Chapter 25: Whose Toad Is So Fond of Eating People

There is no family in the world that remains prosperous forever, and besides, Immortal Island is enough to be considered a sacred place of martial arts among mortals. To rule over a lonely island brings untold delight. Apart from those martial artists still striving for immortality, most people on Immortal Island do not yearn for Azure Heights, for none of their ancestors who entered that realm ever truly attained eternal life. Instead, the mountain life is bitter and solitary, and for those accustomed to comfort, such hardship is unbearable.

Yet there is no land of perpetual bliss in this world. Besides cultivators, countless demon clans roam the earth. Even a pure land like Azure Heights has suffered grievous massacres.

Though it was still daylight, not a soul could be seen on Immortal Island.

Here, generations have lived and flourished, never lacking food or clothing. Wherever humans gather, towns arise. In a year, a settlement forms; in two, a town; in three, a city. Such is the way of things, nothing extraordinary.

But here, every household had shut its doors tight. The long street was a chaotic mess, stained with blood and scattered with human limbs. The largest residence belonged to the current Island Lord, and inside, people huddled together, the air heavy with anxiety.

Even the youngest children dared not whimper in such tense atmosphere. From gray-haired elders to infants in arms, all cowered within, like a flock of mountain goats awaiting slaughter—utterly helpless.

Their eyes were fixed on a pile of incense ash, their last hope.

The oldest elder had said that as long as this stick of incense was lit, Azure Heights would know of their plight, and no matter how fierce the demon, it could not withstand the powerful cultivators of that sacred realm.

Before this, some had tried to escape, but without exception, all were slain by the demon.

This demon was peculiar: it fed only on the flesh and blood of children, finding the meat of adults too coarse and unpalatable. In its own words, it meant to keep the humans penned up to breed offspring for its consumption.

Of course, the demon had merely observed that humans kept pigs and sheep penned, and assumed that humans would likewise breed more young if confined. It did not understand that husbandry itself was a skill, and not a simple one.

Though the meat of adults was unappetizing, in the demon’s eyes, they served only as tools to breed children, and thus it would not allow them to escape.

Days passed in captivity, about three in all. Apart from the first day, there were few casualties, for under overwhelming power, those with courage often died the fastest.

A crimson streak of lightning pierced through with incredible speed.

Then, a woman began to scream, "Little Seven!"

Little Seven was her child's nickname. Her heart-wrenching cries drew little attention, for such scenes had occurred many times already.

Some parents, despite the horror, felt a moment’s relief, silently praying for the cultivators of Azure Heights to come quickly.

Several half-grown youths clenched their fists, determined that once this crisis passed, they would learn immortal arts and divine powers.

Among them was a young man leaning on a cane, watching everything in silence. He had once had the chance to join Azure Heights, but lost it due to a moment’s pride.

He was the descendant of the Xiao family whose martial arts had been crippled by Shen Lian, and one of the more outstanding youths of his generation. He hated Shen Lian—and himself.

The crimson streak wrapped itself around a child, Little Seven, covered in foul mucus, reeking with a pungent stench. The child cried loudly.

Then, another sound drowned out the child’s cries: thunder—not from the heavens, but exploding nearby.

It was louder than the firecrackers he’d heard during New Year, and those inside could hear it clearly.

With the thunder came a flash of white light.

One of the elders, hair as white as snow, exclaimed in delight, “That’s lightning magic—the immortal master from Azure Heights has arrived!”

In his youth, he had been a first-rate martial artist, mastering the meridians, but could go no further. The highest elder on Immortal Island had opened the gate of life and death, gained magical power, and could cultivate Daoist arts, but had died at the demon’s hands.

That elder had once told him: the power of Daoist arts varies, but the hardest to master is lightning magic. Any cultivator who succeeds in lightning arts is formidable.

Little Seven was wrapped in a gentle breeze, slowly lowered to the ground. The crimson streak that had bound her was unraveled, and a voice, warm and elegant, whispered in her ear, “Don’t move.”

She looked up and saw a person clad in pale blue robes, the color of the sea. A fresh breeze stirred his garments like waves, his long black hair draped carelessly, and the side of his face was as clear and graceful as a mountain spring.

Outside, countless severed limbs and organs lay scattered, bones exposed and bloodstains everywhere, the stench nauseating.

He was young, sixteen or seventeen at most. Yet she could not describe him, for he was utterly unlike her kinsmen; with her limited knowledge, she failed to grasp what made him so different.

His voice carried a soothing rhythm that dispelled her fear.

Not far away, a toad crouched—a terrifying sight, for it was twelve feet long and, even lying flat, towered over any ordinary man.

Its tongue was the crimson streak, which had just been severed by Shen Lian’s lightning magic, but quickly regenerated and flickered back and forth.

Its skin was a purplish brown, covered in warty spines, glistening under the sunlight and making one retch.

Its bulging eyes fixed fiercely on Shen Lian, the human cultivator who had appeared from nowhere, and it croaked, “I am Purple Toad of the Nine-Headed King’s retinue. If you know what’s good for you, get lost.”

It was not a mindless beast; it knew that any cultivator who could wield lightning magic was formidable.

The Nine-Headed King it spoke of was a demon king five thousand miles away in the sea, with a thousand years of magical power and vast abilities. Even some human immortal sects dared not offend him.

When the king celebrated his birthday, human cultivators came and paid their respects.

So, although Shen Lian wielded lightning magic and appeared powerful, the toad was unafraid. Moreover, when traveling, it always announced its master’s name to avoid being slain by some ignorant Daoist—advice given by the king himself, though he was drinking with fellow demon lords at the time.

Purple Toad remembered this well, and whenever it sneaked out and encountered powerful cultivators, it announced its master’s name, and it always worked—those cultivators feared the Nine-Headed King and rarely dared to confront it.

This time, however, Purple Toad had sneaked out and been caught by an undercurrent in the sea, swept unknowingly five thousand miles away to Immortal Island.

Thank you to Yu Zhao for the generous reward of 588, as well as Flower Follows Shadow, Lone Moon, and Time’s Illusion for their support.