Chapter 273: The Plague Path

In the supernatural system of the Mystery Version, there existed a crucial concept—positionality.

No matter whether one cast spells or performed rituals, a corresponding level of positionality was required. Moreover, those with higher positionality could easily crush those beneath them.

Among low-sequence and mid-sequence supernaturals, this distinction wasn’t always obvious. But once one reached Sequence Five, positionality became an overwhelmingly dominant factor.

If a low-positionality supernatural attempted to act against a higher-positionality being, they would suffer positional backlash.

Of course, this didn’t occur between just any two supernaturals—at least a two-sequence gap was needed before such backlash could be triggered.

Moreover, between low and mid sequences, positional growth was minimal, and such backlash was rarely seen. Thus, positional backlash was almost exclusively a phenomenon of high-sequence powerhouses.

Take the Sequence Six supernatural who had acted just moments ago—for Lu Yan to cause a backlash against him, it meant Lu Yan was at least a Sequence Four Mortal Saint, or perhaps even stronger.

A Mortal Saint was a figure capable of overseeing an entire region within the Church of the True Gods—a personage of great renown. Many noble houses that had lasted for centuries owed their stability to the presence of a single Mortal Saint.

Barring accidents, Mortal Saints enjoyed lifespans of several centuries and had long since transcended mortal boundaries.

As for those at Sequence Three, the so-called “Mortal Gods”? That Sequence Five man didn’t even dare imagine such a possibility.

“Mortal Saint?” Lu Yan’s lips curved into a faint, meaningful smile.

“I suppose you could say that.”

The gathered supernaturals all reacted with awe, as if they were witnessing a legendary being. The arrogance once present on their faces—flattered by the nouveau riche nobles and capitalists—vanished completely, replaced by reverence and shock.

A middle-aged man in a dark green robe and gold-rimmed glasses, scholarly in appearance, was the first to step forward. He bowed deeply.

“Cain of the Academy of Axiom greets Your Grace, the Mortal Saint!”

Next, the man in crimson formalwear, a Sequence Five powerhouse, stepped forward and knelt on one knee, placing a hand on his chest.

“Dukao of the Crimson Council, at Your Grace’s service!”

“Rena of the Tower of Fate greets the Mortal Saint!” A silver-haired female supernatural offered a graceful salute, her rare violet eyes flickering with intellect and admiration.

One after another, the supernaturals came forward to pay their respects, their expressions solemn, filled with awe.

Those permitted into Violet Manor were rarely users of incomplete supernatural paths. Most possessed legitimate lineages and proper inheritance.

Even if their factions had declined, this etiquette was a mark of respect toward true strength.

The nobles and capitalists who had previously crowded around the supernaturals now looked at each other in confusion. Though they didn’t fully understand what had just happened, they clearly sensed the gravity of the situation.

They quietly stepped aside, not daring to move recklessly for fear of offending this mysterious and unfathomable Mortal Saint.

Earl Violet stood frozen in place, his expression shifting from shock to contemplation, then finally settling into a complex reverence.

As the host of the banquet, he finally stepped forward and offered a deep bow.

“Arthur Levington of House Violet extends our family’s highest respect to Your Grace.”

“I apologize for my earlier rudeness. It was my failure not to recognize your identity.”

His voice was sincere, and his posture humble—completely different from the imposing manner he had shown earlier.

Though House Violet was well-known in Oranke, it was still one of the newer noble families and lacked deep supernatural heritage. Otherwise, they wouldn’t need to host such supernatural gatherings in the first place.

Since the very first event, dozens of these gatherings had been held. Earl Violet had built many connections, even with some Sequence Five powerhouses knighted by the royal family.

But not once had a Mortal Saint ever attended.

To a Mortal Saint, upstarts like the Violet family and the nouveau riche nobles were nothing more than parvenus. They lacked the heritage to attract such beings.

If they could use this opportunity to form a connection with the Mortal Saint before them, the reputation and stature of their supernatural gatherings might rise to a new level.

Lu Yan merely smiled lightly.

“No need to be so tense. I came today simply to attend the banquet and conduct a few trades with those present.”

At the mention of a trade, all the supernaturals immediately brightened with excitement.

