Chapter 73: Ye Fan’s Strategy To Gain Prestige
The wooden door slammed shut with a resounding thud, the echo bouncing off the silent walls like a taunting laugh. Ye Fan’s face contorted in fury, veins bulging in his forehead.
The mocking laughter of the Stone Mountain Sect disciples still echoed in his ears.
He couldn’t even face Zeng Liuli and Shi Feiyan’s groups anymore. The mere thought of their questioning eyes and potential amusement sent a fresh wave of heat to his cheeks. He was supposed to be the revered inner disciple of the Azure Peak Sect, not a figure of ridicule.
But as the initial shock wore off, a different emotion began to simmer beneath the surface – rage. A cold, calculating rage that flickered in his eyes like a malevolent flame. They didn’t believe him? Fine. He’d show them a demon, alright.
A chilling smile crept across his face as a plan began to take shape. There was something no one knew, a secret hidden in the depths of his cultivation. He practiced a forbidden art, a demonic body cultivation technique. This dark art allowed him to manipulate demonic energy, to cloak himself in its essence whenever necessary. The best part? His control was so refined that it went completely undetected by most cultivators.
“If they won’t believe me,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom, “I’ll give them a real demonic presence to worry about.”
The plan was simple, yet cruel. He would orchestrate an attack, a carefully crafted illusion of demonic threat. He would target a group of unsuspecting disciples, unleash his demonic aura with pinpoint control, and leave a trail of destruction for the Stone Mountain Sect to discover. The potent demonic energy would be undeniable proof, leaving no room for doubt or further mockery.
He waited until nightfall, the darkness being a perfect shroud for his sinister intentions. He cloaked himself in dark robes while wearing completely plain black mask.
With silent steps, he followed the trail leading to the designated resource gathering location. He spotted them huddled around a crackling fire, their laughter ringing through the cool night air. Five figures, carefree and oblivious to the predator stalking them.
A surge of dark energy filled his hand, coalescing into a wickedly barbed spear. This wasn’t about killing them, at least not all of them. He needed witnesses, a story to be told. Fear, not death, would be his weapon.
He let out a bloodcurdling roar, the sound echoing through the trees, punctuated by the snap of twigs as he charged. The firelight danced in their terrified eyes as they scrambled to their feet, weapons drawn but trembling.
“Demon!” one of them shrieked, his voice cracking with fear.
Ye Fan launched into his attack, a whirlwind of dark energy and manic fury.
He struck swiftly, aiming not to kill, but to wound. He slashed across one disciple’s arm, leaving a burning gash that hissed with demonic energy.
Another disciple stumbled back, screaming in terror as Ye Fan grazed his shoulder, the touch leaving a searing mark.
The remaining two disciples, paralyzed by fear, could only watch in horror.
The battle didn’t take long before it was finished.
Ye Fan, reveling in the power coursing through him, toyed with them for a while before retreating back into the darkness, leaving behind a scene of devastation and terrified whispers of a demonic attack.
He returned to his quarters, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and dark satisfaction. He had done it. He had planted the seed of fear, the proof he craved.
Now he could wait, watch as the news spread like wildfire, turning his humiliation into a tale of bravery against a demonic threat. He could almost hear the murmurs of respect, see the apologies crawling on their faces.
The morning sun painted the Stone Mountain Sect a fiery orange, but the mood within its walls was as dark as a stormy night. News of the previous night’s attack spread like wildfire, igniting panic and fear. Disciples huddled together, whispering about the demon that had descended upon their peers.
The news reached Ye Fan’s quarters faster than a speeding bird. A nervous knock on his door shattered the tense silence of his self-imposed isolation. He opened the door to find a sheepish-looking disciple from Zeng Liuli’s group.
“Greetings, Senior Ye Fan,” the disciple stammered, bowing deeply. “We… we heard about the demonic attack. We were wrong to doubt your words. Please, forgive our arrogance.”
Ye Fan smirked inwardly. His plan was working even faster than he anticipated. He feigned a thoughtful expression, then offered a magnanimous wave of his hand. “Apology accepted. These things happen. It’s important to remain vigilant against demonic threats.”
