The Catastrophe of Hubei
“Are you... truly even human, wench...?”
A massive hole was gouged through Geuk Pyeong’s upper torso—the grim aftermath of his failure to evade the esoteric art of the Vermilion Bird Killing Sword: Murderous Wings Plummeting from Heaven.
It would not heal. No matter how much innate true qi he poured into the wound, the demon-vanquishing energy steadily purified his flesh from within. To a cultivator steeped in demonic arts, it was no different from a lethal poison.
Ryeong appeared before the dying man. She had gained no small amount of enlightenment from this grueling battle. Had this been in the past, she might have felt a shred of gratitude toward Geuk Pyeong for pushing her to grow. Yet that was not the case now. Far too many lives had been sacrificed.
Had the Namgung Clan not intervened midway through the fray, had the Daoist Masters arrived even a breath later, the outcome would have been catastrophic. This was a victory woven from a confluence of coincidences, not one seized by solitary prowess. Because of that, Ryeong looked down upon him with a hardened, impassive gaze. Having come to understand the weight of human life, she was no longer the lone butcher known as Cheonsal.
“It's over, Blood King. You will serve as the crucial catalyst that unites our Murim as one.”
“Unite the Murim... Kehehe, kh-kh-kh! Ignorant, foolish mortal... Do not think my death is the end... Our sacred cult has already completed all preparations...”
Vitality slowly drained from the Fifth Blood King's eyes. As his breath finally rattled out and ceased, the surviving fanatics of the Demon Blood Divine Cult scattered in desperate frenzy, fleeing toward every corner of the compass.
“Capture the fleeing cowards! Let not a single dog escape!”
“Those who are lightly wounded, gather the critically injured in one place!”
“The battle is over! Move your legs, briskly!!”
Ryeong unleashed every flying dagger nestled in her robes, piercing the skulls of the fleeing cultists with lethal precision. In an instant, nearly a hundred fanatics dropped dead on the spot.
The elites of the Namgung Clan pursued the rest. Considering they were the foremost noble clan under the heavens—second only to the Yue Clan—she trusted they would not fail. Or rather, she desperately wanted to believe so.
“Well met. I am Namgung Ja-un, Patriarch of the Namgung Clan.”
“I am Jin Ryeong, a third-generation disciple of Mount Jongnam. It is an honor to greet the Blue Sky Sword King, Master Namgung Ja-un. Please, feel free to address me simply as Ryeong.”
“Your swordplay was extraordinary enough to astonish even me. Once this mess is cleared away, I would like to speak with you further.”
Namgung Ja-un stepped closer to Ryeong, whose spirits were weighed down by the battlefield's aftermath. His inner power radiated an aura even more formidable than that of the Fifth Blood King, Geuk Pyeong. He was truly a man worthy of the title 'Blue Sky Sword King.'
Yet Ryeong felt little cheer. Though the patriarch had approached in his own way to lighten her mood, the atmosphere only sank further into a somber gloom. Pondering for a moment, Namgung Ja-un spoke again in an effort to keep the conversation going.
“The wretches of the Demon Blood Divine Cult were stirring up trouble in Anhui as well. When their traces vanished completely a few days ago, we tracked their movements—only to find they were heading toward Hubei.”
It had been a manhunt directed personally by Namgung Ja-un himself. The cult had inflicted grave insult upon the prestige of the Namgung Clan, prompting its patriarch to take to the field in fury. Coincidentally, that was precisely when the cultists had received the Fifth Blood King's muster order, allowing Namgung Ja-un to swiftly assess the situation and cross over into Hubei with his elite forces, including the Blue Sky Unit and the Firmament Unit.
“Thank you for your timely reinforcement, Patriarch. Had you not arrived, this battle would have been far more arduous.”
“I am glad to have been of help. However, unless my eyes deceive me, that sword...”
“It is the Red Cloud Divine Sword. The very blade stolen from the Tang Family happened to be here. It is only regrettable that the Myriad Poison Ring was nowhere to be found.”
Ryeong spun the lie with utter composure. Rumors of the Tang Family's assault by the Demon Blood Divine Cult had already spread far and wide, and Namgung Ja-un surely possessed intelligence that the Red Cloud Divine Sword had been plundered by the cult as well. The pre-prepared falsehood crafted for just such an occasion proved its worth. Given the chaotic circumstances, Namgung Ja-un took her words at face value.
“Lady Ryeonggg!!”
Just then, Jin Yeong came trotting over, panting heavily. Having ingested a mass-produced Poison River Pill, his depleted stamina seemed to have recovered to some degree. The moment he caught sight of Namgung Ja-un, his eyes widened in shock, and he hurriedly bowed his head.
“J-Jin Yeong, a third-generation disciple of Mount Jongnam, pays respects to the Blue Sky Sword King!”
“A pleasure, Priest Jin Yeong. Well then, I shall leave the two of you to enjoy your time together.”
“Pardon? What does that...?”
Jin Yeong blinked in utter bewilderment at the patriarch's parting words. By the time Ryeong realized what the old swordsman was implying and opened her mouth to clarify, Namgung Ja-un had already vanished into the distance.
It's going to be a real headache if people start pairing us up like this.
“Are you all right?”
“I am fine. More importantly, Lady Ryeong... that sword form you displayed earlier was...”
“It's called the Vermilion Bird Killing Sword. Its murderous intent is rather thick, isn't it? Hardly a sword art suited for a Daoist.”
