The Demon Blood Divine Cult
Shaanxi had been thrown into utter turmoil. The headquarters of the Murim Alliance investigation team and the Jongnam Sect had fallen under simultaneous assault.
Worse still, this tragedy had struck while Jongnam's primary forces were absent, resulting in a staggering number of casualties across Mount Jongnam. Because the incident was so catastrophic, rumors did not even spread openly; speaking of it at all felt like a crime under the stifling pall that hung over the province. Yet even as people spoke in hushed whispers, the gnawing anxiety was impossible to conceal.
The massacre in Xi'an had already set the realm on edge. Now, both the investigators dispatched to look into it and the foremost sword sect of Shaanxi had suffered devastating blows. Something terrifying was brewing. Even commoners wholly ignorant of martial affairs could sense that the world was spiraling out of control.
The investigation team relocated to the Murim Alliance's Shaanxi Branch, leaving their temporary headquarters for the Jongnam disciples to use, as the sect's own mountain compound had been ravaged and would take considerable time to rebuild.
Even those with no direct ties to the incident stepped forward to aid Jongnam—a testament to the goodwill the sect had sown among Shaanxi's populace over the decades. The people rallied whatever strength they had: carpenters offered their labor for meager wages or none at all, tenant farmers donated their precious crops to sustain the survivors, and merchant guilds—normally driven solely by profit—transported timber and stone without charging a single copper.
As the reconstruction commenced, Taecheong Jin'in moved tirelessly, personally visiting every single person who had extended a helping hand to express his gratitude. A symbiotic bond where both stood together in times of hardship—that was the true relationship between the Jongnam Sect and the people of Shaanxi.
Meanwhile, the disciples stationed at the former investigation headquarters threw themselves into training with unprecedented ferocity.
"High guard!"
"Haaah!"
"Your stance is shaking! Again!"
"Haaah!"
Every time they closed their eyes, the faces of their fallen martial siblings flashed before them. They could not forgive themselves for having been too weak, too powerless to do anything. Driving themselves without mercy, they sought to grow stronger, even if only by a fraction. From the eldest disciple, Cheongheon, down to the newest acolytes, every one of them trained with grim resolve.
The elders did not stop them; instead, they drove the disciples with even greater severity—not out of spite, but because the disciples themselves had begged for it. Any elder who looked into their burning eyes would have found it impossible to refuse.
Naturally, not every disciple could maintain such fervor. A handful broke beneath the paralyzing terror of death, and a few had even abandoned the sect entirely. The atmosphere remained unsettled. While Taecheong Jin'in, their anchor, was occupied with rebuilding efforts across Mount Jongnam, the disciples were left to manage little more than day-to-day survival in makeshift quarters. Try as they might to lift their spirits, a heavy gloom naturally lingered over them all.
Amidst that bleak climate, Ryeong focused entirely on circulating the Celestial Immortal Divine Art.
It's growing abnormally fast.
After consuming the Purple Sunset Divine Pill, Ryeong had ascended to the realm of a Peak Master and pushed the Celestial Immortal Divine Art to its fourth stage.
Her Heaven-Killing Art had advanced as well, sharpened by the life-and-death clash against the assassin. Perhaps because of that, the murky, imperceptible aura of the Heaven-Killing Art now masked the pure essence of the Celestial Immortal Divine Art. In other words, her divine internal energy could now be concealed just like an assassin's qi, shrinking below standard perception.
Ryeong was shrewd. While its true origins remained elusive, she suspected the Celestial Immortal Divine Art was a cultivation technique belonging to true immortals. How else could it have completely absorbed the staggering potency of the Purple Sunset Divine Pill? And to absorb all that energy yet only reach the fourth stage?
This was no ordinary art. Nowhere in recorded history could such a technique be found. There had to be something more to it.
Taecheong Jin'in seemed suspicious of me.
During a brief encounter after the assault, she had caught a flicker of doubt in the Daoist master's eyes. All the more reason she could not slacken in her cultivation; having her true identity exposed would only invite unnecessary trouble. Besides, this was a time when they needed to face a common enemy.
...I've gone soft.
A common enemy? Since when had she started viewing herself as part of Jongnam? The more she thought about it, the stranger it felt. What was Jongnam to her that she had wagered her very life against a Peak Master?
Affection? Warmth?
Had she really acted on a fleeting spark of sentiment? Ryeong could not bring herself to acknowledge her own feelings. Or rather, she was actively refusing to. Such emotions were entirely alien to someone like her.
Just then, a voice broke her reverie.
"Young lady, could you look over my form for a moment?"
"I don't know Jongnam's martial arts."
"Perhaps, but when it comes to practical combat, I believe you may know better than the elders."
Jinyeong was asking for instruction. Looking into his determined eyes, she found it hard to refuse.
