The Blood Flame Cult was an evil cult, exactly as the imperial court had proclaimed. Its people were unfathomable in word, deed, and thought.

With so many followers, the contents of its sermons should have been common knowledge. Yet even the imperial court had reportedly failed to fully uncover its doctrines over all those years.

Jung Yeonshin asked quietly, "Were you addressing me?"

"Yes, Grand Preceptor."

The Blood Master Swordsman answered from his knees, his body bowed low.

"..."

The Jeong Clan Estate had been foremost in Xinye County, Henan. One needed refinement to exercise authority without looking ridiculous. Even a cast-off child could not neglect his studies.

Jung Yeonshin had studied the Book of Changes among the Four Books and Three Classics, if only superficially.

It taught that everything under heaven had a clear cause and effect. Events in the martial world were no different. Trace an inexplicable result backward, and one found an incomprehensible cause.

The Blood Flame Cult, that collection of lunatics, was said to be a gathering of the unfathomable. The talents of the Radiant Demon Squad's Lightning Genius were much the same.

He had created a martial art that countered the Blood Flame Cult, something no one had devised since Bodhidharma. He had even invented a sword song that used sword resonance to slaughter enemies over a wide area. The sword song, in particular, was without precedent.

These were accomplishments far beyond his own level of martial prowess.

In that light, his abduction was only natural. Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo had warned him long ago: if other sects learned of his talent, they would have no choice but to win him over or kill him.

The Blood Flame Cult had merely chosen the former.

"I spread the word throughout headquarters."

The Seventh Apostle's lips curved upward. Her smile did not strike him as simply beautiful. Was it the madness that seemed to slice into his skin?

Her lone red eye swept over Jung Yeonshin. She whispered slowly.

"Your history of uncannily rapid progress, your creative talent unparalleled under heaven, your nature that admits no hesitation when cutting down enemies. What would happen if I planted Blood Art in your body? Our Cult might witness the birth of a young cult leader for the first time in over a hundred years."

Blood Art was said to be a martial art that bordered on sorcery. He had heard that the moment one learned it, the nature of the body's fine meridians, from the Baihui point to the brain, became twisted.

It created a state conducive to instilling the Blood Flame Cult's doctrines.

A martial religion of madmen.

With brainwashing in mind, they repeatedly flouted convention. They did not hesitate to exalt an enemy of the Cult as their Grand Preceptor.

It defied ordinary reason. How fitting for an evil cult.

Jung Yeonshin replied evenly, "All this talk of a young cult leader isn't even funny. I've cut off so many of your followers' heads."

"The children who shed their blood in faithful accordance with our doctrines cast off their flesh and go to paradise. Our retaliation is not mere revenge. We burn offerings of spirit money in blood, wishing them a paradise filled with blessings and joy."

"History has never known a long-lived ruler who welcomed a successor."

"Now that is a needless worry. He alone will occupy the Cult Leader's throne for all eternity."

The Seventh Apostle smiled with her single eye.

"Young cult leader means exactly what it says. As Grand Preceptor, become my own little cult leader."

"Grand Preceptor!"

"Perfect our Blood Art!"

Before he knew it, a sizable crowd had gathered. Was it because the Blood Master Swordsman had paid his respects in the middle of the street?

A ring of people with red hair formed around them. It was a grotesque sight.

As though this suited her perfectly, she infused her voice with core energy.

"I told them about your talent. Our Cult has an ancient teaching. The third line of the Flame Lotus Verse."

"Endure and overcome unyieldingly!"

The swordsman who had called Jung Yeonshin Grand Preceptor shouted with a solemn expression. When the Seventh Apostle gave a slight nod, he bowed his head as though overwhelmed by the honor.

Studying Jung Yeonshin's eyes intently, the Seventh Apostle said, "It is a verse about red hair. The heaven-sent punishment we bear from the moment we learn Blood Art in the Central Plains. Every sort of vermin sees that red hair and tries to hunt down and kill our followers."

"Don't you routinely hunt down and kill commoners?"

Surrounded by more than a hundred Blood Flame cultists, Jung Yeonshin said what he had to say. He intended to judge their reactions and decide how to conduct himself.

But no one responded. Not even the Seventh Apostle.

He felt as though he had fallen alone into another world.

The Seventh Apostle continued, her eye narrowing in a smile.

"Originally, it must have been a perfectly natural thing. Two groups turned the glorious mark of Blood Art into a heavenly punishment. The orthodox factions, who congratulate themselves on their righteousness. And the imperial court, which calls us an evil cult."

"..."

"You will help us overcome it. You should be able to alter Blood Art's qi-accumulation formula to make internal energy easier to control. You possess the talent that created Dharma-powered martial arts. You can turn these children's red hair black."

She was asking him to make it impossible to identify Blood Flame cultists by their appearance. She was telling him to perpetrate something tantamount to a catastrophe.

The instant she finished speaking, several people sprang to their feet.

"Endure and overcome unyieldingly!"

"Perfect our divine Blood Art!"

"Grand Preceptor! Aaaah! Grand Preceptor!"

