The Demon Blood Divine Cult
Once Ryeong’s induction into the Jongnam Sect was officially settled, life returned to the mountaintop. Reconstruction had progressed far enough for daily routines to resume; though carpenters were still raising frameworks and hammering roofbeams, living there posed little difficulty, as the compound’s core pavilions had survived the devastation largely intact.
"Miss Ryeong is really joining as our junior-most disciple?"
"She insisted she wouldn't, yet here she is!"
"I'm finally free from being the youngest! Uh, I mean—welcome to the sect, Ryeong!"
Word traveled through the ranks of the disciples like wildfire. The guest who had lingered like an outsider was now truly one of their own. Jin Yu, who had entered the third generation last and resigned himself to an eternity of fetching water and sweeping courtyards as the perpetual baby of the cohort, celebrated her arrival more ecstatically than anyone.
"It's a pleasure to formally meet you, Senior Brothers, Senior Sisters. As of today, I am Jin Ryeong of Mount Jongnam."
The ceremony itself was kept modest. She had already forged camaraderie with the disciples during her stay as a guest, and Ryeong had expressly asked to skip any extravagant, drawn-out initiation rites.
"Does this mean you'll be joining our drills starting tomorrow?"
"I can't wait to see how that talent of yours blossoms."
"You'll have to work hard if you want to catch up to our prodigy Yeong, you know! Keep your chin up!"
"Yes, Senior Brother!"
Even with her formal entry, day-to-day life hardly shifted. The only real change was that she would now stand alongside them on the training grounds. Having already grown comfortable around one another, their camaraderie merely took on the mantle of sect brotherhood; their addresses grew polite and familiar, while their easygoing demeanor remained untouched.
"I will guide you through our foundational mental cultivation art," Jin Yeong said, stepping forward. "Follow me."
"Senior Brother Jin Yeong," Ryeong teased lightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You can drop the formalities now, you know."
"...Just follow me."
As Jin Yeong led Ryeong away from the courtyard, the disciples watched their retreating backs with thoroughly mischievous grins.
"Look at that. Spring has finally come for our little Yeong."
"To be fair, anyone with eyes would struggle to stay composed looking at Miss Ryeong's face."
"Struggle to stay composed? You call yourself a Taoist? Watch your mouth!"
"What? Did I say anything that wasn't true?"
Every disciple gathered there silently conceded the point. Ryeong possessed a beauty capable of toppling nations, and worse, she knew precisely how to weaponize it. If she honed genuine martial prowess on top of that bewitching grace...
"She's going to bewitch half the Central Plains at this rate."
"Yeong had better step up his game."
"Step up your own game, the lot of you! Break's over! Back to your stances!"
"Yes... Eldest Senior Brother..."
The moment the atmosphere threatened to turn slack, Jin Seong, the Eldest Senior Brother, cracked his discipline like a whip. Private banter was private banter, but sect training demanded absolute rigor.
Meanwhile, Jin Yeong guided Ryeong to a secluded terrace far from prying eyes. Once they were alone, his expression tightened into something grave.
"Miss Ryeong. How do you intend to approach the Taiyi Divine Art, Jongnam's foundational cultivation manual?"
"I'm not going to learn it."
"It is the bedrock of our sect. Every disciple must master it. Without its foundation, none of Jongnam's higher-tier martial arts can be transmitted to you."
"I'll manage. What I've accumulated in my middle dantian isn't some run-of-the-mill cultivation art."
Ryeong spoke with absolute certainty. Turn heaven and earth upside down, and not a single soul across past or present would unearth a technique comparable to the Celestial Immortal Divine Art.
Every martial sect and noble clan possessed its own unique internal cultivation art, upon which all of its swordplay, fist forms, and footwork were calibrated. To achieve great mastery in any discipline, one had to build upon that precise foundation. Without cultivating the Taiyi Divine Art, an ordinary practitioner could never hope to channel Jongnam's martial forms.
Jin Yeong was offering earnest counsel, but Ryeong held an unshakeable—if seemingly baseless—faith that the Celestial Immortal Divine Art would bridge whatever gap arose.
"Tell me. Have you ever heard of an internal art called the Celestial Immortal Divine Art?"
"I have not."
"With this, I won't need your foundational art to learn your sect's techniques."
"No such art exists in this world."
Well, of course it doesn't exist in the mortal world, Ryeong thought dryly. It's an immortal's technique.
The words sat on the tip of her tongue, but even with a man bound to her by a restrictive seal, there were truths better left unsaid. She brushed past his skepticism with a vague excuse, insisting she would have no trouble grasping the higher martial arts. Knowing full well that nothing could break her stubborn streak, Jin Yeong simply sighed and gave a reluctant nod.
"For the time being, you may excuse yourself from communal drills under the pretense of mastering the basics. In their place, I will recite the oral formula for the Flowing Cloud Sword Art."
"Already? Isn't the Flowing Cloud Sword Art considered one of Jongnam's premier techniques?"
"It is the stepping stone required before one may learn the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. Though, truth be told, achieving grand mastery in the Flowing Cloud Sword Art is an ordeal in itself."
The Flowing Cloud Sword Art of Mount Jongnam.
Whenever martial artists debated techniques defined by mercurial, ever-shifting forms, Jongnam's cloud sword was almost invariably invoked. It was an art that harmoniously wove together the profound subtleties of flow, transformation, and explosive velocity.
Every disciple of Jongnam was expected to study it, pouring blood and sweat into reaching grand mastery. Those who succeeded earned the right to be instructed in the legendary Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. And if one attained profound attainment in that higher art as well, a seat awaited them among Jongnam's paramount martial vanguard: the Thirty-Six Swords of Jongnam.