She understood what drove him. His closest companion among the third-generation disciples had been found dead among the ruins. He had been completely helpless. Jinyeong knew all too well that had Ryeong not intervened, he would have suffered a meaningless dog's death.
"And how do you plan to explain it if someone catches me correcting your posture?"
"I can simply say I was demonstrating our techniques for you. I might be scolded, but it won't be a serious problem. Besides, you would sense anyone approaching long before they saw us."
"Fair point."
"I beg of you. Please instruct me."
Ryeong narrowed her eyes. A disciple of an orthodox sect asking an assassin for guidance... Knowing his rigid character, she could only imagine how agonizingly he had debated the choice before speaking up. She had little choice but to agree.
Yet despite his plea, she could not give him that lesson right away. Cheongheon, the eldest disciple, arrived to relay a summons from the sect leader.
"Lady Ryeong. The Sect Leader has asked to see you alongside Yeong."
What was destined to happen had finally arrived. She had done her best to avoid him, but faced with such a direct summons, there was no room to evade. Ryeong could only nod.
Jinyeong followed Cheongheon with an anxious expression. After only a few paces, they entered Taecheong Jin'in's quarters.
The old master stood facing away from them, hands clasped behind his back. Neither Ryeong nor Jinyeong dared speak until he turned. Sensing the gravity in the air, Cheongheon quietly took his leave.
A low hum vibrated through the chamber as a barrier of qi expanded, instantly cutting off all sound from the outside world. At that moment, Taecheong Jin'in turned around.
"Both of you, sit."
His expression offered no hint of his thoughts. Ryeong swiftly slipped on an innocent countenance, eager to project the best possible impression.
Once they took their seats, Taecheong Jin'in stared silently at Ryeong for a long while. Jinyeong's heart thudded violently in his chest, entirely unable to guess what words were about to pass between them.
"I thank you for saving Jongnam, masked hero."
"A masked hero? What do you mean? I am..."
"There are many kinds of martial artists in this world," Taecheong Jin'in began quietly. "Among them are assassins—those whose very livelihood is taking human life."
Ryeong briefly weighed whether to disregard everything and flee on the spot, but decided to hear him out. By the look of things, he had already reached a definitive conclusion; making clumsy excuses would do her no favors.
"It is exceedingly rare for an assassin to reach profound martial heights. Do you know why?"
"I do not."
"Because they shun direct confrontation. Their focus is solely on slaughter by any means necessary. They lack the question of 'why.'"
To a martial artist, the question of 'why' was vital, for it brushed against the threshold of enlightenment. But most assassins were merely living weapons forged to kill. To them, such a question was unnecessary. Killing itself was the sole objective.
"Yet even among such assassins, there existed one who attained an extraordinary realm. Until just a few months ago, his name shook the very world."
"Could you mean... Cheonsal?" Jinyeong interjected.
The Four Great Evils.
A moniker given to four monstrous figures of the Unorthodox Factions, every one of them a master of the Transcendent Realm or higher. In truth, there was only one reason they were dubbed the Great Evils: the Murim Alliance had abandoned all hope of subjugating them. By branding them as Evils, the world effectively categorized them as walking catastrophes—calamities akin to natural disasters.
In other words, the Four Great Evils were absolute beings capable of roaming the Central Plains unchecked. Whether through peerless martial might, vast information networks, or other unfathomable means, they were entities capable of unleashing disaster single-handedly. That was the truest definition of the Four Great Evils.
"B-but Sect Leader, wasn't it reported that Cheonsal took his own life on Mount Qingcheng...?"
"Indeed. But what if he had a disciple?"
Jinyeong's eyes widened like saucers. It was by no means impossible. A sudden chill crept down his spine, and he slowly turned to look at Ryeong.
Her eyes were utterly clear—so calm that one could not fathom what lay beneath them.
"Allow me to ask you something, Ryeong."
"Speak, Sect Leader."
"Are you familiar with a cultivation method known as the Heaven-Killing Art?"
Ryeong's brow twitched. He had asked a question to which he already knew the answer. Even a fool would know what would happen if she denied it now.
A clumsy lie would only hasten her demise. Her identity was already exposed. If so, she had to win Taecheong Jin'in over to her side instead.
"The sole successor to Cheonsal's true transmission... is me."
"L-Lady Ryeong?!"
Taecheong Jin'in merely assumed a calm posture, prepared to listen. Given his benevolent nature, she was certain he wouldn't strike her down purely on an admission.
At this juncture, there was only one way to prove she bore no ill intent. Drawing upon the words she had overheard during the chaos at Mount Jongnam, she brought forth the tale she had prepared.
"The Demon Blood Divine Cult."
Taecheong Jin'in stirred.
"Those bastards are behind all of this."
She would use the greatest crisis currently looming over Taecheong Jin'in as her shield.