Chapter Twelve: Total Annihilation

At that very moment, a miserable scream echoed from within the cave. Instinctively turning his head, he saw the burly monkey sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from its throat, its strength draining away with the torrent of crimson. Yet the three night bats did not kill it outright; instead, they busied themselves tearing at its flesh, greedily devouring mouthfuls.

The burly monkey was not dead yet; the agony was so intense that even unconsciousness eluded it. All it could do was shriek desperately, feebly flailing its limbs, forced to endure the torment of being torn apart alive.

The stench of blood grew thicker in the cave, so much so that Six-Evils’ pupils reflected a lurid red. An indescribable sensation rose from deep within, and hunger seized him with iron claws.

Suddenly, Six-Evils lifted his head and sank his fangs into the throat of the night bat clinging to him.

A rush of hot blood poured down his throat, setting every ounce of his blood and demonic energy ablaze, especially where the heat of his monstrous aura gathered in his chest and belly. Every inch of his flesh, every spark of his power, quivered in wild excitement, joining in the frenzy of consuming fresh blood.

His strength swelled. With a twist, he pinned another night bat beneath his body, one paw clamped mercilessly around its throat, the other gripping the bat he bit, greedily sucking until it was nothing but a withered skin.

He raised his head, blood dripping from his lips, and met the eyes of the night bat beneath him. The terror reflected in its gaze filled him with a sudden, inexplicable joy.

He bit down hard, abandoning himself to the ecstasy that only fresh blood could bring.

The three night bats grew sated quickly, their bellies full and the demon cores divided among them. Content, they stood up—only to sense something amiss. Whirling around, they saw at the cave’s mouth a monkey drenched in blood, its face cold as ice, staring at them with murderous intent.

The monkey’s eyes gleamed like blood, exuding a dreadful and ferocious aura.

Though its demonic energy had only just begun to gather, a chill of dread gripped the three night bats, compelling them to flee, to get far, far away from this monster.

The corners of Six-Evils’ mouth twitched into a ghastly, terrifying grin. Slowly, step by step, he advanced toward the night bats...

In less than a moment, Six-Evils emerged from the cave, searching the remaining tunnels. He was drenched in blood, bone blade in hand still dripping crimson. The mingling of blood and murderous energy made his entire demonic aura strangely distorted.

His awakening power brought with it a natural flaw—a frenzy born of bloodlust and hunger, an instinct all ordinary monsters and even demons could not escape. It was rooted in their beastly nature, and with his current knowledge, Six-Evils saw no way to resolve it.

He knew well this would be an irresolvable weakness—a dead end. Only fresh blood could suppress the agitation, just as now, when reason had once again overtaken instinct. But inevitably, it would bring endless trouble in the future.

Night bats, roused by the commotion, came flitting over. At the sight of Six-Evils, they whimpered and retreated, turning to flee. These bats were mere lesser demons, only beginning to gather spiritual energy—of little value. Yet Six-Evils had no intention of letting them escape.

He moved forward deliberately, when suddenly, a night bat of humanoid form appeared before him. Without a doubt, this was the king of the night bats.

Faced with this monkey, reeking of its kin’s blood, eyes like pools of blood, the Night Bat King did not approach rashly, despite the difference in power. He hovered in the air, studying Six-Evils with suspicion, and with some difficulty, spoke:

"Is this your tribe?"

Speech was not difficult for demonic beasts; once reaching the threshold of enlightenment, they naturally gained the power of speech. Still, to express oneself clearly and converse with ease required one to reach the level of transformation, and even then, many chose to retain the tongue of their kind, shunning the language of humans.

It was like a foreign language learned in modern times—everyone might speak a few words, but few used it for daily conversation. Even two skilled translators would revert to their mother tongue rather than use a foreign language for comfort.

A cold glint flickered in Six-Evils’ eyes as he growled low in his throat, offering no reply.

"You cannot speak? No, it’s not that. There must be another reason—could it be..." The Night Bat King's pupils narrowed until they were mere slits. "Was it you who killed them?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Six-Evils lunged, pouncing at the Night Bat King. Having learned from previous battles, he chose once more to fight up close, relying on his physical strength to counteract any disadvantage in speed.

The Night Bat King soared abruptly, evading the attack. But as Six-Evils sought him out, the bat’s silhouette flashed through a shadow and vanished completely.

For the first time, Six-Evils witnessed a true demonic art: the Night Bat King’s innate power—Shadow Slip.

He did not flee but calmly raised his bone blade before his chest, slowly retreating until he pressed against the stone wall, then stood still, waiting for the bat’s reappearance.

Six-Evils knew well that for a demon beast of this level, such arts could not be maintained for long. His only chance was to attack swiftly, and with his stamina recovering, the odds favored him.

In the silence, like a fleeting shadow, the Night Bat King gradually materialized, clinging to the stone ceiling above Six-Evils, claws hooked tightly, body suspended upside down, fangs gleaming with a blood-red glow.

He drifted down toward Six-Evils’ head, so light it was like a feather.

But even a feather stirs the air, and in such close quarters, in the hush of the cave, it could not escape the twin ears of a monkey.

A look of triumph flashed in the Night Bat King's eyes as he aimed for the crown of Six-Evils’ head, fangs descending like a blooming flower.

But in the next instant, his triumphant bloom was shattered by his own scream, blood spraying everywhere.

Though Six-Evils' hands were still before his chest, his bone blade had pierced the Night Bat King’s throat, the handle gripped not by a hand, but by his tail.

