A Worm's Reckoning
Everyone makes mistakes. The saying that age brings wisdom is nothing but a lie. The old man, likely the oldest living soul in the Central Plains, grumbled inwardly. Confucius had said that at fifty one knows the will of Heaven, and at seventy one may follow the heart's desires without transgressing the bounds of propriety. Having lived more than ten cycles of sixty years, by that logic he should understand Heaven's will a dozen times over and act with ninefold propriety. Yet no matter how many decades he had devoured, everything he did seemed to be one mistake after another.
For instance, he could not for the life of him understand what his younger self had been thinking fifteen years ago when he admitted that fool into the gathering.
"Ah, you're back. Did everything go well, Elder?"
When the old man entered the room, the young man seated at the desk looked up from whatever he had been studying and offered a greeting. The old man dragged both hands down his face before answering.
"It went splendidly. So splendidly that, as of today, the Nine Eternity Gate's Eight Immortals are now Seven."
"So it finally came to that."
"I should have expelled that dog of a Ghost Immortal long ago. Because I didn't, another five hundred lives were lost. All my fault."
The old man sank into a chair and pressed his fingers hard against his forehead. The young man watched him with quiet sympathy and offered what comfort he could.
"People make mistakes. It's only natural. What did he say?"
"Why concern yourself with insects? He and I are no different... as if he himself were not human."
"My. He must have been furious."
"Fury is one thing. Unease is another. Sometimes I wonder if we truly are any different from him. Don't you?"
To be honest, it had been they who, tempted by the possibility of the Relying on Death to Ascend to Immortality Qigong, had taken in the ragged beggar and given him power and position within the gathering. Each time they suffered such a catastrophic failure, the same doubt returned: had it been a mere error born of haste, or had the path itself been wrong from the beginning? Perhaps the correct answer had always been to do as some did—retreat into the mountains and create no responsibilities at all.
The young man sighed. "Elder, you know the answer yourself, so stop wallowing. If we were truly the same, why expel him? And now that it's done, will you really stop? After everything we've already set in motion?"
"...No. You're right."
Even if the true answer was to care for nothing and shoulder no burdens, how could he claim to bear no responsibility now? Abandoning everything at this stage would only make the consequences uncontrollable. The limit had already been crossed. They had come too far. A wave of dizziness struck him; he lowered his head sharply.
While the old man stared blankly at the ceiling, the young man asked, "So now that he's expelled, is that the end? It feels rather dull."
"No. It cannot end there. How could it?"
Though ancient, the gathering was, despite its name, little more than a mutual aid society—members met occasionally, exchanged favors within reach, and that was all. Yet even this loose association held one ironclad rule: members must never harm one another, and above all, never kill one another. That single rule had been the only reason the leech-like creature had never been made to pay for his crimes. Now that the reason had vanished, the time had come.
"He will pay the price. He called us worms, did he not? Then it should be quite the sight to watch him be devoured by worms."
* * *
The Demonic Cult's foundation was truly astonishing. If one looked only at the map of its sphere of influence, it stretched east to Lanzhou, west to the Kingdom of Zashi, and south to the Kunlun Mountains—nearly as vast as the entire Central Plains. Yet most of that land was cold and barren, inhabited only by traders and herders. The merchants followed Islam, the herders worshipped the Heavenly God, and only a handful born with demonic nature climbed Tianshan to become Demonic Cult members.
In other words, the actual number of true Demonic Cultists was not much greater than that of a single major orthodox sect. Nevertheless, whenever the Top 100 Masters were listed, ten of them were always demonic practitioners—the Four Demons and the Five Demonic Generals of Defying Heaven combined. It was difficult to believe.
Consider the Seven Great Clans, including the Jegal Clan. There was the Sword Sovereign, famed as a peerless master; the Six Kings who led each clan and the Formation Extreme Scholar, totaling seven; the Five Great Heroes whose names resounded through the martial world; two of the Ten Flowers of the Martial World, rare young female masters; and finally Jegal Ji, who had earned the empty title of Ten Thousand Studies Wise Flower through miscellaneous skills. Altogether the Seven Great Clans fielded fifteen, and even that number was inflated by the martial world's own self-congratulatory rankings at the Martial Assembly.
When Jipmudang's researchers personally evaluated strength for the Top 108 Masters list, the count dropped sharply: the Five Great Heroes shrank to Three, the Formation Extreme Scholar vanished, and only ten remained. Even then, there was constant grumbling that some of the Six Kings had been included merely to preserve face.
So what was to be done? Jegal Ji asked herself. The First of the Five Demonic Generals of Defying Heaven, the Yama Hall Head Messenger Cho Yak, had crossed into Lanzhou.
"What does Secretary Heo think?" Jegal Ji asked without turning her head.
Heo Yeom, carrying a tea tray, set it on Jegal Ji's desk and replied, "It's a serious matter, of course."
"That isn't what I asked."
