Pay-to-Win Cultivation: I Get 10,000x Returns Chapter 105

In a secluded chamber atop Heavenly Palace Peak, Nangong Yao lay collapsed on a meditation cushion. Her once-radiant face was now deathly pale, the color of ash. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each inhalation straining her shattered foundation.

The temperature in the chamber plummeted without warning.

Space rippled, and Sect Master Xing Jie stepped out from the void, her presence instantly freezing the air.

Nangong Yao’s eyes snapped open. She struggled to rise, forcing her trembling body into a bow. "M-Master."

The Sect Master’s icy gaze swept over her, devoid of a single ripple of emotion. She raised a hand, and a jade-green pill drifted down to land on the cold table before Nangong Yao.

"This is a top-grade Revitalizing Pill. It is sufficient to suppress your injuries and stabilize your vitality."

Nangong Yao lifted her bloodless face. Her eyes were filled with despair and accusation.

"Master... my Golden Core is cracked. My path is severed! Zhang Xian deliberately schemed to destroy me! I beg Master to uphold justice for me!"

The Sect Master’s expression did not soften in the slightest. "This seat asks you: what enmity do you truly have with this youth, Zhang Xian?"

Nangong Yao shook her head instinctively. "This disciple does not know... I do not know when I offended him..."

She racked her brain, searching through her memories. Suddenly, a spark of insight flashed through the fog of pain.

"I remember! I once saw him near the [Demon Nest] secret realm. He... he seemed to have some connection to the minor world where Elder Xingxiu came from!"

"Xingxiu."

The name hung in the air. An imperceptible glint of frost flashed in the Sect Master's eyes.

She recalled the events of that year clearly. This wretched woman before her had earned the status of nominal disciple precisely by bringing Xingxiu back from that mundane minor world.

However, Xingxiu had ascended the mountain over two hundred years ago. This Zhang Xian, judging by his bone age, was no older than a hundred and fifty.

Also surnamed Zhang... could he be a descendant from Junior Sister's hometown?

Nangong Yao caught the subtle shift in the Sect Master's gaze. Grasping at it like a lifeline, she prostrated herself lower, adopting her most pitiful posture.

"Master! Back then, it was you who personally ordered this disciple to take action—to eliminate that mortal connected to Elder Xingxiu, all to prevent her from being bound by worldly ties! Zhang Xian’s scheme is personal! He is seeking revenge for that very matter!"

"Silence!"

The Sect Master’s expression darkened terrifyingly. "This matter will rot in your belly! If a third person learns of it, you know the consequences."

Having silenced her, the Sect Master’s tone softened slightly, though the warmth never reached her eyes.

"For now, recuperate here. Regarding the damage to your spiritual roots, this seat will find a way to help you."

She paused, then added coldly, "Discard that useless hatred. And do not foolishly entertain thoughts of revenge. This Zhang Xian has a mysterious origin. Moreover, the Lin Yinyin by his side possesses peerless talent. Such a seedling will inevitably be taken under the wing of the Grand Elders."

Her warning was absolute.

Without waiting for a response, she took a step forward. Her figure dissolved into shards of ice crystals that faded into the silence of the chamber.

A crushing wave of despair extinguished Nangong Yao's last ember of hope.

The Sect Master's words were crystal clear: Nangong Yao's life, death, and cultivation path were utterly insignificant compared to the mystery of Zhang Xian and the future value of Lin Yinyin.

As for finding a way to repair her spiritual roots? That was nothing but an empty platitude to keep her quiet.

She understood her heartless, indifferent master all too well. Years ago, she thought clinging to the Sect Master was her ticket to the heavens. It had been pure delusion. Apart from the empty title of Elder, she had gained nothing.

A towering wave of Hatred began to fester in the darkest depths of Nangong Yao's soul.

This hatred was no longer directed solely at Zhang Xian. It now contained a venomous, curdling resentment toward her Sect Master.

"I will kill you all... I will kill you all with my own hands..."

