A Feast of Blood and Ash

Jekyeong reduced Samugi’s limp corpse to ash. After pocketing the dead man’s storage bag and sweeping the estate for anything of value, he vanished into the night.

“Samugi is dead!”

“He was assassinated in his own home. They say the killer was a master of fire spells.”

“No, I heard it was a martial artist—a spearman.”

“A martial artist? Ridiculous!”

“Why is it ridiculous? Did you see it yourself?”

“And did you?”

Samugi was a prominent figure on Yubak Island. Among the rogue cultivators at the Foundation Establishment stage, he easily ranked within the top five in terms of reputation. For such a man to be assassinated in the safety of his own sanctuary naturally sent shockwaves through the island's cultivators.

As soon as the news broke, dozens of cultivators began spinning elaborate tales as if they had witnessed the deed themselves. Within days, the simple, stark fact of Samugi's assassination was distorted into dozens of wild rumors, spreading like wildfire from mouth to mouth.

Some claimed an old rival had finally extracted a blood debt from the aging cultivator. Others believed a wandering bandit cultivator from foreign waters had slipped onto Yubak Island. And some, in hushed, cautious whispers, pointed their fingers at the Mundo Sect.

It was common knowledge that Samugi had been rallying rogue cultivators, and his ambitions were clear to anyone with eyes. Since the Mundo Sect had the most to lose from his schemes, it surprised no one that they might have struck preemptively to eliminate the threat.

To the rogue cultivators, this cautious suspicion felt entirely plausible. Their hostile gazes turned toward the Mundo Sect, and the Foundation Establishment rogue cultivators who had shared close ties with Samugi—and had been planning to answer his call—gnashed their teeth in fury.

“This is utter nonsense!” the Mundo Sect protested vehemently.

While they were genuinely indignant, their reaction was driven primarily by a mounting sense of dread. As the atmosphere on Yubak Island grew increasingly hostile, the sect had sealed its gates early on, seeking only to maintain stability. Even when Samugi had openly flaunted his ambitions, they had remained vigilant but avoided any direct confrontation, knowing that any reaction would only pour oil on the fire.

But now that they were being framed for murder, they could no longer remain silent. They aggressively denied the accusations, claiming it was a conspiracy designed to ruin them.

“We don't believe you!”

With hostility already reaching a boiling point, words had lost all meaning. In times like these, the only currency that mattered was power. The words of the strong carried weight; the pleas of the weak, no matter how logical, were simply ignored. Unfortunately, the Mundo Sect was weak.

Though they had once enjoyed a golden age, they had declined to the point where mere rogue cultivators dared to covet their legacy. The sect's desperate protests only served to highlight their vulnerability. The more they pleaded, the harder the rogue cultivators bit down.

A few neighboring sects and clans made half-hearted gestures of support, but it was purely for show. To them, the Mundo Sect was ultimately a competitor. With public sentiment heavily stacked against the sect and the rogue cultivators whipped into a frenzy, none of them were willing to share the Mundo Sect's burden.

“Avenge our brother!”

“If you cannot clear your name, pay with your lives!”

Those fueled by genuine rage led the charge, while opportunistic scavengers followed in their wake. Under the cover of darkness, they launched a sudden assault on the Mundo Sect. After four days of relentless, bloody siege, the sect's gates were utterly shattered.

Though the four-day battle shook the island, almost no one came to the Mundo Sect's rescue.

“Vile, lawless bandits!”

The fall of the Mundo Sect acted as a catalyst. Sensing imminent danger, the established sects and clans finally united in earnest to suppress the rogue cultivators. Meanwhile, the rogue cultivators, tasting their first major victory, grew bold and stood their ground.

“They are nothing but cowards!”

“Look at the Mundo Sect! When the time comes to make a stand, they only care about their own skin. If we stand united, we can crush them all!”

As the conflict intensified day by day, Myeong-ha and Jekyeong quietly watched from the shadows, harvesting sacrifices whenever the opportunity arose. They secured two early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators during the fall of the Mundo Sect, and managed to capture three more in the chaos that followed.

