The Qi Arts Master Chapter 100
‘I didn't think of it right away because I was flustered. It's all my fault. Black Transformation…!’
Crack. Blood trickled from Baekjin's lips, caught in a grip of anxiety. Not long ago, Mount Hua Sect had been intensely insular. Its tradition of passing down martial arts strictly from master to disciple made it even more reclusive back then, with many living in seclusion. As a result, exchanges with other members of the sect were rare. Especially during his time as a second-generation disciple, Baekjin had been so immersed in closed-door training and martial arts practice that he'd been oblivious to the world.
Now, Baekjin scowled as he stared at the old man before him, recalling the warning from his ascended master.
‘It was more like a fear bordering on dread.’
There had been a time when Mount Hua Sect was home to unparalleled prodigies. Among them, the one just senior to his master in generation was said to be Hyeon Ja Bae. The greatest of them was Hyeon Seong. And alongside Hyeon Seong was Hyeon Gwak, called the Divine Dragon.
Baekjin's gaze flicked momentarily to the first-generation disciples facing the old man before snapping back. He continued recalling his master's words.
According to his master, Hyeon Seong and Hyeon Gwak had been so extraordinarily gifted that their minds had snapped. They hadn't been content with becoming the greatest warriors—they lusted after creating the greatest warriors.
‘More precisely, they sought to behold a god in the mortal realm.’
The pinnacle of the Dao was ascension to immortality, becoming a divine transcendent. Even Mount Hua Sect, more worldly than Wudang yet heir to the Daoist lineage, ultimately dreamed of ascension.
But Hyeon Seong back then had scoffed: What use was vanishing from the mortal world to become some unseen, unprovable god? Chanting incantations for a hundred days wouldn't change that. No—he preached that proving the existence of gods was the true fulfillment of the Dao's purpose.
To that end, he formed an organization to confirm the gods' reality. That was Black Transformation.
Mount Hua Sect, of course, denounced and suppressed it, leading to bitter conflicts. In the end, Black Transformation was all but excommunicated and vanished from the sect.
Then came the mass disappearances of Mount Hua disciples and civilians.
‘That explains why so few of that generation survived!’
Baekjin eyed the old man—Hyeon Seong—with wariness. ‘I thought the tales were exaggerated by shock, relics of the past…’
Facing a story he'd believed buried decades ago, his throat went dry as dust.
‘If these truly are Black Transformation, it makes sense why Cheongsang was kidnapped. And no one here survives this encounter.’
He hadn't expected to confront these ghosts from the past. Baekjin quickly assessed his own condition.
‘Even back then, they were at the early Divine Transformation Realm, same as those seniors. They must be even more monstrous now. Winning isn't the goal—buy time.’
Coldly analyzing the situation, he sent a transmission to Cheonggong.
Cheonggong flinched at the sudden message but quickly composed himself to listen.
After instructing him, Baekjin cautiously spoke. “What do you intend to do with us, Senior Brother?”
Hyeon Seong's lip curled. “You know we're Black Transformation, yet you ask? No wonder Mount Hua stagnates—still babbling nonsense about ascension to immortality?”
‘Just as I feared.’
Baekjin ground his teeth, channeling energy into his sword with a grim expression.
“Now!”
Roaring like a lion, he swung at Hyeon Seong and Hyeon Gwak. Swiftness, variation, and ferocity intertwined, filling the world with plum blossoms. Even the thick plum scent tickled his nose.
All his internal energy, plus forcibly drawn congenital essence, sent blood streaming from Baekjin's mouth. But it walled off the two elders in a barrier of blossoms.
“Urgh!”
Cheonggong clenched his teeth till they bled, then turned and fled. The other first-generation disciples scattered in escape, following Baekjin's order: When the moment came, run without looking back.
They'd steeled for a last stand, but they couldn't ignore Baekjin's words invoking the sect's survival and Mount Hua's fate. Chewing over his emphasized term “Black Transformation,” they poured everything into flight.
“Insolent whelp!”
Astonishing internal energy erupted from Hyeon Seong, blocked by the plum wall. It gathered in his sword, forming a violet sword aura.
Baekjin's eyes widened. “H-how…?!”
Ignoring him, Hyeon Seong swept the violet aura horizontally in a massive arc.
Boom!
The sky's plum blossoms shredded under the assault. The energy surged unstopped toward the fleeing disciples.
“No!”
Baekjin leaped in alarm. Cheonggong, far ahead in flight, glanced back at the terrifying force.
“Fourth Uncle Master!”
There was Baekjin, blocking it with his body in his stead.
‘Go!’
Even as his body tore apart, Baekjin's mouthing lips spurred Cheonggong, reddening his eyes.
“Fourth Uncle Master…”
Swallowing a sob, Cheonggong resolved: ‘I'll make sure they know.’
