Chapter 58
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Punishment - 3
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Black faith dyes the world.
It first revealed itself in the tiny city of Jiangming. The Girl left behind only a pool of blood from thirty heroes before vanishing without a trace.
The next target was Fire Mountain. Before any strategist in the world could notice, the pillars of Guangdong's unorthodox sects crumbled. Guangdong's Flying Heaven Golden Blade Yong Heisha died without landing a single arrow.
And after that? Where was it? The place where the White-Clothed Hero and Qingming Daoist met their ends—the throne of Guangdong.
That faith was conceived in the ashes of the Fist King.
Less than five days after Huangfu Hu's death, the cultists doubled in number. Three days later, the martial clans around Fire Mountain vanished entirely.
Bloodlines that had ruled the land for generations burned away, fled into the night, or clung desperately to their possessions until they met their doom. And then, ten days more.
By the time Nangong Dan's empty coffin received its honors, the cult had set foot on Jiangxi's borders.
While news of the Martial Alliance's formation rocked all of Jiangnan, the common folk of Zhejiang bowed to the flames.
By the time the Sword King and Dao King emerged from their sect gates in pristine white mourning garb, even Anhui bloomed with inky black fire.
Their flesh was tough as leather. Even the sharpest blades barely cut without inner force behind them. But.
"Any who set foot on Anhui's soil and dare call themselves followers of the Divine Cult shall be annihilated!"
The Sword King's command was absolute. The Alliance obeyed.
Less than a week later, the head of the Zhuge Clan, the Divine Calculator, provided the answer.
"It's not much different from superior external arts. Only instead of skin and bone as armor, their bodies brim with inner force that serves the same purpose."
"Blunt weapons will be effective against those whose cultivation isn't profound. Take note."
Staff Killing.
Beaten to death.
They said the Girl's grace made their bodies unbreakable, but it couldn't truly be diamond-hard or indestructible.
Those beaten until their inner force was spent were dragged to the execution grounds. Even as heavy iron clubs pulverized their bodies, they sang.
"Emotional suppression arts erode the brain with every cycle of training. In the end, demonic nature seeps into the marrow, drowning them in madness."
"If you want to die sane, stop now."
The Divine Calculator's warning, uttered while watching their final moments, fell on deaf ears. Not one ceased their chant, determined to pass on the demonic art even to a single soul.
They cried out for the Lady and never bowed their heads.
Sa-bak—
Whenever the swish of skirts echoed through Fire Mountain's streets, people prostrated themselves by the roadside. No one ordered them to. No herald bellowed the news.
No ornate banners of visiting martial sects, no luxurious palanquins, no sleek horses with glossy coats, no long trains of attendants.
The Girl simply walked.
Now, she could no longer stay in one place and wield her needles.
Someone informed her that prices had been set for every spot in the lines that once formed each morning. People even killed each other for a chance at her healing.
When a rich man's feigned illness wafted the thick scent of blood from the arm he offered, she gouged out his eyes before everyone's gaze.
She rose and began wandering Fire Mountain. She ordered no one to follow. Who would defy the command of a living god? The cultists prostrated and obeyed.
And so, silence descended.
Without Bai Hui, she was always alone now, as if returned to the old days.
No one dared speak.
They flattened themselves, bowed their heads, minded their posture, kept their eyes shut. A corpse-like hush enveloped the Girl.
Within that silence, she found her patients.
"Come here, child."
She needled the arm of a boy crusted with scabs. She stimulated the points to smooth his qi flow.
In meridians and true qi, her mastery rivaled the Iron Blood Fist King's. She'd learned the Huangfu Clan's arts by watching alone, after all.
In the world beyond heaven and earth, nothing was blocked. Color already returned to the boy's skin.
She stroked his head in delight, but he flattened himself and trembled. The Girl quietly watched.
Reverence. Awe. Faith. Salvation. And.
Terror.
"..."
It was evening. The sun sank beyond the earth. Suddenly, she remembered: she liked sunsets.
The sunset from Jiangming, the first one from Fire Mountain—they were no different from this. Her pitch-black eyes slowly swept over the prostrated crowd left and right.
Those lightless pupils stopped on an old man.