The Flowing Cloud Sword Art was an inescapable crucible—and a brutal one. Fewer than half the disciples across generations ever managed to reach true mastery.
Ryeong had lived her past life as the assassin Cheonsal. In Jin Yeong's estimation, reaching a decent threshold might come swiftly to her, but grand mastery would prove nearly impossible. The path of an assassin who strikes from the dark was fundamentally worlds apart from the path of an orthodox swordsman.
"I don't necessarily have to reach grand mastery, do I?"
"It will prove exceedingly difficult regardless. The discipline required is entirely different from the trade of an assassin."
"Are you trying to bait my pride? I can master it just fine."
"If you say so."
At his subtly dismissive tone, Ryeong raised a clenched fist. Jin Yeong's mouth snapped shut instantly.
"Do not stand out too much," he added quickly, clearing his throat. "Remember: our seniors, juniors, and elders have no inkling of your true past."
"I have no intention of burying my bones on this mountain anyway. I'll keep it reasonable."
"Good. Listen closely, then. I will recite the mnemonic."
Ryeong nodded. The moment Jin Yeong began chanting the rhythmic verses of the Flowing Cloud Sword Art, her mind sank into complete focus, drinking in every cadence.
Inside her, the Celestial Immortal Divine Art stirred in direct response to the verse. The instant his voice faded, her internal qi surged into motion, aligning itself along the precise meridians dictated by the mnemonic formula.
She crossed her legs into a lotus posture and guided the circulation of her inner energy, her lips faintly echoing the verses he had imparted.
Nearby, Jin Yeong's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"What in heaven's name...?"
This was a sword art, not an internal breathing method. A sword technique could never be committed to muscle memory through mere meditation alone. Even if the internal energy pathways were charted, executing the physical forms was what brought the sword to life.
To sit completely motionless, without lifting a finger, and attempt to grasp a sword style?
It defied every law of martial common sense.
Yet while Jin Yeong stood frozen in shock, Ryeong was already moving inside her mind palace.
From here... does the edge turn like this?
Whoosh.
In the vast expanse of her visualization, an ethereal projection of herself gripped a wooden sword, unleashing the Flowing Cloud Sword Art. No one had ever demonstrated a single physical stance to her. Yet merely from the spoken verse, she was manifesting the entire sword routine in vivid detail—entirely within her mind.
The first form concluded; the second flowed seamlessly into being. The supple transitions gave way to sudden, razor-sharp bursts of force—a rhythm that resonated surprisingly well with the elusive, lethal footwork of her Heaven-Killing Art.
The only frustration came after the fourth form. Beyond that point, the visualization dissolved into a blank wall. But Ryeong understood immediately why the sequence broke off.
Jin Yeong hadn't recited any further. The fourth form of the Flowing Cloud Sword Art represented the highest realm he had managed to attain through a lifetime of diligent cultivation.
And Ryeong had completely reconstructed that very realm in her mind palace before a single quarter-hour had passed.
In all the annals of the martial world, such a feat was virtually unheard of.
Slowly, Ryeong opened her eyes. She met Jin Yeong's gaze, finding him staring at her with pale, uncomprehending shock.
"Miss Ryeong... is what I just witnessed truly real?"
"How should I put it?" Ryeong grinned mischievously. "Ah—your martial arts are pretty slick, aren't they?"
"..."
It was meant as a light joke, but the air plunged from chilly to utterly mortifying silence.
Ryeong could understand his reaction. A woman who had formally entered the sect less than a day ago had comprehended the fourth form of their premier sword art in the span of a breath. How could he not feel utterly stripped of his dignity? Had their positions been reversed, Ryeong would have felt just as hollowed out.
She had thrown out the quip to break the tension, but it had only made the silence ten times more agonizing.
"Hey, cheer up," she offered, patting his shoulder magnanimously. "It's only natural for an ordinary mortal to feel miserable when standing before an absolute genius."
"...Do you honestly believe that counts as comfort?"
"What else can I say? I really am a genius."
"...Do you have any idea how deeply detestable you look right now?"
Every fiber of Jin Yeong's being screamed at him to knock her over the head, but through sheer, heroic willpower, he swallowed the urge down. Striking her would only result in a far more painful beating delivered right back to him.
"If I remain here any longer, I fear I will commit an unspeakable sin. I am returning. Cultivate well on your own."
"Aw, are you sulking? Hey, are you pouting?"
"..."
"Wow, you really are sulking."
Jin Yeong turned on his heel and stalked back toward the training grounds without uttering another syllable. Ryeong watched him leave, wondering if she had pushed the teasing too far. Neither threats nor playful jabs had ever elicited that look of pure defeat from him before.
Still, she had no intention of apologizing. In truth, Ryeong was currently far weaker than she had been at the peak of her previous life. Taking careful, measured steps up the ladder was all well and good, but deep down, she felt an unbearable gnawing of inadequacy.
She needed to grow stronger, and quickly.
One of the five sacred relics had already been stolen from Jongnam. Immortal Hyeok had instructed her to gather all five. Whatever his ultimate purpose, there was bound to be a crucial reason behind the command. And there was no guarantee the remaining relics would stay safe.
At her current level of strength, independent action was out of the question. Only by reclaiming her power as swiftly as possible could she hope to intervene when the storm broke.
The real problem is finding where the other relics are kept.
Aside from knowing that two rested with the Qingcheng Sect and the Tang Clan, the whereabouts of the final two remained completely unknown.
Which means at the very least, we have to prevent those two from being stolen.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a commotion echoed from the lower mountain path.
Guests had arrived at Mount Jongnam.
A somber delegation, including the Lord of the Tang Clan himself, had gathered to hear the full truth behind the theft of the sacred relic.