Refining Demons in the Land of Ten Thousand Monsters
Upon awakening, Ji Xun found himself transformed into a farmer in the Kingdom of Serpents. The realm teemed with myriad monsters; the way of humanity had faded, and imperial authority was nowhere to be seen. With no other choice, he cultivated demonic arts in a human body, tracing the origins of beasts to unlock their secrets, dreaming the lives of countless great demons. To his astonishment, the legendary monsters who once roamed the world had human forms at their core: the venerable Azure Dragon had begun life as a humble carp; the nine-tailed fox, famed for seducing heroes, was, in truth, a male fox. Thus, upon the path of cultivation, he vowed to forge tendons of dragons, bones of tigers, and the heart of a celestial demon, to master the arts of earthly fiends and spectral ghosts, and to reshape the world anew.
Refining Demons in the Land of Ten Thousand Monsters
The moon shone brightly in a sky sparsely dotted with stars, while crows and magpies flew southward.
Ji Xun’s thin figure half-leaned against a moss-covered stone by the field. The evening breeze caressed his face, stirring the strands of hair at his temples. He had crossed into this world half a day ago. Drawing on the memories of the body’s original owner, Ji Xun had gained a preliminary understanding of his situation.
The man whose body he now inhabited was named Wang Dali, residing in a small rural farmstead within the Serpent Kingdom. In this realm, the ruling class was made up of snake demons, while other demon tribes, humans, and mixed-blood demon descendants held a lower status.
Wang Dali’s work was to cultivate food for the snake lords. Ordinarily, snake demons, as carnivorous creatures, would not be interested in grass, but some peculiar demon had invented a plant called “Beastgrass,” which was beloved by the lower classes of demons in all nations.
“Am I truly transmigrated, or have I awakened some latent wisdom?” Ji Xun mused. “Well, whatever the case, I must accept what fate has brought.”
He rose and picked up a battered wooden bucket by his side. Inside sloshed a thick red liquid, pungent and fishy, refined from the blood of various wild beasts—rumored to even contain demon blood. Every few paces, Ji Xun would pour a bit of this blood onto specific spots in the field.
After nearly half an hour, sweat-soaked and weary, he leaned once more against the stone to rest. It was not that he was driven by a wild ambition to outdo
