The Desolate Fortress Master stood beyond the Enchantment. Even so, her presence was unmistakable.

Her gaze swept past him, leaving him unsure whether their eyes had met. For an instant, he could have sworn they had.

It was exceedingly strange. Why would she come all this way only to ignore Jung Yeonshin?

She simply stood there, motionless. Sunlight broke along the slender line of her slightly turned jaw.

Silence lingered. She did not turn back.

The stillness surrounding him gradually began to feel unsettling.

Surely not. Could she really be unable to perceive him?

He had never considered this possibility.

The Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment might be an art beyond the mortal world, but the Desolate Fortress Master was a peerless martial master whose every movement carried a transcendent quality.

'There is no way a sorcerous formation could deceive her.'

For the first time, Jung Yeonshin's gaze wavered.

He had maintained his composure even in the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters. This was different. He could not do so now.

Then it happened.

"You can take more yet. I shall grant you a day."

A whisper like a gentle breeze tickled his ear.

RUSTLE.

She took a single step.

In that fleeting instant, she vanished amid leaves fluttering like flower petals.

It did not look like human Mobility Arts. Like a sudden gust, she left not even a trace, as though she had never come at all.

"..."

He had distinctly sensed her presence. He could not doubt his five keenly honed senses.

His briefly wavering eyes soon grew calm again. Jung Yeonshin regained his composure remarkably quickly.

I shall grant you a day. Those words spread warmth through the heart that had driven him onward without rest since he donned his blue robes.

He could get out.

'What I saw and heard was real.'

The Desolate Fortress Master had come. That was an undeniable fact.

Her words were curious.

She seemed to want him to take things he could obtain only within the Blood Flame Cult.

Had she sensed his newly attained Demonic Asura Blood Art?

Perhaps she had even discerned that he was incorporating the subtle workings of Enchantments into the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike.

'I can take more yet?'

Jung Yeonshin stopped paying attention to Go Jonghak, who was tailing him.

For a long while, he savored the lingering echo of the Desolate Fortress Master's whisper in his ears. Then, very slowly, he sank into thought.

What more could he obtain?

He continued pondering until the red robe covering him caught the faint glow of sunset.

* * *

The next day arrived in no time. He could hardly remember how he had slept.

Jung Yeonshin slowly left the house where he had been staying alone since the Seventh Apostle departed for battle. The Desolate Fortress Master's words would not leave his mind.

'Would I gain something by completely unraveling the Blood Art's formula? Or should I obtain something from the Cult Leader?'

He walked on, lost in thought. He had a destination.

A message had arrived early that morning, requesting his attendance at a banquet.

The Blood Flame Cult, too, was a place where people lived. Thanks to Go Jonghak, the Third Apostle's son, he knew that well.

Its followers harbored envy and jealousy toward one another, and befitting the cult's considerable power, they enjoyed lavish banquets.

He was told that most such feasts came with blood and corpses.

This was his first invitation, however. They had even invoked the Cult Leader in requesting his presence. He could hardly refuse.

This was no ordinary affair.

'Go Jonghak followed me yesterday.'

He would have seen signs that someone had visited the other side of the Enchantment. He might even have glimpsed the Desolate Fortress Master.

Until now, the Blood Flame Cult had given Jung Yeonshin an extraordinary amount of freedom for a mere prisoner.

They claimed it was to safeguard the Grand Preceptor's inspiration, but they had left him alone to a peculiar degree.

Judging solely by their treatment of him, one would scarcely think them an unorthodox faction at all.

'Today is the last day. Perhaps I'll learn why.'

Jung Yeonshin walked slowly onward. The glow of ornate lanterns was already spreading across his vision.

"Wave Gate, was it? The sect leader's brat had a fairly vicious hand."

"I cut down his younger sibling. The cultivated energy tasted quite good. The blood wasn't much, though."

The banquet was being held in the inner courtyard of the Cult Leader's Palace. It was full of unorthodox scum.

They asked after one another, discussed Blood Arts and doctrine, and boasted of their exploits in sects they had attacked to drain core energy.

Their savage presences and crazed words created the chaos peculiar to the unorthodox path.

"Welcome, Grand Preceptor. To think you would grace the banquet my family requested! We can only offer our deepest gratitude."

Go Jonghak stepped forward to greet Jung Yeonshin with affected courtesy. His mouth told a different story. A faint sneer lingered there.

"The Grand Preceptor?"

"That Desolate Fortress vermin has deigned to join us?"

"Has he even produced any tangible results yet?"

"Too soon. Far too soon."

This was a banquet for the leadership. Their reactions differed from those of the ordinary followers. They were far less restrained in word and deed, and made no effort to conceal their qi emanations.

Jung Yeonshin sensed it upon arrival. He had no allies here.

Yet he did not feel alone. The Desolate Fortress Master's gentle presence seemed to envelop his entire body. It had felt that way since last night.