"Mad bastards," Jung Yeonshin muttered.

They called Blood Art divine while demanding improvements to its formula. They spoke of overcoming, yet asked him to change the color of their hair. Wasn't all of it contradictory?

He had expected an evil cult to be conservative, if anything. He was wrong.

Their nature bordered on chaos. Anything that benefited them was good enough. They honored Jung Yeonshin as Grand Preceptor so they could run rampant across the Central Plains.

Their motives were transparent, yet their gazes upon the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius already held admiration.

Amid the frenzy, the Seventh Apostle smiled.

"Young Grandmaster. You will pave the way for our Cult's future."

Jung Yeonshin did not answer. Lost in thought, he simply stood in silence with his eyes lowered.

Only after their outburst had run its course did the cultists disperse.

Only then did the Seventh Apostle reach out again. He sensed waves of core energy gathering around her long fingers as naturally as breathing.

The density pressing against his senses was immense. She seemed to have reached a realm where circulating internal energy placed no burden on her will.

She gently took hold of Jung Yeonshin's sleeve, as if to say he could never escape.

The Seventh Apostle's lips moved.

"Come. My little cult leader. Our Grand Preceptor."

Jung Yeonshin followed without a word.

A strand of wind brushing his cheek at the Blood Flame Cult headquarters suddenly felt welcome.

Was it because he had recognized his short lifespan so early? Or perhaps he had been born with a rather stout heart.

The Blood Flame Cult was an entirely different world. His thoughts could only move forward.

'Might their qi-accumulation arts be unusual too?'

They were said to possess regenerative properties.

Perhaps. Just perhaps. Could he change his fate through martial learning rather than the Fruit of the World Tree?

The young Grandmaster walked in silence.

After he and the Seventh Apostle passed several clusters of buildings, a palatial great hall appeared. Committing every detail of the enemy stronghold to memory, Jung Yeonshin counted the broad staircase's steps at a glance.

Thirty-six. A number with many meanings.

'The thirty-six Heavenly Dipper Stars among Taoism's baleful stars. The thirty-six afflictions of Buddhism.'

Sects founded on religion were said to have many symbolic structures within their grounds. These often served as clues to deciphering their secret martial arts.

He climbed the stairs, taking care not to let the Seventh Apostle notice where he looked. The moment they reached the top, the scarlet-painted doors opened on their own.

"Come closer."

The voice was smooth.

A handsome white-haired man sat alone in a high-backed armchair and beckoned.

His snow-white face and elegantly defined nose gave him an appearance so noble he might have been of imperial blood. Yet he lounged indulgently with one leg propped on the broad seat.

Jung Yeonshin sensed no particular pressure from him, though this had to be the Blood Flame Cult Leader, one of the foremost martial artists under heaven.

'Don't tell me.'

He recalled the Desolate Fortress Master enjoying the breeze with a gentle smile. It had been just before his sparring match with Ma Se-In, the heir on his mother's side. He had become aware of the treasured sword at her waist only very belatedly.

"The Cult Leader has spoken. Did you not hear him?"

One of those standing in long rows on either side of the Blood Flame Cult Leader spoke in an overbearing tone. He was a middle-aged man with jet-black hair.

Unlike the Cult Leader, he wore a formidable presence around his entire body. Jung Yeonshin could tell at once that he was another Apostle.

"Does an Apostle outrank the Grand Preceptor?"

Jung Yeonshin asked without changing his tone.

He had claimed the title for himself.

Beside him, the Seventh Apostle burst into laughter. Exultation colored the echoes that rang eerily through the sumptuous hall.

Even in the Cult Leader's presence, she did not stop laughing.

"Your question is justified. The Grand Preceptor and the Apostles are of equal standing."

She answered him with a radiant expression.

"It disgusts me to see Desolate Fortress trash calling himself our Cult's Grand Preceptor. His place here has not even been decided."

The middle-aged man spoke with a calm expression.

The Apostles said and did as they pleased before the Cult Leader. They were unlike the Blood Master Swordsmen and the other followers. Their freedom of conduct was almost unbelievable.

The man continued slowly.

"I have already obtained the Cult Leader's permission. If your talent is truly as I have heard, even bestowing Blood Art on you will not cleanse your mind and body in our Cult's ways. You will face countless trials from this day forward."

"Third Apostle. Listen carefully."

All expression vanished from the Seventh Apostle's face. Waves of qi spread from her entire body as though about to erupt into a fit.

"Your child is not fit to be a young cult leader. Don't be jealous."

"What a tedious conversation."

It was the Blood Flame Cult Leader's voice.

He gestured languidly. At the same time, his flowing white hair stirred slightly, moving as though it had a life of its own.

WHOOOSH.

A cool breeze blew through. The swelling energy that had filled the Cult Leader's Palace was swept away in an instant. The Seventh Apostle's peculiarly sinister, razor-sharp pressure vanished without a trace as well.

The technique was so sublime that its essential principle was difficult to fathom.

Jung Yeonshin suddenly felt a taut pull at his wrist. The Seventh Apostle had tightened her grip on his sleeve.

