'Just as I thought. None of our Captains are here.'

Jung Yeonshin surveyed his allies once more. The immense energy waves distinctive of the Black rank were nowhere to be found.

It was only natural. The Central Plains were as vast as a dozen or more foreign countries combined, too large for seventeen combat units to manage. With three of those units concentrated on the Hwangbo clan, the Fortress itself was bound to be largely empty. Its forces were already scattered across the Central Plains.

Even the Divine Sword Squad Leader rarely returned to the Fortress in Xiangyang. That meant he was fulfilling the Desolate Fortress's duty. Even if a Captain or two had come, they would be keeping the Blood Flame Cult's absent Apostles in check.

There were quite a few blue-robed warriors. They mostly commanded the martial artists drawn in through a righteous cause and political influence, and were locked in fierce combat with the headquarters' forces.

"Have you thrown in your lot with the Blood Flame Cult?"

An oddly familiar shout rang out amid the fighting. A young Daoist had already run right up to him, the embroidered plum blossoms on his Mount Hua robes fluttering.

'Yoo Hyun.'

Mount Hua's successor-disciple, who had become his friend. He carried an ease quite out of place on a battlefield, just as he had the day they first met.

Zhongnan's successor, wiji myohwa, was there as well, along with Shaolin's little divine monk, Gak jung. His acquaintances from the Nine Great Sects were rushing toward him with their fellow disciples in tow. He understood the instant he saw them.

They had come purely out of friendship and chivalry. They must have had to secure their sect elders' permission.

'He spoke of chivalrous heroes disappearing.'

He recalled the Blood Flame Cult Leader speaking of crop failures and famine, and inwardly shook his head. Could the man say the same after getting to know these people?

TAP.

"These bastards are pretty strong, aren't they?"

Chung Myung's lightness skill was the fastest. His long blue Desolate Fortress robes fluttered gracefully as he spun into a landing, touching down beside Yeonshin with astonishing lightness.

WHOOSH!

The clear breeze peculiar to the noble race sent Yeonshin's hair flying. Chung Myung smiled and gave his shoulder a light tap. At that moment, no one looked more dependable.

Baek Miryeo and wiji myohwa arrived on powerful backdrafts. They were not the last: Yoo Hyun and five Plum Blossom Swordsmen, Gak jung and four extraordinary warrior monks, ten familiar Zhongnan masters, and Heon Wonchang followed.

He exchanged glances of greeting with the others. The situation allowed them little leisure.

"The Blood Flame Cult's headquarters... It certainly lives up to its reputation."

One of the Plum Blossom Swordsmen murmured grimly.

A standoff took shape. Yeonshin and his fellow martial artists stood in the center, while senior members of the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters began surrounding them.

'They left a way in. They did it deliberately,' Yeonshin thought.

He could see what the Sixth Apostle and the Blood Master Swordsmen intended. They apparently held the fastest intruders' martial prowess in high regard. They planned to lure them all in and annihilate them first.

"We've secured Lightning Genius," Baek Miryeo said. "Getting out is the problem. We don't know how many exchanges the Fortress Master will need to kill the Blood Flame Cult Leader."

Even as she spoke, she looked over Yeonshin's pure-blood robe, seemingly checking whether he was unharmed.

"Isn't that fellow an Apostle?"

Heon Wonchang belatedly pointed at the Sixth Apostle in alarm. The elite warriors who had arrived first had been studying the man from the outset.

He was cloaked in the most powerful presence of all their enemies. The greater the master, the keener their energy detection. They had no choice but to remain wary.

"Mount Hua, Zhongnan... Shaolin. So the Nine Great Sects have come too."

The Sixth Apostle smiled, his fleshless cheeks deeply hollowed.

"Afraid of the repercussions? A halfhearted force. Not even a single Elder."

No one answered.

The Blood Flame Cult was vast. Its branches combined might be stronger than its headquarters. The First and Second Apostles, stationed elsewhere, were said to possess martial might approaching that of most major sect leaders.

