Wei Deming hadn’t started out life with a goal to be a demonic cultivator. He’d had dreams of ascending to the Golden Core realm or even Nascent Soul or, in his wildest dreams, Nihility.
Then, when he was fourteen, he’d been tested. E- roots. One step up from absolute trash.
None of his aspirations would be met. No sect would take him. He’d been forced to find his own path.
After years of advancement that would be frowned upon by righteous cultivators, his roots tested as B, which the new sect was quite happy with even if he was a bit older than a typical inductee. Over the centuries, his caution and search for knowledge had served him well, though he’d stagnated in the middle realms of Golden Core for quite some time.
Discovering clues that led him to recreate the lost Ritual of Sacred Abhisheka had powered him to the peak of Nascent Soul, and he thought it likely that the current cycle would push him to Nihility.
There was a problem, though.
As the blood from the final sacrifice dripped from the altar, Wei Deming checked the flow of demonic energy once again. “The energy produced is definitely less. There won’t be enough for all the participants.”
His assistant, Mao Guoyau, nodded. “As I feared, karma has risen.”
The results spoke for themselves, but the idea was still difficult to credit.
“Enough to be noticeable in only a decade?” Wei Deming said.
“I told you that a righteous sect, one who actually embodies the title. arose to replace the one we destroyed last cycle. What was it called again—the Righteous Ruins Sect?”
“Righteous Rain. And I refuse to believe that a newly created sect produced so much of an impact in only ten years.”
Mao Guoyau shrugged.
Rise in karma or no, the ritual would increase his power. For the next twenty-four hours, his demonic draining techniques would be increased tenfold and any suppression due to realm disparity reduced greatly. And, crucially, no cultivator who was a part of the ritual could drain any other ritualist.
For one night only, hundreds of demonic cultivators would band together to hunt.
The next day, they’d go back into hiding, either returning to seclusion or to their disguises as members of righteous sects according to each individual. Instead of a unified force, they’d be just as likely to kill each other on sight as to fight side by side.
They’d have to modify the plan, though. The energy would be insufficient for the normal quantities. Wei Deming guessed that only somewhere between one hundred fifty and two hundred could be empowered.
“We’ll have to cut back,” he said. “Send some home.”
“They won’t like that. You’ll make enemies.”
Wei Deming sneered. “I make enemies all the time. What can those dregs do to me? They’d only fuel my ascension.”
Turning away a few hundred relatively low level demonic cultivators was a solution for the current cycle, but what about next time? If the rate of good karma production increased, the ritual would be even more underpowered the next time. Wei Deming said as much.
“Should we change our target?” Mao Guoyau said.
“It’s too late. By the time we mobilized, the effect of the ritual would have waned. We must stay the course.”
When they next struck ten years hence, however, the Rising Tide Sect would make a fantastic choice. In the meantime, Wei Deming would just have to do what he could to prevent the spread of so much good karma.