Poison Lord Tang Unhwang's Blossoms Raining Across the Sky tore through Gal Saryang's entire body.

It did not stop there. The steel rain of blossoms bit into the remaining warriors of the Thirteen Skies as well.

That was when the technique's strength became apparent. It manifested as a calamity for anyone whose martial attainment fell short of a certain realm, sweeping them all away.

By then, Jung Yeonshin had beaten the will to fight out of So Jinrang.

An emotion the heir to the Ten Perfections Sect had never experienced before seeped into his heart.

Utter terror. He had to flee the moment he was released.

He suspected an ulterior motive, but for a rising disciple of the unorthodox path, his own safety came first.

And that had brought him here.

On a wooded hill, a chill breeze brushed the fallen leaves. The sound of them tumbling along was decidedly eerie.

Soft, rustling footsteps stopped directly before So Jinrang.

A crimson robe fluttered with a dark sheen. It was the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.

Something sinister lingered on her pale face, now so expressionless that it was hard to believe she had smiled at all.

Staring straight at him, she parted her lips.

"I wonder whether twenty years of your life would amount to even one year of that child's. You certainly ran your mouth without knowing a thing, didn't you? Be grateful. You've gained another hour of life. Our Grand Preceptor's energy detection has grown wider."

There was something strangely bewitching about the way she flexed her slender fingers.

Colorless waves of internal power spread irregularly from each joint.

Her words and actions suggested that she could kill him whenever she pleased, and there was nothing remotely unnatural about it.

So Jinrang knew it too. The Blood Flame Cult's seventh apostle was famous.

They said she had been exalted from birth.

Born with innate blood-art core energy, she was a supreme master who had attained the rank of apostle while still of an age with the rising generation.

Even among the Blood Flame Cult's nobility, she was a martial genius chosen by heaven. Rumor even had it that her mother had died smiling immediately after giving birth to her.

The Seventh Apostle tilted her head slightly.

"Well, this should be far enough. What should I do to you to make him recognize my devotion? Our Grand Preceptor, I mean. Hmm, no. The better I handle you, the more contempt he'll have for me. With those eyes that hold such radiant martial genius... Oh? That would be thrilling too..."

She was growing more incoherent by the moment. That was how it seemed to So Jinrang.

Did she not even register the Ten Perfections Sect's Halberd-Surpassing Sword? She was out of her mind.

"What in the world are you talking about...!"

Instinctive terror seized him.

The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult was not someone who would care about his standing as the young sect leader of one of the Thirteen Skies.

From what she said, she seemed to have some connection with Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin. That boy was unbelievable too.

The youngest Black, someone who could be called the future of the Desolate Fortress, was on friendly terms with a Blood Flame Cult apostle?

It happened then.

White hair suddenly streamed out from behind the Seventh Apostle, beside her shoulder.

A peerlessly handsome, white-haired man slowly leaned his head into view. He had not made the slightest sound.

"His head may be full of demonic defilements—impure, afflicting thoughts—but he has amassed a considerable quantity of qi. Seventh Apostle, I find this offering quite pleasing. I am late from traveling such a long way, but the journey has proved worthwhile."

The man's voice rang out sweetly.

Anyone accompanying the Seventh Apostle had to be an expert of the heretical cult. Yet his monk-like use of the words "demonic defilements" did not seem out of place.

So Jinrang knew too much of the martial world for that.

He knew the Blood Flame Cult's origins. It was said that a grandmaster of blood arts had borrowed elements of Indian Buddhism, the most widespread faith under heaven, to spread the Blood Flame Cult far and wide.

"The Blood Flame Cult Leader...?"

So Jinrang's voice trembled faintly. His mouth twitched.

Anyone would have reacted that way upon encountering the Seventh Apostle and the Blood Flame Cult Leader on some nameless wooded hill.

They were calamities that had emerged through the darkness.

"An offering? How vulgar."

The Seventh Apostle sounded bored. She did not even look at him. It was hardly an attitude befitting an audience with the Cult Leader.

He smiled faintly, as though indulging a petulant daughter.

"You can say that only because you have never experienced the Desolate Fortress Master's sword. By rights, I should have held the advantage over the yin energy that being possesses. Where under heaven is there anyone more yin than you and I?"

"Then why did you lose?"

"Her martial attainment transcended the principles of opposing energies. It was not even Dharma power suppressing my regenerative ability, yet I died many times to sword strikes alone."

In a plain, archaic manner of speech, he discussed the very pinnacle of the martial world.

So Jinrang shuddered. Even in this situation, a thrill ran through him.

The Cult Leader and the Fortress Master.

