Jeong Yeon-shin put on a show.

He thought he had displayed a somewhat impressive feat, but that was the extent of it.

He had overextended himself, performing far beyond his martial abilities. He had already reached his limit.

‘This is tough.’

It felt like shoving a soaking wet cloth into his body. His once-light movements now felt clumsy and heavy.

The Sword Song was a martial art that demanded a heavy price.

The exhaustion in his upper dantian was glaringly evident. It had been the same during the Hwangbo branch incident.

Could he properly execute the prepared sword techniques? He wasn’t sure.

When he had leaped into the battlefield, he hadn’t thought much beyond the Sword Song. He had already done more than his part.

If the martial experts of the Namgung Family weren’t mere scarecrows, they would surely act. That was a natural assumption.

After all, this was a family acknowledged by the orthodox sects, even hosting the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.

He had expected them to be different from the Hwangbo Family. His meeting with the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, and her upright character during the Entrance Imperial Examination had left a strong impression.

But they didn’t act.

‘Are they just observing?’

Were they wary of the Blood Flame Sect’s leadership? He couldn’t guess their reasoning.

It was a precarious situation. Even in the martial world, facing an enemy in prime condition was rare, but this was especially dire.

One of the Blood Swordmasters opened his mouth.

“You’re worthless. Die.”

The other didn’t even bother to speak. The arms of the two Blood Swordmasters swung.

Accompanied by thunderclap bombs, their right hands seemed to disappear and reappear in an instant. Their throwing techniques were executed with precision.

Whoosh!

The thunderclap bombs, infused with martial energy, tore through the air like lightning strikes.

Jeong Yeon-shin clenched his grip on the sword energy of the Northern Light Sword.

Swish!

Black hair fluttered in front of him. For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin thought it was Wei Ji Myo-hwa.

It wasn’t.

The energy exuded by this individual was the polar opposite of the dignified Qi of the Zhongnan Sect.

A crimson sleeve rippled with an eerie elegance.

There had been no sound. The figure moved like a gentle breeze, and the mastery of her Yihwa-Jeopmok technique revealed itself.

With a white hand, she brushed the two thunderclap bombs aside, redirecting their trajectory upward. The movement was so fluid that it seemed natural despite the abrupt change in direction.

The intruding woman, still with her back turned, extended her palm upward.

At the same time, an overwhelming surge of energy erupted from her palm.

Boom!

The thunderclap bombs exploded midair. It had all happened in an instant.

“A Demon Apostle,” one of the Blood Swordmasters muttered.

The two Blood Swordmasters retreated to the middle of the battlefield, showing no hesitation after their attack was thwarted.

The woman didn’t answer. She turned around.

“As expected.”

She smiled.

Her jet-black hair fluttered in the aftermath of the explosion.

Her unnaturally pale, beautiful face wasn’t what mattered.

An eyepatch covered one of her eyes, while the other glowed red like a pomegranate.

A Demon Apostle. A level of martial accomplishment so profound that it manifested in her very eye.

“When I faced your technique before, I sensed it.”

Her flowing black hair and singular crimson eye shimmered with an aura of vitality. The Demon Apostle of the Blood Flame Sect spoke.

“I felt something raw from your sound-based martial arts back then. It didn’t make sense. But after hearing reports of your feats and seeing your strange sound techniques...”

Her blood-red lips curved upward.

“You possess incredible innate talent. Almost absurdly so.”

Her words were unrefined, but their meaning was heavy.

A Demon Apostle.

She was a supreme martial artist who had once stood against the Namgung Family’s leader at the imperial capital.

Her mastery of internal energy was evident in her composed demeanor, suggesting techniques like Three Harmonies Concentration and Five Energy Convergence.

Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t even fathom the sharpness of her sensory abilities.

The smile on her lips was chilling.

At last.

His opponent had recognized it. She had fully discerned the uniqueness of Jeong Yeon-shin’s abilities.

Finally, someone who understood the distinctiveness of his sound-based techniques from the Thirteen Heavens had appeared.

‘This is dangerous.’

A chill ran down his spine. For the first time since entering the martial world, Jeong Yeon-shin broke into a cold sweat.

The martial world was a realm governed by martial prowess.

All wealth under heaven was said to pale before the verses of ascension techniques.

There was a reason the graves of legendary masters, who had dominated their eras, were unearthed during times of chaos. Such was the world of martial artists obsessed with martial arts.

Step.

The Demon Apostle advanced with graceful steps, layers of overwhelming energy emanating from her entire body.

Her crimson eye, as if carved from blood, fixed directly on Jeong Yeon-shin.

The energy surrounding her reeked of madness.

Unmatchable.

The Demon-Destroying Azure Unyielding Palm would only work against an opponent within a certain range of power disparity. Without the chaos of a melee, he couldn’t hope for a miracle like before.

Jeong Yeon-shin instinctively understood.

The oppressive aura brushing against his skin felt like a blade slicing through him. His innate senses whispered:

Your life is already in her hands.

“Foolish idiots.”

The Demon Apostle sneered. It seemed her mockery was directed at the Namgung Family’s experts, who had only now begun to act.

