Jeong Yeon-shin stood before the Blood Flame Cult Leader, a faint turbulence stirring in the air.

The crimson pill rested in his palm, emanating an ominous aura.

The cult leader’s immaculate white hair fluttered slightly, disturbed by the sudden motion. Yet, neither the Apostles nor the cultists reacted rashly. Their faith in their leader’s supremacy was absolute.

Jeong Yeon-shin calmly examined the pill in his grasp, its murky, blood-like hue glinting under the dim light.

“‘Narrow the meridians,’ you said?” Jeong Yeon-shin murmured.

The Cult Leader’s steady gaze didn’t falter, his lips curving into a faint, mysterious smile.

“That’s correct,” the Cult Leader replied. “For one who ascends to the rank of Apostle, it will prove useful. Refine your qi and polish your entire meridian system with it. If your constitution holds, it will be a boon.”

“Yet, the role of the upper dantian is vital in creating martial arts. Doesn’t this render it obsolete?”

“Even with your extraordinary talent, it will take time to master. By then, this sect’s inherent weakness will have been overcome.”

The Cult Leader’s serene smile deepened, his tone laced with an inexplicable confidence.

Jeong Yeon-shin assessed the situation.

“Trust him? That’s absurd.”

The reality was bleak. His intervention on the battlefield had disrupted the flow of events, yet it was Namgung Se-ga’s indifference that had struck him hardest.

For a family reputed for their honor, exemplified by Namgung Hwa-shin’s virtuous character, their inaction mirrored the hypocrisy of the Huangbo family.

Disillusionment with the orthodox sects ran deep, yet placing trust in the leader of a demonic sect felt equally untenable.

The poison pill before him was not immediate—it required further refinement and conditioning. Its utility remained dubious, if not entirely suspect.

“So only Apostles can ingest it? In essence, it’s a tool to enslave one’s life to martial cultivation.”

Jeong Yeon-shin knew resistance was futile for now. He nodded slowly and tucked the crimson pill into his robes.

The Cult Leader’s face lit up with satisfaction, and he clapped his hands lightly.

“For ordinary disciples, grasping the basics of Blood-Summoning Arts is sufficient. But for one of your talents, a larger vessel is required.”

At his gesture, another attendant approached, this time carrying two neatly bound volumes.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the books offered to him.

“The Blood Roar of Mara—I grant you an Apostle’s sacred vision.”

The Cult Leader’s voice carried an unmistakable undertone of amusement.

Jeong Yeon-shin silently accepted the texts. The pages felt newly inscribed, the parchment still fresh.

“The internal arts of the Apostles…”

In his hands rested the apex martial techniques of the Blood Flame Cult.

For a moment, an ominous thought flashed through his mind—visions of rivers of blood flowing down the thirty-six steps of the grand hall.

“A premonition? Or merely my imagination?”

The Apostles and their leader radiated an unshakable composure, a result of their deep cultivation and the supreme confidence born from their mastery of the martial world.

Here, within their sanctuary, they were untouchable.

“For now.”

Escape was impossible, but he could still strike a blow. His mind began to turn, calculating how to inflict damage in a way only the lone prodigy of Ipwang Fortress could.

“Perhaps enough merit for a piece of the Heavenwood Fruit.”

Jeong Yeon-shin showed no concern for his survival.

“The Blood Flame Cult revealed their main force's location by capturing me.”

The image of the Ipwang Fortress Lord came to mind—the epitome of noble bloodlines and absolute authority.

Distrust of the martial world ran deep, yet her presence remained vivid.

Given this lead, it was only a matter of time before events began to unfold.

“You are the first to set foot in our main hall,” the Cult Leader continued. “An unprecedented occasion. Even should your location be discerned, you would be well beyond their reach.”

Lost in his thoughts, Jeong Yeon-shin snapped back to reality at the Cult Leader’s next words.

“There is one thing the Taesa must not touch.”

“Speak.”

“The essence of this sect—the act of purifying foreign qi through our bodies. This sacred principle is fundamental to our very existence.”

“…Understood.”

It was a warning not to tamper with the sect’s foundational martial techniques—those that involved absorbing and refining foreign qi while fostering madness.

“No doubt they’ll experiment on sacrificial lambs to refine their arts.”

Jeong Yeon-shin turned away without a word. Compliance was a mask, but one that would sow suspicion among their ranks.

“Bow before the Taesa!”

The aura of the Third Apostle surged momentarily before subsiding. The Cult Leader’s subtle restraint was evident.

The Seven Apostle approached quickly, linking her arm with his.

Her delighted expression bordered on madness, her crimson lips twisting into a grin of unrestrained ecstasy.

“I can’t wait to see the new martial art you’ll create. How long will it take? Hmm?”

Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing.

From the moment he awoke in her quarters to standing now in the grand hall of the Cult Leader, he had endured what no other would face, sharpening the blade of his resolve with each passing moment.

***

A soft laugh broke the tense atmosphere as the Blood Flame Cult’s Seventh Apostle casually lay on a nearby bed, her crimson single eye fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin. The Apostle’s lips curved in a faint smirk as she spoke.

