She had been lying high in a tree, watching the window.

The Seventh Apostle saw and heard everything clearly. The worthless creature's prattle reached her as distinct speech. It was thanks to the Blood Art's Way of Perception. She had activated it to catch even the faintest breath of her little Cult Leader's internal martial arts.

Her heightened hearing was taking in everything.

["You could surrender first and join our house. I'll let you wash my feet, and nothing more. I mean it."]

The voice of that lowborn Namgoong mongrel fouled her ears.

TAP.

She took a step. She moved without even thinking. Someone who did not know her place needed to be punished.

As always, the Seventh Apostle's body moved the instant she willed it. Wrapped in the swirling winds of her Mobility Arts, she smashed through the inn's entrance in a single rush.

Before she knew it, she had the Namgoong creature by the cheeks and was slowly lifting her. The powder coating that face felt utterly revolting.

But she could not frown. The boy who would create a divine technique unlike any other beneath heaven was watching her.

She offered a smooth smile.

"You."

She felt the stern gaze of the young Grand Preceptor who never failed to excite her. The Seventh Apostle thought:

'My little, precious Grand Preceptor, your dignity is my prestige.'

"What did you say?"

She addressed the Namgoong mongrel whose face she held.

Namgoong Mi could not answer. Eyes wide, she could only let out pained breaths.

Silence fell over the inn.

Only the splinters of the shattered door clattered belatedly to the floor. The Seventh Apostle's arrival had been that abrupt.

Her unrivaled presence here made it all the more startling. The explosion of qi that had accompanied her rushing movement technique was immense.

"..."

Every gaze in the inn converged on Jung Yeonshin's party. Many of the people here had been discussing the Desolate Fortress and the Namgoong clan.

Quite a few seemed to recognize the fortress uniforms at once. Astonishment spread in a wave.

"Is that really the Desolate Fortress?"

"A blue robe at that age..."

"Never mind that. Th-that woman...!"

Martial masters who had honed their energy detection to its limits were rare. There were none in this inn.

Yet the Seventh Apostle's power cowed people regardless of how keen their energy detection was. She naturally radiated an eerie qi that seemed to penetrate to the spine—a quality peculiar to powerful unorthodox masters.

'Even her clothes are bright red.'

Jung Yeonshin considered the scarlet gown covering the Seventh Apostle. It was unmistakably a pure-blood robe.

It would have been strange for a supreme master of a Blood Flame Cult Apostle's standing to disguise herself. Concealing her presence with her exquisite Mobility Arts better suited her dignity.

'I have no other choice.'

He had to drive her away. Even without the Blood Flame Cult's emblem on her pure-blood robe, he had to. He and Namgoong Hwashin were nominally Namgoong Mi's companions.

*'If we're to keep our justification for the duel intact...'

The boy met Namgoong Hwashin's eyes. They exchanged a glance in an instant.

Then it happened.

"Hhhh...!"

Namgoong Mi let out a breathless groan. The Seventh Apostle's fingers were pressing ever harder into her cheeks.

It looked like outright torture. An unseen finger technique seemed to have already sealed Namgoong Mi's pressure points.

"You're not answering."

The Seventh Apostle's face was as unchanging as her level tone. That faintly smiling face was terrifying.

Even her beauty, with silken black hair and uncannily luminous red eyes, made her seem a sinister enchantress.

"..."

The inn sank into utter silence.

A grip backed by the core energy of an internal master of her caliber could crush a face in an instant.

Jung Yeonshin changed his mind. If Namgoong Mi died here, responsibility might be shifted onto the Desolate Fortress.

He had to coax the unpredictable Seventh Apostle. He immediately sent a sound transmission.

"What are you doing?"

No answer came. She was no different from Namgoong Mi.

Jung Yeonshin stared at the Seventh Apostle. She did not turn toward him, showing him only her profile.

But the hand gripping Namgoong Mi's face seemed to have stopped tightening. That meant she was listening.

'Disgusting blood fiend. I can't tell what you're thinking.'

The boy rested his hand on the Desolate Sword's hilt and lifted his right heel slightly. It was an ordinary opening stance for drawing a sword.

His internal energy was another matter. The instant he roused the power of the Movement Art, a solemn presence swept through the surroundings.

Waves of qi also began to rise from Namgoong Hwashin, who had assumed a similar stance with a rigid expression.

A breeze stirred indoors. It carried killing intent.

