Evil Mage Cultivation: The Immortal Enslavement Path Chapter 81

After receiving a "warm" welcome from Feng Zhuo, the young master of flame invited him to his own private pavilion atop the mountain to personally chat between them.

The journey was not long since both were at the 9th stage, the peak of power within the town.

The pavilion was built by hand, crafted into the cave with precision.

"Welcome back, young master." The moment they arrived, two mistresses dressed in revealing silk floated out to greet him, with obedient and submissive voices.

"I just left to pick up my friend. Prepare the meeting room and yourselves too. I don’t want my guest unsatisfied." He smirked as he commanded.

"Understood, young master." Both bowed deeply before floating back inside.

Han Suwen whistled. "I didn’t figure you for someone who keeps pets."

Both women that had just arrived were nearly out of their Yin energy, more like living corpses. A little more drained and they would end up worse than Ming, turned into ghouls—beautiful lust ghouls, but ghouls nonetheless.

"Haha, junior has mistaken. These are my cauldrons. I have never kept pets." Feng Zhuo laughed as he waved off such a trivial accusation.

"If you say so." Han Suwen now had a glimpse of his source of power and talent. There should be no possibility that a normal cultivator could possess the same extensive spell as him to create the kind of fireball Feng Zhuo had just thrown.

Turns out, he cheated. By absorbing others’ Yin, he could fan the flame and intensify his own Yang.

Doing so mimics the condition of an Extreme Yang physique, Han Suwen mused. A flawed one, but noteworthy to accomplish. Must be related to their technique.

He had digested much of the Flaming Cloud Sect’s techniques. While they seemed scattered, all of them pointed toward refining one’s body to support the fire—from withstanding heat to breathing it.

As he followed Feng Zhuo inside, walking along the paved stone path, the young master pursued the conversation.

"What brings you here, by the way? You’re not the type to visit others, if I recall."

"Much stronger too," he implied.

"I killed Wu Han."

Just those first words made the footsteps halt. The young master turned his head in shock, but seeing Han Suwen’s serious face, all he could do was laugh.

"Hahaha! To think it wasn’t my own people that managed it, but you." He shook his head. "Well, it’s understandable now why you’re here."

Feng Zhuo continued, "I did some research and found nasty details about your wife’s feud with him. May I presume it escalated from those?"

"Yes." Han Suwen confirmed.

"Unexpected. The timid lord of the Han killed the miracle doctor’s disciple." Feng Zhuo’s voice carried disbelief and also regret.

"You know that I wanted to kill him too, right?" Feng Zhuo chatted familiarly.

"I did. You put in the most effort to persuade Luo Lan. Can’t imagine you didn’t."

Within this town, there was none that dared to try and court the strongest—except one.

Feng Zhuo.

From Han Suwen’s memory, he had been trying for ten years with no response.

Thinking about it made him need to hold back his laughter, since he himself had done it in only a month to have her hand in marriage. This guy must be FUMING. I want to see how he reacts when the news spreads.

Which, technically speaking, the one engaged to Luo Lan was now dead.

His head and lifeless body should be arriving at the Luo estate soon as evidence.

"The preparations are complete. Welcome, honored guest."

The woman with the tall figure and ample curves, dressed in revealing silk, led the way and guided him to his seat at the table.

Across from him, Feng Zhuo reclined on his throne.

The throne room was an open cave, carved into the mountain with the sky and distant peaks serving as its only walls. A cold wind swept through, carrying the sharp bite of high-altitude air, freezing everything it touched.

I wonder what Luo Lan’s reaction would be if she found out there was an idiot here trying to recreate her conditions,

This cold room was designed to suppress the Yang within one’s body. But unlike Luo Lan’s prison of heat, Feng Zhuo had every freedom to avoid this place.

Blinded by the power it granted him, however, he subjected himself to it anyway.

"Here is our finest wine, sir."

The woman served him wine from a jade bottle. Her breasts were practically falling out of her revealing attire, her nipples visible as she leaned forward. Then she walked back to her position.

I see, Han Suwen observed. "You’ve trained them quite well."

Every movement the women made carried sexual undertones, designed to constantly arouse a person’s desires. This kept their guests perpetually on edge, which in turn helped awaken and sustain their Yang.

"Funny you said that, when it doesn’t seem to work on you." Feng Zhuo was smiling.

"Is this because of the so-called power of love, or did she simply fail to charm you?"

"Haha..." Han Suwen did not answer and drank his wine instead.

"Good wine," he complimented, deftly changing the subject.

Sexual desires were a side emotion he had inherited from Wu Han.

Now that he had switched to Han Suwen, who was more timid and level-headed, that part had also toned down considerably.

Since he himself no longer possessed the ability to engage in human endeavors through genuine emotion, all he could do was steal the vessel’s mind and, with it, all its complications.

Feng Zhuo’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why are you here?"

The shift in atmosphere was unmistakable.

The woman behind Han Suwen rested her hand on her dagger, as did the others hidden throughout the room. They may have engaged in sexual acts, but they were still disciples of the Flaming Cloud Sect.

"Now this is more charming than what you did before." Han Suwen placed down his cup of wine and stood. Then he turned and walked toward the tall lady who had served him.

Her charming expression was that of a mindless slut, her psyche already broken by years of abuse, merely a puppet on a string.

"Such a pitiful sight."

Han Suwen grabbed her by the neck.

Instantly, the other harem members charged forward, but Feng Zhuo halted them by raising his hand.

"Stop!" He commanded.

He watched without a word, but his expression was no longer that of a sly young master.

It was deadly serious.

"One more move, and if you don’t satisfy me, I’ll kill you myself."

Han Suwen smirked. Now the real Feng Zhuo is finally talking.

The woman in his grip choked, her innate survival instinct driving her to struggle and break free. But there was no way she could escape while the one holding her life was him. He turned, showing everyone her pitiful, dying sight.

"Sect. Land. Beast." Han Suwen’s voice dripped with pity. "Others might see you as wealthy and powerful, but you’re the one who knows it best—that you are nothing."

His words made Feng Zhuo’s teeth grind. His hand gripped the armrest of his throne so hard the stone began to crack.

But he didn’t move.

Because it stung. Because it was true.

"Unlike my clan or the Luo clan, who have birthright, you people are nothing but glorified foot soldiers holding the line for generations. No pride. No honor. Only unending duty, forever in debt to them."

As history told it, they were bandits who had been spared and now did the town’s bidding. But how long could that generosity justify their position? They may have been hailed as the third strongest faction, but they couldn’t enjoy any of it.

They lived on the mountain with no luxury. They had no ties to outsiders—because who wanted to form a connection with a sect that didn’t know when it would dissolve?

Unlike the Luo and Han, which were families, a sect could be disbanded if disciples decided to leave. And their numbers had been dwindling for some time now.

Even the sect master’s family line grew fewer and fewer as more people abandoned the thankless task to seek better opportunities elsewhere.

Feng Zhuo was the last one left, along with his father.

A young master of a crumbling throne.

"What are you trying to imply, Junior Suwen?"

He might be only a year older, but his standing aligned more with Han Shi, not someone Han Suwen could toy with.

But this wasn’t Han Suwen speaking.

It was the Demon.

And demons always sought out sinners to make deals with.

Crack.

He snapped the woman’s neck and threw her off the cliff.

"Forget these sluts you tried to blackmail me with. There’s no need for such things." Han Suwen could see through his plan, using these women as leverage to charm and entrap other men.

A good plan, but not good enough.

So, he made his offer.

"Let me join your sect, and I’ll help you take down both the Luo clan and mine."