The Verdant Mountain Sect is the youngest of the Five Great Sects, and yet, its history spanned hundreds of thousands of years. After all, not all sects, like the Heavenly Thunder Sect or Purple Moon Sect, rose to prominence immediately upon emergence.

In the past, a giant mountain, verdant and lush, had existed. Stepping onto its lower slopes felt like entering paradise. Birds chirped, grass swished, and water cascaded. But now, this mountain had stretched and expanded so much that only those with keen perception realized they stood upon a mountain at all. Who would suspect this flat expanse was a mountain? Many important places existed within the sect. Herb gardens produced the finest herbs in the world, a library spanned hundreds of kilometers, caves brimmed with qi, mines yielded abundant spirit stones, and much more. Some were more significant than others, yet all were vital to the sect.

One such place was the Sacred Forest. In this small forest, not a single animal could be found. No birds, butterflies, or any small creatures. Not even an ant ventured here. People might assume this place was so dangerous no animal dared to tread there, and they would be absolutely correct.

In a clearing within the Sacred Forest, a woman sat calmly. She lacked eyes, they had been gouged out. She lacked arms and legs, they had been severed. Her stomach lacked skin and muscle to contain her innards; instead, blood and fluids flowed freely. Yet, the blood and fluids leaking from her body never pooled; the ground greedily absorbed them, turning the soil around her red, and red flowers bloomed there. She also could not move, even a slight shift, like turning her head, was impossible because exactly a hundred black roots, their tips sharp, impaled her neck, lungs, shoulders, digging through several of her organs, and more. They formed an ultimate prison, ensuring their captive could never move even a centimeter. These roots would hold her immobile for as long as the Verdant Mountain Sect endured. This woman's name had been lost to most of the world's history; fewer than ten people knew it, and most of those, pitifully few, were in the Purple Moon Sect.

"A demonic saint, you say?"

"Yes," the woman with no eyes, no limbs, innards exposed, and imprisoned by impaling roots said calmly, as if a free woman without a care.

Anyone entering this clearing would first be drawn to the woman, but the second thing they would notice were several arrays of bells floating around her. Each was the size of a small bird, fitting in a palm, and yet, their presence felt heavy, as if each bell were made of mountain. Exactly fourteen hundred bells floated there, and moments before, the majority had rung so loudly it was like screaming. After the event, the woman spoke to her guardian.

"Tell me more," the guardian said, their voice emerging from the air itself.

The woman knew her report would later reach an elder, and then the immortal. Yet, she sensed the immortal was already paying attention to her words.

"Yes," the woman tried to nod, but the roots impaling her neck prevented it. "The bells clearly spoke of the emergence of a new saint candidate, yet also of a demonic cultivator. With a little probing, they indicated the new candidate is a demonic cultivator. They couldn't decide on a title for this candidate, but 'demonic saint' was repeated often."

"A demonic cultivator becomes a saint candidate," the guardian muttered, "what an absurd thing."

The woman shared the sentiment. Even though a saint could express kindness through violence, a saint was always fundamentally kind. Demonic cultivators, on the other hand, were always cruel. Their path to power usually involved sacrificing others for their own gain. They were opposites, making this development intriguing. What kind of person could be acknowledged by heavens to become a saint, yet tread such a cruel path? Whoever this is must be an interesting individual.

"Any other important information did you glean? For example, their location, gender, or anything that might help us find them?" the guardian asked carefully.

The woman pondered for a moment. Communicating with the bells was not as straightforward as it seemed. It was a rare talent that allowed her to interpret them easily. "The bells spoke of many things. Some were excited, some confused. But, one piece of information might help you find this candidate."

"Which is?"

"Lightning."

