The Emergence of Demonic Power

Whoosh!

Yang Fan staggered slightly, feeling a surge of powerful wind rushing toward him. Hu Banxian's eyes gleamed with murderous intent, his face twisted into a savage snarl. With veins bulging on his arm, he unleashed the second blow, harnessing the residual force of the Speed Talisman.

Yang Fan's hand, injured in the earlier clash, had its tiger's mouth torn open and was numb from the shock. But in that instant, streams of cool energy surged from every inch of his arm's skin, blood, and muscles.

A miracle unfolded once again.

In the span of a single breath, the injury in his arm completely healed. Yet before he could react further, Hu Banxian's devastating strike was already upon him.

Danger descended abruptly!

If his skull were to be shattered by this blow, no matter how confident Yang Fan was in his body's resilience, he dared not take such a reckless risk.

*Bang!*

Yang Fan's other hand shot up, meeting Hu Banxian's crushing palm head-on. He took a step back, his arm slightly damaged from the impact. 

*Whoosh!*

Hu Banxian's face contorted with manic fury, like a rabid beast. He pressed his advantage, refusing to give Yang Fan any opening to summon his spiritual weapon. He knew that the moment Yang Fan called forth his weapon, his own death was inevitable.

Thus, at this critical moment, he bet his entire life's cultivation, staking it all on a desperate, all-out assault.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

In a wild frenzy, Hu Banxian unleashed a flurry of attacks, his strikes relentless and powerful. 

Yang Fan's face betrayed a mocking sneer. In truth, after dodging the first two blows, he had already escaped the worst of the danger. With his extraordinary endurance, it was only a matter of time before Hu Banxian wore himself out.

Now, it was a battle of close-quarter combat between two mid-stage Qi Refining cultivators. Their attacks were swift and fierce, leaving no room for spells or magical tools.

As time passed, Hu Banxian's alarm grew. He had been certain that his earlier counterattack had left Yang Fan's arms crippled, the tiger's mouth shattered. Yet despite this, Yang Fan fought back without faltering, even seeming to hold something in reserve.

What truly terrified him was Yang Fan's inexhaustible energy. Despite his century-long cultivation, even against late-stage Qi Refining cultivators, Hu Banxian had always held his own. Yet no matter how he pressed Yang Fan, his opponent easily fended him off, as though his body contained an endless well of spiritual power.

"This can't go on!" Yang Fan realized. "Though I hold the upper hand, Hu Banxian's deep reservoir of power, honed over decades, will make it difficult to defeat him quickly. If this drags on, we'll surely alert the townsfolk of Wuliu."

Though Yang Fan had the advantage, he had his own concerns. Their battle was too loud and prolonged—it had to end swiftly.

Suddenly, a cold, steely glint appeared in Yang Fan's eyes. A faint but ominous power began to stir within him.

Sensing something was amiss, Hu Banxian's heart raced in alarm. He caught a fleeting glimpse of an eerie black glow passing through Yang Fan's eyes, sending a shudder down his spine.

In an instant, Yang Fan's aura shifted drastically. The once gentle and restrained energy vanished, replaced by a domineering and unyielding demonic force that seemed to disdain all existence.

*Boom!*

Yang Fan launched a punch, the air around it trembling with a peculiar, unnerving vibration. A faint black light emanated from his fist, accompanied by a low "pop."

*Crash!*

When Yang Fan's fist collided with Hu Banxian's hand, the sound of bones shattering echoed through the air.

*Crack!*

Hu Banxian's spirit-infused hand was pierced through, blood spraying out as his bones shattered inch by inch. The dark energy that accompanied the punch surged into his arm, attempting to invade his internal organs.

"D-demonic… arts…" Hu Banxian stammered in agony, stumbling backward, his eyes bloodshot with disbelief as he stared at Yang Fan. "You're a demon cultivator…"

"You know too much…" Yang Fan's face remained cold as he struck again, shattering the faint blue shield that still clung weakly to Hu Banxian's body. The overpowering black demonic energy surged through him, carrying a force strong enough to pierce through stone and iron. It tore Hu Banxian's body apart, the demonic energy ravaging his organs, snuffing out all traces of life.

