I Studied Abroad in the Modern Times

Vol 2 Chapter 79: Cultivation

"Brother Yan, Jiushan Sect won’t be getting into that business—at least not for now," Zheng Fa flatly rejected Yan Wushuang’s disturbing proposal.

The reason was simple.

Zheng Fa wasn’t trying to mass-produce spirit talismans—his goal was to kill as many Demonic Sect disciples as possible.

Capturing them alive and draining their blood would yield more resources, sure—but that would mean fewer dead Demonic Sect members.

It completely went against his objective.

Besides, there were still far too many Demonic Sect disciples. They weren’t anywhere close to the point where artificial farming was necessary…

According to Lin Bufan, the Great Freedom Demonic Sect alone had a population in the hundreds of millions. If their cultivator ratio matched that of the Xuanyi Realm, there had to be at least tens of thousands of them.

And if the Demon Ancestor’s bloodline had unique properties, the number might be even higher.

But for now? Not a chance.

The spirit talisman market wasn’t limitless, and even with the bounty system in place, Martial Uncle Pang was already worried about talisman prices dropping.

Talisman imprints still required talisman paper and spiritual ink—no matter how much blood they had, it wouldn’t change that.

Hearing Zheng Fa’s refusal, Yan Wushuang looked a little disappointed. He thought for a moment, then added, "I’ll sell them cheap."

"…"

This guy was really desperate for money.

"Brother Yan, it’s just not possible. If Jiushan Sect suddenly started stockpiling Demonic Sect disciples, we wouldn’t be able to do anything else," Zheng Fa sighed.

Even farming required resources.

More importantly, this would earn them far more hatred from the Demonic Sect than simply buying blood. Martial Uncle Pang would probably rather retire than dare attempt such a thing.

Yan Wushuang nodded as if he understood.

Then he asked, "So the original bounty is still valid?"

"Of course."

As Zheng Fa watched Yan Wushuang leave, he turned back and noticed Lin Bufan looking uneasy.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

"Young Master, I came to you willingly—I never even asked for spirit stones," Lin Bufan suddenly said. "Why don’t you just have Li Nuo draw more blood from me?"

"…"

Wait, was he seriously trying to compete in this?!

…

Inside the Five Dragons Palace, Martial Uncle Pang—who rarely ever went without his games—wasn’t playing today.

On the surface, he looked indifferent, but his divine sense had been locked onto Zheng Fa’s residence the entire time.

Lately, the spiritual energy fluctuations around Zheng Fa had become increasingly intense—he was on the verge of a breakthrough.

Naturally, Martial Uncle Pang paid close attention.

Now that the bounty was in place, it was bound to provoke the Great Freedom Demonic Sect.

Zheng Fa’s role in all this wasn’t exactly a secret, and Martial Uncle Pang was concerned that someone might try to assassinate him.

Inside Zheng Fa’s room, spiritual energy surged like waves, rising and falling, before condensing into a small vortex.

Martial Uncle Pang smiled slightly.

Zheng Fa’s foundation was solid, his breakthroughs fast yet stable. He was even advancing faster than Junior Martial Sister Zhang back in the day.

Compared to him, the other disciples under Martial Uncle Pang’s tutelage were far behind.

With that in mind, he swept his divine sense over the other disciples in Five Dragons Palace.

A few of them happened to be walking near Zheng Fa’s small residence, and they had clearly noticed the breakthrough phenomenon.

One disciple murmured, "Is Junior Brother Zheng breaking through? He should be at the ninth level of Qi Refining by now, right?"

The others nodded silently, their expressions slightly gloomy.

Martial Uncle Pang found this reaction reassuring.

Even though his disciples weren’t as talented as Zheng Fa, at least they had a sense of shame.

With Zheng Fa around, they might be motivated to push themselves harder in their own cultivation.

But then, one of them broke the silence.

"He’s too slow."

"?"

Martial Uncle Pang’s face twisted in confusion.

Zheng Fa had gone from entry-level to the ninth level of Qi Refining in record time. Even compared to Junior Martial Sister Zhang, he was advancing so quickly that Foundation Establishment was just around the corner.

And yet, his disciple thought Zheng Fa was slow?

To his surprise, the others nodded in agreement, seeming to share the sentiment.

The disciple continued, "Why can’t Junior Brother Zheng just form his Foundation this year, reach the Golden Core stage next year, and then achieve Nascent Soul the year after? He could take over as Sect Master immediately!"

"…"

Martial Uncle Pang’s mouth twitched.

Excuse me, why is your protagonist dream someone else’s story?

And yet, the other disciples sighed in agreement.

"Honestly, he doesn’t even have to reach Nascent Soul the year after," another disciple added thoughtfully. "As soon as he forms his Golden Core, he could probably take charge of the Disciplinary Hall. Then at least, we’d have a legitimate reason to follow him."

The Disciplinary Hall…

Wait a second.

Isn’t that under my jurisdiction?!

As he realized what these disciples were really hoping for, Martial Uncle Pang’s gaze drifted toward Zheng Fa’s residence.

Where the hell are the Great Freedom Demonic Sect’s Nascent Soul cultivators?

Are they all hiding in their turtle shells?!

So damn patient!

…

In Thunder Pool, most of the Great Freedom Demonic Sect disciples hadn’t yet heard about the bounty.

A group of them moved cautiously through the area, sticking close together.

"Senior Brother, how long do we have to keep patrolling?" a young disciple asked the middle-aged man beside him.