The woman was not truly part of the Verdant Mountain Sect. While she worked diligently, her loyalty lay elsewhere. This caused her to withhold some information. The bells had rung with many things, and besides lightning, there were also turtles, shields, and swords. Aside from "demonic saint," some bells also called this candidate "lightning saint" or "turtle saint," although those voices were drowned out by the others. The immortal would likely sense she was holding back information, but unless the immortal wanted to break her, he would not forcefully pry this information. Or, perhaps she underestimated the Verdant Mountain Sect's immortal. Perhaps, like the immortal of the Purple Moon Sect, he had become a studious person, one who enjoyed research and countless experiments. Perhaps the immortal already knew how to extract information from her without her noticing, but she chose to rely on optimism.

"Anything else?"

"No," the woman replied instantly. "There is no more useful information I can give you."

"If you dare to lie to me..."

Hearing the slight threat, she smiled. "What would you do? Relieve me of my torment?" She chuckled. Her new guardian was cute, or, as her husband would have said, a moron.

Her guardian severed their connection, and, as always, she was left alone with her thoughts. The roots around her neck began to tighten, returning to their position to ensure she could not move her mouth again. Usually, she would let them strangle her, but this time, she decided to offer a little resistance, after all, she had decided to leave a small prank for this newest saint candidate.

She spoke in a whisper, so gentle that the flap of a mosquito's wings would be louder, yet it reverberated in the air, as if the world itself shuddered upon hearing her sound. The immortal of the Verdant Mountain Sect would know of this little prank and could destroy it if he wished. But, there was a chance the immortal would allow it. After all, this prank could be used to locate the new candidate. The roots then settled on her neck, ensuring her throat was immobile. Tiny roots began to spread from them, spreading through her body like parasites. Some filled her entire mouth with roots, preventing her from speaking or breathing.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The air carried her message like a slave bearing their master's will, and the content was silly and inconsequential: "Make him slip on a banana peel."

The woman knew she could not underestimate an immortal. His power was unfathomable, his reach almost boundless. But, she was taking a gamble with this little prank. After all, who would want to endure torment like this? She never voiced it, but of course, she wished for death. Every day was agony, a pain so unimaginable that if it were transferred to a mountain for a moment, the mountain would shatter instantly. So, she bet against the immortal of the Verdant Mountain Sect, the youngest immortal, and slipped a tiny thread of fate into her words. A thread so small, so insignificant, that the chance of it unraveling in her favor was almost nil, but a chance nonetheless. A chance so minuscule that the immortals could see it and destroy it easily, but a chance nonetheless.

She wanted to be free, either through death or by escaping this place intact. She left it to the heavens to decide.

***

The Heavenly Thunder Sect had one absolute principle that permeated everything within its territory. This rule reflected the way of life for everyone, whether disciple, elder, or even mortal. This single rule was simple: Winner takes all, and you can do anything to win it. Whether you skinned a child alive to demonstrate your ruthlessness and intimidate your opponent into surrendering, or showered a person with money to buy their loyalty, it was all the same.

Of course, this didn't mean there were no rules. In fact, this principle spawned many social codes. The most prominent was honor. In a world where everyone could and would backstab you given the opportunity, ensuring everyone knew that messing with you would result in immense pain was paramount. Another consequence of this principle was an opportunistic mindset. Since the winner took all, and everything was fair in this game, many people constantly scanned for opportunities and tried to secure them by any means necessary. Even betraying your own mother was acceptable, as long as the benefits were substantial enough.

The truth was, this principle wasn't unique to the Heavenly Thunder Sect. The entire world operated by this principle, whether in the most bustling metropolis or a serene little village, this principle always prevailed. After all, this world was ruled by beings with the most power. Anyone with sufficient power could rise to the top. They were winners, and they took all.

But, the Heavenly Thunder Sect made this principle the very core of their existence, creating a harsh and perilous environment for all disciples. While the sect system of Heavenly Thunder Sect was similar to other sects, the level of competition in this sect compared to, say, the Purple Moon Sect, was on another level. The sect grounds were almost like a war zone, with each disciple trying to worm their way into higher and higher positions.

