The Steward Demonic Emperor
chapter-1183

Proofreader: Papatonks

“T-that’s because of the art?” Luo Yunchang gasped.

Zhuo Fan grinned, “Yep, this is where those absorbing constantly without moderation get. Young miss, have another look at the piles of bones. He sucked them dry, so much so that the hatred and death festered beneath his skin so much that his body couldn’t take it. He’s a Spirit King, but with a withered look, he’s getting very close to keeling over. The only thing prolonging his miserable existence is doing it over and over again, which also further amplifies the problem.

“To survive, he has to absorb many more people, leading to more dangerous absorption. This vicious cycle would invoke the wrath of all cultivators. There’s no Emperor out there who would take such an unnecessary risk. It’s like committing social suicide, which is why he would be hated like that patriarch, Liao Tianding in the past.”

“How do you know so much…” The old man looked at Zhuo Fan like he was a monster.

Luo Yunchang’s brow shook, “Liao Tianding?”

“An even more suicidal fool.”

Zhuo Fan smirked, his face grave, “That guy wasn’t as subtle as his grandson here in avoiding genocide. He had no qualms about killing scores of people. He was a demon among demons, the first ever to be called a Demon King. City after city turned into ghost towns with their only residents being piles of bones. His frozen cultivation also jumped from Spirit King all the way to Saint, just short of becoming a Sovereign. All he missed was a Sovereign path, otherwise he would have lived forever.

“Too bad he first became a public enemy, inciting the wrath of the entire Sacred Domain’s dark and white factions. For the first time ever, they joined hands in destroying him. It ended with his death somewhere around Scarlet Lightning Valley, here in fact. His clansmen then vanished into thin air, never to be found. Not that it mattered since this art was something only he knew and it died with him. But by the looks of things, he had passed it on. That’s why you’re all so sneaky in setting up a town here.”

The old man’s face twitched hard, overwhelmed at having his secrets spilled. He pointed a shaky finger at him, stammering, “W-who the hell are you? How do you know a ten thousand-year long secret?”

“Ten thousand years?”

Zhuo Fan mused, “That bastard got me killed around five thousand years after the great battle. I see, so that means that my rebirth through the Nine Serenities Secret Records took me five thousand years.”

The old man roared at having received no answer, “W-what are you? Why do you know…”

“Because I was there as well!” Zhuo Fan’s eyes shone with malice.

The old man gave him a baffling look, “No, impossible, just how old are you? How could a mere Bone Tempering cultivator have been in that battle?”

“Geezer, I have to say, your patriarch was insufferably arrogant and died. While you have learned from his lesson and kept your head down. It’s a real shame how much you’ve fallen. You are now in the presence of the head of the Eight Emperors in…”

“You’re Sword Emperor Ao Changtian?” The old man cried out.

Zhuo Fan’s face sank, “Since when did that old coot take the throne? I am Demonic Emperor…”

“Demonic Emperor Zhao Chen?” The old man didn’t know restraint, crying over and over and cutting him off.

Zhuo Fan gnashed his teeth, “Geriatric fool, are you even listening? In the battle to hunt Liao Tianding down, that rotten punk hadn’t even been born yet. I’m the head of the Eight Emperors of that time!”

“Uh, has there ever been a Demonic Emperor as the head of the Eight Emperors?” The old man blinked, looking utterly lost.

Zhuo Fan’s face twitched and sighed, “Old man, how old are you?”

“Over three thousand years.”

“I see, pipsqueak, you truly deserve getting killed.” Zhuo Fan laughed, “You’ve only come two thousand years later and you’ve already forgotten my name? That’s a death sentence right there. Then again, you ought to die regardless. Being so obscure, so withdrawn from society, with no friends or relatives in the world, no one would even notice your passing. You’re practically made to die. That first reason only made it more obvious.”

Everyone sank in confusion.

Zhuo Fan snickered, “I’m saying that I’m copying your style and killing all the insignificant targets to replace them. From now on, Joy Town will be the Luo clan’s and you will sink into obscurity.”

“What?”

They all stared blankly, then cracked up.

“Ha-ha-ha, take our town? Who do you think you are shouting such idiotic dreams as a Bone Tempering cultivator?”

“Just because you know some old events, you think you can play the senior to intimidate us? Can’t you even tell your stage? A Bone Tempering cultivator gets two centuries at best. Who are you trying to fool by saying you were there, ten thousand years ago?”

“He-he-he, brat, you almost had me with your big talk, but you’re now in my trap and I will suck you dry. Yet you still have the nerve to say you’d take Joy Town from us? What a joke!”

…

Everyone laughed, looking at Zhuo Fan with nothing but scorn.

[No matter how much of a smooth talker you are, you should never say such idiotic things. Even calling yourself some long lost third cousin of an Emperor’s second sister would’ve been smarter if you wanted to live.]

[At least that would intimidate us enough to get you released.]

[But that brash talk? No one’s going to buy that obvious lie…]

Bam!

A sudden explosion rang in their ears even as they laughed, cutting it short soon after.

The Soul Devouring Array had just gone from pristine to total destruction in just a moment. In its place were black flames licking at the edges.

Ugh!

Their smiles got frozen on their faces and their laughter got stuck in their throats. Their eyes were the only things betraying the fear and shock they felt inside.

Zhuo Fan’s left eye flared with the black thunderflame, his smile insufferable, “Sorry, but I’m no comedian. I only know how to follow through with what I say. You’re doomed!”

Zhuo Fan flicked his hand and a black wave shot into the sky, followed by a loud explosion and a shower of black flames.

Hu~

Terrible energies drew near the town folk, enclosing them and the sinister town beneath the joyful facade.

“A-a Spirit King!”

The old man gasped, his mouth trembling, “One… three… twenty! How in the hell did so many of them come here? Who have we messed with?”

Sensing all those raging energy signatures, and none of them on his side, the old man was in despair, with the other struck with dread.

Just what Emperor had they irked to send so many Spirit Kings to their little town?

[Mommy, who the hell are they? Is this an entrapment?]

The old man was a wreck inside, howling, “Everyone run! We can’t take them, just run…”

A boom cut him off and the sky above roiled with black flames. Fang Ding and all other town folk got reduced to ashes.

The old man shook all over, turning a stiff head at Zhuo Fan, to see him smirking, “Flooding the space with your power and controlling it… You’re a Spirit King as well?”

“You got that right!”

Zhuo Fan grinned, raising his hand and shouting, “Die!”

The old man gnashed his teeth, roaring, “I’m a peak Spirit King! You won’t kill me by being in the same stage as me, Thousand Soul Possession!”

Wraiths howled and the air grew cold as they flouted into existence. Despite having the space under his control, the wraiths still appeared.

They didn’t get to survive for long, as the black flames burned them down to nothing a second later.

The old man was dumbstruck.

[What the hell is this? I’m at peak Sword King Stage so why on earth are my actions so damn useless?]

“Geezer, you may be higher in cultivation than me, but I trump you in quality, ha-ha-ha…” Zhuo Fan grasped and black flames howled on the old man’s side, slamming into him and covering him completely.

“Agh~!”

His mournful cries filled with pain and horror rent the sky as he twisted in futile attempt at survival. His eyes, however, contained nothing but confusion as he roared in defiance, “J-just who the hell are you?”

“The head of the Eight Emperors five thousand years ago, Demonic Emperor Zhuo Yifan!”

Zhuo Fan’s eyes shone, “Now the Luo clan’s steward, Zhuo Fan. You should be honored for dying at my hand.”

“Aah!”

With one last cry, whether in regret and defiance, or maybe even fear, the old man breathed his last, and his existence burned from this world…