Relations between great sects belonged to the realm of politics. So it was with the unorthodox Thirteen skies and the great orthodox sects. The involvement of a supreme master of Elder rank from the Nine Great Sects carried tremendous weight. It amounted to a declaration of war between sects. Fight with the survival of one's sect at stake, as Zhongnan and the Tyrant Sword Tribe had? Anyone would first seek to avoid it.

However loudly the orthodox factions proclaimed chivalry, the realities of human life came first.

SWISH.

Meanwhile, the Blood Master Swordsmen maneuvered into position. Their battle lines were already formed, the pressure of their erupting presence immense.

The clash between masters was about to begin. Perhaps it was the tension. Heon Wonchang's voice suddenly sounded.

"I don't understand why the Blood Master Swordsmen here look so strong."

It was sound transmission. Yeonshin answered immediately.

"You're seeing correctly."

He had spent a long time at headquarters. Many had sought his instruction. More than a few blood fiends had offered living people as tribute, and the Blood Master Swordsmen who presented martial artists had been particularly powerful.

"There's a prison where I've gathered people who nearly had their core energy stolen. We must win and save them."

He had spoken to the Seventh Apostle and been assigned a prison. There, in the underground cells, he had gathered those who would otherwise have been sacrificed. He had wanted to protect at least the people presented to him.

Heon Wonchang's expression changed. Without a word, he adjusted his grip on his sword, sending out a keenly honed presence. It was the opening stance of his killing swordsmanship.

Yeonshin stirred his internal energy once more. With particular care, he filled the Human Welcome pressure points on either side of his Adam's apple and the Corner Spring point just above his vocal cords with core energy.

"I can kill all the Blood Master Swordsmen."

He was transmitting his voice to Baek Miryeo.

"Would you act as my Dharma protector?"

"... You are a blue-robed warrior who has carried out a long-term mission. You deserve respect."

Baek Miryeo answered, smoothing her puzzled expression into composure even as the enemies charged.

While the Nine Great Sects' masters guarded against every direction, the Radiant Demon Squad's experts calmly studied him.

HUMMM!

Yeonshin immediately unleashed the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike. His knife-hand, suffused with blue light, was different from before. Strange waves rippled outward.

The Sixth Apostle seemed to be the first to notice something amiss, but Yeonshin was already expressing the principles of his sword song through the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike.

HUMMM!

The art carried outward-radiating core energy on sword resonance. This time was different. He imbued it with Dharma power rather than sound.

The power of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike began spreading in every direction, awakening matching energies planted like Thunderclap Bombs. The power he had planted while watching more than thirty sunrises at the Blood Flame Cult responded. The resonance never ceased.

Amid it all, the Sixth Apostle's figure flashed. His Mobility Arts were as swift as a beam of light.

BOOOM!

Fragments of the inner courtyard's marble scattered in every direction.

Gak jung and the other Shaolin monks blocked his path. Upright energy waves spread as one. For an instant, the image of the Buddha seemed to appear: core energy given visible form.

A formation that multiplied their strength through combined attacks. Were just five men deploying the famed Shaolin Eighteen Arhats Formation he had only heard of?

"The Buddha's will rests upon your skulls!"

The little divine monk, Gak jung, stood at its center. He blocked the Sixth Apostle's fist with the fist art he had demonstrated during his preaching wager with Yeonshin.

Majestic power blossomed from their crossed fists. It was the Shaolin Dragon Fist Strike. Even so, he was driven back. Gak jung unleashed a lion's roar.

"Aaaah!"

His battle cry was tremendous, as were those of the four warrior monks supporting him on either side. Assuming identical opening stances, they lent him their waves of force. All martial arts beneath heaven were said to have originated in Shaolin. Its underlying strength was truly staggering.

Deeply grateful, Yeonshin closed his eyes at once. He sensed Chung Myung, Baek Miryeo, and Heon Wonchang close by.

