"You can't use your body anymore, can you? Completely burned out."
It was a ti when the dim light of dawn cast faint shadows. A lone figure and a bundle cast their silhouettes together amidst the dense woods of a hillside forest.
The Seventh Apostle, draped in a crimson pureblood robe, stood diagonally on the gently sloped hill.
Below her lay a silk-wrapped mass, once the form of the Blood Fla Cult Leader, being dragged carelessly before coming to a stop.
Under the sumr sky, nearing the mid-autumn festival, the air around the hill was unusually cold.
It was as if a massive glacier resided deep within the mountain, exuding an eerie, yin-infused chill.
This was the boundary ridge where Sichuan transitioned into Huguang, a sacred mountain discovered by the wandering Blood Fla Cultists on their travels through Zhongyuan.
The bright orange light of dawn slowly began to seep through. The break of day was near.
Haa—
A white breath escaped the lips of the Seventh Apostle. She wore an unusually refreshed smile.
It was a rare expression, one she usually reserved for monts when she secretly observed the young Taesa. Today, however, the refreshing yin energy she inhaled while transporting an unpleasant burden put her in an unusually good mood.
"This feels nice."
Her words weren't just to herself.
― A rare holy mountain.
The reply ca from the corpse-like bundle, but it wasn't spoken aloud. It was a ntal transmission, an ethereal form of communication.
― This place might allow for recovery, given ti. The spiritual power I was struck with is severe—it will take years to nd. Seventh Apostle, if you offer sacrifices, the process could be shortened.
The Blood Fla Cult Leader, skilled in Hye Gwang Sim Eo—a ntal transmission technique typically mastered by eminent Buddhist monks—spoke with effortless clarity.
However, unlike the principles of the supre truth that often guided Buddhist practitioners, the Cult Leader had spent over a century delving into Buddhist teachings solely to wield their mysticism as a weapon, establishing his dominion as the Grandmaster of Blood Techniques.
The Cult Leader's lineage was distinct—neither Han nor Ming, but self-proclaid as superior to both.
Through the sinister art of embedding his soul within a blood crystal, the Cult Leader could think, manipulate, and live even within a fragnted form. This cursed essence was both the Cult Leader's body and his weapon.
"Offer sacrifices? Filthy."
― Adorable, aren't you.
A single droplet of blood, brimming with spiritual essence, oozed from the Cult Leader's corpse. It was viscous, slimy like mucus.
This was one of the mysteries of Jianghu, revealing itself in its most grotesque form. The blood crystal—a snake-like, slender fragnt of blood—was the Cult Leader’s essence.
― First, we must determine the course for the Cult. From this ordeal, it has beco clear who poses the greatest threat to the grand ambitions of our faith.
"I'm listening."
― The Fortress Lord of Ipwang is not the primary concern. She rarely ventures far and likely remains bound to the Heavenly Tree. Even if her wrath is provoked, scattering and evading her over ti would suffice.
"I’d like to test her myself. She’s quite irritating."
― Refrain. Regardless, the remnants of Ipwang Fortress pose no threat now. Identifying the movents of the Divine Sword Captain will suffice. As for the Master of the Zhuge Clan, while cunning and formidable, he is not a concern for the Cult.
The Cult Leader's ntal transmission carried a faint tone of amusent.
― Likewise, the so-called Sword Saint is rely a puppet of the Zhuge Clan. The heads of the righteous sects are re idlers, intoxicated by their diocrity, content to observe the nine mountain regions.
"…"
― The young sect master of Xinjiang’s Bright Sect, however, warrants caution. His ambition runs deep, and his sorcery and martial talent are unprecedented. Still, he is only now stretching his wings as a fledgling leader. Ultimately…
The Cult Leader paused briefly before declaring:
― He pales in comparison to the influence of the Taesa, who has already entered the heart of Jianghu.
"I expected you’d say that."
The Seventh Apostle leaned lightly against an old tree.
Adjusting the sleeve of her pureblood robe, she pretended disinterest, but the Cult Leader pressed on.
― The extraordinary spiritual techniques displayed by Ma Yeon-jeok were indeed formidable. For any martial art to achieve such a pinnacle form, its foundation must be ticulously structured from inception.
The Cult Leader, though reduced to a re fragnt of blood, lingered as though contemplating deeply.
― I can now state with certainty: The Taesa possesses a creative genius on par with Bodhidharma or Zhang Sanfeng. The scale of his divine energy in his upper dantian is unfathomable.
"So?"
The Seventh Apostle’s lips barely moved as she asked, her expression unchanging.
― Unlike the aforentioned masters, the Taesa is neither a monk nor a hermit devoted to self-cultivation. He shows no restraint in crafting martial techniques capable of utter destruction. He is a dangerous sprout. The fall of Ipwang Fortress has rely begun to take root in Jianghu.
