Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 510: ANNIHILATING THE HEAVEN’S ASCENSION SECT

Xu Canghai sat alone in his dimly lit chambers, eyes bloodshot and burning with barely contained fury.

Five long months had dragged by since the Orthodox Alliance had cast his sect out like discarded trash, forcing them to fend for themselves.

The betrayal still tasted like ash on his tongue.

Discontent had spread like poison through the ranks.

Disciples and elders muttered in shadowed corridors, their loyalty fracturing under the weight of isolation and fear.

Many had already abandoned the sect, slipping away under cover of night with whatever valuables they could carry.

In less than five short years, the once-mighty Heaven’s Ascension Sect, proud beacon under the previous sect master, had crumbled to rock bottom. Empty training grounds echoed with silence.

Grand halls stood half-deserted. The proud banners that once fluttered with celestial qi now hung limp and faded.

"Sect Master," a remaining disciple announced quietly from the doorway, voice hesitant. "The mercenaries have arrived."

A handful of disciples and elders had chosen to stay. Not out of blind loyalty, but cold calculation.

They believed the rumors of Chen Mo’s terror were exaggerated, nothing more than fearful gossip.

In their eyes, this was an investment, stand firm while the sect was at its lowest, then reap the rewards when it inevitably rose again.

Their opportunistic stares followed Xu Canghai like vultures.

"Accept them," Xu Canghai ordered, voice steady despite the storm inside.

"See that they are well rested and fed. We never know when the attack will come."

Outwardly, he appeared calm, back straight, hands clasped behind him.

In truth, panic clawed at his insides. He had even summoned his son from the higher realms, begging for reinforcements that might never arrive in time.

Every defense he could conceive had been prepared: layered killing arrays around the mountain gates, stockpiled spirit stones, elite guards posted at every choke point.

Yet all he could do now was wait for Chen Mo’s inevitable retaliation, praying it would strike sooner rather than later so the torment of uncertainty would finally end.

---

"My lord," the white-haired young man reported with a respectful bow, "the Heaven’s Ascension Sect has completed their preparations."

The Heavenly Demon Sect stood proudly atop a severed mountain peak, its halls carved directly into the living stone.

After emerging from the Tomb, Chen Mo had spent two grueling years forging this new power from nothing.

The first act had been spectacular.

With a single swing of his reforged blade, he had sheared the mountain’s summit clean off in a deafening explosion of rock and qi, sending boulders the size of houses tumbling into the clouds below.

Dust clouds had billowed for days.

Then, with meticulous precision, he carved an immense staircase into the sheer face, each step infused with stabilizing arrays so that even the weakest disciple could ascend without fear.

Next came recruitment.

Chen Mo scoured the realm for unaffiliated cultivators, wandering experts, rogue geniuses, the overlooked and the oppressed.

Any prodigy he found, he welcomed with open arms.

Those without talent... he made them prodigies.

His Mystic Arms glowed with golden light as he reached into their bodies, severing flawed spiritual roots and replacing them with exponentially stronger ones.

Meridians widened. Qi flow surged like rivers after spring thaw.

But his greatest gift came afterward. With surgical mastery, he split every cultivator’s core into three perfect spheres.

Two of those cores he filled with the foreign heavenly and demonic essences he had learned from Vault, pure, volatile energies that amplified strength far beyond mortal limits.

The sect’s overall power skyrocketed in mere months.

The purpose of the Heavenly Demon Sect was simple yet profound: to serve as a check and balance against both the Orthodox and Unorthodox Alliances.

No longer would cultivators be oppressed and trampled simply for lacking backing or status.

Chen Mo had built this place so that no one would ever suffer the way he once had.

"Alright," Chen Mo said calmly, rising from his throne of black jade. "Let’s go."

He took only his elite team of four, silent, lethal figures who moved like extensions of his will.

With a single step, Chen Mo and his chosen warriors descended the mountain, their auras cutting through the wind like blades.

The time for waiting was over.

The Heaven’s Ascension Sect would fall.

---

"Sect Master! Chen Mo has appeared!!"

The disciple burst into Xu Canghai’s chambers, breathless, face pale with urgency.

His robes were disheveled from the sprint up the mountain stairs, qi still flickering wildly around him.

Xu Canghai’s bloodshot eyes snapped up from the map table.

"Inform the others," he ordered, voice low and taut. "It’s time. Prepare for battle."

He rose swiftly, hand already reaching for the ancient sword hanging above the altar, its blade etched with fading celestial runes, a relic of the sect’s better days.

The metal sang faintly as he drew it, a sound that once inspired awe but now felt hollow.

Outside, the remaining cultivators gathered before the grand gate in a ragged line.

Elders in tattered robes clutched talismans; disciples gripped weapons with white-knuckled hands.

Fear hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of mountain pine and distant rain.

The Black Snake Mercenary Group arrived last, hulking figures in dark scaled armor, qi radiating menace like coiled serpents.

"Chen Mo, you bastard," Xu Canghai snarled the moment he laid eyes on the figure standing alone at the base of the steps. "Today you die."

Chen Mo stood motionless before the gate, four silent cultivators arrayed behind him like shadows given form.

Gone was the ragged, starving wretch Xu Canghai remembered from years ago.

Now Chen Mo wore flowing black robes of exquisite midnight silk, embroidered across the chest in shimmering gold thread with two simple words: Heavenly Demon.

His long hair stirred gently in the wind, and the reforged blade at his hip caught the sunlight in a cold, star-like gleam.

He met Xu Canghai’s gaze, not with rage, not with hatred. Just pity. A quiet, almost sorrowful pity that cut deeper than any insult.

"Where is Su Yueqing?" Chen Mo asked, voice calm and level, carrying effortlessly across the distance.

Xu Canghai’s lips twisted into a mocking sneer.

"I don’t know. But don’t worry, after I kill you, I’ll make sure to find her. And if she’s already given birth to my grandchild..." He let the threat hang, hoping to ignite fury, to draw Chen Mo into reckless anger.

But Chen Mo remained utterly unaffected. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

Why would it? After five years in the Tomb, after Vault’s revelations, after glimpsing the scale of true power, Mystic Organs, thrones beyond realms, entities that dwarfed entire worlds, Xu Canghai’s petty cruelty felt small.

Insignificant. Like a child throwing stones at a mountain.

"Kill them all," Chen Mo instructed his elite four, tone flat and final. "Aside from Xu Canghai. I will kill him myself."

"Yes, my lord!" the four chorused in perfect unison, voices ringing with absolute obedience.