The Great Wilderness Confiscation Squad Crashes Crimson Moon Demon Sect Unveils War God Corpse

The Blood Cloud Mountain Range.

This place was originally the outer territory of the Scarlet Moon Demon Sect, perpetually shrouded in demonic aura, with miasma surging like tides. Every rock, tree, and blade of grass carried an unshakeable layer of bloody black. Under normal circumstances, even long-renowned experts would be reluctant to venture deep inside.

This was because the members of the Scarlet Moon Demon Sect did not cultivate by any righteous means.

If you fought with a righteous sect, the worst that could happen was decapitation or confiscation of property if you won, or death if you lost.

But if you fell into the hands of the Demon Sect, it was no longer a matter of life or death—it was about whether you died with dignity, whether your corpse would be refined into a puppet, and whether your soul would be stuffed into a lantern to burn for three hundred years.

Yet at this moment, the outer reaches of the Blood Cloud Mountain Range, which had once made countless cultivators tremble in fear, were being shattered and scattered by a group of imposing old men.

"Ha ha ha ha! What a load of nonsense — 'Demon Sect'? Nothing special!" Old Man Ren shouted in a hoarse voice as he manipulated a jet-black flying dagger, his wrinkled face trembling with laughter. "Old Ghost Wang, see that? I told you we should strike these demonic heretics first! The demon crystals, blood amber, and Yinsha stones in their treasure vaults are all valuable! After this haul, the Ren Family can relax for at least eight hundred years!"

Not far away, Wang Wudi punched a protective formation platform to pieces, a sharp gleam flashing in his eyes. It was clear he was in high spirits.

"Cut the crap. Grab the loot first, then boast later," Wang Wudi said gruffly, though his delight was unmistakable. "We've already cleaned out the Azure Cloud Sword Sect and the Thousand Mechanisms Sect. We found twelve heaven-grade techniques and even dug up three premium spirit jade veins. If we finish off the Scarlet Moon Demon Sect, this trip will make us filthy rich!"

As he said this, the corners of the Wang ancestor's mouth nearly stretched to his ears.

This team of more than twenty experts at the peak of the Sky-Riding Realm—dubbed the "Looting and Peacekeeping Heavenly Group"—had originally set out with the casual attitude of swinging a stick at a date palm to see if anything would fall. After all, no matter how Wang Hao had painted a rosy picture, actually raiding the lairs of hidden sects sounded utterly ridiculous.

But who would have guessed? It was absolutely satisfying.

Not just satisfying—it was so astonishingly rewarding that these old monsters, who had been in secluded meditation for centuries, felt their Dao hearts nearly twist with joy.

First up was the Azure Cloud Sword Sect.

Three of their guardian Taishang Laozu had been slashed to death by Wang Hao, and the strongest members left inside were only a few half-baked elders. When Wang Wudi and his group charged in, the sect tried to shout, "Our sect has been passed down for ten thousand years—do not disgrace us!" But before they could even finish, the mountain gate was blown apart. The scripture library, artifact-refining hall, treasury, and medicine garden were all packed up and hauled off in an orderly fashion. Even the spirit tree on the main peak was nearly uprooted by a few old codgers.

Second was the Thousand Mechanisms Sect.

They had it even worse.

The Thousand Mechanisms Sect specialized in mechanical puppets and formations, making them the best-suited force to defend their home. But their core powerhouses had already been reduced to ashes in the capital's arena, leaving the rest to face over twenty bloodthirsty masters of the Skyflight Realm. It was like a group of villagers armed with wooden sticks facing a besieging army.

They held out for less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick before their mountain gate fell.

Old Man Ren even personally dismantled the sect's founder's hall, flipping over the underground to find a secret vault packed to the brim with priceless treasures and over a hundred million in gold and silver. He laughed so hard he nearly passed out on the spot.

After two consecutive "victorious gatherings," these old monsters, who had little moral restraint to begin with, were completely driven wild with excitement.

They had suddenly realized that spending hundreds of years in closed-door cultivation was nowhere near as profitable as looting other people's homes.