"Wouldn’t it be good for him to create more martial arts? Every one of the Taesa’s techniques shines."
― Regrettably, as long as the Fortress Lord exists, we cannot possess the Taesa. If we cannot have him, then eliminating him is the only option. Hire every assassin across the realm. Conceal our involvent in layers, and release funds liberally. The Taesa has made plenty of enemies in Jianghu. There’s no reason to hesitate.
"Kill him? The Taesa?"
― The First Apostle is within the Martial Alliance of Han Zhong. He holds a significant position. He is likely seeking an opportunity to pit the Alliance against Ipwang Fortress. Seek his assistance. He will revere your noble bloodline as sacred.
The Cult Leader’s ntal transmission radiated authority. Even after his physical form had perished, the dignity of a grandmaster persisted.
The yin energy that pervaded the sacred mountain seed to grow heavier in that mont.
Yet, the Seventh Apostle remained silent.
She revered the young Taesa. She viewed him as the singular cot capable of leading her to the ultimate heights of martial arts.
Unlike the demanding, botherso Cult Leader, the young Taesa inspired a different kind of fervor.
His confused deanor, vacillating after receiving Bodhidharma’s sacred treasure, ignited a sadistic thrill within her.
More.
She wanted to give him more. Every rare treasure scattered across the world, every resource that could aid his progress. She longed to see how he would react.
What expression would the young grandmaster show? How would his martial arts evolve beneath his fingertips?
"Ahhh."
She aspired to reach the pinnacle of martial arts with the boy. Muguk—the ultimate martial peak.
At the dazzling end of his life, she wanted to caress the boy’s cheek as he closed his eyes and tell him: Your life was brilliant. I revered you.
The Seventh Apostle slowly opened her lips.
"Cult Leader, I owe you a debt of gratitude, but…"
― Hm?
"I’ve put up with a lot. I’ve repaid plenty. Didn’t you once tell to live as I wish?"
― Apostle…
"And now you want to kill the Taesa?"
― I thought you were joking before.
The conversation between madn had begun.
"I ant it. I’ll beco the True Blood Cult Leader. I’ve heard where the seal lies."
― Hah, haha. You’ll consu ? That’s amusing. I’m curious to see the Jianghu through your eyes.
"Disgusting. My talent far surpasses yours."
There was a formula a black-robed boy had once passed her when he still wore blue.
Originally, the Seventh Apostle was destined to beco as strong as the Cult Leader through Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique alone. Her potential was unparalleled.
She was even younger than Tae Yeom-ryong, who had fawned over the Taesa. She had barely crossed into adulthood.
As the Blood Fla Cult’s strongest prodigy, she had ascended to the rank of Apostle. Her growth potential was limitless.
"So, here’s the thing."
The Seventh Apostle’s crimson smile deepened.
"Die. Thanks for everything, and you’ve been a bother."
― Hahaha!
The Cult Leader burst into maniacal laughter, unhinged and echoing.
― You’re already the True Blood Cult Leader! The lineage will prosper even further! It’s a pity I won’t witness the Cult’s zenith…
Crunch.
A sleek red blade crushed the bloody remains underfoot.
With a crackling sound, crimson flas erupted on either side of her feet. Only two forces could completely annihilate blood techniques: the sa blood arts or divine spiritual power.
In this mont, the Seventh Apostle unleashed the perfected Mara True Blood Art, born anew in the hands of the young grandmaster. The spiraling flas tore into the ground.
It was a single blow that incinerated the blood fiend who had road Jianghu for centuries.
The sacred mountain swiftly regained its serene, chilling silence.
The Seventh Apostle raised her head slowly. A bright, refreshed smile returned to her lips.
"Han Zhong, Martial Alliance, huh?"
She sensed a reunion with the young Taesa was near. It would be a eting unlike any before.
***
Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin
A peculiar atmosphere surrounded him. He carried an air of harmony that transcended his youthful appearance.
It wasn’t just the energy radiating from him but also his striking appearance. Clad in the unusual black cloak of Ipwang Fortress, he bore an extraordinary sword at his side.
Despite his boyish looks, his commanding words urging surrender seed neither out of place nor awkward. From the carriage window, Cheongmyeong, who had leaned out to observe, let out a whistle.
"Mi-ryeo, did you hear that? 'Will you resist?' He's beco a proper martial enforcer now, rounding up Jianghu riffraff. When did he grow up like this?"
"Spare the nonsense. He's wearing black now."
"True, that's right. Wasn't it just last year that I lent him my azure cloak? In Shaanxi? He really feels like a younger brother, doesn’t he? Must be the age difference."
Cheongmyeong’s lips curved into a bright, refreshing smile.
"Daeju, what happens to us now?"
