Chapter 63: The Blood Flame Cult (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 63: The Blood Flame Cult (2)
Jeong Yeon-shin had been bluffing.
Even to himself, he felt he had put on quite an impressive show, but that was the end of it.
He had pushed his martial arts far beyond their actual limits. He was completely spent.
I'm exhausted.
His body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.
His once-light limbs sagged, completely out of tune.
The Sword Song was a martial art that demanded a heavy price.
It inflicted immense fatigue upon his upper dantian. It had been the exact same back at the Hwangbo Branch Family of Pingyin County.
Could he even properly execute the sword forms he had prepared? He wasn't sure.
When he first charged into the battlefield, he hadn't given much thought to what would happen after the Sword Song.
He had done more than enough.
He had assumed that unless the experts of the Namgung Clan were mere scarecrows, they would step up. It was a natural assumption.
They were a noble family recognized by the orthodox factions of the world, even hosting the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.
He had thought they would be different from the Hwangbo Clan. A large part of that belief stemmed from how deeply impressed he had been by the upright character of the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, whom he had met during the Desolate Fortress Entrance Exam.
Yet, they were not stepping forward.
Are they just going to watch?
Were they wary of the Blood Flame Cult's leadership? He couldn't fathom their reasoning.
It was a dire situation. Even considering that one rarely faced enemies in perfect condition in the martial world, this was exceptionally bad.
One of the Blood Master Swords spoke.
"Insignificant pest. Die."
The other didn't even utter a word. The arms of both Blood Master Swords blurred.
It looked as if their right hands had vanished, instantly reappearing with Thunderbolt Bombs in their grasp. It was a flawless throwing technique.
Whoosh!
Propelled by the hands of martial arts experts, the Thunderbolt Bombs hurtled forward.
They tore through the air like lightning.
Just as he tightly gripped the hilt of his Desolate Fortress Sword—
Swish!
Jet-black hair fluttered before his eyes. For a split second, Jeong Yeon-shin thought it was Wiji Myo-hwa.
It wasn't.
The newcomer exuded an energy completely opposite to the clear, righteous aura of the Zhongnan Sect.
Red sleeves fluttered with a strange elegance.
He hadn't heard a single sound. Accompanied by a soft, whispering breeze, the supreme technique of Grafting a Flower onto a Tree unfolded.
Brushed by a pair of snow-white hands, the two Thunderbolt Bombs suddenly shot upward. The force behind them had been perfectly redirected.
Even though they had abruptly changed trajectory, the movement looked entirely natural.
The woman who had intervened kept her back to him and thrust her palms toward the sky.
At that exact moment, colossal energy erupted from her hands, surging upward in an explosive burst.
Boom!
The Thunderbolt Bombs detonated in midair. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
"Apostle."
The Blood Master Swords retreated a few steps in the middle of the battlefield. They showed no confusion or questioning, even though she had just blocked their attack.
The woman did not answer and turned around.
"I knew it."
She smiled.
Her hair, fluttering in the aftermath of the explosion, was pitch-black.
Her bewitchingly pale and beautiful face was not what drew the most attention.
She wore a black eyepatch over one eye, while her other eye was as red as a pomegranate.
An Apostle. It was said to be a realm where one's profound mastery of the Blood Art manifested directly in the eyes.
"I felt it last time when I was hit by your Dharma Power martial art."
Her black hair cascaded like the night sky, and her single red eye gleamed with True Qi. The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult spoke.
"My sense of Qi picked up on it. There was a raw sensation emanating from you right then and there, but I thought it was impossible. However, after receiving reports of your recent deeds and witnessing that bizarre Sound Art..."
Her lips, looking as if they were stained with blood, curled upward.
"You were born with the talent of an extraordinary grandmaster, weren't you? To an absurd degree."
Her casual, informal tone was the same as before, but her words carried immense weight.
An Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
She was a supreme expert who had fought on equal terms with a Desolate Fortress Unit Commander.
