Beside him, Heon Wonchang lightly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

For a fleeting instant, Jung Yeonshin thought the reaction understandable. He was watching twenty Blood Master Swordsmen pull identical Thunderclap Bombs from their packs.

It was utterly unreal. This was how the sinister cult dealt with an enemy whose martial art was its perfect counter: kill him by any means necessary. Afterimages trailed from their hands, all of them apparently applying palm techniques to their throws.

BOOOOM!

There was no time even to shout a warning. He drove the Classic of Initiating Transcendence through the fine meridians of his lower body and the pressure points along his waist and cervical spine, then kicked off the ground.

Though he avoided a direct hit, his body was hurled away against his will. His ears rang as if struck by Burst Discharge. It felt as though even his marrow were shaking.

THUD!

His entire body throbbed. For a moment, he could not move.

"Ghk, gah!"

Lying on the ground, coughing up blood, he felt it. He had suffered internal injuries. A fierce, stinging sensation welled up from his gut.

BOOM! BOOM! WHUMP!

The ground rose in waves all around him. In an instant, billowing dust swept away the serene elegance of Lotus Pavilion. Groans sounding from every direction deepened the horror.

'Insane.'

The Blood Flame Cult's answer to the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike was not a martial art. They had planned this meticulously. They had come already knowing they stood no chance in a head-on clash.

'Thunderclap Bombs. They've been declared a heretical cult, so they no longer care what the imperial court thinks.'

It had been the same last time. He recalled the explosion that had crushed the Heavenly Sword Clan's trap device techniques.

Despite the cult's reportedly enormous following, it kept its headquarters hidden and appeared and vanished without a trace. These men had tracked Jung Yeonshin's movements and followed him here immediately. The Blood Flame Cult's tracking arts were said to border on sorcery. If they knew Gu Gwa was Lightning Genius, they would hardly come unprepared.

'Senior Chung Myung mentioned it time and again.'

He remembered him speaking of the Sichuan Tang Clan, renowned for poisons and hidden weapons. No other explosives in the world detonated quickly enough to be effective against martial artists.

These were supreme-quality Thunderclap Bombs, triggered with internal energy. Were they holding someone of the iron race captive?

'Though it's too early to be certain the Tang Clan helped them.'

Whoever was behind them, these could not be common items. Some martial arts took precedence over an organization's strength as a whole. A martial art that offered a lethal counter was especially so. These bastards must have stretched their resources too.

Should he be relieved that no Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult had come in person?

'What about Young Master Heon and Shin Sobin?'

Jung Yeonshin staggered to his feet, his eyes darting around. He sensed familiar qi fluctuations nearby. Through the dense dust, he could make out a figure keeping watch over their surroundings. Heon Wonchang. His extraordinary eye technique seemed to have served him well.

"Where's Shin Sobin?"

"Before they arrived, she said she would scout around Hwangbo Myeongrin. She must have headed for the pavilion."

Heon Wonchang turned at once and answered by sound transmission as well. His manner and speech had changed. The way he conveyed only the essentials made the gravity of the situation clear.

The Blood Master Swordsmen had now closed the distance and were wielding swords alongside their Thunderclap Bombs. Their purpose was clear: to slaughter the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius and the rising generation disciples of the orthodox sects.

They were rebels using explosives for their own ends. The imperial court might mobilize a massive army against them. These bastards, too, were forever courting danger. They deserved to be called fanatics.

Heon Wonchang approached and flinched at the sight of Jung Yeonshin's battered body.

"Can you move?"

"To the pavilion."

Jung Yeonshin's reply was brief. At the same time, he and Heon Wonchang broke into a run, concealing their presence as much as possible. His whole body felt as though it were tearing apart. Though the distance was short, it seemed to take an eternity.

As they drew near, avoiding the fighting, he saw something. The dust was thinner higher up, allowing him a view.

Hwangbo Myeongrin, fleeing the pavilion with the noble-clan scions, quietly dropped to the very rear. Shin Sobin was directly in front of her.

The instant she slipped behind Shin Sobin, who was watching for the Blood Flame Cult, Hwangbo Myeongrin swiftly struck her in the lower back. She was right on top of her.