He looked utterly ragged. Long beard, threadbare robe. Sa-bak— sa-bak— The Girl approached the elder, trembling like an aspen leaf.
A beautiful voice asked,
"Are you afraid of me too?"
"N-No, not at all!"
His answer sounded like a strangled scream. The Girl read the emotions rising from the prostrated elder.
Ecstasy. Panic. Turbulent heart. And at the forefront, vivid fear.
The old man bowed his head and mumbled something. Indecipherable, but she understood.
This was different from the cultists always hovering nearby. Not unconditional faith or devotion.
People worshiped her—and feared her at the same time.
"I see."
She turned, and her hair, backlit by the sunset, fluttered in the wind.
The Girl closed her eyes and unleashed her demonic art to its limit.
The burning pain wouldn't stop. Her head throbbed as if splitting. Yet she couldn't halt.
Huangfu Clan's ashes lay where the sunset shone. A bizarre altar rose atop them.
A gift from those who believed in, relied on, only her.
She pictured the Sword King she'd never met. Natural hatred blazed, surging fiercely through her meridians.
Zhang Ping had called him the world's greatest swordsman. One of the mightiest warriors alive.
Then deeper. Stronger.
"Yes..."
She pushed herself.
Her home had burned away. All that remained was to repay those who oppressed with strength.
Her garments flapped amid surging energy waves. Black flames spread in illusion.
Amid pain and demonic taint, her mind's image shifted. The foe who once wore the Sword King's face twisted. From mighty elder to sword-wielding horde.
Further, to the world. To all of murim.
"Murim's law."
On the day Gangil died, the Tian Clan gatekeeper spoke of the supremacy of the strong. The law of might was natural order; the weak should prostrate and endure.
The strongest's will was law itself. Then the head of the world's top clan must be closest to murim's law.
She asked,
"That law."
The Girl raised her small fist. Gathering inner force shook the ground. Pa-t! Stone cracked under her stance.
One fist struck empty air.
"I want to shatter it."
Ku-woong!
The heavens groaned in agony.
And at last.
"Scholar! Scholar!"
"What is it?"
Early morning, on the road back to Fire Mountain. Urgent voices interrupted Zhang Ping's light sleep. He opened his eyes, having traveled on the donkey.
The man who rushed up continued breathlessly.
"The Martial Alliance has mobilized. Cultists in Jiangxi are being slaughtered en masse."
"Jiangxi already."
They'd moved faster than expected. Per the original plan, his side should push into Anhui, but predictions had gone awry.
He'd aimed to settle it in two months, yet they seemed the hurried ones.
"The Divine Calculator must have seen through my plan."
Overwhelm elite foes with sheer numbers. The more time given, the more cultists grew.
But even the Dragon's bloodline had sniffed it out. Yet strategists never moved without assured victory. Why did the Divine Calculator stake on triumph now?
Zhang Ping's eyes sharpened to wakefulness.
Intelligence from bandits and peasants was thin and fanciful. But a mind devoted lifelong to murim's annihilation extracted truth from it.
The Martial Alliance assembled faster than foreseen. Heroes enraged by Qingming Daoist's death came of their own accord.
The sudden surge of forces roused their sluggish rear. Warriors from mid-tier clans, ronin, plus Jiangnan's elites.
Grand titles chained one after another. Survivors of the Four Dragons Five Phoenixes vowing revenge. Hebei Peng Clan and Nangong Clan forces.
Rumors even said Shaolin's Advancing Vajra had left his temple.
"Two of the Four Great Masters gathered."
World's Four Great Masters.
Nangong's Sword King, Huashan's Divine Sword, Shaolin's Vajra, Wudang's Sword Venerable. Even one would be unstoppable—yet two.
"That's fine."
Still, Zhang Ping didn't waver.
Red glint lingered in the scholar's eyes. His chilling gaze painted the sky like canvas with murim's map. Time given to the Alliance, travel times.
Foreseeable enemy strength: Shaanxi, Hubei, Anhui, Sichuan, Hebei. All five righteous murim domains entire.
"I can wipe out Jiangnan murim's seed."
Amid rising madness, Zhang Ping chuckled lightly.
The scent of blood from somewhere tickled his nose.