"The words of those who know no better. Please pay them no mind."

So Go Jonghak said, but his expression told another story. As he guided Jung Yeonshin to a seat of honor, he made no attempt to hide his satisfaction.

'This is where we bring that lowborn wretch down,' Go Jonghak thought.

Grand Preceptor Lightning Genius had spent a month wandering all over the cult's grounds.

Revising martial arts might be beyond the imagination of ordinary men, but this prisoner, honored as Grand Preceptor, had spent over a month idling away under the pretext of seeking inspiration.

Even if the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment allowed them to grant him freedom of movement, his conduct had gone too far.

Naturally, he had been grating on the cult's senior leadership. Then yesterday's incident had occurred.

Go Jonghak had seen it clearly.

A mere profile had been enough to convince him. A member of the noble race had approached the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment and then disappeared. He could not follow the traces of those Mobility Arts. This was a tremendously powerful master.

He had immediately reported to his father, the Third Apostle, that the Grand Preceptor had been standing before that person.

'That noble-race mongrel was a master of the highest order. Who knows what sinister powers they might possess?'

The noble race, the mainstay of Beijing's imperial court, had long been the Blood Flame Cult's enemy. Their frequent clashes had exposed the cult to all manner of wondrous martial arts and strange incidents.

That person might have communicated with the Grand Preceptor through one of their peculiar powers.

The Third Apostle had met privately with the Cult Leader. The banquet had been arranged at once.

The thirty-six steps leading to the Cult Leader's Palace symbolized the Blood Flame Cult Leader's authority.

They were extraordinarily broad. Even with lavish seats arranged on every tier, there was room to spare.

"Even headquarters rarely sees a banquet on this scale."

"Enjoy it. At gatherings like this, one of our cult's stars usually falls."

The chatterers were right. This was an occasion to interrogate and bring down someone who had tarnished the dignity of the cult's leadership.

It was an unparalleled opportunity.

'Young cult leader? Utterly absurd.'

The corners of Go Jonghak's mouth rose high.

Bringing his hands together, he said,

"My family petitioned the Cult Leader to hold this gathering. It occurred to us rather late that we wished to entertain the Grand Preceptor in a fitting setting. There was insufficient time to send advance notice. I hope you will forgive us."

He added a seemingly regretful expression to his courteous bearing.

His strongly defined face was quite handsome. At a glance, he even appeared sincere.

Jung Yeonshin watched him quietly, then smiled faintly.

His eyes fell on the man's necklace. A small piece of jade hung from it.

A Poison-Warding Pearl.

He had heard about it in the man's self-important boasting.

A treasure possessed by only a handful of the cult's leaders, it had been bestowed on him by the Third Apostle.

It was said to be exceedingly precious, capable of neutralizing most poisons instantly.

'That will come in handy when I use the blood poison the Cult Leader gave me.'

Keeping an eye on the Poison-Warding Pearl, he replied distractedly,

"I'm simply pleased to have been invited."

Unlike when he had first arrived, he now showed little spirit. A peculiar gleam crossed Go Jonghak's eyes.

He took in the reactions around them. Many of those who had been watching intently seemed disappointed.

"Is it because the Seventh Apostle has left for battle?"

"Was he truly nothing but a freeloader?"

Words and behavior scarcely imaginable in the Desolate Fortress or the orthodox martial world ran rampant.

No one stopped them. Even the Blood Flame Cult Leader, looking down from the highest seat, remained expressionless throughout.

"Those who were to come are here. I shall offer a toast."

The Cult Leader spoke in a low voice.

Silence fell instantly. He had no need to draw attention by infusing his voice with core energy.

Jung Yeonshin recognized it clearly. Not a soul in this vast banquet gathering was anything less than a master.

The extraordinary senses of these unorthodox masters seemed to encompass the palace's entire inner courtyard.

"You are the pillars of our cult. The day approaches when you will wield your extraordinary talents in service of your convictions. We have welcomed a Grand Preceptor who shall shroud the eyes of the ignorant in darkness. He shall transform our Blood Arts and wash away the hypocrisy of the world. First, raise a cup."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader stroked his cup with long fingers, then grasped it very slowly and drank.

Only then did the masters gazing up at him raise their own cups.

"This is Dukang wine. I hear you hail from Henan, Grand Preceptor. Are you familiar with it?"

Seated beside him, Go Jonghak asked with a small smile.

Jung Yeonshin shook his head.

He thought he had heard it was a wine his father enjoyed at the Jeong Clan Estate, but he had never shared a drink with him, so he could not be certain.

He did know it was a celebrated Henan wine. Cao Mengde, Emperor Wu of Wei, was said to have enjoyed it.

'At a gathering like this, that wine carries a curious significance.'

The fragrance of wine drifted through the banquet.

The mood grew subdued before the Blood Flame Cult Leader, who kept drinking Dukang wine. It was as though he were drinking in the ambition Cao Cao had harbored.