She undoubtedly possessed a full mastery of internal energy, having achieved both the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak and the Five Qi Converging to the Origin.
It was impossible to even imagine how sharp her sense of Qi was.
The smile playing on her lips felt chilling.
Finally.
An enemy had realized it. She had fully deduced Jeong Yeon-shin's true talent.
At last, someone from the Thirteen Heavens had clearly recognized the uniqueness of the Flash Art.
This is dangerous.
A chill ran down his spine. For the first time since stepping into the martial world, Jeong Yeon-shin broke out in a cold sweat.
The martial world was a realm built entirely upon martial arts.
It was said that any treasure in the world paled in comparison to the mnemonics of high-level martial arts.
There was a reason why the tombs of peerless masters who once dominated their eras were dug up during times of great chaos. Such was the world of those obsessed with martial arts.
Step.
The Seventh Apostle walked over with graceful, fluid steps. Despite her light stride, a colossal wave of energy rippled out in layers.
The aura enveloping her entire body was terrifyingly sinister.
Her single red eye, which looked like blood condensed into jade, stared straight at Jeong Yeon-shin.
He could feel her madness-laden energy with absolute clarity.
She was an opponent he could not hope to match.
Even the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand only worked when the gap in martial arts was within a reasonable margin.
Without the chaos of a melee to exploit, he couldn't hope for a miracle like last time.
Jeong Yeon-shin realized this instinctively.
The wind sweeping past him, whipped up by her aura, felt as sharp as a blade. His innate senses whispered to him:
His life was already in the hands of this supreme expert.
"Rigid fools."
The Seventh Apostle suddenly sneered. It was a mockery directed at the experts of the Namgung Clan, who were only now beginning to move.
Jeong Yeon-shin could feel it without even turning around.
The experts of the Blood Flame Cult, who had leapt down from the peaks, blocked his path from behind. They were confronting the Namgung Clan.
"You are mine," the Seventh Apostle's smiling lips parted.
It was said that disasters in the martial world came in all shapes and sizes.
Death and defeat were the most common occurrences.
So much so that if disaster suddenly approached and choked someone who had been riding a wave of success, everyone would simply nod in understanding.
A compromised physical state, an overwhelming supreme expert, and a pitifully small number of allies.
He had learned this well in the Demonlight Wing. They said disaster wore many faces, and at this very moment, every single one of them had arrived at his doorstep.
This was no sudden coincidence.
Jeong Yeon-shin had charged in even though he knew this was a battlefield where an Apostle was likely to be.
He had done so despite guessing the presence of a vastly superior powerhouse.
He had trusted his own talent, which was sharper than anyone else's. He had placed his faith in the Namgung Clan, renowned for their swordsmanship and righteousness.
It was something a martial artist should never do. Especially not if they wished for a long life.
This is retribution.
Only now, with the situation upon him, did the sixteen-year-old genius reflect.
Camaraderie was well and good, but his trust had been excessive.
"Let's go."
The moment the Seventh Apostle's hand blurred, his vision instantly plunged into pitch-black darkness.
Her strike was blindingly fast. He thought he heard the shouts of Wiji Myo-hwa and some young man, but they rapidly faded from his consciousness.
* * *
He gradually became aware of his dulled senses. The warmth touching his skin felt blunt and distant.
How long had he been lying down?
Jeong Yeon-shin immediately assessed his situation.
He had been captured by the Seventh Apostle. He had been dragged to some unknown location while unconscious.
There was one more thing. He felt a gnawing hunger that seemed to melt his stomach, but he hadn't starved to death.
If one searched within a radius of about a fifteen-day journey from Huizhou, this place would likely be found.
My acupoints are sealed.
It seemed the only thing he could move was his mouth.
"I was just thinking of waking you up."
His vision was blurry, but an unfamiliar ceiling came into view, along with the face of the enchantress.
The Seventh Apostle was wearing a faint smile. Her long, cascading hair lightly brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin's cheek.
"You are the first Desolate Fortress brat to set foot in our Cult's headquarters. I should welcome you, shouldn't I?"