The Blood Flame Cult, said to have the broadest reach of all the Thirteen Skies, and the Desolate Fortress, which stood like an immovable mountain in northern Huguang Province.

The battle between their leaders had shaken the entire martial world.

The outcome had drawn more than the attention of martial artists. Even the flow of trade from Huguang Province to Southern Zhili had been thrown into upheaval. These were absolute beings.

'How in the world... How...?'

Even So Jinrang, son of the Ten Perfections Sect leader, could scarcely maintain his composure here.

The Blood Flame Cult Leader was said to be a supernatural abomination in human form.

The mere touch of his mild interest made So Jinrang's mind reel.

"It has reached the point where I must use the qi-absorbing formula of the Demonic Asura Blood Art that I bestowed upon the apostles. Without draining vital essence, I cannot recover. Fortunately, this creature holds a considerable amount of energy from the spirit medicines he has consumed. Now I shall be able to act fully as Cult Leader once more. How fortunate. That wretch Ma Yeonjeok's energy was becoming a nuisance."

"Ma Yeonjeok? That decrepit old man?"

"Yes. His prowess had returned to an astonishing degree. But that was not all. I sensed something that gave me a measure of unease. Since my body was not whole, I spent a little while avoiding him. To my eye, our Grand Preceptor appears to have worked some trick. Once we have obtained the blood-art formula that precious boy altered, we ought to deliberate carefully on how to treat him."

"..."

"If we bring the Grand Preceptor back carelessly, we will merely repeat what happened at headquarters. The Desolate Fortress Master will grace us with her presence once more. She seems exceptionally fond of him. Rarely does she draw the Sword of Nirvana. Before this, the last occasion was when she destroyed the royal house of the Dali Kingdom."

"The Desolate Fortress Master is fond of him?"

The Seventh Apostle's eyes narrowed upward.

Conversations between mad people were unpredictable indeed.

The Blood Flame Cult Leader did not bother answering. Brushing back his silken white hair, he gave an uncanny smile.

"Speaking of the Grand Preceptor..."

"...?"

"Why did you omit that report?"

His question was languid instead. For an instant, a chilling silence passed over them.

The night breeze was cold. His words had silenced the Seventh Apostle.

"I hear they met Lightning Genius in the City of Master Artisans and were annihilated. I received a report that the boy's prowess had reached the Black rank. After hearing what happened at the Kuizhou branch, I began to think that might be true. But did my subordinates truly... die there at the Grand Preceptor's hands?"

"..."

"Look at me."

"Your eyes are ugly. Needlessly red."

At her offhand remark, the Blood Flame Cult Leader's lips curved faintly.

"Do you covet the position of Cult Leader? That would be an enchanting sight in its own right. You were born of the noble True Blood Lineage. If you sat upon the throne, you would be the True Blood Cult Leader. Have you not been advancing by leaps and bounds with the formula the Grand Preceptor gave you? If you acquired the Cult Leader's sacred relic, you would advance yet again."

"I'm not particularly interested."

"You ought to take an interest. Some misfortune might yet befall me. The powers of the world are rising ever higher. I hear the Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord killed the Qingcheng Sect Leader."

"The Qingcheng Sect Leader? Isn't that the Red Cloud Sword Venerable? The Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord did it alone?"

"He was already a peerless master, and now he is growing further. They say the Zhongnan Sect Leader is next. The Tyrant Sword Tribe Lord... A half-blood of the noble race, with such lowly aptitude, is using the years as his touchstone. After his defeat by Zhongnan, he entered seclusion and emerged with a great awakening."

As he spoke, the life left So Jinrang's eyes.

It was as futile as standing in a daze and dying to a passing breeze.

At some point, the Blood Flame Cult Leader had closed his hand over the crown of So Jinrang's head.

"First, we shall go to the Tang Clan. I shall personally protect the Great Lightning Genius Art."

The Cult Leader spoke slowly.

The Seventh Apostle said nothing. She merely tucked her long, fluttering black hair behind her ear and lowered her crimson eye, seemingly deep in thought.

* * *

News of the incident on Kuizhou's main avenue spread in ever-widening ripples.

A clash between great factions was a rare sight. The shifting alignments of the Ten Perfections Sect, the Pure Demon Alliance, the Desolate Fortress, and the Tang Clan instantly drew the eyes of the vast Sichuan martial world.

"Can a supreme master that young really exist?"

"There were hundreds of eyewitnesses. The martial artists may argue about whether it took two exchanges or three, but to our eyes, it was a single move. Lightning Genius killed the Pure Demon Alliance's Saber-Fist Demon in one strike, that's what I'm saying. From what I hear, that young master killed the Pure Demon Divine Hand and the Sword Scorpion Demon too."