Demonic Cult members entering the Central Plains was hardly rare, but most were merely Peak-level or lower. When a Top 100 Master occasionally traveled inland, every nearby sect's attention focused on them. A single Top 100 Master with a few elite subordinates could annihilate a branch of even a major sect, and it was not impossible for them to kill another Top 100 Master. The terror inspired by one such master whose intentions and character were unknown was immense.
Yet if that were all, a precautionary response would suffice. Although each had their own circumstances that made free movement difficult, every province in the Central Plains had at least two or three Top 100 Masters, and far more Peak masters. If one were willing to pay the price of several Peak-level lives as down payment, it was not impossible to suppress a Top 100 Master through the combined strength of Peak experts. The Jegal Clan, which had long served as the strategist for the Seven Great Clans thanks to its claim of descent from the Martial Marquis, had well-prepared protocols for such situations.
The problem was that this particular case—a Top 100 demonic master making an apparently purposeless journey into the Central Plains—contained too many suspicious elements to dismiss so easily.
"I meant for you to tell me how we should respond."
"We must first discuss the purpose of the journey."
If the First Yama Hall Messenger—who had never once set foot in the Central Plains—was now here, the most probable reason was a mission. And when all current information from the Central Plains was considered, there was one individual who was not only the likely target but virtually certain to be it.
"Yu Baek, then?"
"I believe so as well."
Yu Baek, the mysterious rising star who had appeared like a comet at the foot of Kunlun Mountain, had proven his qualification as a Top 100 Master by defeating Black Death Lord of the Black Snake Sect within a month. Since his first action had been to destroy a Demonic Cult branch, it was only natural that the cult would seek to punish him. What was unnatural was dispatching the First Yama Hall Messenger for that purpose.
"Tianshan is far away. They may not yet know that Black Death Lord lost to Yu Baek. But the fact that they sent the Blood-Sucking Demon Sword from the beginning suggests they possess more information about him than we do."
"Of course, it could simply be that they allowed themselves extra time. Still, given the circumstances, we may as well assume the former."
Heo Yeom glanced at the note in Jegal Ji's hand. She looked down at it again. It had come from the Huashan Sect's pursuit team inside Chang'an.
"A demonic practitioner whom the Blood-Sucking Demon Sword calls 'sister'... What do you suppose her intention was in letting us hear that conversation?"
"A warning not to interfere, perhaps? Two Top 100 Masters could inflict severe damage on the orthodox factions in Shaanxi, but conversely, if we are prepared to accept heavy losses, they can be stopped."
"Quite. That is likely her intention. But doesn't something feel off?"
"What do you mean?"
"First, summarize your own thoughts, Secretary Heo. Then I'll speak."
"They intend to deal with Yu Baek decisively and, to that end, have mobilized another Top 100 Master within the cult whose existence we were unaware of. As for Yu Baek..."
Heo Yeom trailed off. Jegal Ji nodded for him to continue.
"This part is uncertain, but given how seriously the cult is treating the matter and considering his demonstrated skill, he may be a defector from the cult or someone from the Western Regions who holds a grudge against them."
"Plausible enough."
Yet something still felt wrong. If that were the case, why would a newly risen expert—not the Blood-Sucking Demon Sword—be leading the group and receiving respectful address? It could be a smokescreen, but other details were equally confusing: the merchant had referred to her as the author of the Yu Baek Chronicles, for one.
When handling information, it was an unavoidable mistake to cherry-pick only the convenient facts that supported an easy conclusion. Secretary Heo was making that mistake now.
Then what was the truth—or at least the answer closest to it?
The first clue: while the Demonic Cult could create Top 100-level experts without any external activity, it was also impossible for them to have done so. It was theoretically possible, yet they would never have chosen that route. Peak masters were precious assets, and contrary to popular perception the cult's hierarchy was extremely loose; it did not rigidly control individual activities. Moreover, thanks to the current Heavenly Demon, no other sect possessed greater mastery of facial-altering arts and bone-shrinking techniques. Therefore, her apparent youth was merely a disguise, and the assumption that she was a newly risen expert was reasonable.
The second clue: she was either the true author of the Yu Baek Chronicles or wished the orthodox factions to believe she was. In other words, she was a master skilled enough to write a record containing profound martial insights, and she wanted to flaunt a personal connection to Yu Baek. The clearest effect this could achieve was a warning—to deter anyone from underestimating the group and attempting rash schemes.
Yet that was rather arrogant thinking. Even now, the combined number of Top 100 and Peak masters that could be gathered in Shaanxi would be sufficient to suppress two Top 100 Masters without suffering catastrophic losses, provided conditions were favorable. Would it not have been wiser to conceal their identities completely?
Jegal Ji's slender fingers tapped the desk in a steady rhythm. Heo Yeom gathered the tea things and left the room. A short while later, alone in the quiet document chamber, Jegal Ji finally stopped tapping and parted her lips.
"The Heavenly Demon?"