Junior Brother You're Doing Evil in the Name of Righteousness

Upon hearing Old Wang's words, the group halted their retreat.

His reasoning made sense—they were all demonic cultivators, practitioners of heaven-defying acts. Given the bloodlust Li Xingtian had displayed earlier, if he had truly called for Tianyan Sect reinforcements, the sect would have slain him on the spot unless he had a silver tongue.

But the reputation of the Eighteen Immortal Sects was too formidable, and recent tensions had left everyone on edge. Combined with the strange behavior of that young man, their judgment had been clouded in the heat of the moment.

Old Wang let out a relieved sigh and quickly commanded, "Two of you hold off one, the remaining three take on the other!"

After exchanging glances, the group split up, each moving toward a Tianyan Sect disciple. Old Wang himself lunged forward, joining the three-on-one assault.

Yet their hastily regrouped formation crumbled almost instantly.

One of the Tianyan Sect disciples raised his spirit treasure sword, its blade radiating an overwhelming brilliance as Dao patterns shimmered along its edge. With an icy expression, he swung at the fastest-moving demonic cultivator—a man wielding a ghost-headed saber.

A flash of cold light tore through the sky, dispersing the oppressive black spiritual energy in an instant.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to fall silent. Every demonic cultivator's gaze was drawn to that single, devastating strike.

The aura of a divine ability surged outward.

No one spoke. No one shouted. No one even checked whether the ghost-headed saber wielder was still alive.

In that instant, every single one of them made the same rational decision—they scattered, fleeing in all directions.

They had recognized it—the infamous divine ability of Tianyan Sect.

The foundational divine ability—Divine Profound Sword of Tianyan.

These were genuine Tianyan Sect cultivators, and worse yet, both were at the Nascent Soul stage.

The strength of cultivators from the Eighteen Immortal Sects was on an entirely different level. A ragtag group of demonic Nascent Soul cultivators who couldn’t even wield divine abilities stood no chance. Even three-on-one? They’d be lucky to survive five-on-one against a Tianyan Sect disciple of the same realm.

Old Wang didn’t hesitate—he turned and fled without a second glance.

The remaining four figures retreated even faster than they had advanced.

Then, someone suddenly roared in fury:

"Old Wang! Where’s your White Profound Spirit?!"

Old Wang, already mid-flight, didn’t answer—he simply accelerated.

But then, a surge of even denser Nascent Soul aura erupted from the right. Another Divine Profound Sword of Tianyan descended.

Old Wang’s spiritual sense screamed in alarm—Damn it, Tianyan Sect disciples are setting ambushes now?!

What was happening to the world? Since when did righteous sects become more treacherous than demonic cultivators?

The sword fell.

A demonic Nascent Soul cultivator who tried to block was cleaved in half without resistance.

Before anyone could process Wang Lin’s sudden attack, another aura flared from their escape route—yet another Tianyan Sect cultivator charging with sword in hand.

At this point, despair settled over the group.

They knew better than to think they could outrun disciples of the Eighteen Immortal Sects.

Wang Lin raised his sword, his oppressive aura pinning the demonic cultivators in place. "I’ll say this once—surrender your weapons."

Simultaneously, streaks of rainbow light encircled them, cutting off all escape routes.

The demonic cultivators clutched their artifacts, their defiance hollow and desperate.

Old Wang’s eyes widened as he glared at Wang Lin, snarling, "Since when does Tianyan Sect collude with demonic cultivators?!"

Wang Lin remained impassive. "What makes you think you’re worthy of asking that question?"

Old Wang let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, fine… I see now. Tianyan Sect is the greatest demonic sect in the Central Continent!"

Li Xingtian, slower than the Nascent Soul cultivators, arrived a moment later—just in time to hear those words.

Wang Lin glanced at Old Wang’s furious outburst, then subtly shifted his gaze toward Li Xingtian.

Such raw emotion was hard to fake, especially in this situation…

Could it be that this "Brother Li," who carried the Tianyan Token, had truly practiced demonic arts?

Li Xingtian met Wang Lin’s gaze, his tone firm. "I cultivate an orthodox Profound Gate heart method! It just… happens to look a bit bloodthirsty."

Wang Lin nodded in understanding, his expression apologetic.

Ah… so he really is a demonic cultivator.

Old Wang’s mocking chuckle cut through the silence. "Heh!"

No further words were needed.

Wang Lin’s expression hardened. "The Profound Gate heart method encompasses all things. A lowly demonic cultivator like you wouldn’t understand its depths."

Old Wang understood the subtext—Whether someone is a demonic cultivator or not is for Tianyan Sect to decide. Who are you to question it?

Li Xingtian’s expression darkened. "Meng Jun is likely nearby. I suggest you search the area first."

Wang Lin gave a slight nod, signaling two Tianyan Sect disciples to investigate.

The two clasped their hands in acknowledgment before flying off in the direction the demonic cultivators had come from.

Li Yingling and another disciple took their positions, sealing off any gaps.

Having overheard the exchange, Li Yingling approached Li Xingtian and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Second Brother, no one’s calling you a demonic cultivator. Don’t be upset. Master always said your path is so righteous it borders on the unorthodox—the pinnacle of righteousness."

Li Xingtian didn’t know how to respond to that.

Wang Lin, who had been maintaining a stern expression, suddenly pressed his lips together, his brow furrowing as he deliberately avoided looking at Li Xingtian, focusing instead on the demonic cultivators before him.

Li Xingtian took one look at Wang Lin’s reaction and sighed inwardly. Well, plenty of others have mistaken me for a demonic cultivator before.

Still, I should ask Master when this bloodlust aura will fade. If it gets any worse, I’ll look like a demon lord every time I lift a finger.

Run.

I have to run.

And I have to do it quietly.

Meng Jun swiftly abandoned any thought of rescuing Old Wang.

No loyalty was worth his life.

Charging in now wouldn’t be a rescue—it’d be suicide.

Though he felt a pang of guilt, the situation was beyond saving. All he could do was hope Old Wang made it out alive.

Meng Jun tightened his grip on the Dream Pearl. Old Wang, rest assured… I’ll avenge you—or at least burn plenty of paper money for you.

The two Tianyan Sect disciples were already sweeping the area with their spiritual senses.

His only hope was to rely on the Dream Pearl’s concealment and slip away unnoticed. Staying put meant certain death.

Someone in that group would surely betray his presence. He had to move.

Meng Jun channeled a wisp of energy into the Dream Pearl, summoning a faint, almost imperceptible purple mist to shroud himself.

His gaze flickered back to the battlefield, where Old Wang had already clashed with the Tianyan Sect disciples again.

Meng Jun wasn’t surprised. The Eighteen Immortal Sects never spared demonic cultivators.

The only path to survival was resistance—even if resistance was futile.