All Heavenly destiny reduced to ashes

"Tranquil Sword Manual", the cultivation technique taught to An Jing by the mysterious voice, was a Thought Preservation Technique.

This Thought Preservation Technique allowed An Jing to visualize a rusted sword in his heart, polish it with thoughts, calm it with focus, and embrace it with determination, eventually cultivating a Tranquil and Clear Sword Heart, capable of taming the restless mind and the wild desires, achieving tranquility.

It was also a Spirit Cultivation Method, increasing Divine Sense and suppressing the mental impact brought by the "Imperial Heaven Piercing Divine One Qi Cultivation Method".

An Jing didn't need to cultivate to the final stage at this moment, nor was it time to breakthrough his Inner Breath – he only needed to visualize this sword to suppress the demonic thoughts proliferating in his heart, the effects of consuming demon meat and Merciless Water for too long.

He murmured the Verse of Instruction quietly, visualizing the Rusty Sword in his mind, carving with dedication, with clear thoughts and a tranquil focus.

After a quarter of an hour, An Jing opened his eyes, a flash of pure murderous intent passed through them, and he felt that the myriad of bindings and thorns that had long been entwined around his soul were cut off by a flash of Sword Light, making his thinking more agile and clear, and his control over the innate qi within his body more precise and sensitive.

He stood up, "There's a noise."

This was the depth of the night, the night of heavy rain mixed with roaring thunder, and though the manor was not entirely deserted, flickering flames lit up, An Jing still heard sounds from a nearby building.

It was the sound of children, wailing and crying.

Some were still alive.

And the sword sounds also gave direction, "Enter the dungeon, there lies the key — if you want to achieve power beyond everything, that is crucial".

"Understood."

An Jing did not know who the mysterious sword sounds came from, but he could tell that they were not from the Demon Sect, but rather their enemy, and had helped him several times along the way.

He was willing to follow their directions, "But how do I get in?"

He had already located the 'dungeon,' a structure fused with the mountain, only partially protruding outside, with the bulk of the structure lying within the mountain.

The main gate was made of iron, An Jing didn't have the key, nor was it possible to use brute force to break in, as the noise would definitely attract many guards and instructors stationed in East Mountain Manor.

"There is a window on the side."

The sword sounds guided, "You can enter from there, but you have to figure out a way on your own."

An Jing quickly found the 'window' the sword sounds spoke of, an air vent on the side of the building, barred with iron and through which faint dungeon lamp lights shimmered.

The quality of the iron bars was not high, and they had decayed over the years, but they were still not easy to break by force — An Jing could break them with brute force, but the noise would certainly alert the people around.

But, An Jing had enough wisdom... even if this lifetime's wisdom was insufficient, he still had Innate Wisdom.

He looked around and quickly found some wooden sticks in a corner, then tore the lining of his own clothes into strips of fabric.

He wet the fabric with rain, arranged the sticks in a cross, and then wrapped the soaked fabric around the cross sticks and two iron bars, forming a twist to make a labor-saving lever.

An Jing slowly twisted the wood, pulling the fabric tight with the principle of leverage.

The fabric soaked in water became tougher, and the iron rods, indeed of poor quality, were actually slowly bent by him, creating two openings sufficient for a young person to crawl through.

"This is the principle of leverage."

Seeing that the air vent's iron rods were indeed bent by himself, An Jing couldn't help but marvel – he hadn't anticipated that the simple principles he understood could be so effectively applied in practice, using such ordinary materials to create magic from decay, truly an astonishing wisdom.

In fact, prying open with leverage was not much different from forcing it open, except leveraging was more stable, and An Jing acted out of caution to avoid making too much noise and alarming people inside.

Now was not the time for marveling.

An Jing slipped through the air vent like a large cat.

He was now inside the dungeon.

The dim dungeon, where gusts of wind mixed with rainwater, only a few kerosene lamps provided meagre light along the distant corridor, emitting a foul smell, flickering uncertainly.

The dungeon reeked of urine and stench; weak wails and groans echoed continuously, along with a chilling scent of blood.

An Jing cautiously looked around. It was a straight corridor made of bluestone, filthy, with the lighting dim and blurry, it took him a while to discern the interior scene.

Then, piercing cold surged up from the base of his spine, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Slaughterhouse.

If one had the misfortune to have visited a slaughterhouse, they would understand what real slaughtering meant: butchers would hang livestock on racks, secure their bodies, then either hammer nails into their heads or simply knock them unconscious.

Skilled butchers would sharply open the blood vessels on both sides of the neck of the livestock at this point, swiftly draining the blood and catching it in buckets, wasting nothing. The animals may struggle, but the sturdy racks would restrain their every movement; they could only scream and weep until the last drop of strength drained with their blood until their tears turned to blood as well.

Then, the blood-drained carcasses were hung on hooks, dangled from the beams, then opened up from the abdomen, their innards all falling into a basin.