Tension hung in the air.

Everyone seemed to sense that blood would flow down the steps. That was what a banquet before the Cult Leader's Palace meant.

"Go Jonghak."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader spoke. As he leaned slightly, his smooth white hair shifted out of place.

His gaze brushed over Jung Yeonshin. His unnaturally scarlet lips curved slightly upward.

"Yes, Cult Leader."

Go Jonghak swiftly left his seat and prostrated himself.

Though his head was fully lowered, the broad expanse of his exposed back somehow looked triumphant.

The Cult Leader spoke.

"Conduct the interrogation."

"As you command."

Go Jonghak immediately rose and turned. His direction was unmistakable. His gaze rested on Jung Yeonshin.

'This is all too predictable,' Jung Yeonshin thought. He had no intention of listening at length.

'There's no time.'

The Desolate Fortress Master had granted him one day. The Seventh Apostle, too, had told him that martial artists from three of the Nine Great Sects and the local martial world had arrived.

Yesterday, the Desolate Fortress Master had sent her sound transmission through the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment.

Before today was out, the sorcerous formation would be split apart. Martial artists of every stripe would descend upon the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters.

Go Jonghak cleared his throat as though preparing to deliver an eloquent speech. Just as he parted his lips, Jung Yeonshin spoke first.

"In short, there has been no progress in revising the Blood-Surpassing Art, and meanwhile, villains targeting headquarters have brushed against the Enchantment."

"..."

"Someone from the Desolate Fortress has become Grand Preceptor, and the timing is unfortunate. You must have wondered whether I had any intention of cooperating."

"... The Grand Preceptor is not mistaken."

Go Jonghak clasped his hands behind his back, feigning nonchalance. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Jung Yeonshin raised his head toward the Blood Flame Cult Leader.

"I understand this gathering was arranged at the request of Go Jonghak and the Third Apostle."

"Speak."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader gestured with his chin, wearing a smooth smile. Jung Yeonshin continued calmly.

"I find this deeply offensive. If I prove my worth here, may I take the precious treasures held by the Go family at headquarters?"

"Insolent brat."

The Third Apostle muttered from a seat to the side, one tier below the Cult Leader.

Jung Yeonshin paid him no mind.

"If I fail, you may cut off my head."

"It was something I would have asked you sooner or later. I, too, was curious about your progress."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader answered with a dizzying smile that seemed cloaked in demonic allure.

The solemn atmosphere took a curious turn. In any age, a wager with a man's head at stake was sure to excite people.

Jung Yeonshin had become Grand Preceptor under exceptional circumstances, but none of the leadership treated him as a legitimate heir.

Unlike the ordinary followers, they possessed the power of bloodlines cultivated over many years.

Their courtesy toward him inevitably had two faces, however extraordinary his aptitude might be.

A spirit beast that could turn the tide. Or an expendable brought in from outside.

It was time to assess the usefulness of this Desolate Fortress whelp whom they had briefly allowed to roam free.

"Come here."

Jung Yeonshin beckoned to a servant, an ordinary follower.

The red-haired man approached, not daring to defy the Grand Preceptor.

"Sit and accept the energy."

The servant immediately sat on the ground and closed his eyes. There was a blind madness in his bearing.

At a glance, he seemed almost indifferent. It was as though he would not care even if Jung Yeonshin killed him.

"..."

An unexpected session of regulated breathing and circulation began amid the banquet.

Without a word, Jung Yeonshin bent slightly. Slowly placing his hand against the servant's back, he activated his Blood Art.

A month had passed since his arrival at headquarters. He had had more than enough time to alter a few lines of the formula, just in case.

The core energy of Jung Yeonshin's Blood Art flowed through the servant's body.

The reaction was immediate.

"What?"

"What in the world...?"

It was a miracle. Something unprecedented in the Blood Flame Cult was happening.

The servant's scarlet hair rapidly began turning jet-black. It was a moment of upheaval for the Blood-Surpassing Art, with its history stretching back hundreds of years.

The masters who had hurled all manner of remarks at Jung Yeonshin swallowed hollow groans.

The transformation took an astonishingly short time.

Jung Yeonshin slowly withdrew his hand.

The servant grasped the black hair hanging to his shoulders to examine it. His expressionless face crumbled at once.

"Grand Preceptor, O Grand Preceptor... Have I, for the first time, received a miracle within my body...?"

He muttered the words, trembling all over.

Jung Yeonshin was not looking at him.

He could not tell precisely what the Desolate Fortress Master had meant.

In that case, he could start by taking whatever caught his eye, before the assembled martial artists stormed this place today.

Jung Yeonshin turned his head to look at Go Jonghak. Did blood circulate differently even in the bodies of the Blood Flame Cult's madmen?

He had never before seen a person's face truly turn blue with fear. Even the man's hands had fallen from behind his back.

He slowly parted his lips.