"First..."

Under the Cult Leader's protection, the Third Apostle spoke slowly.

"I must experience your martial arts. With so many reports circulating, and the Seventh Apostle so bewitched by you, surely I ought to see for myself before speaking. It is the most basic of steps."

"Your affairs are complicated. Let's get on with it."

No one grew angry at Jung Yeonshin's reply. The Blood Flame Cult's leaders were as tranquil as a clear mirror and still water.

However twisted their direction, each had clearly reached great heights in personal cultivation. Quite apart from their martial prowess, they were frightening as people.

"There is no need to speak at length. Come."

The Third Apostle extended one arm.

HUMMM!

Blood Art energy rose from his palm. Faintly red currents layered atop one another and began to form a circle.

This was not the force of Burst Discharge. Rather than combining physical technique with core energy, he had created a barrier through internal energy alone.

'Offense and defense as one.'

Jung Yeonshin saw through his method. Exceedingly sharp energy whirled about. It was a storm of cutting force raised through core energy.

It would be far weaker than a hand strike delivered together with internal energy. Even so, it was an almost unreal feat.

"His control of core energy has reached a level worthy of ranking among the world's best."

"Isn't that a realm you'd only see among those black-robed bastards of that Desolate Fortress ilk?"

Those standing in the rows made no attempt to conceal their admiration.

Jung Yeonshin gazed steadily at the internal-energy barrier that had appeared some distance away. The Seventh Apostle whispered in his ear.

"This is the test our rising generation disciples take when they advance to Blood Master Swordsmen. Endure for just one breath, and they are granted spirit medicine."

"What happens if I tear it apart?"

Jung Yeonshin asked calmly.

WHOOOSH.

He stepped forward, executing the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike. Clear, pure waves of qi spread in every direction from the right hand he raised to his chest.

He did not drag it out. Forming a knife-hand, he chopped straight down at the barrier.

WHOOOSH!

The moment it struck, a red gale began sweeping in every direction. Visible crimson currents surged outward from Jung Yeonshin's hand.

Embedded in the barrier, his knife-hand shone with a cold blue light. It unraveled every part of the wall of internal energy built through such lofty attainment.

Its destruction took less than an instant. As the red wind scattered, silence briefly fell.

"... If that truly is a martial art you created yourself."

The Third Apostle spoke.

"You are a dangerous wretch indeed..."

He took a step back.

The sharp look on his face belied his retreat. Jung Yeonshin noticed at once.

Some sinister scheme seemed to be coiling in the Blood Flame Cult Apostle's heart.

Then the Blood Flame Cult Leader parted his lips.

"That power. That method of controlling core energy."

"...?"

"There truly was nothing to worry about."

The atmosphere in the hall changed as he began to speak. Even the Apostles became worshippers listening to a sermon, bowing their heads one after another.

"Learn a peerless martial art through its formula alone? If that were possible, the great sects would have no reason to scrutinize talent when accepting disciples."

"..."

"Your hand technique goes further still. I can feel your own interpretation of the Dharma power that destroys evil and upholds justice within it. Internal energy acquires particular properties for reasons beyond the myriad differences in circulation routes. Intent matters. That is why one needs a teacher."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader spoke with a smile, as though he were Jung Yeonshin's teacher himself.

'He's right about that.'

Jung Yeonshin inwardly agreed. The Seventh Apostle had already told him when he took her eye: even the slightest trace of Dharma power made a martial art difficult to begin learning. It required talent rarely seen through the ages to cultivate one.

If Buddhist martial arts had been easy to learn, the Blood Flame Cult would have been destroyed long ago.

She had been right. No one had managed to learn it.

Jung Yeonshin was no fool. Naturally, he had written a secret manual and submitted it to the Desolate Fortress's martial repository. The Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike was a rare, high-level martial art. It had earned him considerable merit.

But the last news he heard had diminished that achievement: even the captains had been unable to begin mastering it.

"You alone were the problem."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader smiled faintly.

"And now you have come into our Cult."

"..."

"You have overcome the trial with outstanding skill. The Grand Preceptor deserves a reward. Bring it."

As he clapped his hands once, someone stepped forward. Judging by the cautious footsteps, it appeared to be an attendant.

The attendant held a small table draped in golden silk at head height. An antique box resting atop it caught the eye.

The Blood Flame Cult Leader made a small gesture. When the attendant knelt and raised the table, he opened the box and took out a dark red pill.

"What is it?"

Jung Yeonshin asked evenly.

At the same time, a strange air arose from the Blood Flame Cult Leader. It was not normal.

The moment he tipped up his exquisite chin, an allure blossomed as though core energy were exploding outward.

There were countless tales about the master of the Blood Flame Cult. He was said to sink his teeth into people's necks and drain their core energy and blood.

Even then, many of his victims supposedly died smiling.

The Blood Flame Cult Leader curled his lips upward and said, "A poison that narrows the meridians. A secret of our Cult."

There was a demonic quality to his smile. It was a smile that bewitched people.