"You pledged your name to our agreement."

Jung Yeonshin spoke through sound transmission again.

"Now you've broken it openly. Three hundred zhang has become a single step."

"..."

"I'm deeply disappointed, Seventh Apostle."

The Seventh Apostle's shoulders shrank back. It was an incredible sight.

For an instant, the delicate frame hidden by her mighty waves of qi came fully into view. Her pure-blood robe no longer looked like martial clothing woven from Thousand-year Silk.

'A feint?'

Jung Yeonshin calmly watched for an opening. He barely restrained the urge to launch a sword strike then and there.

A rash advance would invite a counterattack. Was the lofty Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult deceiving him? For a moment, he almost failed to press her further.

"Are you saying we should cancel our martial arts bargain?"

"..."

"There are twelve moves left in our agreement to exchange the Demonic Asura Blood Art for strikes. You mean to sever everything with your own hands, then? That's what your behavior says."

"No..."

The Seventh Apostle murmured faintly. Even her head dipped a little.

Jung Yeonshin's brows drew together.

It was profoundly unfamiliar. Loathsome, too, much like Namgoong Mi.

The people who had died at her hands were beyond counting, and this display seemed a mockery of them. How much blood must she have spent cultivating that mighty Blood Art?

The absurd sight angered him. The internal energy roused by his Movement Art passed coldly through the Celestial Pillar point at the nape of his neck.

This had to be what the Seventh Apostle intended. Even the sophistication of her provocation befitted an Apostle.

'That opening is blatant. Can I kill her here?'

Jung Yeonshin was already activating his radiant demon arts. Translucent combat paths arose within him.

Countless invisible strands became the trajectories of sword paths in his mind.

The instant those sharp lines took shape in his visualization and extended outward, they crumbled helplessly before the Seventh Apostle's body.

It meant that no sword move of the Radiant Sword Art could land an effective blow in a single strike. The realization came as intuition.

'I need to attack together with Young Master Namgoong.'

The White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin, understood Jung Yeonshin's perceptions. There was no need to discuss such things as the order of their forms.

With their present skill, they could coordinate perfectly.

If every sword strike against the Seventh Apostle would be blocked, they first needed to create a variable through a one-move exchange.

Jung Yeonshin was just about to draw his sword and attack.

SWISH!

"Because of this thing."

The smile vanished from the Seventh Apostle's lips as she muttered those few words.

With a single movement, she spun Namgoong Mi around and seized the back of her neck. It happened in a flash.

She slammed Namgoong Mi's head into the table. The motion was as natural as seamlessly linked forms.

BANG!

Forehead struck table with tremendous force. The impact sent out a violent tremor, and she did not stop at one blow. She was not even putting much internal energy into it.

There was malice in the blows, as though she were venting her anger. She seemed oblivious to the watching crowd.

BANG! BANG!

Sounds like air being forced from her lungs kept escaping Namgoong Mi's lips. She, too, was a trained martial expert.

She did not lose consciousness at once. Each time her head rose after an impact, a loud, raw gasp rang out.

'You're inviting me to come at you.'

Jung Yeonshin took it as a provocation from the Seventh Apostle. Without further delay, he put the Radiant Sword Art's formula into practice.

The Movement Art's core energy instantly took on the intent of radiance.

HUM!

The flow of core energy throughout his body responded in less than half a breath. White sword light rose from his right hand.

At the same instant, the Radiant Sword Art's Swift Sword Style burst from his waist like a ray of light.

SWISH!

He had expected this. He felt no contact. The Seventh Apostle had immediately retreated with her footwork.

Before evading, she had flung Namgoong Mi onto the table. No one paid any attention to the woman sprawling there.

'That will do for now.'

Keeping the Seventh Apostle in view, Jung Yeonshin flicked a glance over the table. Namgoong Mi lay there with a reddened forehead and dim, half-open eyes.

"Good heavens..."

"Was that a sword move just now? They say the Desolate Fortress has several promising rising generation disciples."

"What a display of truly exquisite martial arts!"

The onlookers exclaimed as though watching a fire at a neighbor's house. They did not seem to find it strange that he had only now attacked.

Perhaps they had seen a blue-robed expert of the Desolate Fortress resting his hand on his sword hilt, radiating a forbidding presence as he contested wills with his opponent. He could think of no other explanation.

'At least that's a relief.'

Yet even as he felt relieved, Jung Yeonshin found it strange.