She seemed to have been circulating an enormous amount of core energy before unleashing the blow. The youngest of the Desolate Fortress's white robes took the hit before she could react.

It was a sneak attack delivered from directly behind at point-blank range. Hwangbo Myeongrin's palm technique sent Shin Sobin arcing through the air like a bow. The woman had no sense of priorities.

They had been at the back of the procession. No one seemed to have seen.

"That, that...!"

Beside the furious Heon Wonchang, Jung Yeonshin's gaze grew still.

'She'll hit the lake before I can count to five. Seven zhang away. If she falls like that, she'll draw attention.'

He analyzed the situation and calculated the distance for his lightness skill in an instant. The core energy already spread throughout his body surged into motion.

First came the Chengfu points beneath his buttocks, the Yinmen points just below them on the backs of his thighs, and the Yongquan points in his soles. He forgot the pain in his pressure points, some of which had even begun to break down.

CRUNCH!

He kicked off the ground with the Desolate Fortress's lightness skill. Swift as a gale, he raced low to the earth. Three steps brought him to the edge of the clearing. On the fourth, he planted his foot at the lakeshore and leaped.

He swept through the air.

Shin Sobin of the Shin Clan. Her youthful face, eyes squeezed shut, rapidly grew closer. For all her constant air of knowing everything, she was still the pampered daughter of a distinguished family. She seemed never to have experienced a sneak attack like Hwangbo Myeongrin's sudden strike.

She was conscious. Jung Yeonshin immediately felt her breath. Her internal injuries did not seem deep, either.

'That's enough.'

The Movement Art's core energy raced painfully through him, running along the broad muscles of his back, past his shoulders, and down into his forearms. His internal energy took on the softness of the Moon Spirit Harmonization Art.

He reached out with his left hand and caught Shin Sobin around the waist. With his right, he seized the pavilion's outer railing and swung around like a leaf. It was a movement technique of the noble race that dispersed the impact.

TAP.

Even that light landing felt like a jolt. This was the first time he had been hurt so badly since entering the martial world.

"Shin Sobin. Kicking technique."

He murmured the words as soon as he landed inside the pavilion. He had been told that, whatever her attitude, she obeyed orders promptly. Her round eyes widened, and qi fluctuations immediately spread from her legs.

Her slender waist made her easy to wield as a weapon. Jung Yeonshin swung his junior, still tucked under his arm.

WHAM!

A Blood Flame cultist approaching from the side took her foot full-on and went tumbling.

Of course the Blood Master Swordsmen would not have come alone. This was a pursuing encirclement. The Heaven-and-Earth Net he had only heard about seemed to be taking shape, starting within the Namgoong clan's territory. Perhaps that was only natural when they no longer cared what the imperial court thought.

"Thank you... Senior! Are you all right?"

Her long, fine eyebrows shot up. Shin Sobin examined him in utter alarm. Jung Yeonshin silently shook his head.

"Let's go."

He brushed aside her attempt to support him. They had to get away from Lotus Pavilion quickly.

The two jumped down together and landed in the middle of the chaotic battlefield. Heon Wonchang hurried to join them and whispered,

"They're coming up from the south."

"Northwest. We'll follow the water."

"Couldn't it be a trap?"

Shin Sobin replied while conspicuously rubbing the waist where Jung Yeonshin's arm had touched her. Was she trying to lighten the mood amid the urgency? She stared straight into his eyes, as if deliberately refusing to look away.

It did not come across as especially bold. Despite the pain that seemed to split his entire body, he almost laughed.

"We have no choice. The lake leaves us only two options."

Jung Yeonshin spoke calmly. His words decided their next move.

"Let's go."

Lightning Genius, a blue-robed warrior, had given his order. The three immediately began running along the lakeshore.

They were not fleeing blindly. This was the direction Hwangbo Myeongrin had taken after gathering her elder brothers and the noble-clan scions.

'The Blood Flame Cult is just another obstacle.'

He forced himself onward as he thought. The mission came first. His present physical condition was not his concern. He could not let the Hwangbo clan slip away.

Before he knew it, the distant explosions had subsided. No more Thunderclap Bombs went off. Whether they were conserving them or had run out, he could not tell. Unable to lower his guard, he kept his senses taut.

"They seem busy killing the other rising disciples. I feel guilty."