Protecting a martial artist about to undertake complex core-energy manipulation. Acting as Dharma protectors.

Their trust brought him an unexpected warmth.

CLANG! BOOM!

The masters collided. Magnificent waves of force beat against his skin like drums. He felt them in full as the masters who had faced one another became entangled in a chaotic melee.

'I won't let this fight drag on.'

So Yeonshin thought. Was the battle vast in scale? So was the effort he had devoted solely to preparations for more than thirty days.

Faint energy waves spread in concentric circles: the sword song of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike dwelling in his right hand. The response was immediate.

HUM!

It began at the railing of the thirty-six steps. Waves of Dharma power suddenly erupted. Yeonshin sensed it even with his eyes closed.

"Hah!"

Two Blood Master Swordsmen lost the rhythm of their breathing as they traded blows with Plum Blossom Swordsmen up and down the steps. A momentary opening led straight to instant death. Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword flashed, and a head flew.

"What...?"

Despite his victory, the Plum Blossom Swordsman muttered blankly.

That was only one glimpse of what was happening. The same thing began occurring everywhere. The Blood Master Swordsmen's defeats multiplied rapidly. The source was clear.

As blood sprayed and the Sixth Apostle rampaged, allies and enemies alike began extending their energy detection toward the young Desolate Fortress master, one after another.

Amid it all, Yeonshin slowly took a step.

STEP.

He began climbing the thirty-six steps. Protected by his Radiant Demon Squad comrades, he alone was at peace.

The Blood Master Swordsmen could not approach. The waves of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike were growing ever denser.

HUMMMM!

With every step, the Dharma power grew stronger. His long preparation brought demon-slaying blossoms into bloom. Upright energy was igniting throughout headquarters, one location after another.

Yeonshin reached the top of the thirty-six steps of worldly affliction and opened his eyes. This was where the Blood Flame Cult Leader had looked down upon everyone. He raised his foot to deliver a forceful stamp.

He did so because it was becoming unbearable. His upper dantian burned within his head, washing his mind white.

THUD!

He stamped his foot. That was the trigger.

HUMMMM!

Pale blue light began billowing in every direction. The essential principles of the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Enchantment transformed into a demon-subduing Enchantment. Every fragment of the sorcerous formation shattered by the Desolate Fortress Master changed as well.

The power of the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike, planted throughout headquarters over the preceding days, surged outward like waves. Beginning at the railing, it spread to the steps and rafters, one impact triggering another in an explosive chain.

Screams of every kind rang through the battlefield that the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters had become. They were the howls of blood fiends. Each one's naked agony filled the sky.

In an instant, it became a vision of hell. The Blood Flame cultists writhed as though caught in the grip of the Immovable Wisdom King.

"Hah, haaagh."

"What, what is this...!"

It was worse on the battlefield at the Cult Leader's Palace. There, the overlapping waves of Dharma power struck directly. Those who fell dead on the spot died mercifully. The senior cultists who staggered and were hacked apart by orthodox swords met gruesome ends.

Compared with the might they had displayed at the battle's opening, it was almost absurdly hollow.

"Exterminate the demons" was a chilling phrase. The orthodox martial artists were merciless toward those of the evil and unorthodox paths.

Yet the Blood Flame cultists in the inner courtyard were not looking at them. Even as they died, their eyes held Yeonshin atop the steps.

The young Grand Preceptor.

His shoulder-length black hair stirred in the waves, his eyes flashing like a sunlit sea. A deeper blue radiance cloaked his lowered hand. The auspiciously rippling blue light mingled with the hem of his blood-red pure-blood robe to create a strange sight.

"You damned bastard...!"

"We let in... a Reaper."

"How can a lowborn wretch look so, so noble...?"

"If only you had truly become our Grand Preceptor."

The orthodox martial artists were much the same. As they finished off their enemies, they gazed at the Desolate Fortress's Lightning Genius.

