Under the moonlit sky, Pan Lian placed the body preservation pill within Wei Hua’s still form. A faint glow pulsed from her chest, sealing her body in a temporary stasis. Pan Lian turned to Lu Sang, his expression solemn.

"Her body will be held together for one month," he stated. "Make haste, Lu Sang. The Holy Sword Sect may be her final resting place."

Lu Sang nodded, lifting Wei Hua onto his back before setting off towards the northeast. The journey was arduous, the weight of his fallen companion pressing against both his shoulders and his heart. After a day and a night of relentless travel, his path crossed with a caravan. The traders were heading northeast to a town near the Holy Sword Sect, their carts laden with silks, herbs, and refined ores. With their permission, Lu Sang traveled alongside them, making use of their supplies and companionship to regain his strength.

The journey took five long days, during which Lu Sang remained silent, his mind clouded with thoughts of what lay ahead. At last, they arrived within Cherry Town, a small settlement nestled a mile away from the sacred grounds of the Holy Sword Sect. Without delay, Lu Sang ascended the mountain path leading to the sect, his steps unwavering despite the fatigue weighing upon him.

Upon reaching the sect’s entrance, a powerful aura descended upon him. An Yang, the esteemed headmaster of the Holy Sword Sect, stood in the air upon his sword, his robes billowing with divine energy. Lu Sang halted, bowing with respect as An Yang descended before him.

"You have come far," An Yang said, his voice carrying the wisdom of years. His sharp gaze softened momentarily as he looked upon Wei Hua’s body. With a gesture, she was lifted from Lu Sang’s arms and placed gently upon a floating veil of energy.

"Your path is clouded with sin, Lu Sang," An Yang warned, his eyes locking onto the young warrior. "If you continue down the road of demonic cultivation, it will not be long before another war breaks out to stop it. The cycle of bloodshed must end."

Lu Sang clenched his fists but remained silent, knowing that arguing would be fruitless. He simply watched as An Yang turned away and headed toward the Holy Sword Sect’s burial grounds. There, Wei Hua was laid to rest in a serene plot among other honored warriors.

Kneeling before the fresh grave, An Yang pressed his palms together and closed his eyes in prayer. "May she find her way to the Holy Path in her next life and become the Buddha of the righteous cultivation."

Lu Sang lingered for a moment, bowing one final time to his fallen companion before turning away. His mission was complete. Now, all that remained was his return to the Fanism Empire.

Descending the mountain, he retraced his steps through Cherry Town and the wilderness beyond. After several days of travel, he arrived at his military home, a fortress where warriors of the empire awaited their next commands. As he entered the barracks, he exhaled deeply, shedding the weight of the journey.

Now, he would await his next orders from Pan Lian, knowing that the path ahead was far from over.

Lu Sang sat cross-legged within his cultivation chamber, the golden Sage Cultivation Pill resting in the palm of his hand. The air around him thrummed with spiritual energy, as if the heavens themselves acknowledged the potency of the pill. With a deep breath, he consumed it, and immediately, a surge of warmth coursed through his meridians. His entire body trembled under the immense power as his demonic core expanded, absorbing the essence of the pill.

For a full day, he cultivated without pause. His demonic energy thickened, his aura sharpened, and his mind grew clearer. When he finally opened his eyes, a subtle change had taken place. The realm of Nascent Demon Lord was now behind him—he had ascended, stepping firmly into the next tier of power. A smirk played on his lips as he clenched his fist, feeling the newfound strength coursing through him.

However, his satisfaction was short-lived. His mind wandered to Cherry Town, a place he had once considered visiting. Yet, he knew that stepping into that town would mean inevitable conflict with the Holy Sword Sect. Their paths were fundamentally opposed—righteous cultivators who wielded divine justice would never tolerate someone like him, nor could he entertain their sense of moral superiority. A battle was all but guaranteed.

Instead of acting rashly, Lu Sang penned a letter to Pan Lian, seeking further instructions. Within a day, her response arrived, concise yet laced with indifference:

"Head south. There is a slum city under my dominion. Do as you wish. Kill them, sell them into slavery, or redesign it into your personal stronghold for a black market. I do not care."

Lu Sang smirked. Such absolute freedom was rare in the world of cultivation, where hierarchy and duty often dictated one’s actions. He decided to investigate first before choosing a course of action.

He turned to retrieve a map, only to find it missing. Frustration flickered across his face as he called out, "Cao Suyin!"

Within moments, a woman clad in deep violet robes entered the throne room. Cao Suyin, ever composed, carried an unfurled map and presented it to him.

"This is the only detailed record of the region," she stated calmly.

Lu Sang traced his fingers over the map, noting the features of the slum city in question. There was little of immediate value—except for a gold mine, worth a mere 20% of standard currency valuation. However, his eyes gleamed upon spotting something far more intriguing: Peart Crystals. These rare minerals were used in the creation of the world's primary currency, but more importantly, they could also be molded into a medium for black market transactions, making them invaluable in the underworld.

Without further hesitation, Lu Sang mobilized his forces and spent seven arduous days traveling to the slum city.

Upon arrival, he was met with filth, disease, and hopelessness. The people barely survived, their bodies weak, their spirits crushed. If left alone, the city would decay further, doomed to obscurity. But Lu Sang saw potential—not in the people, but in their desperation.

Over the course of a month, he transformed the city into something new. Underground trade networks were established, coin flowed through illicit means, and connections with powerful criminal syndicates were forged. The slum city was reborn as Lu City, a black market haven where fortunes could be made in the shadows.

Eighty percent of the locals found wealth beyond their imaginations, thriving through trade, commerce, and underground dealings. The remaining twenty percent found prosperity in another form—selling slaves. With Peart Crystals as the foundation, the city became an economic powerhouse outside the grasp of conventional rulers.

Lu Sang stood atop his newly constructed palace, gazing down at the city he had carved from ruin. Power was not about following the righteous path or the wicked one—it was about control. And here, in Lu City, he held absolute dominion.