Not one person in the inn had fled. Their breathing was strong and uneven.

He could sense tension and excitement together in those breaths. They conveyed a determination: if not now, when would they ever see masters of this caliber clash?

Three major roads branched from Huangzhou, leading respectively to Huguang Province, Jiangxi Province, and Southern Zhili.

With so many merchant caravans and goods passing through, martial artists were said to travel here in great numbers as well. The rumor that only the bold ventured outdoors here was true.

They did not simply run away because a fight had broken out between masters.

'Even ordinary people come in an astonishing variety.'

For all that he felt his horizons expanding, he did not relax his guard. It was hard to take his eyes off the Seventh Apostle, who stood with her head deeply bowed.

There was no telling when she might unleash a lethal technique. Even dozens of explosive bombs gathered together would not have been as frightening as she was.

"Young Master Namgoong."

"Don't worry about the half-move delay. I'll follow up at once."

The reassuring voice came from diagonally behind him. Jung Yeonshin gave a slight nod.

He had never fought inside a cramped inn before. He believed Namgoong Hwashin's Boundless Flowing Body would allow him to adapt fluidly.

It was then.

TAP.

The Seventh Apostle abruptly turned. Her bearing remained dejected.

The sight of her stepping lightly away and walking out of the inn seemed unreal.

"You have to come to me again. I'll let you land one move."

It was her sound transmission. She withdrew, mentioning their ambush wager.

The instant she left the inn, her presence soared lightly onto the rooftops, then gradually faded.

Jung Yeonshin stood still with the Desolate Sword lowered.

'If she means it, I should cut off her right arm first. She won't offer me her neck.'

He had no interest in the Seventh Apostle's unfathomable inner thoughts.

Even the attainment and merit he would gain from taking a Blood Flame Cult Apostle's head were secondary. Like Namgoong Mi, she had to die.

"Oh... The Desolate Fortress's young master has driven out that unorthodox wretch."

"Who was she? She looked like someone from the Blood Flame Cult."

"Not a blood fiend, surely. Wasn't her hair black? She couldn't possibly have been an Apostle."

"Weren't her eyes red...? I can't be sure. She had only one eye, and I only saw her profile."

The spectators could not quite bring themselves to approach Jung Yeonshin's party. They merely talked among themselves.

Even if they had little regard for their lives, they seemed to consider facing a master directly a different matter.

The unexpected uproar came to an anticlimactic end. However good it might look from the outside, to Jung Yeonshin it had been an absurd turn of events.

Had he controlled the Seventh Apostle in the end? He could hardly accept that interpretation.

'I have to stand on my own strength. There's a limit to relying on an enemy's favor. This defies common sense.'

As he made that private resolution, Namgoong Hwashin approached, his sword still unsheathed like the boy's.

His expression was complicated as he looked at Namgoong Mi.

"We should find a physician. She'll have trouble standing for the duel if we leave her like that."

"... Yes, we should."

Jung Yeonshin nodded slowly.

What had been a peaceful day passed in a blur. The party could not leave Huangzhou immediately.

Their mission would only have meaning if Namgoong Mi could move about.

Four days passed.

During that time, they found a physician in the city to examine her and rented an annex at the inn, where all three stayed together.

Only Namgoong Hwashin responded to the groans Namgoong Mi occasionally let out while they slept.

'Even an enemy is still family, is that it?'

Jung Yeonshin simply devoted himself in silence to creating his new palm technique and internal martial arts. He lay immersed in thought.

His meditation was deeper than ever. It remained so until just before the first light of dawn gently swept into the guest room.

When the sun of the fifth day lit the world, Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin received a visit from a band of warriors. A loud commotion heralded them before they even reached the inn.

It sounded as though a festival had begun.

Their waves of qi and sheer presence made such a reception inevitable. They were enough to revive even Namgoong Mi's spirits.

Lying on the guest room's bed, she looked at Jung Yeonshin with a sneer on her pale face.

Amid the clamor, her expression seemed to speak: Whoever you are, you must obey me.

"The Blue Qilin! It's Young Master Namgoong, the Blue Qilin!"

"Namgoong Sejin is in Huangzhou...?"

"That inn! Didn't they say the Desolate Fortress warriors were staying there?"

The Blue Qilin, Namgoong Sejin.

Having heard the rumors about his younger sister, the Namgoong clan's young clan head had come in person.