Without turning, Jeong Yeon-shin could feel it.

The Blood Flame Sect’s experts, who had leaped down from the peaks, were blocking the Namgung Family’s advance. A standoff was unfolding.

“You’re mine.”

The Demon Apostle’s lips moved with a faint smile.

Disasters in the martial world came in all forms, it was said.

Death and defeat were the most common occurrences in the martial world.

They could strike suddenly, choking the life out of even the most victorious.

Bad condition, an overwhelming opponent, insufficient numbers.

He had learned this during the battles with the Tyrant Sword Sect.

Disaster could come in many forms. At this moment, he faced them all.

This wasn’t some sudden misfortune.

Jeong Yeon-shin had knowingly stepped onto a battlefield where a Demon Apostle might be present.

He had suspected the presence of an overwhelmingly superior opponent and still chose to intervene.

He had trusted his own sharp instincts. He had trusted the Namgung Family’s reputation for justice and valor.

As a martial artist, this had been a reckless act. For a strategist, it had been even more so.

‘This is karma.’

The sixteen-year-old martial artist reflected only now that the situation was upon him.

His camaraderie had been commendable. His trust had been excessive.

“Let’s go.”

The Demon Apostle’s hand blurred, and Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision was suddenly engulfed in darkness.

Her movement was impossibly fast. He vaguely heard Wei Ji Myo-hwa and a young man shouting in the distance before his consciousness rapidly faded.

***

Jeong Yeon-shin became aware of his dulled senses. The warmth brushing against his skin felt blunt, distant.

How long had he been lying here?

He quickly assessed the situation.

He had been captured by the Demon Apostle. Dragged to some unknown location while unconscious.

There was one thing he was sure of—despite the gnawing hunger that felt like it was burning a hole in his stomach, he wasn’t dead.

If he scanned within a 15-day radius of Huizhou, he could likely identify this place.

‘This must be a Blood Pool.’

It seemed his only movable part was his mouth.

“Shall I wake you now?”

His blurred vision cleared slightly, revealing an unfamiliar ceiling—and the face of a demoness.

The Demon Apostle was smiling faintly. Her long, flowing hair brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin’s cheek.

“You’re the first imperial candidate to step into the main headquarters of the Blood Flame Sect. Should I offer you a proper welcome?”

“Water.”

“What?”

“I’m thirsty.”

His voice, hoarse and labored, emerged with difficulty. Jeong Yeon-shin forced himself to remain calm.

These people had their own objectives.

They wouldn’t kill him here. He recalled the lessons from his seniors, Ma Gwang-ik and Hyeon Won-chang.

‘These are from the unorthodox sects. My life is in their hands, but if I bow my head, there will be no end to their demands.’

The Demon Apostle stared at him for a moment, her expression blank, before breaking into raucous laughter.

Her jet-black hair, which had softly brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin’s face, suddenly lifted away. He thought it was a relief to have the distraction removed.

“Aah... hahaha...”

Her laughter faded into an odd sigh.

Her crimson eye, shimmering with a demonic glint, scanned Jeong Yeon-shin’s face, as if savoring the sight.

“You.”

The corner of her mouth lifted.

“Do you think I can’t do anything to you?”

“...”

“Envision, derive. Torture would only hinder the creation of new martial techniques, wouldn’t it?”

She leaned forward from where she sat at the edge of the bed.

Her ebony hair flowed down like a curtain, brushing against Jeong Yeon-shin’s neck. Its unnervingly smooth texture sent shivers down his spine.

She whispered.

“You wouldn’t have known this.”

Her red eye drew closer. She rested an elbow gently by Jeong Yeon-shin’s head while her pale fingers caressed his cheek.

Her slender fingers traced slowly over his face before reaching one of his eyelids. She pressed lightly, causing it to close naturally.

“I can turn your eye into one like mine. I could sever your limbs without killing you. This sect’s regeneration techniques would restore you. Even though your technique hindered my eye’s recovery, I don’t have a conflicting martial art like yours. I’ll heal completely soon enough.”

Her unsteady breath brushed against his nose, charged with manic intent.

The person who had taken his eye. A figure with unheard-of talent. A terrifyingly young prodigy.

At this moment, her obsessive desire to possess him became unmistakable. Jeong Yeon-shin felt it fully—in her gaze, her breath, and the air around her.

“I’ll pluck your fingers one by one, waiting as long as it takes.”

“...”

“Until you create a martial art just for me.”

The sheer madness in her tone became palpable, her red-tinted smile now starkly visible against her pale complexion.

Straightening her back, the Demon Apostle rose from the bed.

Her demeanor shifted; no more whispers. Her voice carried a deranged excitement.

“I’ll teach you Blood Arts. You’ll gain regenerative abilities.”

Her crimson robes fluttered faintly, as if thrilled by her own proclamation.

“Something the lower disciples and Blood Swordmasters practice wouldn’t suit your caliber, would it? If I grant you an Apostle’s vision, what kind of martial art will be born? I’m dying with anticipation!”

“You won’t have time to torture me.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly. Her crimson eye flashed violently as her head whipped around to face him.