“May I ask what Your Grace seeks?”

Lu Yan’s gaze swept across the many supernaturals in the room.

“I wish to collect knowledge of supernatural paths. The more, the better—as long as they aren’t duplicates.”

The hopeful expressions on many of the supernaturals froze instantly. After exchanging glances, they fell into hesitant silence.

Supernatural paths were undoubtedly the most vital core knowledge for any supernatural. When paired with essential materials, this knowledge could establish a formidable supernatural organization.

Especially since most of the supernaturals here came from inherited traditions—even if their factions had declined, such knowledge wasn’t something to be casually traded.

After a short pause, it was Dukao of the Crimson Council who spoke first.

“Your Grace, may I ask—for what purpose are you collecting supernatural path knowledge?”

Lu Yan didn’t conceal anything. He replied directly.

“Of course—to create a brand-new supernatural path.”

The pupils of all the supernaturals present shrank in an instant. The shock of Lu Yan’s words struck them even more deeply than his identity as a Mortal Saint.

A Mortal Saint might be mighty, but they still felt far too distant—most present had no clear sense of what such strength truly entailed.

But to create a supernatural path—that was something every supernatural could comprehend.

They all walked their respective paths, so they understood exactly what kind of unimaginable power was needed to forge one from scratch.

After a moment of silence, a supernatural cloaked in black and shrouded in shadow stepped out from a corner of the hall.

“Your Grace,” the black-robed figure rasped, “I am willing to offer my supernatural path.”

All eyes turned toward him.

When they saw who it was, many showed expressions of surprise.

As the black-robed supernatural walked forward, nobles and even other supernaturals instinctively gave way.

Even before he reached Lu Yan, the dense aura of death emanating from him, along with a Sequence Five fluctuation, had already become apparent.

Lu Yan’s eyes passed over him briefly. The simple concealment spells couldn’t obscure his vision. Beneath the black cloak lay a face covered in festering sores, with dark green blood leaking from the flesh—a stench of rot and plague clinging to every inch.

“Your Grace,” the man rasped, “the path I walk is called the Plague Path. Legend says it originated from a hidden existence known as the Lord of Plagues.”

Lu Yan’s expression shifted slightly.

To be called a “hidden existence” implied, at minimum, a Sequence Three Demigod.

A path that originated from such a being would indeed be valuable for reference.

The black-robed supernatural pulled out two scrolls and handed them to Lu Yan, his voice dry and hoarse.

“These two scrolls contain knowledge from Sequence Nine to Sequence Five, including the potions and rituals required for advancement. I wish to trade these with Your Grace.”

Lu Yan accepted the scrolls.

Even before the plague aura within them touched him, it dispersed automatically.

Opening the scrolls, Lu Yan’s eyes scanned everything in a single instant. A trace of wonder flickered in his gaze.

“The Plague Path,” he murmured, “is built upon the nurturing of microorganisms, gradually refining them into plague energy. Strictly speaking, it’s a method of Gu refinement.”

As Lu Yan spoke softly, the black-robed supernatural couldn’t help but show a proud expression.

The Plague Path was a path with devastating power. Once one entered the sequence, one could spread disease and kill without a trace—an overwhelmingly lethal weapon, especially in wartime.

Unfortunately, these fools in Violet Manor feared his appearance and the side effects of his path. Some even wanted to drive him out.

If he hadn’t already reached Sequence Five, earning Earl Violet’s grudging respect, he wouldn’t have even been allowed through the gate.

Just as the black-robed supernatural was inwardly delighted, Lu Yan’s tone suddenly shifted.

“It’s just a pity… this Plague Path is too fixated on the plague itself. Its flaws are too severe.”

“No matter how powerful a plague may be, it is still a plague—its conceptual level is too low, and its tangible nature is easily restrained by many supernatural forces.”

“If the plague energy were nurtured to a certain degree, and used to evolve into natural disaster, then perhaps it could ascend to Sequence Four.”

“However, the concept of ‘natural disaster’ is far too broad. Even the Lord of Plagues likely only touches a sliver of it. Let alone a path created from that being as its source.”

Lu Yan’s voice was filled with regret, completely ignoring the stunned look on the black-robed man’s face.