“Not bad,” Myeong-ha remarked with a satisfied smile. “At this rate, we should hit our target within five days.” He paused, looking out over the battlefield. “Though, these fellows are remarkably petty. They’ve caused all this bloodshed, yet they still have so much to say to one another.”

The more cunning and cowardly a person was, the more they talked. They used grand words to preach righteousness, stir emotions, and push others to the front lines. Myeong-ha grumbled about them, but he wasn't truly annoyed. After all, they were proving to be excellent helpers for his plans.

“Strike!”

Amidst the escalating tension, another violent clash erupted. The spark was a petty dispute between a sect's core disciple and a rogue cultivator over a spiritual pearl discovered inside a demon toad. In the past, the rogue cultivator would have quietly backed down. This time, neither side yielded.

The argument quickly escalated into a duel of spells, ending in the rogue cultivator's death.

“A life for a life!”

No one—not even Myeong-ha—expected this minor incident to ignite a full-scale civil war across Yubak Island. When the island was suddenly drenched in murderous intent overnight, Myeong-ha, looking slightly dazed, quickly urged Jekyeong forward.

“We must hurry. I hear the Hyeonha Sect has been surrounded.”

“Surrounded? Then aren't we already too late?”

“Which is exactly why we must run!”

Myeong-ha and Jekyeong navigated the warzone as if they were tourists on a leisurely stroll. Most cultivators failed to even register their presence, and the few who possessed sharp enough instincts to sense danger were either swiftly dealt with or avoided entirely.

Crack!

Jekyeong tore into an opponent's shoulder and slammed him directly into the dirt. The fragile human body could not withstand the impact; the nameless Foundation Establishment cultivator rolled his eyes back and lost consciousness instantly.

“Incredibly efficient,” Myeong-ha murmured. “It seems body cultivation is truly optimized for assassination.”

Because Jekyeong relied on pure physical strength rather than Dharma power or demonic energy, he left no trace of spiritual energy behind. Furthermore, as long as he could close the distance, securing the first strike was practically guaranteed. It was no exaggeration to say his methods were perfect for silent abductions.

“Only against humans,” Jekyeong replied coldly.

“True. Hearing you say that, I finally understand why humans are so wary of Great Yao and Demon Kings who have achieved human form.”

Jekyeong only half-agreed with Myeong-ha's assessment. While shape-shifting demons who could hide their true forms were undoubtedly dangerous, approaching human cultivators was no easy task unless they could perfectly mask their demonic aura. Cultivators were naturally paranoid creatures who rarely let anyone close unless they were trusted allies.

Myeong-ha and Jekyeong were a highly unusual exception.

“What do you think?” Myeong-ha asked.

“About what?”

“I'm asking if you still feel uneasy.”

Jekyeong looked out over the devastated battlefield. In the distance, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠several cultivators were still locked in combat. Some fought with desperate resolve, others fled for their lives, and some pursued the fleeing prey. This place was both a warzone and a hunting ground.

Yet, Jekyeong felt a strange sense of familiarity and comfort here.

“As you can see, fellow Daoist, they are weak and foolish. If we wished, we could easily take control of the entirety of Yubak Island.”

When Jekyeong's expression hardened, Myeong-ha quickly added, “Of course, I have no intention of doing so. We must avoid becoming targets at all costs. I merely mean to say that some things are much easier than they appear.”

Jekyeong remained silent. He cast a cold glance at Myeong-ha, who seemed slightly overexcited, before turning his gaze back to the winding-down battle.

With the collection of sacrifices for the Blood Bead and his Core Formation breakthrough proceeding so smoothly, Myeong-ha was clearly ecstatic. That much was understandable, but the problem was that he was becoming excessively giddy. This behavior triggered Jekyeong's deep-seated caution.

Myeong-ha usually masked himself in an aura of relaxed nonchalance, but beneath that exterior lay a calculating prudence that rivaled anyone's. Right now, however, that prudence was nowhere to be found. He was visibly thrilled, behaving almost like a child who had just been handed a long-coveted toy.

“This is enough,” Jekyeong said, cutting off Myeong-ha's subtle prodding without hesitation.

Myeong-ha smacked his lips in disappointment at Jekyeong's firm refusal, but fortunately, he did not push the matter further. Leaving the blood-soaked shores of Yubak Island behind, they made their way back to Haeyeon Island. Just as their journey out had been, the return trip was entirely uneventful.

