WHOOSH!

The next instant, Jung Yeonshin stood before the Cult Leader. His Mobility Arts were swift indeed. The wind followed a beat later, sending the Blood Flame Cult Leader's long white hair streaming.

Was it their faith in the Cult Leader's absolute power? No one made a rash move.

Jung Yeonshin slowly reached out and took the pill. The Blood Flame Cult Leader did not stop him. He merely kept his palm open and watched with interest.

"It narrows the meridians?" Jung Yeonshin murmured quietly.

The pill loomed large in his eyes as he held it. It was dark red, like congealed, murky blood.

He said, "How can anyone live with their qi and blood obstructed? You were right to call it poison. It kills."

"It will be useful when you reach the realm of an Apostle. Temper the meridians throughout your body with core energy. You should be quite capable of enduring it."

"You must know how large a role the upper dantian plays in creating martial arts. Wouldn't I become useless to you?"

"Extraordinary though your talent may be, that will take considerable time. Might you not have overcome one of our cult's weaknesses by then?"

The Blood Flame Cult Leader's lips curved upward in an inscrutable smile.

'Trust this man? Ridiculous.'

Jung Yeonshin weighed his circumstances.

The moment he changed the course of the battle, the Namgoong clan's inaction had cut him down. It hardly befitted the family of White Qilin Namgoong Hwashin, who had shown such astonishing integrity. They had struck him as little different from the Hwangbo clan.

Now that his distrust of orthodox Murim had crystallized, the words of an unorthodox leader rang no more sincere. It was hard to believe anything. The martial world was no place for trust.

Besides, this was a poison he could not even take yet. He had no idea what use it would be.

'Only someone at an Apostle's level can take it? The Blood Flame Cult's Apostles aren't far removed from the Desolate Fortress's Black ranks. He's telling me to spend years as his martial-arts slave.'

But here and now, he had to comply. Jung Yeonshin slowly nodded and tucked the pill into his robe. Looking pleased, the Blood Flame Cult Leader clapped once more.

"Naturally, you will receive the Blood-Summoning Art practiced by ordinary followers. But it is far too small a vessel to contain talent such as the ages have seldom seen."

At his gesture, another attendant approached. Jung Yeonshin looked at the two books presented in the attendant's hands.

"The Demonic Asura Blood Art. I bestow upon the Grand Preceptor the secret art of the Apostles."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader concluded with amusement in his voice.

Jung Yeonshin silently accepted the books containing the Demonic Asura Blood Art's formulas. They seemed to have been copied recently; the paper felt new.

'The internal-energy cultivation method of the Blood Flame Cult's Apostles...'

A peerless secret manual of the unorthodox path was now in his possession.

In that instant, Jung Yeonshin sensed what this might bring about. He pictured a stream of blood flowing down the thirty-six steps below the Cult Leader's Palace.

Was it the foresight of his upper dantian? Or perhaps it was merely his imagination.

Yet none of the supreme masters present showed any concern. It seemed to be the boldness peculiar to deeply accomplished cultists, combined with long experience in the martial world and the confidence born of sublime martial arts and discerning judgment.

This place truly was their private sanctuary.

'For now.'

Escape by his own strength was impossible. But he thought he could strike a blow—in a way unique to the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius.

How much merit would he earn by damaging the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters?

'Perhaps she'll give me a piece of the fruit.'

Jung Yeonshin did not worry about his own survival.

'Blood Flame Cult. By capturing me, you've revealed the location of a sizable part of your forces.'

The Desolate Fortress Master came to mind—the absolute power at the pinnacle of the noble race, whose members were said to wield all manner of wondrous abilities. Despite his distrust of Murim, her image remained clear.

Now that there was a lead, nothing that followed would be surprising.

'They said I was the first to set foot in their headquarters. It's unprecedented. At most a month's journey from Azure Wild Valley. If she can sweep the area in a circle...'

While he was lost in thought, the Blood Flame Cult Leader spoke again.

"There is something the Grand Preceptor must not touch."

"Speak."

"Taking the impure core energy of heathens into our bodies and purifying it... That is our cult's fundamental doctrine. The sacred formula draws our mission forth as instinct."

"..."

"Do not tamper with it."

He meant not to alter the formulas that caused core-energy absorption and madness.

This was the Blood Flame Cult, one of the unorthodox Thirteen skies. Finding a victim to learn the modified martial arts first would be easy enough.

Jung Yeonshin turned away without a word. Meek obedience would only invite greater suspicion.

"Show your respect!"

An explosive pressure surged from the Third Apostle behind him, then subsided. The Blood Flame Cult Leader seemed to have restrained him.

The Seventh Apostle hurried over and linked arms with Jung Yeonshin. A sidelong glance revealed her ecstatic expression. Her crimson lips, curved high in a smile, made her look like a lunatic.