The middle-aged man, seemingly the leader of the group, shook his head. "Our secret realm has been exposed. The higher-ups ordered us to be more cautious and prevent any intrusions."

"The higher-ups… they’re that powerful, yet they’re still afraid?"

"No matter how powerful, they’ve been hiding in the secret realm for tens of thousands of years, afraid to show themselves. Without the Holy Ancestor, our sect is no match for the Immortal Sects." The middle-aged man shook his head. "If not for Thunder Pool, the Immortal Sects would’ve already invaded our secret realm—there are probably powerful cultivators watching nearby as we speak."

"If there are powerful cultivators… then isn’t this just sending us to die?"

The young disciple muttered in dissatisfaction.

"What are we? Those high-ranking cultivators wouldn’t even spare us a glance." The middle-aged man chuckled. "Besides, they wouldn’t dare enter Thunder Pool."

"But what about those Immortal Sect disciples?"

Hearing this, the middle-aged man chuckled again, as if amused by the disciple’s naivety.

The disciple frowned, clearly annoyed but not daring to speak further.

Perhaps to break the monotony of patrol duty, the middle-aged man decided to continue explaining. "Do you think the outside world is the same as our secret realm?"

"The outside world has been peaceful for a thousand years. Those Immortal Sect disciples may rule an entire realm, but they’ve grown complacent. Think about our secret realm—every single day is a struggle. Every one of us has crawled out from piles of corpses."

"…Senior Brother, you mean…?" The young disciple’s eyes lit up.

"I’m telling you, aside from differences in cultivation level, those Immortal Sect disciples are all cowards who cherish their lives. None of them can match the warriors of our Holy Sect in battle!" The middle-aged man’s tone carried a hint of pride. "The secret realm’s exposure was unexpected, but I see it as a great opportunity! If we had stayed hidden, that’d be one thing, but now that we’re out in the open, we should show them the might of the Holy Sect!"

"Especially here in Thunder Pool. Those fragile Immortal Sect disciples won’t even dare come here. And if they do, we can take them down and strip them of their spirit stones and treasures!"

"The Immortal Sects—hah! How could they possibly understand the hardships we’ve endured? I’ve heard from our brothers outside that those disciples are mostly soft-hearted and unfamiliar with real combat. They’re no match for us! If not for the Holy Ancestor’s absence, we would’ve conquered the world long ago!"

The other Demonic Sect disciples nodded in agreement, their faces filled with anticipation.

"Be careful!"

Suddenly, one of the disciples gave a warning.

The middle-aged man’s heart tensed. He instinctively leaned back, narrowly dodging a streak of silver light.

"Who’s there?!"

A cold sting spread across his earlobe, and he roared in anger.

"Who?!"

To his surprise, someone in the darkness shouted the same thing back.

"Hey, weren’t we supposed to ambush them together and split the loot evenly?"

He turned toward the voice and saw several pairs of eyes glaring at him like wolves.

The silver light returned to the hand of an old man with a goatee. The man gave an embarrassed chuckle and muttered, "Well, with spirit stones on the line, I got a little excited… My hand slipped."

The middle-aged Demonic Sect disciple felt like he understood the words but not their meaning.

Then, looking around, he realized they were completely surrounded.

Nearly twenty unknown cultivators had them encircled from all directions.

The way they were eyeing him made his skin crawl.

Beside him, the young disciple’s voice trembled. "S-Senior Brother… Didn’t you say the outside world has been peaceful for a thousand years? Why do these guys look fiercer than us?"

The middle-aged man felt the same unsettling feeling.

"Remember! Don’t rush to drain the blood—someone is assigned to that job! We’ll split it evenly later!" one of the surrounding cultivators shouted.

In the next moment, an overwhelming barrage of attacks rained down on them.

…

The middle-aged Demonic Sect disciple was covered in wounds as he desperately fled toward the entrance of the secret realm.

He felt somewhat lucky—although these rogue cultivators were numerous, their cultivation levels varied, and their combat experience was lacking.

That was the only reason he had managed to escape.

But one thing baffled him.

These people didn’t seem particularly interested in killing.

What they were truly obsessed with… was collecting their blood.

Some were even carefully gathering the blood from their wounds!

As he fled, he noticed something else unusual.

At some point, a large number of rogue cultivators had appeared in the area.

Some moved alone, others in groups—but their goal was the same:

Hunting down Great Freedom Demonic Sect disciples!

He had already seen several of his fellow disciples killed.

The realization filled him with dread.

Just as he neared the entrance of the secret realm, a voice came from his flank.

"Oh? Another one?"

A towering figure soared toward him.

What terrified him most was that this person was holding another Demonic Sect disciple by the collar—dragging him like a captured beast.

Panic surged through the middle-aged man’s heart. He activated the Heavenly Demon Shadow Vanishing Technique, attempting to escape.

But in the blink of an eye, the man before him turned into a streak of lightning, cutting off his retreat.

A palm, crackling with thunder, struck him squarely.

Lightning surged through his body, paralyzing him instantly.

He collapsed, completely powerless.

Before he lost consciousness, he heard the man muttering to himself.

"Brother Zheng doesn’t want to farm them, but I can, right?"

"Two should be enough. Drawing blood every other day… They should last a while. If they starve to death, I’ll just catch more."

"Still fresh, too."

The middle-aged disciple’s vision darkened.

At last, he understood why those rogue cultivators had been acting so strangely.

His lips trembled, and in his final moments of awareness, he wanted to scream—

Is the outside world really this brutal?!

Who the hell are the real demons here?!