"I heard he performed the miracle of Blossoms Raining Across the Sky."

"They say the Sichuan Tang Clan will take him in as a live-in son-in-law and honor him as their teacher. It's only fitting. Have we ever seen a rising talent like him? Who could have known there was such a promising supreme master beyond the basin?"

"A mere boy is a Black of the Desolate Fortress? I simply cannot believe it."

Alongside the resurgence of Poison Lord Tang Unhwang, the name of Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin grew greater with every passing day.

Day after day, the clamor in Kuizhou only intensified.

Visiting cards from all manner of illustrious Sichuan houses arrived at the gates of the Desolate Fortress's Kuizhou branch.

Rumor had it that Jang Ildo, the blue-robed expert who wielded authority as its branch leader, was so busy reviewing documents that he no longer even came out for a stroll.

By then, Jung Yeonshin was already on his way to the Sichuan Tang Clan.

He had struggled to regain his composure, sent So Jinrang away, and parted briefly with the Tang clan head.

["We would like to receive you at our estate with every honor."]

Before turning away, Poison Lord Tang Unhwang had stressed it repeatedly.

It would take only a short while to regain full control of the clan, he had earnestly assured his teacher, asking him to visit soon.

He had also said he would prepare to transform the Desolate Sword into a divine sword.

There were two reasons: to stand against the leaders of the Thirteen Skies who had lost their principal experts, and to repay the Tang Clan's teacher.

The Tang Clan specialized in medicine, poison, and hidden weapons. That meant they were skilled at smithing too. Their collection of extraordinary arms was said to be extensive.

'He said I could look forward to spirit medicine too.'

That was why he had formed a party and set out for the Tang Clan.

He could still vividly picture his Radiant Demon Squad seniors waving him off with bright faces.

Baek Miryeo's hand as she stroked his head had been unusually warm as well. Since she practiced a profound demonic art, he had agreed to discuss the Ming Cult Leader's treasure map with her later.

The Beggar Heir and the other Beggars' Sect experts had departed with promises to meet again. It had not been an entirely pleasant farewell, but Jung Yeonshin did not dwell on it.

He had too many matters to take responsibility for.

He had left most of the Wing-Returning Unit at the Desolate Fortress's Kuizhou branch.

As captain of the provisional unit, he had first written a letter to the main fortress detailing the mission's progress and checked on his subordinates' internal injuries once more.

Now he rode with the Tang siblings, accompanied by Heon Wonchang, the Supreme Flame Dragon, and Namgoong Hwashin.

"We will arrive shortly."

Poison Dragon Tang Yeohwa spoke as he guided his fine horse alongside Jung Yeonshin's. He was an accomplished rider despite his small stature. The same was true of Poison Phoenix Tang Ryeoryeo.

Suddenly, Yeonshin recalled the retired clan head's wrinkled face as he had stood motionless beside the current head. His expression had been difficult to read.

'A peculiar old man.'

Amid the clatter of hooves, with dull vibrations rising from the ground through his waist, Tang Ryeoryeo's horse drew closer.

"Benefactor," the girl said.

Her way of addressing Jung Yeonshin had changed since he had passed Blossoms Raining Across the Sky to the Tang clan head.

The boy turned only his gaze toward her.

Tang Ryeoryeo looked embarrassed and could not readily bring herself to speak. The blush on her cheeks seemed proof of her shame. Her small head bobbed gently atop her fine horse.

Jung Yeonshin could guess why. It must have been what the retired clan head had said earlier.

"Don't worry. I have no intention of marrying you."

He was already at a crossroads in how to handle matters.

He needed the Tang Clan to deal with two of the Thirteen Skies, but the Radiant Demon Squad had originally visited the clan to investigate suspicions that it had manufactured Thunderclap Bombs.

He could not enter a political marriage with the Poison Phoenix merely to secure a great faction as an ally.

It would complicate matters. He would be fortunate if it did not lead him into a quagmire.

They had already discussed the Thunderclap Bombs when they first met.

Jung Yeonshin calmly faced forward again. His gaze rested straight ahead. At last, the Tang Clan.

In the distance, rows of tiled roofs were appearing across a vast complex of halls.

"..."

As Tang Ryeoryeo fell silent, the Supreme Flame Dragon interjected. He was chewing a poppy blossom between his teeth, his eyes languidly half closed.

