The Essence Condensation Realm is equivalent to the Fusion Realm of Human Race Cultivators, categorized by the system as a low-level monster. When he "picked up" Xiao Bai, he could kill several Fusion Realm cultivators back and forth.

Even such a low-level Demon Cultivator in the depths of the remote mountains with sparse Demonic Energy is a powerhouse capable of shaking the realms by merely stomping his foot.

The survival environment in the Demon Realm is more savage. Once a Demon Cultivator occupies a territory, the ordinary Demon Race living there automatically becomes its slaves.

Regardless of whether protection is offered, it is common for an entire clan to be implicated and slaughtered if any of the ordinary Demon Race dares to show the slightest noncompliance.

"Thus, ordinary Demon Race who couldn't awaken to become Demon Cultivators lived worse than the Demon Beasts of the Wilderness World," Jiu Mu recalled the past and sighed, "Even mortals from the Human World, under protection, can live in peace to some extent, but back then, every day when we opened our eyes, we weren't sure if we would have a bed to sleep in at night.

Since I started remembering, I have never seen my parents and could only follow my aunt to make a living.

The aunt and clansmen said that when I was not yet one year old, a heavy rain fell, and the lake in the mountains collapsed, flooding fields and villages.

My father was conscripted to repair the dam in pouring rain and never returned.

Only two of the clansmen who went with him escaped back, saying that the heavy rain was actually magic cast by a Demon Cultivator. To amuse his beloved concubine, he intentionally made the commoners repair the dam and then washed them into the river, watching them struggle and cry for help like ants. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

They said when escaping, they saw my father still alive, holding onto a piece of wood floating and spinning on the water, calling for help, urging the clansmen to rescue him.

My mother then entrusted me to my grandmother's care and went with my uncle and clansmen, carrying ropes to rescue him. They never returned either.

Later, when my grandmother passed away, she could only entrust me to my aunt. She was kind-hearted but old, and the food she obtained from labor could barely keep me from starving.

Since I started remembering, my aunt would only be free late at night every day, and then she would repeatedly recount that tragic event.

It's not enough that my parents and so many clansmen drowned; the Demon Cultivator was furious that someone dared to secretly escape, not only killed those two runaway clansmen but also waved a flame that couldn't be extinguished with water, burning half of the village and taking more than ten lives.

She frequently told me in the dark: Jiu'Er, you have to remember how your relatives were killed. You must remember: If you can become a Demon Cultivator, you must avenge them!

If you can't become a Demon Cultivator, when you grow up, leave far away, find a Demon Cultivator who treats you well, whether as a concubine or otherwise, as long as they can protect you entirely. Our lives are not even considered ants in the eyes of those Demon Cultivators. Without a patron, we don't know when we might die.

She said she was old and sick all over, afraid of not living until I grew up, afraid I would forget those hatreds, so she must tell me every day, imprint it into my mind, engrave it into my bones."

After a few breaths of silence, her eyes moistened again, "On my sixth birthday, my aunt cheerfully called me home, saying she had prepared a gift for me.

The linen robe made by the master resembles the gift I received so much. When I turned six, it was the first time I owned a brand-new, coarse yet oversized linen robe.

That should have been one of the rare new clothes my aunt had over the years, yet she gave it to me as a gift.

In those days, a coarse linen robe seemed like a heavenly garment to me; I was even reluctant to wear it!

But shortly after, my aunt accidentally fell off a cliff while chopping wood in the mountains.

When the clansmen found and carried her back, she was already breathing more than inhaling. She held my hand and said: There's still four years left, and before you turn ten, there's a chance to awaken as a Demon Cultivator. You must strive! Become a mighty Demon Cultivator, so the whole clan will never be bullied again!"