Monkeys have tails, and in that moment, Six-Evils’ tail became his third claw.

He twisted, seized the Night Bat King's forelimbs, and while his tail churned the bone blade, he opened his jaws and bit down hard.

The Night Bat King struggled desperately, with a powerful body and thick demonic energy, he still had strength to fight back. His wings, ending in sharp spurs, stabbed again and again at Six-Evils’ chest, but Six-Evils was unmoved. Bearing the pain, he focused only on thrashing his tail and biting ferociously.

Each strike of the wing-spurs was met with a wet, splitting sound, blood spattering, pain lancing through Six-Evils’ nerves. Yet, for him, such agony was nothing new—he had endured much worse in this life and the last. This pain was not enough to shake him.

He knew that allowing a demon of this level to escape would bring far greater harm—constant harassment would eventually wear him down, ending in grave injury or death.

No other night bats came to the king’s aid. After a brief but intense struggle, Six-Evils’ bone blade, driven by his tail, finally severed the bat’s throat, then withdrew and plunged straight into its heart, shredding it to pulp.

At last, the Night Bat King’s body twitched weakly, then stilled forever.

Six-Evils wrenched the bat’s head off with all his strength, then collapsed to the ground. Staring at the lifeless eyes in his hand, he suddenly burst into laughter.

Killing a transformed demon was not so difficult, much like slaying the lone old wolf before. The challenge was in fighting a group—first slaying a cluster of core-forming demons, then confronting a transformed demon awakened to its own power. This brought a sense of accomplishment.

Once, he mused, he had become one of the most formidable beings on the outer reaches of Plum Mountain...

He let go, letting the bat’s head thud to the ground, and after a few breaths of laughter, he gasped for air, summoning the Demon Refining Vessel to begin concocting body-tempering elixirs. His body was covered in wounds, his chest, belly, and scalp riddled with holes, blood flowing freely.

What he needed most now was the restorative power of such medicines, for only healing could ensure his survival.

Then he began gnawing on the bat’s corpse; the blood he had managed to drink during the battle was already spent. Only by eating could he recover his strength.

The bat’s body was small. When he finished the night bat, he was still not sated. After a moment’s thought, he returned to the cave where he had slain the core-forming bats. Their corpses had all been used for alchemy, leaving only the body of the burly monkey.

Without hesitation, Six-Evils picked out the fattest monkey corpse and tore into it, devouring its flesh.

To humans, consuming the flesh of one’s own kind might be revolting, but with his demonic nature awakened, Six-Evils was indifferent to such things. It was no different from eating pork, lamb, or beef.

He even found himself wondering whether human flesh might taste delicious as well...

This time, the elixir produced was once again a second-grade Foundation Pill. Judging from the quality, it seemed that one first-grade pill equaled a single core-forming demon, a second-grade pill equaled two or three, or perhaps one transformed demon. It was not an absolute ratio.

Six-Evils’ body was strengthened again, reaching the middle stage of transformation.

He searched the whole cave, but found no more demon cores—only about twenty monkey corpses. The night bats had fled through other cracks and were nowhere to be seen.

Having gone without sleep all night, still lacking strength, Six-Evils decided not to leave but to rest in the cave, concocting elixirs. Once his body was fully tempered, he could go hunting monsters without needing to return.

After some thought, he refined the Night Bat King’s demon core, producing a Shadow Fixing Pill.

His speed had already reached the level of a transformed demon. With the second-grade Shadow Fixing Pill, his speed increased rapidly. Yet, once he reached the peak of the transformation stage, he felt the heat within remained, but his speed improved no further, as if he had hit a bottleneck, bound by some invisible shackle.

"Could it be that my demonic power is insufficient?" Six-Evils considered this and accepted the answer. According to his inheritance, power and strength must go hand in hand—there could be no one with weak energy yet unrivaled strength. There had to be a ratio, so to continue strengthening his body, he could not neglect his demonic power.

He set aside several monkey corpses and refined the others into spirit pills to boost his power. More than twenty monkey corpses went into the vessel. Though none had demon cores, he still managed to produce a first-grade Spirit Essence Pill, raising his energy to the level of speech.

This boost in power took a heavy toll on his strength, but he was prepared. He soon began to eat the monkey corpses, starting with the sturdy one that had been half-devoured by the three core-forming night bats. Its two hind legs and one arm were still intact, and he chose these as his provisions.

Staring at the twisted features and unseeing eyes of the monkey, Six-Evils was struck by a sense of satisfaction—a feeling that overlapped with memories of his previous life. It was as if he were watching his old enemies die by his own hand, and the thrill of vengeance was almost intoxicating.

"Perhaps I was born a monster after all!"

Six-Evils woke from his reverie with this thought.

When all was ready, he picked up his bone blade, intending to find a place to wash away the blood. At that moment, he recalled his maneuver against the Night Bat King.

Using his tail to strike—why had that thought occurred to him?

Reflecting, he realized the idea had sprung from nowhere, as if his mind had become sharper than before. He immediately thought of the Clear Cognition Pill, whose use he had not understood.

It seemed that pill heightened the mind, perhaps what legends called enlightenment.

He was no longer in a hurry to wash, but in the spacious cave began practicing with his tail, turning it into a hidden trump card against powerful foes...

With practice and contemplation, his tail became ever more agile.

Immersed in his training, he failed to notice the subtle sounds approaching from outside.