“Changing the Blood Summoning Art is up to you, but... as for the Mara Roaring Blood Art, that one needs to fit me perfectly.”

She slowly rose from her relaxed position, her pale face brimming with an almost possessive intensity. She moved closer, her footsteps soft yet deliberate, and gently brushed Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair with her fingers.

Her touch was intimate, almost reverent, as if claiming something precious. Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin remained composed, even as he registered the unusual nature of the Blood Flame Cult's hierarchy and its intricacies.

“I’ll show you everything,” she whispered, her tone seductive and coaxing, “every movement of my energy, the pulse of my meridians, even the threads of my muscles creating my footwork.”

Her words lingered, an odd mixture of invitation and command. Jeong Yeon-shin, undeterred, replied with quiet defiance.

“Does the cult’s hierarchy permit such schemes? Acting behind your cult leader’s back?”

The Apostle laughed, her voice lilting with amusement. “The cult leader’s focus is on the Blood Summoning Art, not my Mara Roaring Blood Art. Small tweaks to the latter won’t cause the heavens to fall. But you...”

She suddenly grabbed his hair with a fierce grip, her crimson eye boring into his. “Will you truly refuse to create a unique martial art for me? How dare you?”

“Let go,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied coldly, his expression unchanging. “I was unraveling the lowly qi mechanics of your so-called Blood Summoning Art.”

The grip loosened immediately, and the Apostle stepped back, her face transforming into a mask of regret. “Ah... forgive me. I’ve disrupted your divine work.”

She caressed his hair apologetically, her actions oscillating between affection and obsession. Jeong Yeon-shin sighed internally, accustomed to her volatile temperament even after just a short time in her presence.

Rising to his feet, Jeong Yeon-shin’s calm gaze met hers. “I need to walk. Show me your footwork.”

Her face brightened instantly. “Gladly!”

Without hesitation, she clasped his sleeve lightly, her behavior now coy and eager. Jeong Yeon-shin resisted the urge to shatter her composure with his martial art. Instead, he carefully masked his thoughts and followed her lead.

Outside the Room

The pair emerged into the open, and Jeong Yeon-shin immediately sent qi into the Yongcheon acupoint at his soles. Despite the lingering foreign qi of the Blood Summoning Art that coiled within his meridians, his innate mastery allowed him to maneuver with ease.

Noticing his fluid movements, the Apostle’s lips curved in approval. “Such mastery... as expected.”

They moved swiftly, their figures weaving through the streets of the cult’s hidden settlement. Jeong Yeon-shin’s sharp gaze took in every detail, noting the intricate layout and unimpeded activity of the residents.

“Is this place hidden by a formation?” he asked, his voice cutting through the air between them.

The Apostle smiled, her expression almost proud. “Indeed. The Two Flame Blood Spirit Formation. You’ve never heard of it, have you? It’s the pinnacle of our cultivation, refined over centuries.”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind worked rapidly, his thoughts weaving through the implications of her words. He had suspected as much—a formation of such scale and precision could only be achieved through the Blood Flame Cult’s infamous mastery of sorcery.

"I’d like to take a look around the outskirts."

“You want to find a flaw, don’t you?”

The Seventh Apostle smiled knowingly.

For Jeong Yeon-shin, sorcery was not an unfamiliar realm. He had already created a martial art that disrupted Blood Qi. The fact that he could sense the aura of sorcery implied his heightened perception had begun to assimilate it.

Yet the Apostle, completely at ease, led him as though indulging a whim. Her demeanor suggested she derived pleasure from showcasing her movements under Jeong Yeon-shin’s discerning gaze.

“She underestimates me.”

Her mention of centuries of existence was not mere posturing. With a legacy spanning hundreds of years, the cult’s confidence in their sanctuary was deeply ingrained. A single intruder, no matter how gifted, posed no threat in their eyes.

Even the cult masters he had encountered in the cult leader’s hall had gazed at him as though he were some rare, exotic creature—a prize held securely in their grasp. That certainty stemmed, in part, from one thing: the Two Flame Blood Spirit Formation.

A barrier impervious to even his Exterminating Demon Azure River Art—a profound, natural sorcerous formation.

The Boundary

A faint hum filled the air as Jeong Yeon-shin reached the outskirts of the settlement. A curious distortion in the space greeted him, a mesmerizing phenomenon.

The outside world felt utterly disconnected, as if the area itself had folded inward. Yet the wind, unrestrained, moved freely in and out.

He focused, his natural qi senses sharpening, dissecting the vibrations emanating from the formation.

“They’re infusing energy?”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened as he identified the structure’s essence.

Rocks, grass, and trees—each element was saturated with qi, bound together in an intricate network. The arrangement wasn’t simply decorative; it created an extraordinary cloaking effect, rendering the village virtually invisible.

The entire area was shielded by a vast web of energy, a testament to the cult’s mastery of sorcery.

“So, this is how they sustain their sanctuary.”

A fleeting spark of inspiration coursed through him, a blue lightning bolt flickering through his mind.