"I can't wait to see Blood Art reborn. How long will it take? Hmm?"

"..."

From waking in the Seventh Apostle's house to arriving at the Cult Leader's Palace, Jung Yeonshin had undergone experiences without parallel under heaven. Through them, he had begun to hone the blade within his heart.

* * *

"You can change the Blood-Summoning Art however you like. But..."

Reclining on the bed, the Seventh Apostle looked at Jung Yeonshin, who sat upright on the floor.

"The Demonic Asura Blood Art is different. You'll have to tailor it to me."

She rose smoothly, her lips moving, possessiveness filling her pale face. Then she padded over and gently stroked his hair.

Even Ma Yeonjeok and Ma Jin had never had the opportunity to examine his head. Had they been able to touch and inspect his crown themselves, they too would have recognized his constitution at once.

Many of his seniors in the Radiant Demon Squad had patted Jung Yeonshin's head. Ironically, his maternal relatives had not dared. He thought it was because they felt guilty.

The Seventh Apostle brought her lips close to his ear.

"I'll show you everything. My core-energy circulation, my Burst Discharge, even the movement of every strand of muscle behind my Mobility Arts."

Her whisper was bewitching.

Was it because, deep down, she thought it did not matter since he was going to die anyway? With his eyes closed, Jung Yeonshin spoke.

"So this is the extent of the Blood Flame Cult's discipline. Are you allowed to scheme behind the Cult Leader's back?"

"What matters to the Cult Leader is the Blood-Summoning Art. He'll be satisfied if the followers can live without being hunted. A slight change to the Demonic Asura Blood Art's formulas won't suddenly raise the Apostles' prowess to new heights. But you..."

Suddenly, the Seventh Apostle seized his head. Her lone eye, like a crimson jewel, filled his vision.

"Are you refusing to create a martial art just for me? Really? You dare?"

"Let go. I was unraveling the formulas of your paltry Blood Art."

"Oh."

Her grip loosened instantly. She drew back, looking close to tears, and began smoothing the hair on either side of his head with both hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I interrupted sacred work. I'm sorry. I was awful. I'm sorry."

"..."

He was already accustomed to the Seventh Apostle's constant emotional swings, though not even a night had passed since he regained consciousness.

This was not what mattered.

Jung Yeonshin slowly rose. The Seventh Apostle looked up, her single red eye wide. Nothing in her face suggested she had just acted ready to kill him.

He looked down at her for a moment before speaking.

"I need a walk. Let's see your Mobility Arts."

"All right!"

Brightening immediately, the Seventh Apostle stood and lightly caught his sleeve.

How would he need to employ the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike to shatter that hand? Jung Yeonshin pondered the question.

CREAK.

As soon as he left the room, he sent core energy to the Yongquan points beneath his feet. The Blood Art core energy filling his body lurked in his fine meridians, but it did not hinder his lightness skill. His innate control of core energy saw to that.

The Seventh Apostle smiled, her eye curving.

WHOOSH!

The two masters began racing through the cult's settlement. The headquarters lay plainly before Jung Yeonshin's eyes, yet no one stopped him. He almost wondered whether there was another source to their absolute confidence.

"Is this place hidden by an Enchantment?"

His words cut through the air rushing past his ears. A peculiar smile formed on the Seventh Apostle's lips.

"Yes. The Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment. You won't have heard of it, will you? It's our cult's most sublime secret art. It has only grown sturdier over hundreds of years."

"As I thought."

The imperial family was said to carry a strong strain of noble-race blood. How could anyone build a city while evading their eyes? There was no way, save sorcery or Enchantments said to manipulate the principles of all creation.

The Blood Flame Cult had long been famous for Blood Art that crossed into the realm of sorcery. There was nothing strange about its protecting a city with some bizarre dark art.

"I'd like to look around the outskirts."

"You want to find a clue to neutralizing it?"

The Seventh Apostle smiled.

Sorcery was not unknown territory to Jung Yeonshin. He had already created a Dharma-powered martial art that broke Blood Art. That meant his energy detection had begun to perceive the nature of sorcery.

Even so, the Seventh Apostle cheerfully led him on, as though engraving her Mobility Arts upon Lightning Genius's eyes gave her pleasure.

'She's underestimating me.'

She had spoken of hundreds of years. After living safely in the headquarters through all that accumulated time, it was only natural for their confidence to verge on complacency. Whatever talents a single blue-robed expert of the Desolate Fortress might possess, his presence within their walls did not concern them.

The looks the Blood Flame Cult masters had given him in the Cult Leader's Palace—as though he were a spirit beast held in their hands—had another foundation: the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment.

It was a sorcerous formation drawing upon nature itself, one even the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike could not neutralize.

HUMMM.

At the outskirts of the settlement, Jung Yeonshin found a strangely rippling space. It was an astonishing mystery. The place was cut off from the outside. Only the wind, twisting strangely as it passed in and out, remained curiously free.