Their original plan had been different: withstand the attacks of the Apostles and other enemy leaders. At its heart lay faith in the Desolate Fortress Master's absolute martial might. They had accepted the prospect of great sacrifices. But none had been necessary.

It felt unreal. The Desolate Fortress's captive young genius had overturned the course of the battle.

"What in the world is happening...?"

"Look! The heretics killed themselves!"

"It wasn't suicide. That was an Orthodox Buddhist Sect method."

"I've never even heard of it. Who under heaven could...?"

They were martial artists gathered from martial families and schools across the surrounding region. Other blue-robed warriors were among them.

Coming up from the outskirts, they saw the scene on the thirty-six steps. Those at the head of the group racing forward with lightness skill stopped first. Silence hung for a moment.

They too had awakened their energy detection. They could distinctly sense the waves of Dharma power dwelling in the hand of the blood-robed boy atop the steps.

Before anyone realized it, the Sixth Apostle was the only enemy left standing.

Blood dripped from the fists that had crushed several masters of the Nine Great Sects. That was all. The fighting came to a natural halt.

"Has Vairochana descended...?"

He sighed. His words and manner were unlike those of a Blood Flame cultist.

"Grand Preceptor... No. Lightning Genius is right. From the beginning, you..."

"You Apostles."

Yeonshin interrupted him, then continued slowly.

"You talk too much. Every last one of you."

He raised the knife-hand imbued with the Demon-Slaying Gentle Flowing Strike. The unceasing waves of Dharma power kept twisting and expanding. The gesture declared that there was no point in further words.

The Enchantment, transformed into the enemy's ultimate counter, was on his side. He could handle this.

'This is hard.'

His body told another story. The sword song's backlash was battering his upper dantian. His head felt as though it were being crushed.

He desperately concealed it. The Shaolin monks who had met the Sixth Apostle's assault were in a wretched state. Now he alone possessed power specialized in fighting the evil and unorthodox paths.

"Hah."

The Sixth Apostle's eyes widened briefly, and the desolation vanished from his face. He seemed to cast aside worldly gain and doctrine alike. A hunger for combat showed in his expression.

With admiration in his voice, he said,

"At least your head..."

SPLAAASH!

His entire body shattered, along with the mouth still speaking. A tremendous gale arrived a moment later and swept away even the fragments of his corpse.

TAP.

A woman touched down beside Yeonshin as lightly as a flower petal drifting from above.

"Fortress Master!"

Chung Myung and Baek Miryeo, drenched in blood, prostrated themselves. Heon Wonchang belatedly dropped to his knees as well. The other Desolate Fortress warriors present also paid their respects.

Many martial artists followed suit, kneeling or offering clasped-fist salutes. Utmost reverence or fear shone on their varied faces.

"Fortress... Master."

Yeonshin barely managed to speak. His entire body suddenly grew heavy. The strain he had barely held at bay poured down like a torrent breaching a dam.

With some difficulty, he turned his head. Their eyes met.

Sunlight shimmered in her deep green eyes. Her steady gaze upon him was radiant.

Was it because she was a peerless master who transcended ordinary limits? It was always like this when he faced the Desolate Fortress Master. As though a blade of grass were tickling even his energy detection, something dreamlike swept over his whole body.

Her lips moved slowly.

"Your standing will change."

Her voice seemed to echo from far away. He did not know when his eyelids had closed. His vision had already darkened like a dream.

"First, I grant you a long sleep. Rest."

RUSTLE.

He felt fabric brush softly against his cheek. His body, tipping off balance, stopped falling.

Had she caught him in her arms? The Fortress Master had spoken of a long sleep. Perhaps he would wake in the Desolate Fortress.

He truly had no desire for an escort back.

'I'd rather she gave me the fruit.'

Even a single piece.

Even that desperate stray thought slowly drifted away.

He sank into a bottomless abyss that pressed him down like a mire. Without resisting, he laid his consciousness to rest.