Threads of lightning coiled and spun, forming a framework of radiant energy—a conceptual formula for qi manipulation began to crystallize in his thoughts.

Three disciplines intertwined in this revelation: Exterminating Demon Azure River Art, sword-based martial techniques, and the principles of formations. Together, they expanded, rotated, and grew more intricate with each passing moment.

Disguise and Deception

“Magnificent, isn’t it? An ancient barrier, unmatched through the ages. Does it make you feel insignificant, seeing how impenetrable it is?”

The Apostle prattled beside him, her tone triumphant.

Jeong Yeon-shin concealed the glint of understanding in his gaze, forcing himself to appear despondent. Slowly, he lowered his eyelids, feigning despair.

Her smug satisfaction only deepened.

“It’s a masterpiece. Even you, with all your talents, can’t escape its grasp,” she continued, utterly unaware of the storm brewing within Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

The faint glow of azure light threatening to leak from his eyes faded, sealed away as he crafted his next moves in silence. They may revel in their invulnerability now, but their hubris would be their undoing.

For now, he let her believe he had resigned himself to their control.

***

"So, this is why the Great Clans cannot be trusted!"

The gaunt figure of Hyeon Won-chang spat the words bitterly, seemingly oblivious to the presence of Wi Ji-myohwa from the Zhongnan Sect standing nearby.

Her expression mirrored his discontent, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"Namgung Clan... They’ve saved face, at least," Wi Ji Myo-hwa remarked. "By acknowledging the accomplishments of Seom-ye and rewarding you, Hyeon Won-chang, with the Spirit Elixir."

"If it hadn’t been for your intervention, they would never have given it to me! Isn’t that clear? Despicable wretches!"

"..."

The two had two clear objectives: to demand accountability from the Namgung Clan and to track down Ma Gwang-ik’s disciple, Seom-ye.

Wei Ji Myo-hwa, kept at a distance from Jeong Yeon-shin due to his sword-based martial arts, had witnessed everything. She saw the Namgung Clan’s inaction, even as Jeong Yeon-shin crossed the battlefield in a straight line to confront the clan's leadership.

No one moved to aid the young prodigy who had demonstrated such extraordinary martial arts.

They stood idle as the child swordsman, eventually defeated and cradled in the arms of an Apostle, was carried off into the night.

"Did they truly aim to kill a virtuous hero?"

Wei Ji Myo-hwa’s thoughts churned bitterly.

The Namgung Clan’s actions—or lack thereof—bordered on treachery. Relying on the enemy’s blade to rid themselves of a potential threat was a vile move, unworthy of the righteous path.

But what mattered now was saving Jeong Yeon-shin.

“Our sect has already sent out emissaries,” she said. “Reinforcements will arrive. The Zhongnan Sect never forgets its debts. We've also notified the Shaolin and Mount Hua Sects—they should respond in some form."

“That is... greatly appreciated,” Hyeon Won-chang replied, his reddened eyes betraying his struggle to contain his emotions.

Even now, twenty days after the Battle of Qingya Valley, his anger boiled over at every reminder of the event.

The two had scoured the region around the valley and nearby Ningguo before returning to Huizhou. Hyeon Won-chang, stationed at the provincial government office as a martial artist of Ipwang Fortress, had received word from his senior colleagues.

An Arrival

“There you are.”

It was Cheongmyeong who found them first, his expression colder than usual.

“I’ve heard the situation. Wait here. The martial world is coming.”

His tone was unyielding, his words as sharp as his demeanor.

Wei Ji Myo-hwa clasped her hands in respect and asked, “The martial world is coming? What do you mean?”

"Monks from Shaolin, led by So Shin-seung. Disciples of Mount Hua, including the Plum Blossom Sword Masters. We’ve also enlisted wandering martial artists authorized by local authorities in Nanjili, Huguang, Jiangxi, and Henan. Noble families of the martial world have been conscripted as well. The nation itself recognizes the threat of the Bloodflame Cult—none can refuse the call."

Cheongmyeong’s azure eyes met Wi Ji-myohwa’s unwavering gaze.

“You’re a successor of the Zhongnan Sect, aren’t you? If you wish to build a reputation, there’s no better stage. Make your efforts count.”

“But isn’t this a hastily assembled force?”

Hyeon Won-chang interjected, his tone measured but tinged with doubt.

“Even if we are fortunate enough to locate them, can we truly face the Blood Flame Cult? Their strength is overwhelming.”

His concerns were justified. Even with three orthodox sects joining forces, it would be but a fraction of their full strength. The addition of martial artists, officials, and wandering swordsmen would not bridge the gap.

When it came to Apostle-level combatants, the disparity was insurmountable.

Cheongmyeong shook his head slowly.

“That difference won’t matter.”

“What do you mean...?”

Hyeon Won-chang’s bewilderment was plain.

Cheongmyeong fell silent, his elegant features stiff with an uncharacteristic gravity.

Finally, he spoke, each word deliberate and heavy.

“The Lord of Ipwang Fortress is coming.”