The Qi Arts Master Chapter 87
A barren desert stretched endlessly around the Demonic Cult's grand edifice. Within its walls lay a garden and vast pond—rarities in this wasteland, crafted purely for show. A bridge spanned the water, and winding paths invited leisurely strolls. Over these paths arched roofs that shielded from the scorching sun, their opulent grandeur clashing with the harsh surroundings.
Chanh Ho, who had first stumbled upon this enclave, had sensed the boundless greed and vanity of the former Cult Leader who built it. Arms clasped behind his back, he wandered the garden, admiring the pond's serene beauty.
Splash.
A carp mistook the sand from Chanh Ho's footsteps for food and leaped from the depths. He stared at it intently. Though enormous, the fish seemed puny against the pond's immensity. Somehow transported here from the southern lands, it was a vibrant silk carp, its colors vivid and alien.
Chanh Ho felt a kinship with this creature frolicking in an artificial haven. The Demonic Cult—his birthplace, his home, taken for granted. Yet it forced upon him a life he never chose.
"You and I alike, trapped in this stifling place. Unless we die and vanish, that is."
The air rippled at his words. The discomfort of his Shadow Guards, tasked with protecting the Young Cult Leader, hung palpably. Four in number, they existed solely for the Demonic Cult's supreme master. Named for their signature weapons—Sword, Saber, Chain, and Whip—they were meant to shadow the Heavenly Demon himself. But with the Demon in secluded cultivation and Chanh Ho acting as proxy leader, they had been temporarily reassigned.
Chanh Ho flashed a sardonic smile. "What? Do my words offend? You dare?"
Rumble!
A staggering aura erupted from him, forcing the guards hidden among the rafters and pillars to reveal themselves and drop to their knees.
"Young Cult Leader, how could we ever?"
Sword, their leader, bowed low. But his eyes gleamed sharply, belying his deferential tone.
Chanh Ho knew the truth: their true master was the Heavenly Demon alone, and the Demon Brain had assigned them to watch him, lest he stray.
"Tch. Enough. Withdraw."
Deeming it futile, he turned away. At his command, the guards melted into mist like phantoms.
Then, from afar, a warrior raced toward him in desperation—a Black Wind Corpsman, caked in blood and dust.
Chanh Ho pondered what could drive the man to seek the Young Cult Leader without even cleaning himself. Had they already seized the North Sea Ice Palace and returned?
Questions swirling, he watched the corpsman prostrate himself politely before him.
"Greetings, Young Cult Leader!"
"So, you've finished and come back already?"
At Chanh Ho's words, the man's face twisted in abject shame as he bowed even lower and cried out.
"Execute me!"
Chanh Ho's expression darkened. "What nonsense is this?"
The report came heavily from the man's lips. "...We failed."
"What?!"
The corpsman, seething with his own outrage, bit his lip until blood trickled forth. "We were defeated in battle at the North Sea Ice Palace."
Chanh Ho was dumbfounded. It made no sense. The Black Wind Corps had never known defeat—not before his birth, nor since. An invincible force.
"The Black Wind Corps defeated? Explain in detail."
Boiling with fury, the man continued his report. "Reinforcements arrived to aid the North Sea Ice Palace and thwart us."
"Reinforcements?"
"Yes. Moyong family warriors and Red Turban rebel soldiers."
Chanh Ho's face contorted.
"And the Qi Arts Family Lord was there."
"What?!"
Shock flooded Chanh Ho's features. He hadn't expected news of his sworn brother to come like this.
"Details."
His voice edged with urgency, Chanh Ho pressed. The corpsman spoke in a voice thick with grief but steady.
"We had the North Sea Ice Palace nearly subdued when the Qi Arts Family Lord appeared from the sky like a bolt of lightning."
"Go on."
Under continued prompting, the man detailed it all: the palace's fierce resistance, on the verge of collapse; then Tian Ailang and his allies. Vast numbers of Red Turban spearmen under two masters' command. The Moyong family's Heavenly Center Corps and Tian Ailang in relentless pursuit. Tian Ailang's overwhelming prowess had decimated the Black Wind Corps; their lord had lost an arm. He lay unconscious, under treatment. Of over three thousand elite cavalry, only this remnant of under a hundred had returned.
"..."
Speechless, Chanh Ho sank into a swirl of enigmatic emotions. Tian Ailang's power had surpassed even his expectations. Pursuing the Corps and crippling their lord alongside them—that was no mean feat for anyone in the Demonic Cult.
The Black Wind Lord was a brilliant strategist, a ferocious general, a veteran of a hundred battles. His Corps, the Cult's finest, battle-hardened elites. Their crushing defeat sparked fury and displeasure first. With war looming, losing such a key force meant massive variables.