Immersed in boundless malice, she didn't notice the change in her own reflection. Within the depths of her dim pupils, terrifyingly dark, inky threads were quietly beginning to uncoil and spread.

One month later.

Three thousand li beyond the borders of Jade Capital City, a streak of dim golden light cut across the twilight sky like a dying meteor.

Suddenly, two spectral black shadows materialized from the void, blocking the light's path.

The golden light halted abruptly, revealing Nangong Yao's ragged figure. Her aura was feeble, her face haggard.

Ever since the Sect Master left that day, she knew she could no longer stay in the Yunmiao Sect. Sooner or later, Zhang Xian would finish the job. It was better to flee the Southern Region and seek opportunities for revenge elsewhere.

She had endured the agonizing pain of flying with a cracked Golden Core to escape. She hadn't expected to be intercepted after half a month of travel.

"Who goes there? What is the meaning of this?"

Her internal alarms screamed. She was at her weakest.

One of the figures—shorter, hunched, and draped in black robes—shifted. A voice like grinding gravel rasped from beneath the hood.

"Tsk, Brother Daoist, is this the reward you had us wait half a month for? Merely a female Golden Core with a ruined foundation and a severed path?"

Nangong Yao's heart sank into the abyss.

"Hehe, Daoist Qianji, be at ease," the other black-robed figure spoke slowly. His voice was low, magnetic, and carried a strange, soothing quality.

Nangong Yao's heart gave a violent jolt.

That voice... why is it so familiar?

Her mind raced, but muddled by injury and paranoia, she couldn't place it.

"Daoist Nangong," the figure said, a trace of laughter in his tone. "It has been a long time."

Slowly, he reached up and pulled back his hood.

Under the bloody light of the setting sun, an exceptionally handsome, youthful face was revealed. He was smiling.

"It's you?!"

The moment she saw that face clearly, Nangong Yao felt as if she had been struck by lightning. Her pupils contracted to pinpoints, and the blood drained from her lips.

"Impossible! You... how can you still be alive? You clearly already..."

"Clearly already died? Is that what you think?"

The young man’s smile widened, becoming predatory. As he spoke, layer upon layer of dense black threads abruptly surfaced deep within his eyes.

Simultaneously, Nangong Yao felt a fatal resonance!

The last trace of clarity in her eyes vanished, replaced by wild ferocity. The whites of her eyes were instantly consumed by spreading, pitch-black capillaries. The Hatred she had nurtured was responding to him!

"Why?! How unjust is the Heavenly Dao!"

Her voice turned hoarse and shrill, filled with boundless resentment. "I already left the Yunmiao Sect! I gave up everything! Why must you still block my path?! Why!!"

An intense sense of doom enveloped her. Acting on instinct, Nangong Yao activated her final lifeline—the Realm-Crossing Shuttle.

Hum!

The shuttle erupted with dazzling spatial fluctuations, tearing at the fabric of reality.

However, the corner of the young man’s mouth lifted in a mocking arc. He casually extended a finger toward her.

"Heaven and Earth Cage—Bind."

Freeze.

In that instant, the void within a hundred zhang solidified into iron.

The spatial ripples she had just torn open crashed into the invisible barrier, emitting a grating, ear-piercing screech before dissipating into nothingness. The light on the Realm-Crossing Shuttle flickered and died.

Nangong Yao's face turned the color of death.

Only now did she look down. Dense array patterns covered the earth and sky. They had been waiting for her. They had prepared this specific trap to nullify her escape.

"Kekeke!"

The hunchback, Daoist Qianji, erupted in a wild, metallic cackle. He threw open his black robe, revealing an arm made not of flesh, but of dark metal and intricate wooden joints—a puppet's claw.

"Marvelous! The [Hatred] has actually taken root in her marrow! This is a gift from the heavens!"

His puppet hand snapped open. Countless transparent threads shot out from his fingertips, piercing straight into Nangong Yao's body like hungry vipers.

"The [Hatred] of the Seven Emotions! It belongs to this old man now!"