Imperial Capital, Imperial Preceptor's Manor.
The registrar hurried in to report, "Imperial Preceptor, there's strange activity in Yong Province—senior members of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon are gathering there, countless bandit chiefs among them. Suddenly, the City Lord's Manor in Yong City vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but a blank patch of ground."
The Imperial Preceptor was reading various memorials delivered by the emperor’s men. Without looking up, he replied, “I’m aware.”
The registrar hesitated, saying, “Imperial Preceptor, this is the Cult of the Heavenly Demon—the foremost demonic sect. With this happening now, we must be vigilant…”
The Imperial Preceptor looked up. “Yunyang, do you know who the founder of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon is?”
Registrar Yunyang shook his head.
The Imperial Preceptor’s expression remained calm. “If you knew who he was, you wouldn’t be so flustered. He used to be the Grand Rector of my Imperial Academy.”
Registrar Yunyang was thunderstruck and blurted out, “Him? Imperial Preceptor, the founder of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon was the Grand Rector of the Imperial Academy for so many years—this must be treason! How many officials and generals has he taught over the years? His influence must reach into the court and the military! Imperial Preceptor, this matter cannot be ignored—our army may already be filled with his people!”
The Imperial Preceptor chuckled softly and shook his head. “You’re overthinking it. If every scholar taught by the Heavenly Demon Patriarch were considered a cultist, then shouldn’t I be executed as well?”
He stood up and began pacing, his gaze sharp. “Back when I traveled the realm, learning from every sect, I saw that each faction jealously guarded its own ways, stifling progress in divine arts and dao techniques. So I visited them, hoping to break down these barriers. The very first person I met was the Heavenly Demon Patriarch. He was the first to set aside sect divisions and teach me wholeheartedly, and he was the one who pointed me toward a brighter path.”
A look of deep respect appeared in his eyes. “After that, he personally recommended me, giving me a letter to take to the Dao Lord of Dao Gate. Because of that letter, the Dao Lord saw me differently and granted me access to the Dao Sword Fourteen Chapters. He also sent me to Great Thunderclap Temple, where I met the World-Honored One and received his teachings. Although he never revealed his true identity, he couldn’t hide it from me—and he never really tried.”
Registrar Yunyang was utterly shaken.
The Imperial Preceptor said, “I asked him to come out of seclusion and oversee the Imperial Academy for me. Why? Not because of his abilities, not because he was the founder of the Cult of the Heavenly Demon, but because of his character. He’s the first person I’ve ever met with such broad-mindedness and purity—only he was fit to lead the Academy! Now he’s gone, likely busy with matters concerning the next generation of cult leaders.”
“The next cult leader?”
Registrar Yunyang steadied himself. “The Cult of the Heavenly Demon has gone over forty years without a leader, and now they’ve chosen one? Imperial Preceptor, this is a serious matter. Should we report it to the emperor?”
The Imperial Preceptor said, “Write a memorial and present it to the emperor. As for the founder’s origins, there’s no need to mention them.”
Registrar Yunyang accepted the order, then added, “There’s news from the Imperial Academy—the emperor has decreed that Leonard Goodwin will succeed as Grand Rector.”
“Understood.”
The Imperial Preceptor waved his hand. “My influence is too great; it’s only natural the emperor is wary, otherwise I’d be uneasy myself. But Leonard Goodwin’s talent and virtue aren’t enough for the post of Grand Rector—he’s fit to be the Crown Prince’s tutor, but as Grand Rector, he’s far from qualified. Still, this isn’t something I can say much about.”
Registrar Yunyang pondered, then asked, “With the Cult of the Heavenly Demon choosing a new leader, how should we respond?”
The old monk accepted the decree and said, "There is one more thing—the Horse King God has emerged from the Great Ruins." With that, he turned and descended the mountain.
The old World-Honored One was momentarily taken aback.
On Sacred Descent Mountain, Quinn heard all sorts of mysterious, profound sounds at his ears—strange and marvelous. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and he found himself as a nameless passerby, walking through the mountains, with the sound of chopping wood echoing from afar.
He followed the sound and walked forward, seeing the Woodcutter Sage chopping wood beneath a pine-cypress. The sage's axe left unfathomable traces with each stroke, landing on the tree again and again. Quinn was mesmerized, feeling as if he could grasp some deep truth from it.
He stood transfixed, watching the Woodcutter Sage’s axe. Each blow left a deep mark in the pine-cypress, but as the axe lifted, the wound instantly healed, leaving no trace behind.
Every stroke of the woodcutter’s axe left him with a different impression.
"Passerby, you've watched here for so long—what have you seen?"
The Woodcutter Sage put away his axe and looked back at him, saying, "Your family long ago turned to bones buried in yellow earth. Your children have grown older than you. Your grandchildren are now married with children of their own. Passerby, you have watched here for a hundred years."
...
"Please, teacher, instruct me."
...
Quinn saw the Woodcutter Sage sit on the stone beneath the pine-cypress and begin to preach the dao to him.
He listened, utterly entranced, as countless marvelous principles poured forth. Standing by the stone, he listened for decades, and within this wondrous sermon, the Grand Unification Art of the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra was imparted to him.
The Woodcutter Sage stretched out his hand, touched the crown of Quinn’s head, and Quinn opened his eyes to see Granny Sue staggering backward.
He was still on Sacred Descent Mountain, still in the present, never having truly returned to the past.
This was the Crown-Sealing Initiation of the previous Cult Master, imprinting the Founding Patriarch’s ancient experience onto the next generation—passed down, generation after generation, so the flame never dies.
Quinn sat dazed on the Sage’s Rock, thinking, 'A saint strokes my crown; with tied-up hair I receive long life.' The Grand Unification Art of the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra has never been written down or diagrammed—it can only be passed from Cult Master to Cult Master by Crown-Sealing Initiation.
His mind was now filled with countless complex messages, not yet formed into a system.
This Crown-Sealing Initiation did not directly raise his cultivation, but brought him so much that he still needed to sort and comprehend it all.
Only now did he understand why the Founding Patriarch said the Grand Unification Art could only be transmitted from Cult Master to Cult Master.
It was because the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra never truly had a fixed Grand Unification Art!
Or rather, the Grand Unification Art had never been set in stone.
The Grand Unification Art of the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra was hidden within the Woodcutter Sage’s stone-side sermon, but each generation of Cult Master had to comprehend it for themselves—how much they understood, what they created, depended on their own insight, chosen path, talent, and fortune.
It could be said that every Holy Cult Master derived a different Grand Unification Art—some ideas might overlap, but each one’s cultivation was absolutely unique!
Three hundred sixty Cult Masters would yield three hundred sixty methods; ten thousand Cult Masters, ten thousand methods.
Quinn’s first thought was: What a trap.
A total trap—the legendary Grand Unification Art couldn’t be used directly; you had to comprehend it yourself.
His second thought was: This is the real transmission of the dao and teaching the craft—this is what it means to be a saintly teacher.
What you comprehend is your own; what you merely learn belongs to someone else. The Holy Cult’s transmission surpasses even the great sects and the Imperial Academy.
The youthful Patriarch exhaled in relief, looked to Granny Sue, and from her mouth came Tyson Li’s rough voice: “Teacher, I am no longer the Holy Cult Master. This is my chance to shatter my heart-devil. Please do not stop me!”