Their body shells would sway along with the butchers' movements, giving off a rancid smell, and if the butcher was skilled, a simple knife would suffice to separate all their flesh from the bones, leaving only a stark white skeleton.

This was a slaughterhouse. Those unaccustomed to seeing death, even if the dead were merely livestock, would find such a scene horrifying and nauseating, for treating life as raw material in such a way is why the wise of old would say the gentleman keeps away from the kitchen.

This was merely livestock.

But...

What if the slaughtered were human?

What if those hanged carcasses, those bones, eyeballs, blood, and innards... all came from people one knew?

"Demon Sect... huh, I never understood what demons were before, but now I understand a bit."

From the depths of blood and bone emerged a chilling cold that made one's teeth chatter, swept away in an instant by a surge of anger born from his spirit. An Jing remained unchanged in expression, surveying everything before him with an extreme calmness—those 'shells' hanging on both sides of the dungeon walls.

Zhao Yong'an, Xu Yi, Xie Pinglan, Li Junyi, Zhao Ranner...

One name after another surfaced, remembered by him, kept in the deepest part of his heart.

Because of his talent, he was not livestock... What if he had none?

With his eyes closed, An Jing still remembered his mission; he could not let anger cloud his judgment.

Because there were still people alive.

In the cells, many children were still alive, though most were exhausted and asleep, with a few still groaning in a dazed state.

An Jing smelled the scent of 'Merciless Water'. It seemed that those potions were for the young men and women to drink, forcing them into this 'tranquil' state, unable to struggle or self-harm, unable to resist or observe their surroundings.

An Jing silently observed each face; he remembered the faces of all of them, all the Children of Calamity who had been gradually 'eliminated' over these months.

Although there were some he had not seen yet, he presumed that most people must have once waited here. Were they waiting for death to come?

[The key is ahead]

The increasingly grim sound of the sword guided him, and An Jing looked in the direction indicated, toward the dungeon's exit.

There was a guard at the exit.

It was an older member of the Demon Sect, with white hair but a still sturdy body, sitting on a chair, head tilted to one side, deeply asleep.

An Jing recognized him as an instructor not commonly seen, named Song, who only appeared occasionally. So, he was here on guard duty.

Indeed, no matter how lax the management was, and no matter how easy it was to guard children, someone needed to guard the door.

An Jing took a closer look and noticed an empty potion cup on the table—did this old man use Merciless Water as a sleeping aid for his insomnia?

—Ha ha, could it be that he felt uneasy seeing such dreadful scenes? He is truly not fit to be a member of the Demon Sect!

With unparalleled calmness in his heart, An Jing saw the key hanging on the wall beside him, several sets, each with three keys.

[Take the key]

An Jing narrowed his eyes, focusing on the old Demon Sect member before him.

This old geezer also possessed the realm of Inner Breath. It was fortunate he was not a full-grown man; otherwise, if he suddenly woke up, An Jing still had the possibility of swiftly defeating him.

But he was sleeping too soundly. An Jing advanced with Mysterious Steps, taking the key silently and returning. Throughout the round trip, Instructor Song showed no response; An Jing even smelled alcohol.

—This old man, drinking alcohol and taking potions? An Jing was quite speechless internally; with such quality, he could twist his head off with one hand.

But now was not the time. An Jing took the key and crawled out through the ventilation ducts.

He used a wooden stick to gradually restore the bent iron bars. Although slightly twisted, a common person wouldn't notice.

[Go]

The sword sound was somewhat excited: [Go to the storage room in the building next door]

"Hmm."

An Jing took a deep breath, his heart racing, then suddenly looked toward the manor: "Wait, there's a noise over there!"

Having initially learned the Tranquil Sword Manual and using his anger, hatred, and feelings of powerlessness to refine the Rusty Sword, An Jing's senses became even sharper—this Thought Preservation Technique could greatly enhance An Jing's perception and the sensitivity of his five senses, allowing him to see shadows slowly approaching from East Mountain: "People from the manor are coming!"

[This might also be a test for you—indulgence also has a time limit]

The sword sound returned to calm: [Are you going to take advantage of the chaos to go back, or follow my instructions?]

"Is that even a question?"

Without any hesitation, An Jing quickly walked toward the storage room: "I have made up my mind, and I will not change it."

The storage room was not far from the dungeon, just across a long hallway. An Jing hurriedly walked, arriving quickly at the location of the storage room.

Like the dungeon, the storage room was also inside the mountain, with a big iron door tightly locked.

[Open the door]

The Breath of Pure Sword Light rarely trembled.

An Jing took out the keys, besides those for the dungeon, and tried each of the remaining two.

The first one didn't work; it wouldn't turn. An Jing didn't panic and immediately tried the second key.

Turning it, the door opened.

The storage room of Heaven's Will Sect opened its gates for An Jing.