyrannical aura of Qi Condensation Perfection was wrapped up layer by layer, ultimately revealing only the superficial and messy fluctuations of the fifth level of Qi Condensation.

Ding. Successfully intercepted a green-tier opportunity—the Withered Wood Aura Concealment Art.

Reward: 10 Destiny Points.

Gu Yang nodded in satisfaction.

Next, it was time to fetch that Biluo Token.

...

Half an hour later.

At the market at the foot of the mountain, the Hundred Treasures Pavilion.

This was a five-story pavilion built from thousand-year-old agarwood. Between the flying eaves and bracket sets, one could faintly see the glowing patterns of a protective array.

Inside the pavilion, a faint sandalwood scent refreshed the soul, yet it could not mask the faint, lingering killing intent on the cultivators present.

Gu Yang stepped onto the thick carpet. His footsteps were light and unsteady, and his expression appeared somewhat cramped and greedy, making him look exactly like a bottom-tier rogue cultivator who had never seen the world.

He did not head straight for the luxurious counters on the second floor that displayed spiritual weapons and pills. Instead, as if possessed, he walked toward the most secluded corner of the first floor.

There lay a pile of miscellaneous items deemed scrap, including rust-mottled broken swords, shriveled spirit herb roots, and a mountain of black iron boxes.

"Fellow Daoist, this pile of scrap is three low-grade spirit stones for one piece, or five spirit stones for two. If you see something you like, just grab it."

A clerk wearing the long robes of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion lazily yawned. He couldn't even be bothered to lift his eyelids, and his tone oozed arrogance.

In the eyes of these wealthy store clerks, anyone buying these items was just a poor wretch desperate to find a hidden treasure.

Gu Yang didn't reply. He squatted down and rummaged through the pile of rust-smelling junk.

His fingers brushed against a cold, heavy black iron box.

The surface of the box was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the edges even had dark red rust. It looked completely ordinary, even somewhat shabby.

But the moment his fingertips touched it, the Golden Crow Origin Fire in his dantian flickered ever so slightly.

It was the resonance of an extremely high-level treasure reacting to his extreme yang aura.

"I'll take this."

Gu Yang casually grabbed a broken heart-protecting mirror as well. Pretending to be conflicted, he stingily dug out five low-grade spirit stones from his robes and handed them over.

"Heh, truly gone mad trying to strike it rich," the clerk sneered, casually sweeping the spirit stones into the counter without even looking up.

Just as Gu Yang hugged the black iron box and prepared to leave.

"Wait a moment."

A voice as gentle as jade, carrying a magnetic tone that felt like a spring breeze, came from the entrance.

He turned his head and saw a young man dressed in green cloth clothes, carrying an iron sword on his back, stepping into the pavilion.

The young man had sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, with a sincere smile hanging on his lips. The wine gourd at his waist swayed gently, bringing with it the mellow aroma of spirit wine.

Mo Bufan.

The genius Senior Brother Mo who, according to the intel, was supposed to buy this item half an hour later.

Gu Yang felt a bit puzzled in his heart.

Could it be that his intervention had changed the course of the future?

"Fellow Daoist, could you let me take a look at that iron box in your hands?"

Mo Bufan approached with a smile, his clear eyes staring straight at the black iron box in Gu Yang's hands.

Although his tone was polite, it carried an undeniable confidence that brooked no refusal.

Gu Yang sneered inwardly.

If it weren't for the system's intel, who would have thought that behind this seemingly sunny and cheerful young man lay a bloody sea of Asura?

"You must be joking, Fellow Daoist. This is just a piece of broken iron. I bought it to forge a hoe."

Gu Yang shrank his neck and tightly hugged the iron box in his arms. He looked panicked, exactly like a stray beggar protecting his food.

"Hey, brat, my senior brother speaking to you is your good fortune!"

Behind Mo Bufan, a follower glared fiercely and made a move to step forward and snatch it.

Mo Bufan waved his hand, stopping his follower. He was still smiling brightly, though a trace of sinister killing intent flashed deep within his eyes.

"Twenty spirit stones. Sell it to me, how about it?"

Ten times the price.

If it were an ordinary rogue cultivator, they would probably have been overwhelmed with gratitude.

However, Gu Yang revealed an even more greedy expression, clutching the iron box tightly and refusing to let go.

"Twenty pieces? Judging by your appearance, you must be a young master from a prominent family. If you're rushing to buy it, this must be a treasure!"

He yelled loudly, instantly attracting the attention of many cultivators around them.

Mo Bufan's expression stiffened slightly for a moment.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the exact instructions from the old grandpa in his body, the Blood River Demon Venerable.

However, the Withered Wood Aura Concealment Art in Gu Yang's body, combined with the Desolate Ancient Extreme Yang Physique, had long since completely locked down the token's aura.

The remnant soul of the demon venerable muttered suspiciously in Mo Bufan's sea of consciousness, "Strange. I clearly felt a trace of abnormal movement just now. Why does it look like a piece of ordinary iron now? Could it be that this old man's eyes are failing me?"