Fang Ming looked at a shabby broken down gate that had a plaque up above it, with the sect's name on it. He rubbed his chin and pondered, " Hmm...Yellow Valley sect? Never heard of it. " Which largely didn't surprise him. There were more of these small scale sects scattered among the stars, than grains of sand in a desert.

Fang Ming looked back at the direction he came from and he could see distant lights and thunderous sounds going off. The moment the undead tide broke through the barrier the prey immediately sent forth their greatest masters to try and contain the breach. But even with their best efforts more than 30 zombies still managed to break through and their numbers grew every second. 

Of course, the only reason the prey wasn't immediately slaughtered was that elders had puppets of their own to test. With enemy elders preoccupied and those already inside dealt with the rampaging horde Fang Ming had the elders permission to test his puppets. If he was lucky Fang Ming might even find more candidates for his collection.

Once Fang Min entered the Yellow Valley sect proper he definitely wasn't impressed. Most of the houses were built from simple wood and looked no better than dog houses in his eyes. The same could be said about the training grounds and pagodas. None of them had any enhancements that would help cultivators in their martial path. They were no different from houses of simple mortals, in other words utterly useless.

Only when he went further down did something that resembled a proper cultivator's abode started to appear. Houses built from spirit wood, halls that enhanced one's healing. That's also where heavenly energy seemed to be at it's strongest. " I must have passed through the outer sect grounds and I'm currently in the inner sect. So if I want to have some proper fun I probably have to reach the center."

As Fang Ming took part in the attack he had 2 kinds of encounters. Either enemy cultivators fearfully retreated, in which case they were quickly caught by his puppets and mercilessly ripped to shreds, or some of the braver ones even stayed behind to give some others a chance to escape but they didn't fare much better either. Some of the smarter ones even deduced that he controlled the puppets, but there was no one with enough power to break through his little horde. All his would-be assailants quickly found themselves surrounded and in pieces, their noble intentions down the drain just right next to their own fleshy bits.

Honestly, Fang Ming was disappointed. The disciples of the little sect probably, couldn't put up much of a fight at the best of times, but now with all the chaos, they resembled panic-stricken children that just waited for someone to pinch their little heads off.

In fact, very little indicated that his opponents are actually a part of a proper cultivation sect. Their robes were in a shabby yellow color and didn't seem to aid in either cultivation or combat. Their whole sect was nothing more than a group of 60 or so buildings situated around one central temple. Their arts were simple and crude. Simple qi enhanced strikes and kicks. While even such a simple art could potentially be dangerous in the hands of an expert, but if this place had anyone that even resembled an expert Fang Ming had yet to meet him.

Hell, he could even see deaths caused by the mass-produced 1st realm puppets the clan used as a distraction. At least those that were killed by his puppets should feel honored that their end was brought by a superior product and his puppets were definitely superior. Each one of his puppets was personally refined by him with love and care. Faster, tougher, stronger than the low effort squabble created by the sect but also harder to control. Fang Ming has monstrous talent in necromantic arts but alas that still didn't save him from the shackles of inexperience. Hence these little outings were so important.

As he made his way toward the temple in the center, something piqued his interest. There were signs of battle, not of one-sided massacre but an actual battle. Destroyed walls, wrecked furniture, and a pleasant surprise, incapacitated undead, several of them.While they were still technically functioning, their broken bones and bent joints told otherwise. With their limbs crippled the poor undead could do little more than growl as they were stuck inside ruble of broken-down houses or left outside under open sky to rot. Fang Ming was almost afraid to hope but there might just be a skilled fighter among the enemy disciples.

Fang Ming was following the path laid out by the broken corpses towards the center when he finally saw it. In an empty square dead set in the center of the sect, a thing of beauty. A single warrior, a muscular brute with short, brown hair, and a simple sleeveless robe coupled with black pants.

Armed with nothing but his fists against 6 undead puppets, he weaved just outside their reach. A single mistake would spell his doom, yet he evaded at the last possible moment just to get a single opening, and he wasted no openings. Each attack delivered with the intention to cripple his unfeeling opponents. A broken knee there, a bent elbow there, and a few broken spines for a good measure and a power strike that launched the zombies into any of the surrounding buildings to top it all off. After a few rounds, the undead were reduced into sacks of broken flesh, scattered into the surroundings.

The mysterious warrior was definitely skilled, he used the same basic martial art as all the other Yellow Valley disciples but his mastery was cut above the rest. Instead of simply coating his arms in Qi, he enhanced his attacks at the moment of impact and dealt additional damage that allowed him to tear apart the refined bodies of the undead. As the mysterious warrior dealt with the last of the undead some disciples ran past him to the central temple. Since they didn't scatter or run and instead gathered at a single location, they probably had an ace up their sleeve. Normally that might be concerning news, but Fang Ming couldn't care less, he finally found a worthy playmate, the rest could either die or flee as far as he was concerned, but right now introductions were in order.