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For many a year, the Yuan Gui sect members kept their whereabouts a secret, concealing their territory with the use of powerful enchantments, and only allowing petty fools to venture forth into their hidden residence, either to enslave them or merely for the sake of some malicious entertainment.

Although the exterior was that of a decrepit coal mine, underneath this facade was an entire, majestic city, built upon the backs of slaves and fortified with their long suffering bones.

The demonic cultivators were known for their cruelty, but more so for their incomparable power. They had grown so formidable that only a few heroes on this continent would have dared face them in battle.

With such impressive prowess as cultivators, the select members of the Yuan Gui sect had naturally thought themselves to be at the top of the food chain, with none in sight who could surpass them.

This arrogant mindset had caused them to be woefully unprepared for their imminent downfall.

On this stifling night, a lackey in charge of guard duty dashed through the empty charcoal streets, hurrying to reach his master’s manor.

He crossed through the spiked iron fence and barged into the manor’s courtyard. A row of seated slaves rattled the chains latched onto their necks as they were roused from their fretful sleep.

The slaves had remained in the same position for days, huddling together in their own filth. After several years of living in the darkness and being deprived of proper nutrition, they had long since lost their eyesight, hair, and teeth. By now, they barely resembled any human appearance and seemed more like skeletons covered in putrid flesh.

The lackey wrinkled his nose in disgust from the sight and stench of the dying slaves, flapping his sleeve in a huff while covering his nose. He took care to pass by without making any contact with the living trash.

This was a young man who had been bestowed the honour of acceptance into Yuan Gui sect as a potential demonic cultivator. Traditionally, if he served at his master’s side for twenty years, he would be given a cultivation manual and would finally be able to surpass his spiritual bottleneck, ascending from the qi condensation stage.

He considered himself lucky to be wielding a sole fire attribute. Possessing an offensive attribute, let alone a single one, was considered a great blessing for people in this world.

Another stroke of luck was that his father had, once upon a time, acquainted himself with the ancient demonic cultivator, Sheng Jing Wu. Thus, with both his natural aptitude and connections, he had managed to make himself an upcoming disciple in one of the most powerful cultivation sects in all of the realm.

The lackey didn’t mind his servitude, he knew that if he kept working hard, his prospects would be boundless, and besides, it’s not like there was much for him to do in the sect anyhow. Most nights he just lazed about.

Except for now, that is.

He ran to the main halls, furiously knocking on the towering doors. "Master! Master! We are besieged by a devil!"