This didn't mean there was no cooperation. In fact, it was the opposite. Sect disciples soon realized that instead of fighting wars alone, it was better to do so in groups. Hence, factions and politics were rampant. Between elders, core disciples, inner disciples, outer disciples, even within sect kitchens, workshops, and libraries. People who failed to adapt to seeking opportunities would fall to the bottom of the hierarchy, while those adept at navigating this backstabbing environment would rise to the top. Not only that, the sect actively encouraged conflict between disciples, and usually, these conflicts ended with lives lost. A rule existed against killing on sect grounds, but this did not dissuade killing. People simply found more subtle and creative ways to kill, or just straightforwardly dueled to the death under the guise of "practice." While such things could be found in sects all over the world, Heavenly Thunder Sect was an extreme case, where every waking moment was a competition.

All in all, life in the Heavenly Thunder Sect was full of tribulations, hence, they had risen to prominence quickly since their inception. Most people there were strong, ruthless, scheming, or downright terrifying.

One such disciple was Yin Feng. As he walked away from a raised platform where a disciple lay charred beyond recognition, people whispered about him.

"That guy is terrifying!"

"I thought he was just a stupid bum daring to offend Senior Gao, to think he had power like that."

"We need to stay far away from him. He's bad news."

Yin Feng acted as if he didn't hear the whispered comments around him. While some people were entirely focused on him, which he considered smart, others were discussing other matters. The fact he had killed the strongest outer sect disciple would usually be big news, but it was overshadowed by another major story that coincidentally spread while he burned that excuse for a cultivator to a crisp. He didn't mind. Yin Feng wanted this to be an example to others not to mess with him, and even if this bigger news eclipsed his victory over a strong outer sect disciple, sooner or later, word of him would spread.

"Don't be too cocky about your accomplishment," a voice suddenly sounded, yet no one was nearby.

Yin Feng continued walking as if he heard nothing. Then, when he reached the outer part of the sect, where a small house he claimed as his stood, he acknowledged the voice. "I'm not cocky. But what I did still cannot be underestimated. That Gao guy had been a disciple in this sect for years, yet, I killed him. This proves I am better than him."

"That arrogance would be the reason you ended up dead. You had to learn to temper your mind. You cannot jump into fights just because people look at you the wrong way."

"And yet, I know you would do the same as me."

"Do as I say, not as I do," the voice sighed. "And all this over a woman. I would understand if she were so beautiful two empires would fight over her, but that woman isn't even that pretty."

Yin Feng licked his lips, a predatory smile forming on his face. "No, but she is still pretty, and she is a way for me to become an inner disciple."

"Only if you don't die from your foolishness. I reside within you, so everything I know, you know too. That disciple you just killed has an older brother who is an inner disciple. He will come for you and kill you."

"I'll just kill him."

"Easy for you to say, but as I've told you countless times, you are not particularly talented. You're merely lucky. I intend to teach you everything I know. You are my disciple, and I want you to live longer than your current trajectory suggests. It would be utterly pointless for me to waste my effort training you, only for you to die over some woman who isn't even attractive."

Yin Feng reached his house. He entered without fanfare and sat cross-legged in the bare room. "Let's talk about more important matters. What do you think about that big news?" He glanced at a shabby ring on his right thumb.

"About that saint candidate? Yes, he is trouble. You are supposed to be the next saint. Becoming a saint isn't that hard, actually. You don't need to be just. Hell, you can be the cruelest guy in the world and still become a saint, and I've already set your path in that direction. But the number of saints that can exist at the same time is limited. There's never been an instance of seven saints existing simultaneously."

Yin Feng nodded. "In summary, I need to kill him."

"Well, that's the quickest way to resolve this problem, yes."

Yin Feng began to cycle his qi. Arcs of electricity raced around him. He wasn't upset or anything about this supposed saint candidate. But, if someone tried to take what was his, he would reclaim it and punish the little thief a hundredfold. It was all the same to him. No need to be upset or sweat about it. After all, he was better than everyone else. He knew it was a fact. He was destined to rule this world.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.