In the span of just a few breaths, Hu Banxian's body was torn to shreds, a gruesome sight to behold.

Yang Fan wasted no time, taking Hu Banxian's storage pouch before retrieving a specially made jade bottle from his own. A drop of milky-white liquid fell onto the remains.

*Sizzle~*

A black smoke rose from the body, which dissolved at a speed visible to the naked eye. The liquid was known as Corpse Dissolving Water, a substance highly valued in the cultivation world. Even the bones and flesh of a cultivator could be quickly dissolved by it.

This item had been a gift from his younger brother, Yang Lei. Yang Fan suspected it might have been left behind by their father, as such a valuable tool was not something Yang Lei would have previously possessed.

After dealing with Hu Banxian's remains, Yang Fan felt the surging, violent demonic energy swirling within him. His dantian was now filled with a dark, profound demonic energy, like an abyss of blackness.

His expression grew solemn as he swiftly withdrew the demonic aura, using the "Withered Wood Art" to return his cultivation to the early Qi Refining stage.

However, the lingering traces of the demonic energy that still haunted the space sent shivers down any onlooker's spine, invoking a fear that no spirit could withstand.

Amidst it all, Yang Fan felt a strange, faint connection stir within him, one that left him deeply unsettled.

Yang Fan could hardly believe the power of the demonic technique he practiced. It was a force so potent that slaying a fellow cultivator at the same stage felt like a trivial matter.

This was undoubtedly an ancient and terrifying demonic art—one he had never heard of before.

Since the night he had inadvertently stepped onto the demonic path, Yang Fan had advanced at an astonishing pace, secretly practicing the demonic arts each night.

Remarkably, he had faced no bottlenecks, advancing rapidly to the peak of the mid-stage Qi Refining realm. Only now had he encountered an obstacle.

Yet Yang Fan couldn't shake the strange feeling that if he could advance to the late stage of Qi Refining with the "Xianhong Technique," his demonic cultivation would advance in parallel.

If he reached the Core Formation stage or even the Nascent Soul stage, this demonic art might ascend unhindered as well.

The thought bloomed in his mind, filling him with excitement.

Perhaps, this was yet another hidden secret within the heaven-defying auxiliary technique, the "Xianhong Technique."

Still, he couldn't be completely certain and needed further confirmation.

…

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away from Yangjia Fort and Wuliu Town, in a remote, shadowy location, a colossal black mountain loomed. Shrouded in mist, it cast its shadow across miles of the surrounding land, overlooking an abyss of endless darkness. The very air reeked of a sinister, chilling aura. Every tree, brick, stone, and blade of grass carried an otherworldly presence.

At the heart of this region, surrounded by towering peaks that stretched hundreds of feet into the sky, a vast area lay blanketed in an oppressive demonic atmosphere.

Within a dimly lit, dark-golden hall nestled within the black mountain, an imposing figure draped in a black robe stood with his hands behind his back. His robes swayed, though no wind stirred. His mere presence cast a looming shadow, as if he were an invincible force.

His pitch-black eyes seemed to contain a bottomless void. As his gaze flickered, a deep light flashed within them, chilling the air around him.

"Could it be the Magic of Transformation? Or merely a trick of the senses…" the black-robed elder muttered softly, raising his hand. A ball of shadowy fire flickered into existence above his palm, its core pulsating with a mysterious, translucent black glow. Though faint, it seemed capable of swallowing even the sun's radiance.

"If it truly is, then should I find one with Golden Core-level cultivation, using them as a furnace, I could complete my 'Three Nether Demonic Flames.' By then, dominating the Yuyang region and the 'Thirteen Kingdoms of North Qin' would be no more than child's play."