What is resource accumulation?

Other families have been accumulating for thousands of years, and you just take it all in one trip—isn’t that better than bitter cultivation?

What is acting in heaven’s stead?

Seizing the enemy’s techniques, artifacts, pills, medicine fields, and mineral veins, taking them back to strengthen yourself—isn’t that the most practical way to act in heaven’s stead?

And so, those people’s eyes were thoroughly bloodshot.

Wang Wudi’s original plan for them was: quit while ahead, loot two families to establish authority, return to reorganize, and then plan for the next moves.

But can you persuade gamblers who are already on a roll?

Obviously, you cannot.

So Wang Wudi waved his hand grandly, Old Man Ren thumped his chest and rallied the crowd with a single shout, and a horde of ancient monsters turned around overnight and rushed straight for the Crimson Moon Demon Sect.

They thought this would be another exhilarating zero-cost shopping spree.

Who knew the problem was in those four words: “they thought.”

The Crimson Moon Demon Sect had indeed suffered heavy losses.

The sect’s Right Protector and two elders had all died under the heavenly thunder that day. Logically, such a crippling blow would leave any first-rate power severely weakened.

But the Crimson Moon Demon Sect was simply not a normal power.

This pack of lunatics could not be measured by common sense.

Just as the looting squad shattered the outer defenses and stormed deep into the ancestral grounds of the Crimson Moon Demon Sect, a bizarre change suddenly occurred.

There sat a massive pitch-black altar, entwined with countless blood-red runes.

On the altar stood an enormous bronze coffin, a hundred zhang long.

The coffin’s surface was covered in ancient scars, as if hacked by blades and axes from some fierce battle long ago. Even stranger, the entire coffin was coated in a layer of dark red dried blood, as if it had been dragged out from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, buried until now.

And around the altar, disciples of the Crimson Moon Demon Sect knelt in densely packed rows.

They chanted ancient, obscure blood sacrifice incantations under their breath, their bodies trembling as they visibly withered away. It seemed their very essence, blood, souls, even their life origins, were being madly drained by some dread entity.

“What the hell is that?”

An old monster frowned, but before the words left his mouth, a pillar of blood-red light erupted from the center of the altar.

The next instant, the bronze coffin exploded with a deafening crash!

A corpse, three zhang tall and clad in battered battle armor, slowly sat up from within.

The corpse had no trace of life, its skin a bronze hue, but its muscle lines still radiated terrifying explosive power. A massive wound almost split its chest open, and the broken half of a black spear was still lodged in the center of its forehead.

Yet, the moment such a clearly long-dead corpse opened its eyes, even heaven and earth seemed to fall silent.

Those eyes held no spark of life, only two pinpoints of eerie, blood-red light.

A terrifying pressure, far surpassing the Royal Sky Realm, swept outward like a tsunami!

“Martial God Corpse!”

Wang Wudi’s face changed drastically as he roared in shock: “Retreat! Retreat now!”

But it was already too late.

The Crimson Moon Demon Sect’s leader, hair disheveled and blood at the corners of his mouth, stood at the edge of the altar, laughing like a madman: “Since you’ve come so far, why rush to leave, honored guests? My Crimson Moon Demon Sect may have no living Martial God, but our ancestors once produced one! Today, I ask you all to present a grand gift for the awakening of our sect’s Martial God!”

As his voice fell, he hurled a black artifact the size of a palm into the air.

It was a copper-rusted ghost-faced token.

As soon as the token appeared, the surrounding space began to warp, as though countless unseen fiends were being forcibly dragged over, coiling around the corpse of the martial god and turning into streams of gray-black sinister energy that poured relentlessly into its body.

“Using a cursed artifact as an anchor, fiends as sustenance, and blood rituals as a catalyst to forcefully drive the remains of a martial god…” Old Man Ren’s face turned green. “Are these demon bastards insane? Aren’t they afraid they’ll get themselves all killed?”

Afraid?