“Arrogance. Until you master Blood Arts, your bravado will mean nothing. I’ll have you grovel at my feet.”

“...Look again. Inspect my Baihui Point.”

With his calm retort, a faint breeze, like dozens of threads, began to swirl in the room.

It was the Demon Apostle’s movement technique. Her hand descended once more upon Jeong Yeon-shin, pressing against the top of his head.

The Demon Apostle was a terrifyingly skilled martial artist. A single touch was enough for her to discern almost everything.

It was an ironic moment—her adversary’s Baihui Point, untouched even by his uncle or grandfather, was now under the hands of his enemy.

Her single crimson eye widened.

“You...!”

“Your internal energy should be able to detect it. Even now, it’s growing, isn’t it?”

“Such a constitution exists in this world...”

The Demon Apostle murmured blankly.

“Torture and regeneration? How long do you think that would take?”

Jeong Yeon-shin feigned composure as he asked. He had heard that this was the main headquarters of the Blood Flame Sect. It was despairing.

The chances of escape were slim to none, but to make any attempt, he had to remain intact.

Even to refine a single martial art required the precise operation of dozens of Qi flows.

They wouldn’t destroy his dantian. If he could avoid torture, he would still have a chance.

At that moment.

“You... shine so brilliantly...”

She was close now. The crimson in her eye filled his vision.

Her pale face, her unearthly features, and the strange fervor in her gaze—all resembled the birth of a mythical beast from legends.

This wasn’t a matter of romantic affection. This was the unyielding obsession of a martial fanatic, a master of demonic arts.

Her smooth, whispered breath declared:

“You are mine. You are my possession. Create my martial art, and exist solely for my eyes. Burn all your talent until there’s nothing left.”

“Madwoman.”

The curse slipped out instinctively. The hand caressing his head no longer felt gentle.

Jeong Yeon-shin shivered as he contemplated his options. How could he turn this situation around?

How long would it take to find a way out of this?

***

For two days, Jeong Yeon-shin had been forced to eat porridge made from finely chopped meat.

During that time, he grew sick of the main headquarters of the Blood Flame Sect, a place he hadn’t even been allowed to explore.

‘This is insane.’

The Demon Apostle personally brought the bowl and spoon-fed him. She never delegated the task to a servant.

When she confirmed his lifespan, her obsession seemed to spiral out of control.

It was as if she was witnessing a comet that could only be seen in a fleeting moment.

‘Or perhaps...’

In Beijing, there were stories of imperial nobles keeping cherished animals as their beloved pets. Was this what it felt like to be one of those spiritual beasts?

After enduring prolonged hunger, pressure point manipulation, and the aftereffects of using Sword Song, he was finally given some freedom.

But it wasn’t total liberation.

His pressure points had been tampered with using a technique similar to the Seven Steps Blood-Sealing Method used by the Destroying Abyss Lord.

His key meridians were filled with the Demon Apostle’s blood-infused energy, which she claimed would cause fatal internal injuries if not periodically drained.

“Let’s go pay respects to the Cult Leader.”

The Demon Apostle smiled brightly as she spoke. Jeong Yeon-shin silently rose to his feet. This was his first time stepping outside.

‘The Blood Flame Cult Leader.’

The sworn enemy of the primordial monk who helped create the Destruction Aura Azure Palm.

The ruler of the Blood Flame Sect, known as the most expansive faction among the Thirteen Evils.

A figure counted among the absolute powers of the martial world, alongside the abbot of the Shaolin Temple and the leader of the Imperial Sword Squad.

It was said he had also been involved in the annihilation of the Jeong Family, alongside the Sword Master of the Tyrant Sword Sect.

He was someone Jeong Yeon-shin needed to see for himself.

The door opened, and he stepped outside. Walking side by side with the Demon Apostle felt strangely unfamiliar.

It was nothing like being fed meat porridge like a cherished pet.

His vision widened.

A well-developed village sprawled before him. Rows of stately, antique-style pavilions stretched in orderly fashion.

Hundreds of people moved about, the majority sporting crimson hair.

“What...”

The sight was so overwhelming that Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t help but mutter under his breath.

Where on earth was this place? How could they hide a village so close to a city in the heart of the Central Plains?

“Little one, the Cult Leader’s hall is quite far. Keep up, alright?”

The Demon Apostle’s voice was gentle, like someone handling a precious gem. She tugged lightly at his sleeve as if to guide him.

As Jeong Yeon-shin walked, he memorized the structure of the village and the composition of its martial artists.

The Blood Swordmasters averted their gazes as they passed. The lower disciples didn’t dare look up at all.

“Great Master!”

A passing Blood Swordmaster suddenly gasped in shock, dropping to one knee.

He was one of the two who had thrown thunderclap bombs in Huizhou.

It was strange.

The gesture didn’t seem directed at the Demon Apostle. If anything, she glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin with a knowing expression.

Her single visible eye curved slightly as if amused.

As Jeong Yeon-shin suspected, the Blood Swordmaster’s bowed head was directed toward him.

The man spoke again.

“This unworthy servant humbly greets the Grandmaster.”

Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent for a moment.

This was not how prisoners were treated.