Even if his superior’s daughter adored Zhang Han deeply, she still could not accept senseless slaughter. She pleaded for mercy, but Zhang Han ignored her and forcibly abducted her. Broad daylight, countless witnesses—a massacre of his fiancée’s entire family, a new bride taken by force.
He didn’t even bother to hide his crimes. It was a direct affront to the Yelang Kingdom itself. His superior nearly spat blood and died from rage.
The Yelang Kingdom, furious, sent men to capture Zhang Han alive for public execution, lest their national face be lost forever. Yet Zhang Han killed every person sent after him. The more he fought, the stronger he grew.
His cultivation rose at a terrifying rate. Eventually, he reached the Spirit Transformation Stage and slew the reigning monarch in one decisive strike, crowning himself the new King of Yelang. After ascending the throne, Zhang Han made his superior’s daughter his Empress.
Then he ordered the nation’s most beautiful women to be gathered into his imperial harem. From that day on, Zhang Han grew increasingly violent and unpredictable. If a palace maid spilled even a drop of soup, she was executed.
A eunuch who accidentally glanced into a concubine’s eyes—executed. A minister who dared remonstrate against his rule—executed. To him, these were all acts offending imperial authority.
He then issued harsh new laws. Theft of even a few taels of silver became a capital crime. A minister who had once studied law in the Great Zhou tried to persuade him otherwise, saying such cruelty would only destroy long-term governance.
Zhang Han refused to listen, claiming the man opposed him and had him executed as well. All of Yelang fell into terror. Ordinary people grew so afraid they no longer dared to drink, fearing a drunken outburst might lead them to break something in a tavern—and thus be sentenced to death for “disturbing the peace.”
Merchants, too, could not rejoice. True, no one caused brawls or breakages anymore—but business fell sharply, as few dared enter taverns at all. One minister, trembling with fear, requested permission to retire to his homeland.
Zhang Han declared that since the man’s Nascent Soul Body was still in its prime and he suffered neither illness nor age, to retire was “deceiving the monarch”—a capital offense. Another elderly minister, long plagued by hidden injuries, asked to return home to live out his remaining days.
Zhang Han said that a subject must serve his lord until death; retiring quietly was disloyal—and had him beheaded as well. After two such warnings, none of the ministers dared mention retirement again. Each time they left home for morning court, they first wrote a will, fearing that day might be their last.
One official, noticing Zhang Han’s cultivation improving rapidly, suspected he practiced the Demonic Path and secretly reported it to the Great Wei Imperial Dynasty. However, the investigators of Great Wei found nothing. No trace of Demonic Path residue lingered on him.
Their final conclusion: Zhang Han was simply born with immense talent and a penchant for killing. Those who cultivated the Demonic Path carried Resentment Qi from those they slaughtered. Zhang Han, however, had none.
Moreover, true Demonic Path cultivation required personally killing victims—one could not rely on imperial decrees or proxy executions. Ordering others to kill could never enhance one’s demonic cultivation. When Zhang Han learned that someone had reported him to Great Wei, he flew into a rage.
He claimed the reporting minister harbored treasonous intent and exterminated his entire clan—nine generations in all. From that moment, no one ever dared question Zhang Han again. … That day, Zhang Han sat in his warm inner chamber, reviewing memorials.
He scoured the ministers’ words for any hint of criminality that might justify an execution. But lately, his ministers had grown cautious. Their reports concerned only safe matters—modest harvest successes, or minor decreases in crime.
Neither great joy nor great sorrow. At best, mildly amusing things like: “Executioner has become a popular profession.” Perhaps he should disguise himself and visit the common folk, to see if anyone deserving of death might be found there.
“Ka.”
A soft clink sounded by his ear. A maid serving tea had trembled slightly, the porcelain lid of the teacup tapping against its rim. The maid’s face drained of color.
She dropped to her knees, knocking her forehead against the floor in frantic apology.
“Your Majesty, please forgive me!”
Zhang Han waved his hand, expression dark.
“You disturbed my reading. Drag her out and behead her.”
He considered himself a just ruler. Since other maids had been killed for similar mistakes, to spare this one would be unfair.