He had to report this to headquarters. He even sheathed his sword, devoting all to lightness skill.
* * *
A dark underground chamber. A vast natural cavern remade into a ritual site. Torches flickered along the circular walls, dimly illuminating the space. The flames wavered repeatedly.
Deeply wrinkled Hyeon Seong emerged, exhaustion etched on his face.
“Tch. Overdoing it after so long tires me out.”
He casually tossed two Mount Hua first-generation disciples from his hand.
Thud.
Where they landed wasn't just them—dozens of corpses piled up. Notably, the spot was a shallow pit like a small tub, with a channel leading one way. Such corpse tubs ringed the circular chamber, dozens in all, each brimming with bodies spilling blood.
Hyeon Seong raised his sword, severing the disciples' meridians. The precise cuts let blood pool thickly without spraying.
He nudged a stone on the floor with his sword.
Rumble.
A low resonance echoed. The disciples' blood flowed into the channel as if drawn, toward one direction.
The cavern's center. There loomed a massive round tub, far deeper and wider than the others, filled with an immense volume of blood. At its heart floated a youth, submerged like the dead.
Cheongsang.
Then Hyeon Gwak approached, dusting his hands after dumping two disciples in another tub.
“A shame about that Baekjin fellow.”
Hyeon Seong nodded. “Indeed. Who'd have thought he'd take my sword strike barehanded?”
“His essence-infused blood would've been quite useful.”
Hyeon Seong scowled at the follow-up jab. “I know that.”
Sensing his senior brother's irritation, Hyeon Gwak stepped back with a wrinkled grin. “Heh. Understood. Anyway, Senior Brother…”
“...?”
“I still wonder if allying with them was truly wise.”
At his longtime junior's concern, deep furrows creased Hyeon Seong's brow.
“Hyeon Gwak.”
“Yes, Senior Brother.”
“Our allotted lifespan won't last much longer.”
“…”
A shadow fell over both faces.
“If we fail to realize our dream of forging a god—all because of heaven's petty limit on our years—I'll never close my eyes in death.”
“True enough.” Hyeon Gwak clicked his tongue. “But with their aid, our dream might not end as mere delusion. Even if the path—and its end—is a blood road.”
“…”
Hyeon Gwak nodded gravely at Hyeon Seong's words, fully empathizing. They'd toiled endlessly for ages, gaining many insights, yet their ultimate goal eluded them. Like his senior, he'd have no regrets dying if they birthed their dreamed god first.
Obsession gleamed in the elders' eyes. Wrongheaded zeal had long vanished into their deepening wrinkles and liver spots. Their acts were rationalized at every turn, wrapped in the noble guise of aspiration.
“You're right a hundred, a thousand times, Senior Brother.”
“Yes. We have neither room for doubt nor time. Preparations?”
Hyeon Gwak nodded toward the giant tub. “Just finished.”
Hyeon Seong shook the blood from his sword with internal energy, sheathing it. “Then let's go. To make a god.”
Anticipation curled his lips. Smiling, Hyeon Seong headed to the central tub, where Black Transformation elders ringed it. He and Hyeon Gwak took positions like the rest.
“Begin!”
At Hyeon Seong's shout, the elders chanted. Infused with energy, their incantations quickened the blood's flow from channels toward the tub.
“Stronger!”
Their chants accelerated fiercely. Blood volume swelled until the channels ran dry.
The giant tub's blood churned.
“More!”
Sweat poured like water as they poured in more energy. After some time, the blood massed like amniotic fluid cradling a fetus, rising into the air with Cheongsang.
It writhed long, then abruptly shrank—sucked into Cheongsang.
Dark crimson, ominous smoke rose from his body. Sizzle.
His skin reddened as if burned. Sizzzle—!
As more blood poured in, the burning grew louder. His skin blistered like severe burns; then bones cracked and twisted.
Crack! Crackle!
Had Cheongsang been awake, he'd have screamed in agony. His form warped grotesquely.
The chanting elders' faces twisted in pain.
“Focus!”
Urged by Hyeon Seong, they strained. Crackle!
The mangled form slowly realigned. Crunch. Crack!
Finally, Cheongsang's body restored to human shape, dropping back into the tub.
The elders fell silent, watching tensely, breaths held.
“Senior Brother.”
Hyeon Gwak called tensely; Hyeon Seong nodded similarly.
“Yes.”
His gaze fixed on the seemingly dead Cheongsang. His wrinkled face trembled.
“At last…”
Hyeon Seong murmured with a smile. At the end of his gaze, Cheongsang's chest rose faintly with breath.
“Success…”
The other elders, eyes gathered, smiled at his steady breathing.
Hyeon Seong addressed them. “Everyone, well done. Let's move—to the next phase!”
Drunk on triumph, they nodded and moved with disciplined precision.