After finishing his meal, Xue Xinyu delicately plucks the poisoned needles from the table. With a focused expression, he gathers his Qi, channelling it into his clenched fist. As he exhales softly, a surge of energy courses through him, and with a swift motion, he opens his hand, palm facing downwards. The needles, now crumbled to mere ashes.

Concern etches itself onto Li Tao's features as he observes Xue Xinyu's actions. "Xinyu Da Ge, are you alright?" he inquired, his voice tinged with genuine worry. However, Xue Xinyu's response is not one of distress but rather contemplation, his mind racing with the implications of his newfound abilities.

It wasn't merely about releasing his anger; it was about understanding the extent of the power he now possessed, inherited from Huai Xiaozhun's formidable legacy. Huai Xiaozhun's resilience against poisons was renowned, a testament to his upbringing. The ease with which Xue Xinyu destroyed the needles spoke volumes—it wasn't just Huai Xiaozhun's body he had taken on, but his strength and resilience as well.

Leaning back in his chair, Xue Xinyu allows the remnants of the needles to fall to the floor, a sigh escaping his lips. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, and while he had inherited Huai Xiaozhun's strength, he couldn't help but wonder if he possessed the same resilience to endure the trials to come.

"I'm alright," he assures Li Tao, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Rising gracefully from his seat, he turned to address Liang Zhiguan with a gentle yet resolute tone. "Zhiguan, continue with your studies. I'll be inside, alone," with those words, he strides purposefully into the depths of his chambers.

Opening a floor tile under his bed revealed a small, unassuming black bag adorned with a simple blue rope, nestled within a secret recess. With a sense of reverence, Xue Xinyu carefully withdrew the bag and untied its delicate knot. As he peered inside, a small, satisfied smile graced his lips, the expression reminiscent of a scholar uncovering a long-lost manuscript.

Ah, the infinity bag—a treasure known far and wide across the cultivation world, cherished by Huai Xiaozhun since his youth. The origins of this remarkable artefact remained shrouded in mystery, its acquisition intertwined with the tale of Lánjiàn, the legendary sword that had become synonymous with Huai Xiaozhun's prowess.

Legend held that both sword and bag were obtained simultaneously from the estate of a deceased warlock.

The bag, revered as one of the strongest artefacts in the cultivation world, possesses the unique ability to hold an infinite number of objects within its seemingly modest confines. And during his prime years, when the world lay at his feet and the future seemed boundless with promise, Huai Xiaozhun had filled the bag with treasures beyond measure.

From gleaming gold coins to exquisite jewellery, from ancient swords steeped in history to meticulously crafted scrolls containing the wisdom of ages, the bag became a repository of his aspirations, dreams, and desires.

One of these scrolls was stolen by Zhao Lian in the book. Because the scroll was stolen by the main character, it was obviously revealed what was inside the scroll. It was one of the scrolls one of Zhao Lian's concubines cultivated with.

Let's talk about demonic cultivation, shall we? It's like the forbidden fruit of the cultivation world—everyone knows it's taboo, but boy, does it pack a punch in the strength department!. Who wouldn't want to take the fast track to strength, skipping past years of tedious training with a quick dip into the darker arts? It's the fast track to power, a shortcut through the arduous labyrinth of cultivation. Sure, it might tarnish your reputation faster than you can say "cultivator scandal," but hey, who's counting when you're levelling up at warp speed?

And then there's our dear Huai Xiaozhun, the subject of many scandalous rumours. Whispers abound that he's got a touch of the demonic qi about him. So, why not lean into it, right? If you're already being accused of devilish deeds, you might as well make the most of it and dive headfirst into the demonic arts! After all, when life gives you lemons, you summon a demon and make lemonade. Or something like that.

Lánjiàn, Huai Xiaozhun's favourite sword and the one he used throughout his life after acquiring it, was also a demonic sword. Despite its demonic nature, it didn't appear demonic at all; instead, a serene shade of celestial blue, accented with subtle black designs that harmonise with Huai Xiaozhun's personal aesthetic. In the realms of Ende, where symbolism runs deep – the colour indicated that the bearer was a warlock.

