"This isn't a demon; it's a kind of deification—transforming into a god's form," said the Imperial Preceptor of the Everpeace Empire, unfazed as he explained to Lina the Spirit Fox.
He could naturally tell that Quinn Shepherd wasn't revealing his original form, but using a strange cultivation method—somewhat like a blend of several Cult of the Heavenly Demon arts.
"It seems to be the Creation Spirit Art combined with the Fire Luminary method from the Five Luminaries..."
He didn't know much about the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra, so he wasn't entirely sure.
The changes in Quinn Shepherd's body belonged to deification—a transformation into a god-form. Some cultivation methods could achieve this, and it was not uncommon; it was a type of fleshly divine ability.
Some sects specialize in methods that rely on deification or demonization to enhance their physical bodies.
However, Quinn's deification left the Imperial Preceptor somewhat puzzled—it seemed to be more than just a fleshly divine ability.
Fleshly divine abilities are naturally used to strengthen the body, relying on physical might to boost one's combat power.
But Quinn's deification seemed to be pure deification—nothing else.
In the Preceptor's eyes, Quinn was using his cultivation method to become the Fire Star Lord—his body changed, his yuanqi changed, and even the aura he radiated changed!
In other words, he simultaneously possessed both the god-form body and divine abilities of deification!
This was extremely strange.
Quinn's transformation hadn't stopped yet. Beneath his feet, fire clouds churned and gradually formed into two fire dragons. The fire dragons grew longer and larger, lifting his body off the ground.
Quinn stood atop the fire dragons; his feet burst through his shoes, transforming into two burning bull hooves.
At this moment, he was the Fire Star Lord, standing with both feet on twin fire dragons!
Quinn raised his hand, and instantly the air around them became bone-dry. Egg-sized fireballs floated and danced through the sky.
The Imperial Preceptor watched with keen interest as these fireballs, neither too big nor too small, suddenly burst forth with strands of sword-light—each composed of fine flames. Every sword-light performed a sword technique: the Falling Sun Sword Art, which also contained the power of fire spells. Each strike was impressively strong!
"The Falling Sun Sword Art from Yuyuan Kingdom is very orthodox, and the sword pills are wonderfully applied. With the added power of spells, your strength already qualifies as a divine arts practitioner."
The Imperial Preceptor praised, "If you faced a Six Directions divine arts practitioner head-on, you could survive. If you can fully unleash your deified fleshly divine ability, you could even fight one as an equal."
Quinn abruptly retracted his sword technique, pulling the sword-lights back into the fireballs. The fireballs collided, merging into a washbasin-sized red sun. He opened his mouth and swallowed the red sun whole, then snorted twin jets of fire from his bull nostrils.
He stopped circulating the Overlord Three-Core Art. The two bull horns atop his head slowly shrank away, his body gradually returned to normal, and the twin fire dragons beneath his feet faded into nothing.
Quinn rubbed his backside, a puzzled look on his face. His rear felt hot and sore, as if someone had whipped him several times.
Did I just pick up a habit from herding cattle as a kid—always smacking their behinds? The cowherd from Oldridge Village wondered in confusion.
Ahead stood a majestic mountain, with a waterfall tumbling down from the heavens like a hanging Milky Way. White water crashed against black cliffs, emerald peaks rose beneath the blazing sun, painting an ink-wash landscape in living color.
The roar of water was deafening. Mist hung thick in the air, dampening their clothes in no time as the fine spray fell on them from afar.
The place was truly refreshing and invigorating.
The Imperial Preceptor of the Everpeace Empire led them south, never taking the official roads—just heading in a chosen direction. Now, he’d brought them deep into the mountains.
The waterfall had carved out a deep, clear pool. At its edge, a stag with branching antlers grazed on spirit herbs, flicking its stubby tail. Its fur was marked with white spots like plum blossoms.
Noticing their arrival, the stag quickly raised its head, tilting it to size them up, then took a few steps closer.
Everyone secretly admired its majestic bearing—the stag was nearly as large as Dragon-Qilin, impressively robust.
The stag snorted and moved to the water’s edge, where an old man in a raincoat sat fishing with his rod planted firmly on the bank.
Beside the old man was a bored boy, not quite grown, picking up stones and tossing them one after another into the water right where the old man was fishing. He didn’t just throw one or two—he kept at it, nonstop.
With a waterfall this huge and water so turbulent, even if there were fish, they’d never bite. Add in that boy’s constant stone-throwing, and it was clear the old man wouldn’t catch anything today.
Claire Yue shook her head. "That kid must be his own flesh and blood. If not, he’d have beaten him to death by now. Who could put up with that?"
Quinn looked around, puzzled. This wasn’t a real fishing spot, yet here was an old man fishing—and a kid stubbornly throwing stones into the water. No matter how you looked at it, this wasn’t about catching fish.
In these wild, remote mountains, with so few people, if he wasn’t here to fish, he could only be here to block the way!
And with that stag, as mighty as Dragon-Qilin, the old man’s identity was probably on par with the Young Heavenly Demon Patriarch and his peers!
Wayne Shen and Serena Yunxiang noticed something was off too, each glancing at the Imperial Preceptor. Elias Yun, however, wasn’t thinking so deeply. He stepped forward and greeted the elder with a smile. "Elder, are there really fish here? Is that your grandson? He keeps throwing stones—any fish would be scared off!"