Throughout the day, his quarters became a revolving door of apologies. Groups from all corners of the sect, including Zeng Liuli’s, Mao Caiwei’s and Shi Feiyan’s, came to express their remorse and plead for his guidance in the face of this demonic threat.
Even the bubbly Zeng Liuli sent a representative to offer her apologies.
However, two glaring absences gnawed at Ye Fan’s satisfaction.
Neither Shi Feiyan nor Mao Caiwei, the two beauties who had particularly mocked him, had come to apologize. He felt a surge of irritation.
Didn’t they understand the power he now wielded, the respect he commanded?
His frustration grew further when he learned the reason behind their absence.
Shi Feiyan was undergoing a crucial breakthrough in her cultivation, attempting to reach the late-stage Core Formation Realm.
He begrudgingly accepted her excuse, but Mao Caiwei’s actions puzzled him.
Apparently, rather than following the crowd to Ye Fan’s doorstep, Mao Caiwei had gone straight to the scene of the attack.
She spent the day interviewing the survivors, carefully dissecting their accounts.
Something about their stories didn’t sit right with Mao Caiwei.
Despite the frantic claims of the disciples about the demon’s overwhelming power, a detail stood out – the demon only inflicted serious injuries, leaving them all alive.
If it possessed such immense strength, why wouldn’t it simply eliminate them?
The lack of fatalities seemed deliberate, almost staged.
She shared her concerns with the sect elders, including the formidable Sect Leader Huang.
To her surprise, some of the elders, including Sect Leader Huang himself, harbored similar doubts.
They ordered a thorough search of the area, determined to find concrete evidence of the demon’s presence, not just the panicked testimonies of frightened disciples.
The news sent a jolt of panic through Ye Fan. He hadn’t anticipated such a proactive response. The thought of his elaborate scheme being unraveled sent chills down his spine.
“Maybe I should have just killed them all,” he muttered, his earlier delight replaced by gnawing dread.
He paced his quarters like a caged animal.
His carefully constructed narrative was starting to crumble, and he had no Plan B.
He desperately needed to maintain the illusion, to keep the fear boiling within the Stone Mountain Sect.
But how?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sect grounds, Ye Fan knew he had to act.
He couldn’t afford to wait and see what the search party might uncover.
He had to double down on his charade, to create an even more convincing display of demonic activity.
The seed of a monstrous idea sprouted in Ye Fan’s mind.
Perhaps a mere attack wasn’t enough. Maybe he needed something more brutal, something that would paint the demon in a truly horrifying light. Killing a mere disciple wouldn’t suffice. He needed a target that would send shivers down every spine in the Stone Mountain Sect – an elder.
The elders, though not the most powerful cultivators, were still formidable figures, revered and respected. Their deaths would be a devastating blow to the sect’s morale and a terrifying testament to the demon’s strength. With a twisted glee, Ye Fan set his plan in motion.
He couldn’t simply attack any Elder. He needed to be strategic. He spent the following days subtly engaging with disciples who are personal disciples of the elders assigned to scouting and searching the demon. From them, he gleaned vital information – the locations, the patrol routes, even the individual strengths of each elder.
Finally, he found his target – Elder Wu, a stoic man known for his meticulous routine. Elder Wu’s planned patrol route for the following day placed him near a desolate canyon, far from prying eyes. The perfect location for Ye Fan’s gruesome performance.
With a grim smile, Ye Fan cloaked himself in his demonic essence. It swirled around him like a malevolent shroud, completely obscuring his features and even his aura. He looked like a phantom conjured from nightmares, a perfect embodiment of the threat he projected.
He moved with silent precision, heading towards the canyon entrance where he knew Elder Wu would arrive. The demonic essence served a dual purpose – obscuring his identity and amplifying his already formidable power.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the canyon floor, Elder Wu materialized, his white robes stark against the darkening landscape. He paused, his weathered face creased in concentration. He sensed a faint disturbance in the air, a tremor that sent a shiver down his spine.
“Who’s there?” he boomed, his voice echoing through the canyon walls.
No answer. Only a menacing chuckle that ripped through the stillness.