"Water."
"What?"
"I'm thirsty."
The voice he forced out was hoarse. Jeong Yeon-shin struggled to maintain his composure.
They wanted something from him.
Since they wouldn't kill him here, he recalled what he had learned from the seniors of the Demonlight Wing and Heonwon Chang.
They are unorthodox bastards. They hold my life in their hands anyway. If I bow my head now, there will be no end to it.
The Seventh Apostle stared blankly for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggles.
Her black hair, which had been softly brushing his face, whipped away. He thought it was for the best that the annoying distraction was gone.
"Ahaha..."
She stopped laughing, letting out a strange sigh.
Then, she stared at him intently. Her single red eye swept over Jeong Yeon-shin's face.
"You."
The corners of the Seventh Apostle's mouth curled upward.
"You think I won't do anything to you, don't you?"
"..."
"Because torture would only poison your ability to find inspiration and devise mnemonics to create martial arts."
Her upper body, which had been perched on the edge of the bed, leaned down.
Her ebony hair came with her. This time, he felt it against his neck.
Her hair was goosebump-inducingly smooth.
She whispered.
"You probably didn't know this."
Her red eye drew closer. The Seventh Apostle gently rested her elbow right next to Jeong Yeon-shin's face.
Her other snow-white hand touched his cheek.
Her slender fingers slowly traced up his face, eventually pressing down on one of his eyelids. His eye closed naturally.
"I can make your eye look just like mine. I can sever your limbs without killing you. I'll infuse you with our Cult's regenerative power. Your water art might have blocked my eye's recovery, but I don't possess a martial art that conflicts with yours. You'll heal in no time."
Her breath, laced with madness, lightly brushed the bridge of his nose.
His unprecedented talent, his unbelievably young age, and her own bewitching nature as a fanatic.
At this moment, a terrifying possessiveness was taking root. Jeong Yeon-shin felt it completely through her gaze and her breath.
"I will pull out your fingers one by one and wait forever."
"..."
"Until you create a martial art just for me."
Her madness felt incredibly real. Her crimson smile seemed almost blindingly white.
Straightening her back and pulling her head away, the Seventh Apostle stood up from the bed.
She spoke, no longer whispering.
"I will teach you the Blood Art. It will grant you regenerative powers."
Her red robes fluttered slightly, as if she were excited.
"The things ordinary cultists or Master Swords learn wouldn't suit your caliber. What kind of martial art will be born if I give you the secret teachings of an Apostle? I'm so excited I could go mad!"
"You won't have time to torture me," Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly.
She whipped her head around, her single red eye flashing crimson.
"Your cheeky attitude will only last until you learn the Blood Art. I'll make you lick my feet."
"...Come back here. Examine my Baihui Point."
Simultaneous with his calm reply, dozens of slender drafts of wind swept through the room.
It was the Seventh Apostle's movement technique. Subduing Jeong Yeon-shin once more, her fingertips touched the crown of his head.
The Seventh Apostle was a tremendous master of internal cultivation. If she touched his head directly, she would have no choice but to notice immediately.
It was a paradoxical situation. The crown of his head, which even his maternal uncle and grandfather had not dared to touch, was now being caressed by his enemy.
Her single eye widened.
"You...!"
"With your level of internal energy, you should be able to feel it with your hand. Isn't it expanding even now?"
"To think such a constitution exists in this world..." the Seventh Apostle muttered blankly.
"Torturing and healing me? How long do you think that would take?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked with feigned composure.
She had said this was the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters. It was a hopeless situation.
Though his chances of escaping were infinitesimally small, his body had to remain intact for him to develop his martial arts and at least attempt an escape.
Even modifying a single martial art required dozens of different ways to circulate True Qi.
They wouldn't destroy his dantian. He just needed to avoid torture.
It was then.
"You... are truly radiant..."
The distance between them was close. The Seventh Apostle's eye filled his vision like a ruby.