The old man lifted his raincoat, revealing a face full of wrinkles. He smiled, "Why wouldn’t there be fish? Look, aren’t they coming already?"
Elias Yun peered at the fishing spot, but saw no fish—only that brat still tossing stones.
The Imperial Preceptor stepped forward, his tone calm and detached: "This pool may be small, but the fish within are anything but. Landing one will take real skill. Elder, do you have what it takes?"
The old man's face creased up with a smile. "This world's abilities are like a pool of clear water, but then a big fish arrives and stirs up the depths. That fish ought to leap the Dragon Gate and become a true dragon, but instead, it muddies the water and devours all the little fish. Preceptor, tell me—should I hook and haul out this troublemaking giant fish?"
The Imperial Preceptor's gaze flickered. Hands tucked into his sleeves, he replied unhurriedly, "Comparing sects to little fish isn't quite right, Elder. Sects are more like leeches clinging to the fish, sucking their blood. The water may look clear, but all the fish are being bitten. In that case, it's not the fish one should catch, but the leeches one should purge—with fierce medicine."
The old man said nothing more.
Nor did the Imperial Preceptor.
When words fail, even half a sentence is too much. They'd already exchanged several, and both knew neither could sway the other—any further debate was pointless.
Their philosophies irreconcilable, and persuasion impossible, there was only one clean solution: defeat the other, and destroy his ideals along with him.
The old man rose, packed away his rod and line, propped the rod against a tall tree, took off his straw hat and raincoat, and waved the stone-throwing youth away. "Go to the other side of the mountain."
The Imperial Preceptor turned to Quinn and the others. "Cross the mountain and wait for me. Elder, have you passed down all your skills?"
The old man nodded. "Everything has already been taught. And you, Preceptor?"
The Imperial Preceptor replied coolly, "No need. In my youth, I was fierce and killed far too many, wiping out sects and letting unique arts vanish. After founding the Heavenly Records Tower, I often regretted it. So now, whenever I kill, I always ask this question."
Quinn wanted desperately to stay and witness this rare clash, but a battle at the Preceptor's level would shake the land more violently than even the Demon King. Watching at such close range meant certain death.
"Let's cross the mountain," Quinn said gravely.
He led the group over the high ridge. Looking back, the two figures by the falls were soon lost in mist, their forms hidden from view.
The stone-throwing youth, now astride the great stag, appeared not far away and blinked at them. "You lot from the Imperial Academy?"
Wayne Shen nodded. "And you, brother—what's your name?"
"Moran. Warren Moran!"
He was about Quinn's age, but unlike Quinn's steady demeanor, Warren Moran was restless—unable to sit still, bored whenever things grew quiet. Even riding his stag, he couldn't help but slap its haunch and gallop over.
Quinn asked, "Brother Moran, which sect do you hail from?"
"Little Jade Capital."
"Little Jade Capital?"
Wayne Shen, Elias Yun, and the others looked puzzled—they'd never heard of such a sect. The Everpeace Empire had three great sacred lands, and while some sects rivaled them in scale, Little Jade Capital was not among them.
Quinn was taken aback. The name 'Jade Capital' was not one just anyone could use; it referred to the celestial capital of the Immortal Emperor, not a god, but an immortal—the emperor of immortals.
What kind of sect would dare to call itself Little Jade Capital?
"We live in the sacred land of Little Jade Capital. There aren't many people—mostly old men and women. There are only a handful my age."
Warren Moran said, "Someone came visiting, found my master, and asked him to confront the Preceptor, accusing him of walking a demonic path and destroying the sects of the world. My master was reluctant, but couldn't refuse, so he brought me out for a look around. The sects are nearly all gone now—the Preceptor's conduct is no different from a demon."
Lina the Spirit Fox was perplexed. "Aren't we the righteous side? I think the Preceptor acts justly!"
Warren Moran shook his head. "You're all imperial lapdogs, the Preceptor's claws—your reputation is infamous."
Quinn was baffled. In his eyes, the Preceptor's actions were righteous, full of integrity. Everything he'd done seemed normal, just and upright.
How could it all look like demonic behavior to others?
And how had they, students of the Imperial Academy, become infamous imperial lapdogs and claws of the Preceptor?
"Maybe right and wrong are just a matter of perspective," Quinn thought to himself.
Lina asked, "Moran, if your master dies, what will you do?"
Warren Moran was brimming with confidence. He shook his head. "No one can kill my master. His skills..."
Just then, the Imperial Preceptor walked over and said to Warren Moran, "Go collect his corpse. Before he died, he said he'd passed all his skills to you. Good—make sure you master them."
Warren Moran froze, then suddenly leapt off the stag and ran toward the falls. Moments later, his wailing cries echoed up from below.
"Little Jade Capital is remarkable. I've heard of it before—it's connected to the heavens."
The Imperial Preceptor looked at Quinn. "Up ahead is Licheng. I'm wounded—you'll need to gather herbs and refine medicine for me."
Quinn nodded. "Your wounds won't be easy to heal—the prescription I write will be complicated."
Author's note: Zhai Zhu has a cold, sore throat, and feels dizzy. Not sure if there'll be a third update today, but I'll do my best.