Yet amid the anger came admiration for his sworn brother and friend, who had revealed such prowess and presence.
Lost in tangled feelings, Chanh Ho recalled the Black Wind Lord before departure—warning against underestimating outsider forces, lest they suffer a blow like fifty years prior. Chanh Ho had approved the mission to eradicate the Ice Palace and secure the north. With one command:
"Did you not retrieve the Ice Jade Pills?"
"Execute me!"
Chanh Ho gazed indifferently at the man smashing his forehead bloody against the ground.
"Enough. Withdraw."
The corpsman retreated without wiping his blood.
"You lot too. Leave me alone for a while."
The Shadow Guards didn't budge, though they knew he addressed them.
"Don't test me. Father's guards or not, push it further and I'll kill you."
Viscous killing intent oozed from him, forcing them to distance themselves reluctantly.
Chanh Ho sighed, kicking dirt at his feet. It splashed into the pond, rippling in small circles. Another carp leaped, mistaking it for food.
In a flash draw, he bisected it cleanly.
To soothe his turmoil, he swung the drawn blade in light arcs.
Upon returning to the Cult, Chanh Ho had first sought the Demon Physician, chief of all Cult healers—rumored to rival the Divine Physician, unhindered by ethics in his experiments.
He'd inquired about the poison that felled Song Sogeol and its antidote. Though he could never return to his old life, he wanted to save her.
The answer was grim: she'd be dead already. Insisting she lived, he demanded antidote methods. Impossible, came the reply—no antidote existed for that exotic poison.
Enraged, Chanh Ho had ordered the Physician, upon granting him full authority, to develop one at all costs. To evade wrath, the man prioritized it, devising a treatment—imperfect, but promising. Key ingredient: Ice Jade Pills.
Thus, Chanh Ho had urged the Black Wind Lord to secure them from the Ice Palace.
All for naught.
"Sogeol... Ailang..."
Crash!
His turmoil vented through the black sword, laying waste around him.
"Futile."
Sheathing it, he left the garden.
Outside waited his attendants and warriors. A muscular dark-skinned servant swiftly raised a vast umbrella over Chanh Ho, blocking the sun. A maid reached for his dustied outer robe.
He waved her off lightly. "The grand scheme begins. Inform the Demon Brain and commence all assigned plans."
"As you command!"
Warriors scattered to relay the order.
"I'm going to the Black Wind Lord."
Chanh Ho strode forth imperiously, attendants trailing like courtiers to an emperor, heads bowed.
* * *
Tian Ailang's journey home was uneventful. Crossing into Hebei from Inner Mongolia meant mountains ahead, so he sold his horse to a reliable escort agency for a handsome sum—fine beast that it was.
Leaving, he thought of the Infinite Escort Agency, his first step into the world, cradle of precious bonds.
'Chanh Ho... Sogeol...'
Loneliness tugged at him. Maple trees along the path stirred memories of his sworn brothers.
Lost in reverie, he arrived at his destination.
"Five Rock Peaks and Turtle Rock. Been a while."
Tian Ailang smiled. "Even that bald dome of a summit unchanged."
Memories bloomed fresh. Not so distant, yet his naive days felt nostalgically far.
"The formation's intact too."
His eyes pierced the odd air currents, revealing the path within.
"And Ha Chun?"
A Medical Pavilion disciple on perimeter duty spotted him, yelped in shock, and fell on his rear—the same one who'd fussed when he emerged after treating Hwa Ran.
"Gasp! Family Lord!"
"Long time no see?"
Tian Ailang approached with a grin.
"Ooh~ Baekdu Divine Dragon Family Lord!"
Ha Chun scrambled up, throwing his arms skyward like offering sacrifice.
"...Huh? What's that about?"
Tian Ailang tilted his head at the baffling outburst.
Ha Chun snorted in disbelief. "You kidding? It's all over from Yunnan—Baekdu's divine dragon brought peace and left? You didn't hear?"
Tian Ailang's brows furrowed. "...First I've heard."
"If it's reached this far, the whole martial world might know you by now. When Seol Dong brought the news from town, the Pavilion went nuts!"
Tian Ailang shook his head faintly. 'Of course I wouldn't know...'
Ignoring his thoughts, Ha Chun led the way, chattering excitedly.
"Everyone was worried sick. Fetching those spirit herbs? No easy road. But hearing you're not just fine but flying high? Relief and joy all around."
"I see."
Tian Ailang's heart warmed. To have people fretting and waiting, no matter where he roamed—gratitude swelled.
'This is family.'
Chatting idly with Ha Chun, he soon reached the familiar Medical Pavilion entrance. Ha Chun bellowed inside:
"The Family Lord's back!"