"Let the Tang Clan handle the Thirteen Skies first, Acting Captain, and then we can scoop up only the good bits afterward. Passing on Blossoms Raining Across the Sky alone makes you their benefactor for a thousand years. If they've nothing to hide, they'll open their smithies. Can't we decide after seeing those? Search every nook and cranny if need be."

"I believe he is right."

That was Namgoong Hwashin beside him, nodding solemnly with his picture-perfect face.

The Supreme Flame Dragon's lips curled faintly. Once again, his words carried clearly through the rushing wind.

"You killed the Pure Demon Divine Hand, the Sword Scorpion Demon, and the Saber-Fist Demon in succession. Half the credit for sending Fell Sword Gal Saryang off so ignominiously goes to you too, Acting Captain. Well... Perhaps the leader of Shaolin's Eighteen Arhats could discuss such a feat."

"..."

"A divine sword, spirit medicine, a warm sleeping bag, the finest food under heaven... Let's take what we're owed and leave. Who cares whether a noble clan falls or not?"

"Brother Hwangbo is not wrong. You have fulfilled your obligations, Captain."

Namgoong Hwashin answered again, his tone impassive.

This conversation was taking place right in front of the Tang siblings.

The Supreme Flame Dragon's conduct was true to the rumors, but the words and actions of White Qilin Namgoong Hwashin at Jung Yeonshin's side were truly unexpected.

Following behind with his reins drawn in, Heon Wonchang muttered, "At least one of us has to stay sane."

Half a quarter-hour later, the party arrived at the Sichuan Tang Clan's main gate and dismounted.

Towering walls stretched endlessly to either side. Summer sunlight bathed their surfaces in brightness, as though proclaiming wealth and power.

It was just as the rumors said: the most magnificent and enormous estate in Sichuan Province.

Heon Wonchang regarded the Tang siblings with fresh eyes.

"You two really do come from money."

When they entered the Tang Clan's inner courtyard, Jung Yeonshin received an unprecedented welcome.

The astonishment in Poison Dragon Tang Yeohwa's eyes alone made that clear.

"I greet you, Teacher."

Yeonshin could scarcely take in the smiling Tang clan head. The people arrayed on either side of him distracted from the sight.

Experts faced each other in two rows, as though conducting an ancestral rite, and offered clasped-hand martial salutes.

A broad, long aisle lay empty between them, leading to the seats of honor occupied by the clan head and the Tang Clan's senior figures.

"..."

To Jung Yeonshin, the welcome was excessive.

He passed down the aisle of experts, sat beside the clan head to eat as his hosts wished, and dealt as best he could with the collateral relatives and young rising talents who cautiously approached him.

A long time passed. Little of it, however, remained in his mind.

The boy suddenly raised his head. Dusk was seeping in.

The last light of the sun, which had raced through the summer day, was beautiful. Soft sunset hues draped the sky like silk.

Ordinarily, at this hour, he would be lying curled up in his bed at the main fortress.

"Now should be a good time. Allow me to give you one thing first."

The Tang clan head gestured with his small hand for them to rise.

Jung Yeonshin's party stood with Poison Lord Tang Unhwang. The Tang siblings joined them, their expressions much brighter, as though they had finally enjoyed a proper reunion with their father.

They appeared to be heading into the deepest part of the Tang Clan's stronghold's inner grounds.

Standing to Jung Yeonshin's left, Namgoong Hwashin lightly grasped the hilt of his own Desolate Sword.

They walked in silence for the time it took to drink a cup of tea. The chirping of small birds pleasantly broke the stillness.

Jung Yeonshin arrived with them at a small garden.

An artificial mountain—a stone mound modeled after a mountain, built from fine pebbles—caught his eye. It stood at the center of a very small lake.

A gentle stream circled the mound, and a mysterious mist rose faintly above the water.

RUSTLE.

"We promised you before, Benefactor, that we would transform your sword into a divine sword."

Tang Ryeoryeo stepped forward and extended her arm slightly, gesturing from Jung Yeonshin toward the water's edge.

"You need only dip it in and take it out. It will work for just one sword."

"...?"

After a brief silence, Heon Wonchang spoke.

"Was the Sichuan Tang Clan a den of snake-oil peddlers all along? Are you trying to sell us a miracle cure?"

He seemed to have inadvertently spoken his thoughts aloud. Startled at himself, he covered his mouth with one hand.

The Supreme Flame Dragon leaned his mouth close to Jung Yeonshin's ear.

"I don't know what will become of the Wing-Returning Unit, but let's leave that fellow out of our plans first."

The boy did not answer. He slowly took a step forward.

Lifting the side of his pitch-black robe slightly at the waist, he ran his hands in turn over the cool hilts of the Desolate Sword and Northern Radiance.