If the Crimson Moon Demon Cult were afraid of death, they wouldn’t be the Crimson Moon Demon Cult.

They’d always been a pack of madmen betting their lives on tomorrow.

Now that their ancestors were all dead and the Great Zhou had come with swords drawn to raid their home, what choice did they have but to fight? Were they supposed to just sit around and wait to be turned into pills?

So the cult leader of Crimson Moon didn’t even blink. He just roared, “Summon the ancestral corpse! Kill the enemy!”

Boom!

The martial god’s body took one step forward, and the entire mountain range trembled.

With a single punch, a peak in front of them exploded, stones flying like a storm of rain. The shockwave caught two old monsters of the Sky Soaring realm who couldn’t dodge in time; they flew backward with screams, one with his chest caved in, the other with half his body crushed.

The sight sent chills down everyone’s spine.

A martial god was still a martial god.

Even as a corpse, even if only briefly animated by dark arts, it was no easy prey for anyone at the Sky Soaring realm.

Wang Wudi let out a furious roar, pushing his true qi to its peak. Behind him, a towering spectral black dragon rose with a roar, and he charged head-on at the corpse.

Gritting his teeth, Old Man Ren also activated his ancestral spirit seal. Over a dozen old monsters joined forces to form a formation, attempting to suppress the martial god’s corpse.

In that moment, the sky shattered, the earth split, and bloodlight flooded the battlefield.

If the first two raids had been like bandits storming a village, this time it felt like stray dogs charging into a tiger’s den.

Wang Wudi was fierce.

Old Man Ren was no pushover either.

Over twenty supreme experts at the Sky Soaring realm working together could easily flatten most first-rate factions.

But facing this martial god’s corpse, they truly tasted what it meant to be crushed by a higher realm.

This wasn’t a gap that numbers could bridge.

A single punch—even if you blocked the blow, you couldn’t withstand the overwhelming suppression of the laws it carried. You could endure the shockwave, but you couldn’t resist the almost divine martial will behind it.

Within the time it takes to burn an incense stick, the raiding team began to crumble.

Some flew back spitting blood.

Others saw their magical treasures shatter.

A few sacrificed themselves while grievously wounded to buy time for their companions to retreat.

Old Man Ren got the worst of it.

He’d always been the greediest, pushing to the front, hoping to snatch the blood-jade demon tablet from the altar while chaos reigned. But the moment he touched it, the martial god’s corpse struck him from a distance with an open palm. That blow nearly flattened him into a sheet of paper. His internal organs were displaced, and even his soul trembled from the impact.

If Wang Wudi hadn’t risked everything to block a follow-up strike, Old Man Ren would have died on the spot.

“Get out! All of you, move your asses!”

Wang Wudi was drenched in blood. His single eye blazed with ferocity as he shattered a blood-red chain, shooing the others away like herding chickens.

He knew it well: if they didn’t retreat now, this elite crew—which had just swept through two hidden sects—would be wiped out today in the ancestral grounds of Crimson Moon Demon Cult.

And so, the Great Wilderness Raiding Team finally learned the taste of a brutal reality check at their third stop.

They’d come like a swarm of locusts.

They left like a pack of old monkeys with their tails on fire.

Brutal, truly brutal.

Humiliating, no doubt about it.

When the group finally fought their way out of the Blood Cloud Mountain Range, every single one of them was wounded, their faces as black as the bottom of a pot. Old Man Ren, in particular, was sprawled atop a flying magical artifact, breathing more out than in, yet still managing to curse and sputter between gasps.

"Demonic cult... they're all bloody lunatics..."

"That Wang kid... damn near got me killed..."

And this battle of the Crimson Moon Demon Cult was destined to shake the world.

For it was not merely a repelled raid.

What it had repelled was the top-tier formation of the Great Zhou royal family—the very same force that had just annihilated two hidden sects and was riding an unprecedented wave of triumph.

Once the news spread, everyone would understand one thing—

The Great Zhou might be terrifying, but it was not invincible.

At the very least, the Crimson Moon Demon Cult had proven that.