He saw a bizarre heat writhing within her pale face and the distinct eye-light of a supreme expert.
Was this what it felt like to witness the birth of a mythical beast from the Classic of Mountains and Seas?
It was not the romantic affection between a man and a woman. It was the obsession of a fanatical master who breathed through mental methods and moved through martial arts.
The enchantress exhaled a smooth breath and whispered.
"You are mine. You are my possession. Create martial arts for me, and let yourself be seen only by my eyes. Until you burn away all your talent and wither."
"Crazy bitch."
An insult slipped out of his mouth unconsciously. The hand caressing the crown of his head did not feel gentle.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt goosebumps rise as he racked his brain. What should he do to overcome this situation?
There was no telling how long he would have to ponder.
* * *
For the next two days, he had to eat thin rice gruel made with finely minced meat.
During that time, Jeong Yeon-shin grew utterly sick of the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters, which he hadn't even been allowed to look at yet.
She's insane.
The Seventh Apostle fed him herself, holding the bowl. She absolutely refused to let any servant do it.
After confirming Jeong Yeon-shin's lifespan, she had completely lost her mind.
It was as if she were treating him like a comet that could only be glimpsed for a fleeting moment.
Or perhaps...
He had heard that the imperial family in Beijing kept cherished beasts as pets. Was this what it felt like to become a pet spirit beast?
Only after recovering from his prolonged hunger, the sealed acupoints, and the backlash of the Sword Song was he granted some freedom.
It was not complete liberation.
He had been subjected to a technique similar to the Seven-Step Body-Losing Pressure Point Strike of the Commander of the Thread-Annihilation Unit.
The Seventh Apostle's Blood Art True Qi filled his vital acupoints. She warned him that if it wasn't periodically drained, it would inflict fatal internal injuries.
"Let's go pay our respects to the Cult Leader," the Seventh Apostle said with a bright smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood up without a word. It was his first time stepping outside.
The Blood Flame Cult Leader.
The mortal enemy of Zen Master Won-jong, who had assisted in creating the Demon-Quelling Azure Steel Hand.
The master of the Blood Flame Cult, which was said to possess the vastest influence among the Thirteen Heavens of the Wicked Way.
He was a master counted among the absolute powerhouses of the martial world, alongside the Shaolin Abbot and the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps at the Desolate Fortress.
He must have also been involved in the annihilation of the Jeong Family Manor alongside the Lord of the Hegemon Sword Sect.
He was someone Jeong Yeon-shin had to see.
He opened the door and stepped out. Walking side by side with the Seventh Apostle felt strangely unfamiliar.
It was a far cry from when he was being fed meat gruel like a beloved pet.
His field of vision opened up wide.
A highly developed town unfolded before him. Elegant, ancient pavilions stood in orderly rows.
There seemed to be hundreds of people walking around in all directions, and the vast majority of them had red hair.
"What in the..."
A low groan escaped his lips. Where on earth was this? Was it truly possible to build a town-sized settlement and keep it hidden from the Central Plains?
"My child, the Cult Leader's Hall is quite far. Keep up."
His sleeve was pulled by the Seventh Apostle's hand, which guided him as gently as if she were handling a precious gem.
As Jeong Yeon-shin walked, he engraved the layout of the town and the distribution of the experts into his memory one by one.
The Blood Master Swords lowered their gazes as they passed. The ordinary cultists didn't even dare to look in their direction.
"Great Master!"
One of the passing Blood Master Swords fell to one knee in surprise. It was one of the two who had thrown the Thunderbolt Bombs back in Huizhou.
It was strange.
He didn't seem to be paying respects to the Seventh Apostle. Instead, she gestured toward Jeong Yeon-shin with her eyes.
Her single visible eye curved slightly into a smile. Indeed, it was true. The direction in which the Blood Master Sword bowed was toward him.
The man spoke again.
"This unworthy Master Sword respectfully greets the Grand Preceptor."
Jeong Yeon-shin fell silent for a moment.
This was not how a prisoner was treated.