The Lord of Ipwang Fortress stood outside the formation. Yet her presence was unmistakable.

Her gaze seemed to brush past, neither directly meeting his nor entirely avoiding it. For a fleeting moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt her eyes lock onto his, only for the connection to dissolve as quickly as it had formed.

It was deeply unsettling.

Why would she come all this way only to ignore him?

She remained perfectly still. Sunlight danced along the delicate curve of her slightly tilted chin.

A silence heavier than words settled between them. Her head did not turn back.

The quiet surrounding him began to twist into unease.

Could it be? Did she truly fail to perceive him?

It was an unthinkable possibility.

Though the Dual Blood Spirit Array was said to transcend human understanding, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress was a supreme master of the martial world, her very existence imbued with transcendence.

“There’s no way she could be deceived by this formation.”

For the first time, Jeong Yeon-shin’s composure faltered.

Even within the heart of the Bloodflame Cult’s main base, he had remained calm. This time was different. He couldn’t suppress the turmoil within him.

Then it happened.

—There is more to be gained. I grant you a day.

A whisper, soft as a breeze, caressed his ear.

Rustle.

The moment she stepped forward, the world seemed to shift.

In an instant, she vanished. Leaves swirled like petals caught in a storm, but there was no trace of her—no sign she had ever been there. She disappeared like a sudden gust of wind, leaving behind nothing.

“…”

Her presence had been undeniable. Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t doubt the sharpness of his heightened senses.

His briefly wavering eyes steadied, calm returning to him at an extraordinary pace.

“I grant you a day.”

The words, spoken by someone clad in a blue martial robe, lingered in his mind, soothing the relentless tension he had carried during his journey here.

He could leave.

“What I saw and heard was real.”

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress had been here. That much was certain.

But her words were strange.

She seemed to imply that he should take what could only be obtained within the Bloodflame Cult.

Had she sensed his mastery of the Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique?

Perhaps she had even discerned how he had infused Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy into the formation’s mechanisms.

“There is more to be gained?”

Jeong Yeon-shin let go of his concerns about Go Jong-hak’s shadowing.

The whispered words of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress lingered in his ears like an echo. Slowly, they led him into contemplation.

What more could he gain?

His thoughts deepened, consuming him. The crimson robes draped over his body reflected the fading hues of the distant sunset as the question loomed over him.

***

The day quickly changed. Jeong Yeon-shin barely registered how he had slept.

Emerging slowly from the house where he had been left alone after the Seventh Apostle’s departure, he couldn’t shake the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s words from his mind.

“Would mastering the complete formulas of the Blood Cultivation Core yield something? Or is there something to be gained from the cult leader?”

Lost in thought, he moved with purpose toward his destination.

That morning, a message had arrived: an invitation to a banquet.

Even in the Bloodflame Cult, life bore traces of normalcy. Jeong Yeon-shin had learned this thanks to Go Jong-hak, the son of the Third Apostle.

The cultists were rife with jealousy and rivalry, and the cult, with its substantial power, enjoyed lavish feasts.

Most of these banquets, however, involved blood and corpses.

But this was the first time he had received a formal invitation, with the cult leader mentioned directly. He had no choice but to attend.

It was far from an ordinary event.

“Yesterday, Go Jong-hak was following me.”

He must have noticed signs of someone passing outside the formation—or perhaps even caught a glimpse of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Despite Jeong Yeon-shin’s status as a mere prisoner, the Bloodflame Cult had given him remarkable freedom.

They justified it by claiming it was to safeguard the Taesa’s inspiration, but the extent of their leniency was peculiar.

Judging by his treatment alone, one wouldn’t think of the cult as unorthodox.

“Today will be the last. Perhaps I’ll learn the reason.”

Jeong Yeon-shin walked slowly. The dazzling lights of ornate lanterns were already coming into view.

“The Wave Gate (Parangmun), was it? The techniques of that gate master’s son were quite sharp.”

“I cut down his younger sibling. His energy tasted decent, but his blood wasn’t worth much.”

The banquet was being held in the inner courtyard of the cult leader’s hall.

The attendees were many, typical of unorthodox sects.

They greeted one another, discussed their blood techniques and cult doctrines, and boasted of their exploits from sect raids aimed at absorbing qi.

The ferocity of their energy and the madness in their words created the chaos unique to the unorthodox factions.

“We welcome the arrival of the Taesa! It’s an honor that you accepted our family’s invitation to this banquet!”

Go Jong-hak stepped forward to greet Jeong Yeon-shin, his tone feigning respect. Yet his lips bore the faint trace of a sneer.

“Taesa?”