He glanced briefly into the carriage as he asked, receiving a deep, resonant reply in return.
"Relentlessly refine Magwang Gyeol. That alone is enough. Even if I depart from the main force, the legacy of Magwang Ik will endure. I intend to ensure its continuity without interruption."
"But Daeju, you have no hands."
Jeong Yeon-shin, leading at the front, let Ma Jin’s silence pass without comnt. It was typical of Cheongmyeong’s carefree Ming wit.
Instead, he fixated on the Small Sword Queen, Chui So-ok, staring intently. Through a glance, he conveyed his aning to the chief disciple of Jeomchang Sect:
Until this journey is over, it is only fitting that your senior brothers remain detained.
The boy demanded silent compliance.
How did it end when Namgung Clan placed trust in the honor of the righteous factions?
Jeong Yeon-shin did not repeat the sa mistakes.
Through the fierce white lightning of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi reflected in his unwavering gaze, his resolute determination beca apparent.
The serene smile that graced Chui So-ok’s lips tensed slightly. As an heir of the Nine Great Sects, her reputation for exceptional swordsmanship and valor preceded her.
In many ways, she was compared to Wei Ji Myo-hwa, the Sword Dragon of Zhongnan Sect. Such comparisons underscored her status as a highly revered prodigy in Jianghu.
The Small Sword Queen silently stared at Jeong Yeon-shin for a mont.
The boy returned her gaze, piercing through her with an intent to discern her martial foundation entirely.
To ensure that neither the ripples of her energy nor the shockwaves from his attacks reached his grandfather and the Elder Council Leader in the carriage, Chui So-ok herself had to be completely neutralized—utterly and overwhelmingly.
So, they say she’s a master of dual swords. Her sword energy and spirit are long. Should I assu she wields her sword like a saber? It doesn’t seem like she’s deeply trained in Jeomchang Sect’s signature thrust techniques.
He studied her eyes.
Her expression betrayed no clear emotions.
Though her beauty, as flawless as her renowned sword aura, was widely celebrated, what impressed the boy most were the calluses embedded in her palms. These were the hands of a swordsman who had poured their life into their craft.
Though the distance between Yunnan and Shaanxi had kept her from being directly compared to the Sword Dragon, her dedication did not appear to fall short of Wei Ji Myo-hwa’s.
She’s likely trained in grappling techniques too. I should keep her martial strategies in mind.
The boy waited no longer. Representing his party, he stood dressed in Ipwang Fortress’s black robes on the wide road.
It would be inexcusable to fail to subdue a re prodigy, no matter how skilled.
From the forefront of the halted procession—alongside Tae Yeom-ryong and Namgung Hwa-shin—Jeong Yeon-shin took a slow step forward.
Step.
At that single movent, Chui So-ok’s gaze shifted.
The dull glint of her eyes, which had seed almost vacant, transford. They now reflected the sharp perception of a master, fully assessing the distance between herself and her opponent. It was like the flash of lightning.
The intent to raise her internal sword beca palpable. Even the movent of the air had shifted.
The stiffened atmosphere foretold an imminent clash.
A faint, blurred space ford between the two of them—the Sword Domain. The realm of swords.
It was the range where sword paths t and sword energy clashed. A tug-of-war had begun.
The energy released by each sought to nullify the other’s domain, vying to claim the intervening space as their own.
Jeong Yeon-shin initiated the battle, ensuring that the shockwaves of their swords wouldn’t reach the carriage where his grandfather and the Elder Council Leader sat.
Step.
The boy moved alone. With each step he took, the neutral energy surrounding them rippled.
Between the two swordsn, the wind turned gray, visibly surging.
Step.
The sound of his steps echoed unusually loud as he steadily closed the distance.
This was an action only possible for soone with absolute confidence in their swordsmanship.
With one hand resting on the hilt of the Northern Light Sword, the boy’s black cloak fluttered, exuding the undeniable presence of a leader of the Divine Sword Corps.
Chui So-ok, crouched at an angle, assud her stance for a draw-slash. A faint bead of sweat trailed down her cheek.
Finally, from Jeong Yeon-shin’s unrestrained energy, she recognized the authenticity of the black cloak from Ipwang Fortress.
They were now just five steps apart.
The tension between them stretched taut. The hum of clashing energy resonated fiercely.
The violent tremor in the air signaled the impending collision of the swordsn.
Then.
Suddenly, Chui So-ok withdrew her hand from the sword’s hilt and bowed. Her jet-black hair billowed in the strong winds of their sword energy.
Simultaneously, the swirling energy of the Sword Domain unraveled, dispersing with a resounding whoosh.
As Jeong Yeon-shin watched in silence, Chui So-ok slowly straightened and opened her lips.
"I… will follow."
Her expression was sowhat dazed.
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