Quinn Shepherd settled comfortably into Blackheaven Palace. Each day, aside from cultivating, he would stroll about at leisure, utterly at ease—as if he felt no wariness toward Lord Darksun or the eerie, terrifying palace at all.
Inside Blackheaven Palace, the lights blazed bright, but stepping outside was to enter utter darkness—as if all light was devoured by the black, making it impossible to see far.
He walked out of Blackheaven Palace several times, and no one stopped him. Yet each time, after only a short while in the darkness, he would turn back on his own, returning with a cheerful smile, looking genuinely delighted.
Only Dragon-Qilin was unhappy. He treated the demoness alchemist making his spirit pills with harsh criticism, complaining that the pills tasted wrong, the flavor was off, the purity of the herbs was lacking, and the refining technique was all wrong—finding fault with everything.
The demoness was scolded to tears more than ten times, until finally she couldn’t bear it anymore and ran off sobbing, covering her face.
"Cult Master, this girl’s got a bad temper."
Dragon-Qilin munched on spirit pills and said to Quinn, "She’ll try anything, but she can’t do anything right—not even pill refining."
Quinn picked up a spirit pill, tasted it, and nodded, "Her pill-making technique is off, the herbs aren’t purified, and there are small mistakes with the timing, temperature, and proportions. That’s why the taste, flavor, and effects are all slightly off."
Dragon-Qilin felt a sense of camaraderie and said, "She messed up, and still has the nerve to cry—shameless."
Just then, a voice rang out from outside, angrily shouting, "Who dares bully my cousin? Don’t cry, cousin—I’ll beat him to death for you!"
Quinn chuckled, "Here comes trouble."
Dragon-Qilin was puzzled. "Cult Master, what trouble?"
The demoness who’d been crying brought a demon youth with her. Pointing at Quinn, she sobbed, "It’s him!"
The demon youth glared at Quinn and sneered, "You bullied my cousin? Even if you’re a guest of my master, Lord Darksun, I won’t let this slide. You have to answer for this today!"
Quinn ignored him and explained to Dragon-Qilin, "Lord Darksun hasn’t made any moves these past few days. He left me here in Blackheaven Palace to set up another wager, but he really isn’t confident he can win—even with his personally trained disciples, he isn’t sure they can beat me. So he needs to stir things up."
Dragon-Qilin was still confused.
Quinn smiled, "If his disciples come to challenge me on their own, that fight doesn’t count toward the wager. Even if his disciple dies by my hand, it doesn’t mean he loses our bet. Meanwhile, his other disciples can watch the battle and secretly study my Dao and divine arts, looking for ways to counter me."
Dragon-Qilin suddenly understood, and the demon youth who’d charged in also felt a chill in his heart.
Dragon-Qilin glanced at the youth and asked, "So, Cult Master, what happens to the first of Lord Darksun’s disciples who comes out to stir up trouble?"
Quinn sighed, "He’s being pushed out by his fellow disciples to die."
The demon youth’s face changed drastically, and he clenched his fists tightly.
Quinn said unhurriedly, "After he dies, his fellow disciples will see a few of my tricks, study them, and then send out a second person to die—using whatever methods they’ve devised to deal with me."
Dragon-Qilin asked curiously, "Cult Master, and then?"
Quinn replied leisurely, "Then the second person will die—easily, cleanly—falling into a flaw I deliberately left when killing the first challenger. I’ll leave a weakness on purpose, they’ll focus their research on it, and so the second one will be finished just as quickly."
The demon youth’s face turned pale, his eyes lost, and he glanced helplessly back, unsure whether he should keep provoking Quinn as planned.
Dragon-Qilin munched on spirit pills and asked, "So, Cult Master, will you really kill Lord Darksun’s disciples here in Blackheaven Palace?"
"Some people always imagine me as too merciful—think I’m just the Cult Master of the Heavenly Saint Cult, but they don’t realize Heavenly Saint Cult is also the Heavenly Demon Cult."
Quinn gave a half-smile. "I sent a war letter to the Northern Heavens. To crack it, I don’t know how many of their practitioners died. Don’t you think Lord Darksun’s disciples know that? So many died because of my war letter—what’s a few more, killed by my own hand? Does that really make me the villain here?"
The demon youth’s face turned ashen. He looked at Quinn as if staring at a terrifying demon king who devoured people.
He’d come in full of bluster, but now all his fighting spirit was gone.
To become one of Lord Darksun’s disciples, you had to be picked from among the best youths of the Northern Heavens—chosen after countless life-and-death trials, standing atop the corpses of your peers to earn Lord Darksun’s favor.
That’s why every one of Lord Darksun’s disciples was stronger than Raine Gale!
They were all extraordinary, all had confidence and pride.
But now, this demon youth’s pride and confidence had vanished, leaving only fear, confusion, and helplessness.
He felt like a newborn lamb, and Quinn Shepherd the savage black dragon eyeing him in the dark—thunder crashing, rain pouring, chilling him to the bone.
At any moment, he might become the dragon’s appetizer!
Quinn said gently, "Senior brother, weren’t you going to stand up for her?"
The demon youth’s face twisted and his body trembled.
Quinn glanced at him. "You won’t fight, but you won’t back down either. You’re putting me in a tough spot."
Sweat poured off the demon youth like rain. Suddenly, he looked up, gritted his teeth, and said, "If I back down, my dao-heart is finished. My teacher, Lord Darksun, will expel me. I’ll never be able to hold my head up in the Northern Heavens. My whole life will be ruined!"