“That stray dog from Ipwang Fortress is here?”

“He’s yet to show any tangible results, hasn’t he?”

“It’s too early to call him great.”

The banquet was attended by the cult’s leadership. Unlike ordinary cultists, their manner was far more unrestrained, and they made no effort to conceal their qi.

From the moment Jeong Yeon-shin arrived, he felt it. He had no allies here.

But he didn’t feel alone.

It was as if the soft presence of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress enveloped his entire being. It had been this way since the previous night.

“Pay no mind to the words of those who know no better,” Go Jong-hak said, his expression betraying satisfaction as he guided Jeong Yeon-shin to a seat of honor.

“This is where they’ll humiliate me,” Go Jong-hak thought.

For a month, Taesa Seom-ye had wandered the cult’s grounds under the pretext of seeking inspiration for his techniques.

The notion of someone refining martial techniques was unimaginable to ordinary people, but the cult had treated him with the respect due to a Taesa while allowing him such freedom.

Even with the protection of the Dual Blood Spirit Array, his behavior had been excessive.

Naturally, this had irked the cult’s higher-ups, and then yesterday happened.

Go Jong-hak had seen it clearly.

He was certain, even from a profile view, that someone from the Ming Clan had approached the Dual Blood Spirit Array before vanishing.

He couldn’t track the presence, but it was undoubtedly an extraordinary master.

He immediately reported to his father, the Third Apostle, that the Taesa had been there.

“For someone from the Ming Clan to possess such supreme skill… they may have abilities beyond our comprehension.”

The Ming Clan, a pillar of Beijing’s imperial faction, had long been enemies of the Bloodflame Cult. Their clashes were frequent, filled with strange martial arts and mysterious events.

It was possible they had used their unique abilities to communicate with the Taesa.

The Third Apostle conferred privately with the cult leader, and the banquet was promptly arranged.

The thirty-six steps leading to the cult leader’s hall symbolized his authority.

The stairs were impressively wide, large enough to host luxurious seating on each level with room to spare.

“Isn’t this an unusually grand banquet for the main base?”

“Enjoy yourself. Banquets like this usually result in one of the cult’s stars falling.”

The murmurs were correct. Such banquets often became a stage to question or disgrace a member of the cult’s leadership.

It was the perfect opportunity.

“The position of sub-leader? Ridiculous.”

Go Jong-hak’s lips curled upward as he clasped his hands together and spoke.

“This banquet was humbly requested by my family to honor the cult leader. It occurred to us belatedly that we should show the Taesa a proper seat of honor. We lacked time to provide earlier notice and hope for your understanding.”

His deferential posture and regretful expression seemed genuine. His broad, chiseled face carried an air of sincerity.

Jeong Yeon-shin, quietly observing him, faintly smiled.

Around Go Jong-hak’s neck hung a small jade ornament.

The Antidote Pearl (Pidoju).

He had heard Go Jong-hak boast of it before.

A rare treasure owned by only a select few among the cult’s leadership, it was a gift from the Third Apostle to his son.

It was said to neutralize most poisons instantly.

“This will come in handy when I use the cult leader’s blood poison.”

Fixing his gaze on the Antidote Pearl, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke nonchalantly.

“I’m grateful for the invitation.”

His lack of presence contrasted starkly with his earlier arrival. Go Jong-hak noticed the subtle shift and caught the reaction of those around them. Many, who had been on edge, now seemed disappointed.

“Because the Seventh Apostle has departed, perhaps?”

“Was he truly just a useless freeloader?”

The words exchanged would have been unthinkable in the righteous martial world or Ipwang Fortress.

No one intervened.

Even the cult leader, seated above, remained expressionless, merely observing from his elevated position.

“The ones we’ve been waiting for are here. I will deliver the opening address,” the cult leader said, his voice low.

Instantly, silence fell. There was no need for him to infuse his voice with qi to command attention.

Jeong Yeon-shin realized it acutely—there wasn’t a single non-expert in the banquet hall.

The unorthodox masters’ extraordinary senses seemed to encompass the entire inner courtyard of the cult leader’s hall.

“You are the pillars of this cult. A time will come when your extraordinary talents shine through unwavering conviction. We have brought the Taesa into our fold to blacken the vision of the foolish masses. He will refine the Blood Cultivation Core and cleanse the hypocrisy of the world. Now, let us raise a cup.”

The cult leader, with long, delicate fingers, caressed his cup, lifting it slowly to his lips and taking a sip.

Only after he drank did the masters below follow suit, raising their own cups.