Evolving plague into natural disaster!

Just six words, but they struck the black-robed supernatural like a thunderclap in a clear sky.

The Plague Path originated from a Demigod. For it, Sequence Five was already the limit.

To advance to Sequence Four, either the Lord of Plagues would have to break through and broaden the path—or the practitioner would need to open a new road upon an incomplete foundation.

Both options were nearly impossible.

Countless supernaturals throughout history had been trapped by flawed paths. But how many had ever broken free?

The black-robed man had long given up hope, which was why he was the first to offer his knowledge in trade.

Yet now, with just a few casual words, Lu Yan had given him a sliver of hope—a path forward beyond the chains of the plague.

Even if he never truly reached Sequence Four, evolving plague toward natural disaster could still let him surpass ordinary Sequence Fives.

Thud!

The black-robed supernatural fell to his knees without hesitation, no longer bearing a shred of pride. With trembling reverence, he spoke:

“Thank you, Your Grace, for your guidance!”

“Thank you, Your Grace, for your guidance!”

The lower-level supernaturals didn’t quite understand what had just occurred, but the Sequence Five practitioners knew exactly what a tremendous opportunity the black-robed man had received—and they couldn’t help showing envy in their eyes.

“Stand,” Lu Yan said gently.

His words carried a power like divine command. The very air lifted the black-robed man to his feet.

“This was merely a transaction. There’s no need for thanks.”

As he spoke, Lu Yan shook the scroll in his hand.

“So, what do you wish to trade for these?”

The black-robed man’s voice trembled.

“Your Grace has opened the path to Sequence Four for me. How could I dare ask for anything more?”

“I willingly offer this knowledge, along with the matching potions and rituals, as a gift to Your Grace!”

Lu Yan glanced at the potions and rituals in his hands.

To other supernaturals, these were critical to mastering the characteristics of the path. But to him, they held little value.

Unless they involved Sequence Four or above, he had no use for them.

“I only need this,” he said, raising the scroll of knowledge.

“What I said earlier was a gift, not part of the trade.”

As he finished, Lu Yan slowly extended a finger and touched the black-robed man’s forehead.

That finger was long and elegant, yet it radiated an indescribable sacred aura. A faint golden trail was left in the air.

Everyone in the hall held their breath. Even their heartbeats seemed to slow as they stared, captivated.

The black-robed man trembled slightly, but didn’t dare move. He lowered his head in reverent acceptance.

“Since you asked for nothing in return…”

“Then I shall bestow upon you—health.”

Lu Yan’s voice was calm and gentle. But the final word rang with divine force, echoing throughout the hall and shaking every soul.

As the words fell, the hood covering the black-robed man’s head was lifted by an invisible force and fell away—revealing his diseased, ulcer-ridden face.

His skin was ashen and covered in festering wounds, dripping with pus and blood—his body marked by years of plague corrosion.

Even now, as a Sequence Five practitioner able to command plague energy, he still couldn’t cleanse the damage done to his flesh.

The watching nobles recoiled instinctively. Some even covered their mouths in disgust.

But in the next instant, their expressions transformed to awe.

Radiant golden light fell from the void like a divine waterfall, enveloping the black-robed man completely.

The light came from no visible source, as though poured from the heavens themselves, brimming with holiness.

The plague-tainted sores and blood began to heal rapidly under the light.

First, the bleeding stopped. Then came scabbing, mending—and finally, the wounds vanished completely, replaced by smooth, healthy skin.

The entire process took only a few seconds, yet it felt like a natural healing process that spanned years.

The black-robed supernatural touched his face in disbelief.

It was smooth. Clean. Free of disease.

Over the years, he had sought out countless healers and priests.

But the answer had always been the same: unhealable.

Healing the body was easy. But his plague came from his supernatural path. Any outside force was rejected by his plague energy.

Unless his power was destroyed, healing was impossible.

This long-standing flaw had kept him isolated from high society for decades.

Until today—when Lu Yan had erased his lifelong curse with a single touch.

He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face, voice shaking.

“Your Grace… this is a miracle. A true miracle.”

In the great hall, every supernatural watching this scene no longer harbored any hesitation.

Their eyes shone with fervent admiration.

(End of Chapter)