Quan Lingshu initially thought of doing it for the sake of Princess Sun Yaoqing and Bai Zihan.

However, with how Chong Sheng was resisting, he had become suspicious.

(Could he really be?)

Quan Lingshu didn't care whether a slave had learned Demonic Arts or not, but Princess Sun and Bai Zihan were here—and if it became known that someone under their nose was practicing Demonic Arts, their reputation would collapse.

Before that happened, he had to handle the situation. At the very least, he must show that the Quan Clan had nothing to do with a demonic cultivator.

Chong Sheng's pulse raced.

(If I stay… I'm finished.)

Then—

Without another word, he turned and bolted.

Gasps erupted through the stands.

"He's running away?!"

"Why would he—"

And in that single moment, suspicion turned into conviction.

Quan Lingshu's face twisted with fury as he shot to his feet.

"Stop him!" he roared. "Do not let him escape!"

The Quan Clan immediately reacted to Quan Lingshu's order and moved to stop Chong Sheng, who was heading for the exit.

Whoosh!

He maneuvered and dodged the guards with ease.

Even as the elders moved, Chong Sheng's figure was already blurring at the edge of the stage—darting through the crowd with desperate speed, his body flickering like a shadow.

Still, he didn't use his demonic Qi.

He simply anticipated others' movements and outran them, but obviously that wasn't going to work with more and more guards closing in.

Every muscle burned as he pushed his mortal strength to its limit. He strengthened and increased his speed by channeling all his Qi into his feet.

But in the end, he was just at the Qi Refining Stage, while the guards and pursuers were Foundation Establishment Stage and higher.

Quan Lingshu's voice thundered once more, shaking the great hall.

"Seal the exits! That slave will answer for his crimes!"

The guard did as ordered.

And then—

A furious shriek tore through the chaos.

"You little beast!"

Quan Zhiyang's mother descended from the platform like a storm, her eyes blazing with hatred.

She had been holding herself back since Clan Leader warned her, knowing there would be dire consequences if she disobeyed again.

Who could have expected that, mere minutes later, she would have a chance to avenge her son—and perhaps even be forgiven for her earlier disobedience?

This was a god-given chance.

"I knew it! I knew there was something foul about you!"

Before anyone could react, her palm flared with violent Qi.

A radiant golden light burst forth, gathering into a massive strike that crackled with killing intent.

There was no restraint.

No hesitation.

It was an attack meant to annihilate.

"Die!"

She screamed, thrusting her palm toward Chong Sheng's back.

The pressure crushed the air. The tiles beneath her feet shattered, and the arena roared with wind.

Now, there was no one to protect Chong Sheng.

No Clan Leader to stop her.

The strike fell like divine judgment—unstoppable, absolute.

Chong Sheng's eyes went cold.

If he didn't act, he would die here.

Quan Zhiyang's mother's palm descended like divine wrath, golden light erupting in a blinding flash that swallowed Chong Sheng whole.

The explosion thundered through the arena—stone tiles cracked, shockwaves blasted outward, and several guards were thrown off their feet.

When the light finally faded, silence fell.

Only a scorched crater remained where Chong Sheng had stood.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"That Slave must be dead!"

"As expected of an Elder…"

But then—

A shadow stirred within the rising dust.

A faint, trembling figure slowly straightened.

Chong Sheng stood there—his robe torn, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, yet his gaze cold and unbroken.

"What—how is he still alive?!"

The murmurs turned to shouts of disbelief.

And then they felt it.

From Chong Sheng's body, dark mist began to seep out—thick, sinuous, alive. It coiled around him like a serpent, writhing and pulsing with a will of its own.

His aura shifted—no longer that of a mere Qi Refining cultivator, but something older, heavier, tainted.

"That's—!"

"Demonic Qi!"

The black mist surged, forming a jagged sigil of darkness behind him.

It pulsed once, and the lingering golden energy around the crater shattered apart, swallowed by the roiling shadows.

Chong Sheng lifted his head, blood still on his lip but a cold smile curling there.

"Is that all…?"

And around him, black Qi swirled like smoke from a forbidden flame.

Every eye in the arena was fixed on him.

Fear, disgust, and disbelief rippled through the crowd.

"He really used Demonic Power…"

"No wonder he could defeat Young Master Zhiyang!"

"So that's how he did it—vile tricks and forbidden arts!"

Princess Sun Yaoqing's face paled slightly. Her brows knit together as she turned toward Bai Zihan.

(So… he truly was a demonic cultivator. Did Bai Zihan already know?)

Her gaze lingered on the young master beside her.

