May You Die a Little More Quietly

Lately, Zhao Xuan, the nominal leader of the Evil Spirit Sect, found himself with a massive headache.

When faced with troublesome matters, Zhao Xuan usually adhered to the principle of leaving them untouched if they couldn’t be handled—after all, tasks could always be dealt with later, but one’s life couldn’t be borrowed from the future.

However, the current affair could no longer follow this rule. The entire Evil Spirit Sect had been mobilized, and even the deputy leader, Evil Spirit, had brought his own forces from behind the scenes to join in.

The good news was that Evil Spirit’s involvement was on a grand scale, large enough to mobilize over half the sect. The reinforcements he brought left even Zhao Xuan dumbfounded and made him realize that, in truth, the majority of the Evil Spirit Sect was already under Evil Spirit’s control.

If this had been the original Zhao Xuan, he would have been furious. Now, however, he felt a secret sense of relief. Since he had already planned to retire from the sect, why not let Evil Spirit take over? All Zhao Xuan wanted was the secret art that could reverse the fate of blood-path cultivators.

But with good news came bad news.

The negotiations with the Incense Gods had been—to put it mildly—a disaster, or more accurately, an encounter between bitter enemies.

Every gesture of goodwill from the Evil Spirit Sect, even some humiliating concessions, had been accepted by the other side, only for them to slap the sect in the face afterward.

The Incense Gods pocketed all the spiritual stone bribes without hesitation. Not only did they refuse to help after taking the spoils, but they even went out of their way to cause trouble.

Even a clay figurine has a temper, let alone a group of ruthless cultivators who wouldn’t blink at murder.

Unless someone had a particular fetish, no one would let themselves be slapped on the left cheek for three minutes, then offer the right cheek while asking, “Hey, big shot—had your fill?”

Though evil cultivators had bottomless moral depths themselves, their expectations of others were usually on par with those of lesser sages.

Anyone below sagehood was deemed unworthy, the kind of person you couldn’t help but feel compelled to screw over just for the satisfaction.

Clearly, by the Evil Spirit Sect’s standards, the Incense Gods had fallen far below even lesser sages. They were now seen as nothing more than a pack of talking beasts getting in the way.

All the pleasantries had been exhausted. The only recourse left was brute force.

Zhao Xuan’s eyes betrayed his frustration. After all, taking action meant exposing weaknesses, and weaknesses made them vulnerable to the Eighteen Immortal Sects hunting them down. One wrong move, and they could be finished for good.

But the Incense Gods’ provocations had crossed the line. The anger among the sect’s members was hard to quell. Otherwise, Zhao Xuan might have proposed offering even more concessions.

At worst, he could acknowledge the Incense Gods as overlords, do whatever they commanded—just as long as they threw these arrogant bastards a bone.

Unfortunately, it was no longer realistic to suggest such a path.

Outside an Incense God shrine in northern Jambudvipa, Zhao Xuan sat in front of a small stall, wearing a green dharma robe, gazing at a shrine where incense smoke never ceased.

A moment later, the deputy leader Evil Spirit, clad in a black dharma robe, seated himself across from Zhao Xuan. His tone was mild:

“Leader, everything is in place. Should I inform Xu Si?”

Hearing this, Zhao Xuan grew even more irritated. But after a moment, he produced a jade token and carved a message into it.

The jade token dissolved into a faint, barely perceptible glow and vanished.

This was a top-tier jade token, exorbitantly priced. Zhao Xuan’s main complaint wasn’t its lack of subtlety or efficiency, but rather one simple fact: “This thing is damn expensive.”

What angered him more was the waste—sending a message that drew no reply, as if it had fallen into a void. It completely squandered the token’s value.

With a dissatisfied tone, Zhao Xuan remarked, “How easy for them—not taking a look, not lending a hand, and not even bothering to reply. Makes me wonder if they’re just stringing us along.”

Evil Spirit chuckled softly at this. “That’s only natural. We do the dangerous work, and in the end, he’ll reap the rewards. If it were that easy, I’d want the same.”

Zhao Xuan glanced at Evil Spirit. The man hardly seemed like a demon—practically indistinguishable from an ordinary person.

No wonder these demons had managed to survive unnoticed back in those years, even building their forces in secret to such an extent.