"The Blood Flame Cult are the ones committing sins. Why should we?"

After running for some time, they seemed to have gained a little breathing room. Both Heon Wonchang and Shin Sobin had a point.

The situation forced him to confront the truth anew. This was the price of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike. From now on, Lightning Genius of the Desolate Fortress would have to live with the Blood Flame Cult forever at his back. Anger mingled with guilt.

'Blood Flame Cult. Every time I see one of you, I'll split your skull open.'

Jung Yeonshin thought it calmly.

"There they are!"

Heon Wonchang pointed ahead. Jung Yeonshin had already noticed them: rising disciples of the Hwangbo clan and several other regional noble clans of Murim. None appeared injured. Their swift lightness skills had already brought them to a path climbing into the mountains.

Fleeing was only natural in this situation. The most outstanding Blood Master Swordsmen were said to possess strength on par with the Desolate Fortress's blue robes. Having seen the Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle contend with Ma Jin, he could believe it. An enemy so meticulous and powerful would hardly lack mid-level experts.

"Huh? Over there!"

A young man who had been glancing back repeatedly as he climbed the mountain path pointed at Jung Yeonshin's party, disguised as members of the Truth-Seeking Sect.

The noble-clan disciples turned and stopped. They waited until the three Radiant Demon Squad members came close. For an instant, frost seemed to pass through Hwangbo Myeongrin's eyes where she stood among them.

"What happened to you? Those injuries look serious! Still, as long as your arms and legs are intact."

The Supreme Flame Dragon spread both arms wide, looking immensely pleased to see Jung Yeonshin. He was chewing on a poppy—he seemed to carry armfuls of them tucked inside his robes—which made the welcome rather disconcerting.

"With this much commotion, our house will be coming from above, and the Namgoong from below. It shouldn't take long. You're a man I can discuss martial learning with. I'll make a special effort to get you some supreme healing medicine. I have that much authority, at least, however many people prattle on about me being a bastard."

"Brother!"

Hwangbo Myeongrin shoved the Supreme Flame Dragon aside. Were they half-siblings? There was no respect in her manner. She strode directly toward Jung Yeonshin.

'What should I do?'

Jung Yeonshin considered her. Had this mission not required him to conceal his Desolate Fortress affiliation, even his present internal injuries would not have been a problem. Swallowing the Pill of Luminous Rectitude he had received from Gak jung, the little divine monk, would have settled it.

He had been unable to bring it. He had entrusted it to Chung Myung along with his Desolate Sword. Shaolin's medicine for internal injuries, made using the noble race's secret arts, had an exceptionally strong, pure fragrance. Any expert with reasonably cultivated senses would notice it.

He had heard through the Desolate Fortress's information network that the little divine monk enjoyed praising others just as much as his temperament suggested. Apparently, he traveled the martial world speaking of the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius. Inevitably, the whereabouts of the rare Pill of Luminous Rectitude would become known as well.

"You mongrel."

Hwangbo Myeongrin glared at Jung Yeonshin. Grime marked her face, perhaps from the Thunderclap Bombs' aftermath. Yet her innate air of refinement remained. Her features themselves were delicate and well proportioned, making her pleasant to look at. She would have been more so without that arrogant expression.

"You. Who are you really? Those cult swordsmen clearly came for you. You said the Truth-Seeking Sect, didn't you? What grudge have you dragged here?"

"..."

"Answer me. Do you think I'm a joke?"

Jung Yeonshin briefly surveyed the others around them before slowly speaking.

"All noble-clan scions, are you? The disciples from the smaller sects must have died or scattered."

"Don't change the subject. And don't bluff. One look at your beggarly state tells me everything. Your internal injuries are plain to see. Can you still flaunt that paltry strength of yours?"

Hwangbo Myeongrin snorted, her hair swaying, its luster gone.

Heon Wonchang and Shin Sobin bristled and tried to step forward. Jung Yeonshin extended an arm and shook his head.

He stepped forward on aching feet and slowly came face-to-face with Hwangbo Myeongrin. Their eyes met at very close range. Her venomous beauty looked especially ugly to him.

"You tried to use my junior sister as bait. At Lotus Pavilion," he said.

Tension began to fill the quiet mountain path.