Bai Zihan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

His eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he watched Chong Sheng surrounded by terrified gazes—like a spider calmly watching its prey thrash in its own web.

Normally, this would have been the time for the protagonist to lay low, grow, and rebuild his strength.

But with this incident, it was certain—Chong Sheng could no longer stay low-key. From this day forth, he would be hunted to the ends of the earth.

After all, demonic cultivators were universally despised. No empire would shelter one, nor risk being seen as defying the righteous path.

(This should be it for him… at least, if he were a normal person.)

However, Chong Sheng wasn't a normal person—he was a Heaven's Chosen, one with extraordinary luck.

Could he die so easily?

Bai Zihan didn't think so.

Quan Lingshu's shout to seal the exits still echoed through the hall when a hoarse, furious voice cut through the tension like a blade.

The first wave of guards charged forward—Qi blades gleaming, killing intent surging.

"Seize him! Kill that demonic filth!"

Chong Sheng's breathing was ragged, blood still on his lips. Yet his gaze was sharp, cold—no longer the look of a desperate servant, but of a cornered beast.

"Fine…"

He muttered, dark Qi roiling from his palms. "If you all wish for death—then I'll grant it."

He thrust his hand forward.

BOOM!

A black wave exploded outward, swallowing the first few guards whole.

They screamed as the shadowy Qi corroded their defenses, armor sizzling, skin blistering where the demonic energy touched.

"What—what kind of power is this?!"

"Stay back! Don't let that Qi touch you!"

But Chong Sheng didn't stop.

The black mist thickened, wrapping around his arms like serpents. His strikes became faster, wilder—each blow carrying unnatural weight.

The guards' formation broke apart as he darted through them, moving like a phantom, every movement fueled by rage and desperation.

A guard swung down with his saber—only for Chong Sheng's hand to catch the blade mid-swing.

The metal hissed and melted in his grasp.

"Impossible—!"

Before the man could finish, Chong Sheng drove his palm into his chest. The impact sent him flying, blood spraying midair.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

"This strength—he's only at Qi Refining, how can he—?"

"It's the Demonic Art! He's feeding on their Qi!"

Indeed—each time Chong Sheng struck, a faint shimmer of absorbed energy flickered around him.

He was devouring their vitality, patching his wounds as fast as they appeared.

But his breathing was becoming heavier. His meridians screamed in protest; his body was nearing its limit.

Still, he refused to stop.

Two more guards fell, their spiritual cores shattered. The remaining cultivators hesitated—fear battling duty in their eyes.

Then, a roar split the air.

"ENOUGH!"

Three powerful auras descended from above—Quan Clan Elders, each one a Core Condensation expert.

Their pressure crashed down like mountains, suppressing the demonic Qi that had filled the arena.

And with them came the golden radiance of pure fury—

Quan Zhiyang's mother.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild, the grief and hatred twisting her features.

"You dare kill members of my Quan Clan right in front of me?!"

Her hands came together in a seal, golden light blooming around her like a sun.

"Today, you die for what you did to my son."

She struck first.

A pillar of flame surged forth, splitting the air as it tore toward Chong Sheng.

He raised both arms, forming a shield of Demonic Qi—but the clash was brutal. The flame shattered through his defense, slamming into his chest.

BOOM!

The impact hurled him across the hall. He crashed through a stone pillar, coughing up blood, the demonic Qi around him flickering violently.

Before he could even rise, the three Elders attacked together—each unleashing devastating techniques in unison.

The air twisted with power. Swords descended, lightning arcs chained through the ground, and sealing talismans flared in the air to bind him.

Chong Sheng roared, forcing his battered body upright, black veins crawling across his skin as he poured everything into one desperate counterstrike.

"Heavenly Demonic Devour!"

A massive claw of black energy erupted behind him, slashing through two incoming techniques—yet the third tore through, striking him squarely in the chest.

Blood burst from his mouth. The demonic aura faltered, then sputtered like a dying flame.

He fell to one knee.

(This body is so weak!)

His vision blurred, the world spinning. He could hear the triumphant voices of the Quan cultivators closing in.

"It's over."

"His end is here."

"Kill him before he escapes again!"

Quan Zhiyang's mother raised her hand once more, gathering Qi for the finishing blow.

"This is the fate of those who defy the Quan Clan!"

The killing intent in her voice made the crowd flinch.

But even on his knees, battered and bleeding, Chong Sheng lifted his head—his eyes burning with an eerie, defiant gleam.

"Over?"

He coughed, a bitter smile curling his lips.

"No… I'm not done yet."

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