He sharpened every sense with his innate energy detection, dissecting each wave of energy emitted by the Enchantment and perceiving it in full.

'They planted energy in them?'

Jung Yeonshin's eyes suddenly widened.

Rocks, grass, trees.

They had filled them with core energy and bound them together through some method. The strange arrangement produced concealment bordering on severance. The entire settlement was hidden within a formation of internal energy. It was a marvel called sorcery.

He had found a lead that could make up for his lack of strength. All thanks to the arrogance and complacency of the Seventh Apostle and her ilk.

BOOM!

Blue lightning struck. Vivid blue inspiration flashed through Jung Yeonshin's mind.

Strands of lightning began twisting together into a framework of light: a formula for circulating core energy. It linked directly to three methods—the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike, his sword song, and the Enchantment—ceaselessly expanding and revolving.

"Magnificent, isn't it? A barrier for the ages. Do you see now that you're in no position to be picky about poison or medicine?"

He could not let the Seventh Apostle, chattering beside him, notice his insight. Jung Yeonshin struggled to contain the blue radiance threatening to spill from his eyes and lowered his eyelids slightly, so that at a glance he would seem to be despairing.

* * *

"This is why the great sects can't be trusted...!"

The gaunt Heon Wonchang spat the words out, seemingly oblivious to the fact that wiji myohwa of the Zhongnan Sect stood before him.

Her expression was grave as well.

"The Namgoong clan... They did make a token effort to save face. They acknowledged Young Master Lightning Genius's contribution and gave you a spirit pill, Young Master Heon."

"I'd never have received it without you there! Isn't that obvious? Despicable bastards!"

"..."

They wanted two things: to punish the Namgoong clan and to track down the Radiant Demon Squad's Lightning Genius.

Forced to keep her distance by the range of Jung Yeonshin's unique sword song, wiji myohwa had seen it clearly. When he crossed the battlefield in a straight line and reached the Namgoong leadership, no one supported him. They stood by and watched this young talent of the Desolate Fortress who had displayed such wondrous martial learning—right up until the young swordsman collapsed into the Apostle's arms and was carried away.

Had they meant to nip a future divine sword of the imperial family in the bud?

'They tried to kill a chivalrous man who was clearly walking the righteous path.'

That was wiji myohwa's conclusion. Worse, they had attempted it by relying on an enemy's blade. It was truly vile.

But rescuing Jung Yeonshin was more urgent.

"I sent a messenger spirit beast to my sect. Reinforcements should be on their way. Zhongnan does not forget a debt. I also sent urgent messages to Shaolin and Mount Hua, since he is said to have close ties with them. They should respond in some way."

"... I'm deeply grateful."

Heon Wonchang answered with reddened eyes. He had frequently erupted in anguish throughout this time. Even now, twenty days after the battle of Azure Wild Valley, that had not changed.

After practically scouring Chizhou and Ningguo near Azure Wild Valley, the two had just returned to Huizhou. As a Desolate Fortress warrior, Heon Wonchang was staying at the government office, having received word from his senior warriors.

"There you are."

Chung Myung was the first to find them. His expression had turned utterly cold, as though a chill hung about his face.

"I've heard what happened. Wait here. The martial world will be descending on this place."

His tone was exceedingly stiff.

After exchanging martial salutes with him, wiji myohwa asked, "What do you mean, the martial world will be descending...?"

"Shaolin's warrior monks, including the little divine monk Gak jung. Mount Hua's sect leader's direct successor-disciple and Plum Blossom Swordsmen. We've gathered the martial schools that make their living under government licenses in Southern Zhili. Large numbers of martial noble clans from Southern Zhili, Huguang, Jiangxi, and Henan have been called up too. A heretical cult running rampant is also a matter of state. They have no grounds to refuse."

Chung Myung's blue eyes gazed steadily at wiji myohwa.

"You. You said you were Zhongnan's successor, didn't you? If you're looking to build your reputation, you won't find a better opportunity. Make yourself useful."

"... Even so, isn't this a hastily assembled force?"

Heon Wonchang's expression was solemn.

"Even if heaven favors us and we find them, there's still a problem. That doesn't sound like enough strength to strike the Blood Flame Cult, given its enormous power."

Precisely because he wanted to save Jung Yeonshin more than anyone, he assessed the situation dispassionately. Even if three of the Nine Great Sects joined them, they would contribute only a fraction of their strength. The same went for the martial families, schools, and other martial artists.

However great their numbers, Apostle-level forces were a different matter entirely.

Chung Myung slowly shook his head.

"A difference of that scale means nothing."

"Why...?"

Heon Wonchang looked bewildered.

Chung Myung fell silent for a moment. His handsome face was unlike its usual self. It was stiff—utterly rigid.

Slowly, he parted his lips.

"The fortress master is coming."