Ryeong knew well that the root of the Vermilion Bird Killing Sword lay in the Celestial Immortal Divine Art and pure celestial qi, yet she could never quite fathom why its blade dripped with such suffocating killing intent. Did even transcendent immortals harbor such slaughterous wrath? Yet that lingering doubt was unexpectedly resolved by Jin Yeong.
“For a Daoist, guiding the wicked onto the righteous path is indeed important. But far more crucial is cutting down the enemies who threaten innocent commoners. When facing foes that cannot be reasoned with or redeemed—beasts in human skin—there is no need to show mercy.”
To add to that, he proclaimed that the Demon Blood Divine Cult were vile fiends worse than beasts. Ryeong looked at Jin Yeong with fresh eyes. Had living through the horrors of war shifted his values? She was seeing an entirely new side to him.
“That's quite an impressive philosophy. I suppose the soft-hearted, naive Jin Yeong I used to know is gone for good.”
“S-Soft-hearted? Even back then, I held proper convictions. It is merely...”
“Merely what?”
“It merely became clear after I met you, Lady Ryeong. This is my Dao—my path of guidance.”
Jin Yeong met Ryeong's eyes. For some reason, the intensity in his gaze seemed to convey a deeper meaning far beyond his spoken words.
A brief silence descended between them. Amidst a battlefield drenched in the stench of blood, time seemed to freeze for the two of them. Just as Ryeong's gears were churning in overdrive—
“So you two were here! I was looking all over—”
Gwi Hu-jin burst into view, stumbling to a halt. Panting as though his lungs might burst, he froze the moment he sensed the peculiar, awkward tension lingering between the two. Realizing in an instant that he had intruded at the worst possible moment, he stepped backward.
“Carry on with your business. I'll... go look for the kids first.”
“What business are you talking about—hey, you jerk! Get back here!”
Ryeong lunged forward to seize Gwi Hu-jin and clear up yet another ridiculous misunderstanding, but despite missing an arm, his footwork was astonishingly fleet. Unable to abandon Jin Yeong all by himself, Ryeong swallowed her irritation and crossed her arms with an aggrieved scowl.
Meanwhile, Jin Yeong stood frozen stiff, clenching his teeth. The tender sentiment he had quietly harbored deep within his heart had long since swelled beyond containment. He had no choice now but to admit it: the feeling he held toward Ryeong was not mere friendship.
Jin Yeong balled his fists tightly. His heart hammered tactlessly against his ribs. His tongue screamed at him to confess the thoughts locked within his chest right this instant, yet he could not bring himself to speak. A terrifying dread whispered that if he gave voice to his feelings, even this fragile bond they shared might shatter completely.
“Good grief. I have no clue where people even come up with these bizarre ideas. Are you all right?”
“I-I am fine.”
“Why on earth is your face so red, then? Did your internal injuries backfire?”
Jin Yeong pressed a trembling palm to his cheek. The heat radiating from his skin felt hotter than it had during the heat of combat. It seemed his face had indeed flushed crimson. Flustered and embarrassed, he made a soft request of Ryeong.
“...Could I trouble you for an energy transfusion to guide my qi?”
“Well, look at you. Bossing me around now, are we?”
Though Ryeong grumbled under her breath, she couldn't bring herself to refuse him. Jin Yeong shed his bloodstained upper robe and sat down cross-legged in the lotus position.
He intended to banish all stray thoughts through meditation and qi circulation. The trouble was that the very instant Ryeong's soft palm made contact with his bare back, those wayward thoughts bloomed out of control like wild weeds.
“Your heart is beating far too fast. Settle your internal injuries first, hurry up.”
Jin Yeong grimaced, frantically reciting verses from Confucius's Analects in his mind. If his mind wandered any further, he risked plunging headlong into qi deviation.
Ryeong's true qi flowed into his meridians like gentle, rhythmic waves. Perhaps because her energy resonated in harmonious ease even with the divine aura of Mount Wudang, Jin Yeong felt a soothing warmth spread throughout his entire body.
The qi transfusion did not take long. The root of his injury was corrosive demonic energy. Considering that even the Daoist Masters of Wudang had groaned under the oppressive taint of that demonic qi, Jin Yeong's endurance in holding out this long was genuinely admirable.
Look at him. The kid's got real guts after all.
Ryeong's nose wrinkled fondly. She was completely unaware that a gentle smile had crept across her own lips.
And a short distance away—
“Aye. We had times like that once, did we not?”
“So youthful and green. If that isn't youth, what else could it be?”
“It is precisely because of such children that future generations will thrive. Love blooming upon a bloody battlefield... how wondrous a sight.”
The Daoist Masters of the Wudang Sect were watching Ryeong and Jin Yeong with warm, gratified smiles.
They had fixed their gaze upon the pair from the very moment their conversation began. Originally, they had intended to clear the battlefield, but once the Namgung Clan's forces volunteered to handle the mopping up, the eight Daoist Masters were left with ample leisure to observe Ryeong and Jin Yeong: a boy who knew his own heart yet desperately concealed it, and a girl who had yet to fathom the true nature of her own feelings.
“May they remain together until the very end.”
“Indeed. That would be a blessing.”
“Is this not the very reason an old man like me ought to bustle about and fight?”
As the Daoist Masters watched the two young martial artists, a silent prayer took root in their hearts. In the face of the encroaching catastrophe known as the Demon Blood Divine Cult, may the thread of fate binding these two souls never be severed.