Ah, but Huai Xiaozhun's narrative twists don't stop there. Born with a curious blend of demonic and mortal qi, he navigates life's turbulent seas with the finesse of a dandelion in a hurricane. And let's not forget his brief stint as a ghost—a ghostly warlock crown prince, if you will. His journey from misunderstood outcast to spectral sovereign of the arcane arts is a testament to resilience, adaptability, and perhaps a touch of cosmic irony.

Being a ghost was like snagging a VIP pass to the afterlife circus, but with an extra dose of spectral pizzazz. Imagine it as the undead deluxe package, complete with a swirling fog of lost memories and a knack for haunting that would make Casper blush. If you met your demise in a particularly grisly fashion, welcome to the ghost gang—a crew of spectral juggernauts who hit the ethereal gym, bench-pressing curses and deadlifts of doom. And let me tell you, those ghosts were built like tanks, fueled by the power of forgotten memories. It's like they hit the gym of the afterlife and came out bench-pressing curses.

But hold onto your ectoplasm, because there's a twist in this cosmic tale! If your departure from the mortal coil was as smooth as butter and you kept your karmic slate squeaky clean, voila! You were whisked off faster than Houdini's vanishing act. No haunted houses for you—just a direct flight to the celestial VIP lounge, where the views are divine and the ambrosia flows freely. It's the universe's way of patting you on the back and saying, "Well done, old chap. Here's your golden ticket to eternal bliss. Enjoy the show!"

Now, onto the nitty-gritty without revealing too many plot spoilers.

Mastering the demonic arts shouldn't pose much of a challenge for Xue Xinyu, armed with all the insider knowledge from the novel's forbidden scrolls. From summoning infernal tempests to commanding the dance of death with corpses, it's a crash course in supernatural swagger. And let's not forget the pièce de résistance—the forbidden scroll that unlocks the mysteries of 'Tempest' and a cornucopia of other diabolical delights.

With these arcane secrets in hand, Xue Xinyu is poised to turn the cultivation world on its head. Whether he's dodging spectral slings and arrows or flipping the script on demonic taboos, one thing's for certain: this ghostly warlock crown prince isn't just rewriting his destiny—he's rewriting the rules of the afterlife itself, one cursed scroll at a time.

The misunderstood world of demonic arts! It's like the black sheep of the cultivation family—nobody really gets it, but it's got a certain charm, you know? Sure, they call it demonic arts, but honestly, it's more like a twisted game of puppetry. Control people based on their sins? Sounds like a reality TV show gone wrong!

But hey, let's not judge too quickly. After all, if you've got a knack for controlling folks based on their dirty laundry, why not put it to good use? Cultivators could be the ultimate puppet masters, pulling strings and controlling undead creatures like it's a twisted version of the world's weirdest puppet show.

Of course, proposing such an idea might raise more than a few eyebrows. Picture Xue Xinyu, esteemed peak master by day and part-time cultivator by night, casually suggesting a curriculum on controlling undead creatures with the power of sin. It's akin to suggesting to use cake frosting as mortar for your sect's ancient walls—utterly unconventional and potentially eyebrow-raising.

Securing the bag to his robe belt, Xue Xinyu rises from the floor, replacing the tile over the concealed compartment with a deft touch. Settling back onto his bed in a more relaxed posture, he carefully retrieves the scroll from the infinity bag and unfurls it with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "What in the world is this? Where's the writing? It's just intricate drawings and cryptic symbols!" Xue Xinyu mentally exclaims, a hint of frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Struggling to make sense of the contents, Xue Xinyu turns the scroll around and realises he had been holding it upside down. "Let's just pretend that didn't happen," he mutters to himself with a wry grin, brushing off the minor mishap. Refocusing his attention, he begins to scrutinise the scroll, absorbing the brief descriptions, deciphering the variety of symbols, and studying the numerous intricate drawings that seem to dance across the parchment like ghostly apparitions.

The illustrations evoke a sense of familiarity in Xue Xinyu, akin to a comic book.

The scroll unfurled to reveal a series of illustrations. In the first scene, a figure sat in darkness, seemingly immersed in cultivation. The subsequent frame depicted the same figure touching the ground, uttering what appeared to be a command.