“Guards—Guards!”
When no one immediately entered, Zhang Han grew irritated. The guards must be slacking, he thought. Neglect of duty—another capital crime.
Just then, the door creaked open. A young man stepped in, speaking calmly to the two guards outside.
“Wait here. Do not come in, understand?”
The guards didn’t dare utter a word of protest. They both nodded frantically. The young man entered.
He turned to the terrified maid.
“Go outside first. I have business with your king.”
Like one granted divine pardon, the maid rushed out of the warm chamber as if fleeing death itself. Watching this stranger command his subordinates within his own palace, Zhang Han dared not utter a sound. Sweat poured down his back.
His hands trembled uncontrollably. He struggled to keep his composure.
“May I know why the Human Emperor has come in person? Is there anything this humble king can assist with?”
“Didn’t I just say?”
Jiang Li smiled faintly.
“I came to handle some matters. As it happens, one of them concerns you.”
“Me?”
Zhang Han forced a smile.
“Your Majesty must be jesting. I have violated no laws of the Human Emperor Palace. Why would the Human Emperor deal with me? Surely, even the Human Emperor cannot kill the innocent without cause.”
Jiang Li chuckled.
“I, the Human Emperor, cannot kill the innocent? And yet you, a petty king of a small nation, may kill at whim? Tell me, does that sound reasonable? Or do you take me for someone easy to bully?”
Then his tone grew light again.
“I’ve been at this for months. By now, every follower of the Divine Repository Cult is dead—save for you. Congratulations. You’ve survived the longest.”
He hadn’t entrusted this mission to anyone else, not even the Commanders of the Human Emperor Palace. The fewer who knew of the Divine Repository Cult, the better. Even the Ruyi Gourd had been threatened not to mention it to Yu Yin.
And so, to this very day, Yu Yin still believed Sun Yuan was merely a follower of the Demonic Path. Over these months, Jiang Li had eliminated the cultists one by one, ensuring none left traces of their affiliation. Now only one remained—Zhang Han.
Though Zhang Han’s cultivation was high, his standing within the cult was low. He had no right to preach and had been bound by the most restrictive Hex Refining Seal Curse, prohibiting him from uttering anything related to the Divine Repository Cult. At the words “Divine Repository Cult,” chills ran through Zhang Han’s entire body.
Whatever last shred of hope he’d clung to withered completely. Until now, he’d believed his power came from the “Divine Repository,” not from Virtue. Still, he had often felt it disturbingly similar to Demonic Path practices—merely hiding beneath a loophole in how the Nine Provinces defined demonic cultivation.
Jiang Li’s voice was calm.
“At first, you already suspected that this so‑called ‘Divine Repository Power’ of yours was wrong. You happened to be an executioner and gained strength that way. Had it ended there, I would not have come for you.”
He flipped casually through a dossier, legs crossed.
“Even when you executed wicked men for that power, I might still have spared you.”
“I…”
Zhang Han tried to argue, his voice shaking. Jiang Li ignored him. “But you changed.
You grew addicted to the feeling of growing stronger through killing. When there were no guilty left to kill, you began slaughtering the innocent.
“The turning point was when the woman you loved married another. That broke whatever restraint you had left.”
Jiang Li’s tone stayed steady, cold as still water.
“In the end, you claimed a nation’s throne, used authority to kill, cleansed yourself of suspicion of the Demonic Path—and fooled no one but yourself.”
Zhang Han quickly agreed, desperate to live.
“Exactly! This isn’t the Demonic Path. It’s my own strength!”
“Yes,”Jiang Li said.
“I know your Divine Repository Power isn’t demonic.”
Zhang Han’s eyes brightened at those words.
“Then—”“You can just take it as me killing the innocent.”
Before Zhang Han could speak again, Jiang Li flicked his finger gently. The Spirit Transformation–stage king died instantly, without warning or resistance. Jiang Li saw no need to explain.
The so‑called“Divine Repository Power” was nothing but a stolen form of Virtue Power, perverted for selfish gain. The Divine Repository Cult had brought endless harm to the Nine Provinces. Every member had to be erased.
Why bother explaining that to the dead?
(End of Chapter)