Zhao Xuan let out a quiet breath, then spoke sternly:

“Watch the scale of our actions. Don’t do what can’t be done easily, and make sure as little information as possible gets out.”

“Take it slow, but take no chances.”

“Relax. I’ve received word from higher up,” Evil Spirit said lightly. “They’ll coordinate with us, making a little noise elsewhere to divert the Eighteen Immortal Sects’ attention.”

“In this game, we still have plenty of pieces to play. If things don’t work out, it’s not just me losing out.”

“Frankly, I should be the one feeling the pressure, so why is it you who’s been frowning all along?”

Zhao Xuan lifted his gaze to look at Evil Spirit’s half-exposed face, the hint of a smile on his lower jaw.

His expression showed no tension, and his tone was perfectly calm.

This confident assertion seemed to be backed by solid information. It appeared that Evil Spirit was full of confidence, which meant they were well-informed.

Maybe Zhao Xuan lacked certain intelligence, but the demons surely wouldn’t be mistaken.

“That’s good to hear,” Zhao Xuan said with a light laugh, silently psyching himself up. “In that case, it’s time to teach those blind beasts a lesson and make them understand that the unspoken rules of northern Jambudvipa only hold because we allow them.”

“If we refuse, they can’t even take a piss without our permission.”

Evil Spirit nodded in satisfaction at this.

“I’ll lead the first wave myself. Since we have assurances from above, the only risk is the Eighteen Immortal Sects’ other tricks. So, leader, I’ll trouble you to keep an eye out and see if anyone has caught onto us.”

Zhao Xuan gave a slight nod. “Leave that to me.”

Evil Spirit stood, clasped his fists, and vanished from sight.

Zhao Xuan didn’t linger longer either. After one last look at the bustling incense-shrine, he also walked away. In just a moment, his figure melted into the crowd and disappeared entirely.

To everyone around them, both men’s presence and words were invisible and inaudible—as if they had never been there at all.

At Chan Mountain, inside the Grand Bear King’s cave mansion.

Xiong Hou, a bear demon Incense God at the early Core Formation stage, was one of the few in this realm permitted to gather nearby beasts and establish his own territory.

The gussied-up cave mansion exuded a certain untamed charm, with the smell of wine wafting out from the depths.

Shouts, curses, and sycophantic laughs rose and fell in waves.

“Big brother is right! Those little bastards from some unknown land want to buy their way into northern Jambudvipa with a few coins from selling their pups? A thousand years of our pride isn’t worth that little spiritual stone!”

“Northern Jambudvipa is ours! If those little bastards want to set down roots, they need the Grand Bear King’s approval!”

Xiong Hou, in his human form, was burly and covered in thick body hair. The flattery pleased him immensely, but he feigned indifference.

The lesser Incense Gods under him joined in the chorus, falling over themselves to praise Xiong Hou.

The loudest among them was a weasel-faced, rat-eyed goblin, lifting his cup and shouting:

"We take the money and cause trouble anyway, that's how everyone does it. It's been our rule for a thousand years. Those little demons from outer regions understand nothing; they're all blind and ignorant."

As his voice fell, a piercing sound tore through the air.

It was so shrill that it instantly silenced the clamor within the cave dwelling.

"I see that you little demons are blind and ignorant. So today... I'm here to open your eyes."

At the entrance, a short figure draped in a black hooded cloak strolled in, the candlelight flickering around him, while his overwhelming divine sense locked onto the entire space.

A rat demon with a furtive face and shifty eyes stared in terror, instinctively turning to look at Xiong Hou sitting in the host seat.

But all he saw was—

An Incense God at the dignified Nascent Soul stage, capable of opening his own domain, having his chest blasted into a bloody pulp, a gaping hole punched straight through. His eyes were wide open, as if he wanted to speak but could not utter a word.

This was a Nascent Soul stage Incense God!

One who possessed the power to topple mountains and level seas. How could he be pierced through by an attack that radiated barely any discernible force?

What cultivation level did this newcomer have?!

"The noise can't be too loud, so you're lucky—you get to die quietly."

The Evil Spirit stepped inside.

Beneath the flickering candlelight.

The short figure now loomed like a demon, ready to devour the panicked swarm of monsters whole.