Then, the figure stood upright, as corpses began to emerge from the earth. Following this, there were depictions of the corpses obediently following the individual's orders. Finally, a panel indicated that the number of corpses controlled depended on one's qi and skill.

If this was supposed to be an instructional manual, Xue Xinyu was convinced it was written by someone who had binged one too many cheesy martial arts movies.

The Heavenly Bell, when summoned, had the dual capacity to ensnare unsuspecting foes within its colossal form or, when rung, to render them immobile with its ethereal toll. The effectiveness of this technique, Xue Xinyu noted with a raised eyebrow, was purportedly proportional to the user's strength, capable of restraining a greater number of adversaries with each toll.

Yet, the scroll was quick to caution—the Heavenly Bell's ostentatious presence could also serve as a double-edged sword. Its conspicuous nature made the user an easy target for vigilant adversaries, their whereabouts potentially betrayed by the resonating chime of this supernatural artefact.

Before delving further into the complexities of the Heavenly Bell, Xue Xinyu's attention was drawn to the method preceding it: 'Corpse Manipulation'. This technique, he learned, required no elaborate gestures or overt displays of power. Instead, it operated on subtlety and stealth, ideal for covertly influencing motionless corpses with a mere whisper infused with demonic qi.

Despite the formidable challenges posed by 'Corpse Manipulation' and the flashy allure of the 'Heavenly Bell', Xue Xinyu couldn't deny the intrigue they held. Amidst the absurdity and potential for calamity, these methods represented a tantalising glimpse into the arcane world of demonic arts—an enigmatic realm where power and peril danced a macabre waltz, beckoning him deeper into its shadowy embrace.

The scroll itself functions as a method; within its confines lie numerous techniques. To contain all these methods, a 'spell' is cast upon the scroll, ensuring it remains compact. Once unfurled, however, it seemingly never ends.

The only problem was: where the heck would Xue Xinyu be able to learn such methods? The peak was vast and surrounded by towering mountains, with thousands of steps leading down to the nearest city. Sure, he could theoretically grab his sword, take a leap of faith, and zoom off to some secluded mountain for practice, but let's be real here—who in their right mind would try sword-flying mere seconds after transmigrating?

Certainly not Du Rui, who was likely still busy pinching himself to check if this whole transmigration gig was just a bizarre dream. Besides, attempting such an aerial acrobatic feat with zero experience was a one-way ticket to becoming a real-life, non-metaphorical pancake.

But hey, at least if he plummeted to his doom, he'd go out with a bang. Or was it more of a splat? Either way, it'd make for one heck of a story in the afterlife.

Besides, launching himself into the air with the grace of a floundering fish, devoid of any prior experience, was a surefire recipe for transforming into a non-metaphorical pancake upon impact.

Then again, if fate decreed his plummet from the heavens, it would undoubtedly be a memorable exit—one destined for the annals of legendary mishaps. Would it be a dramatic bang as he hurtled towards the earth, or more of a messy splat upon impact? Either way, it would make for one heck of a tale to recount in the afterlife's celestial cocktail parties.

Thus, balancing precariously on his sword mid-air (hanging on for dear life), Xue Xinyu tentatively tested the waters of flight after informing Li Tao and Liang Zhiguan of his temporary departure. The sensation of being airborne, however, quickly brought him face to face with the daunting reality of altitude. Qi Yun Peak's elevation was no joke, and as he hovered there suspended in mid-air, it dawned on him like a punchline delivered by fate itself.

It wasn't so much a fear of heights that gripped him but rather a profound realisation of just how ridiculously high up he was. After scaling endless flights of steps, it felt as though he stood perched atop the very pinnacle of existence, contemplating a leap into the unknown. Was he truly prepared for such a leap of faith? What if his abilities decided to play hooky and leave him stranded mid-air?

With a deep breath and a muttered prayer to whatever celestial beings might be listening, he steeled himself for the descent or ascent—whichever came first. After all, when life handed you a chance to soar, sometimes you just had to take a leap and hope your wings held true. And if not, well, at least the journey would make for one heck of a story to tell around the celestial campfire.