The human cultivators, intimidated by the turbulent times, remained holed up on their respective islands, while the demons of the outer waters dared not approach a Great Yao at the late stage of the Great Yao realm.

Once they entered demon territory, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jekyeong stood on the deck of the speeding vessel, letting the cool wind wash over him as he fell into deep thought. In this moment, a profound sense of liberation washed over him—a freedom born from absolute safety.

It was a liberating certainty that even if he let his guard down and drifted off, there was no entity in these waters capable of threatening his life.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

As long as he did not encounter a Core Formation cultivator, he had nothing to fear from either human Foundation Establishment cultivators or fellow Great Yao.

Yes. As long as they weren't in the Core Formation realm.

Core Formation.

His yearning for the next realm grew even deeper. The initial motivation of escaping Taotie's shadow was now overlaid with a much grander, more alluring prospect of absolute power and freedom.

Before long, they arrived at Haeyeon Island. Myeong-ha expertly sealed the captured sacrifices within the underground temple. Though the temple was modest in size, the mysterious and ominous aura it exuded was easily comparable to the ancient altars they had seen in the Secret Realm.

“Now, listen closely,” Myeong-ha said. “This secret technique is called the Spirit-Suppressing Blood-Devouring Curse. It is a method that squeezes the physical body, spiritual essence, and soul of a cultivator to refine them into a single, concentrated Blood Bead.”

It sounded like an incredibly wicked demonic art. Had any orthodox human cultivators been present, they would have immediately attacked with righteous fury. Jekyeong, however, remained unfazed. To him, the distinction between orthodox and demonic paths was entirely meaningless; as long as a method was effective, that was all that mattered.

“The effects of the Blood Bead are undeniable, but the lingering resentment within it is always a problem,” Myeong-ha continued, scanning the five early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators Jekyeong had brought back as his share. “To be squeezed alive into a mere puddle of blood... who wouldn't harbor a deep, vengeful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grudge?”

Myeong-ha walked among the captives, inspecting them one by one. “That is why we must take precautions before refining the bead. We must completely empty their souls first, minimizing the resentment they can generate.”

“Minimizing?”

“Fellow Daoist, surely you didn't expect a technique like this to have absolutely no side effects?” Myeong-ha shot him a look that silently told him to have some conscience, prompting Jekyeong to hold his tongue.

“And how severe are these minimized side effects?”

“To be honest, I have never personally used the Spirit-Suppressing Blood-Devouring Curse also,” Myeong-ha admitted with a sigh. “Nothing in this world is absolute. Even the most famous spiritual pills and miraculous medicines of the cultivation world carry their own share of harm. In the end, the path to immortality is a bed of thorns for everyone; it is merely a matter of degree.”

For once, Jekyeong had to admit he had been foolish. Perhaps hearing the explanation of the curse had unconsciously made him feel a twinge of apprehension.

“What do we need for the ritual?”

“Just a few talismans.”

Myeong-ha produced several talismans he had prepared in advance. They were inscribed with dark, blood-red runes that exuded a cold, clammy energy just from a glance.

“Commit the steps of the ritual to memory. The talismans are merely aids, but if the ritual itself deviates even slightly...”

As Jekyeong listened to Myeong-ha's explanation, he realized the Spirit-Suppressing Blood-Devouring Curse resembled a religious sacrifice more than a typical secret technique. The only difference was that while a sacrifice was offered to a specific deity, this curse had no recipient. The cultivator's body, soul, and spirit were entirely converted into the Blood Bead itself, making it closer to alchemy or weapon refining in a sense.

“Well then, let us begin.”

Myeong-ha dragged forward one of the captives, who had already been turned into a Lost-Soul Puppet, and commenced the ritual. He forced the puppet to its knees and placed four talismans around it, marking the four cardinal directions. As Myeong-ha began chanting the incantation, the previously motionless puppet began to twitch. Soon, its entire body shuddered violently, as if gripped and shaken by an invisible hand.

Thud! Thud!

The chanting grew louder, and the talismans began to burn with a dark, smoldering flame.