“This is Du Kang Wine. I hear the Taesa hails from Henan. Are you familiar with it?” Go Jong-hak asked with a small smile from the adjacent seat.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

He vaguely remembered hearing that his father had enjoyed the drink at gatherings in the Jeong family manor, but he had never shared a cup himself.

It was renowned as one of Henan’s finest wines, said to have been favored by Emperor Cao Cao.

“This banquet… the meaning of the wine feels strange.”

The rich aroma of Du Kang Wine filled the banquet hall.

As the cult leader continued drinking, the room’s tension rose. It felt as though he was consuming Cao Cao’s ambitions with each sip.

Everyone sensed it—blood would soon spill down the stairs. Banquets held before the cult leader’s hall always carried such implications.

“Go Jong-hak.”

The cult leader spoke, tilting slightly as his smooth white hair shifted.

His gaze brushed briefly over Jeong Yeon-shin, and his unnaturally red lips curled faintly.

“Yes, Cult Leader.”

Go Jong-hak quickly stepped forward and bowed low, pressing his head to the ground.

Though prostrated, his broad back radiated a peculiar pride.

The cult leader spoke.

“Interrogate him.”

“I obey.”

Go Jong-hak rose immediately and turned, his direction clear. At the end of his gaze was Jeong Yeon-shin.

“Predictable.”

Jeong Yeon-shin thought, deciding he had no patience for this.

“There’s no time.”

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress had given him a day. The Seventh Apostle had confirmed that martial artists from three major sects, along with regional forces, had gathered.

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress had broken through the Dual Blood Spirit Array yesterday to send him a telepathic message.

By today, the formation would shatter, and martial artists would flood the Bloodflame Cult’s main base.

As Go Jong-hak cleared his throat, seemingly preparing for a grand speech, Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted.

“To summarize,” Jeong Yeon-shin began, “there has been no progress on the refinement of the Blood Cultivation Core, and amidst this, enemies targeting the main base have brushed past the formation.”

“…”

“A prisoner from Ipwang Fortress was named Taesa at an inconvenient time. Naturally, you question my willingness to cooperate.”

“…The Taesa’s words are not incorrect,” Go Jong-hak admitted, feigning casualness as he clasped his hands behind his back.

But before he could speak further, Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head toward the cult leader.

“This banquet was arranged at the request of Go Jong-hak and the Third Apostle, correct?”

“Speak,” the cult leader replied, his expression smooth as he gestured for Jeong Yeon-shin to continue.

“I am deeply displeased. If I prove my worth here, may I claim a treasure from the Go family’s collection?”

“Impudent.”

The Third Apostle muttered from his seat just below the cult leader, but Jeong Yeon-shin ignored him.

“If I fail, you may take my head.”

The cult leader responded with a dangerously seductive smile, his voice laced with eerie charm.

“I intended to ask you about your progress eventually. Very well, I agree.”

The atmosphere grew tense and strange. A wager involving life and death was always a thrill, no matter the era.

Though Jeong Yeon-shin’s designation as Taesa was unusual, none of the senior members regarded him as legitimate.

Unlike the ordinary cultists, they wielded the authority of lineage established over decades.

Their deference was inherently two-faced. No matter how exceptional his talents, Jeong Yeon-shin was seen as either a pawn or a sacrificial tool.

Now was the time to determine the usefulness of this agent from Ipwang Fortress, whom they had allowed such freedom.

“Come here.”

Jeong Yeon-shin gestured to a servant, a low-ranking cultist.

The red-haired servant approached cautiously, unable to defy the Taesa’s order.

“Sit and channel your energy.”

The servant immediately crossed his legs and closed his eyes, his posture exuding blind faith.

He appeared almost indifferent, as if even his death wouldn’t matter.

“…”

The banquet hall fell silent as an impromptu meditation session unfolded.

Without a word, Jeong Yeon-shin bent slightly, placing his hand gently on the servant’s back and channeling his blood technique.

It had been a month since his arrival at the main base. In that time, he had made subtle adjustments to the formulas of the Blood Cultivation Core.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s qi flowed into the servant’s body.

The reaction was immediate.

“What…?”

“Is that…?”

A miracle. Something unprecedented in the history of the Bloodflame Cult was occurring.

The servant’s fiery red hair rapidly darkened, turning jet black.

In mere moments, centuries of tradition in the Blood Cultivation Core had been altered.

The senior cultists, who had earlier thrown countless taunts his way, swallowed their astonishment in silence.

The transformation took only seconds.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly withdrew his hand.

The servant touched his now-black hair, which fell to his shoulders, his once stoic expression breaking into disbelief.

“Taesa, Taesa! Have I truly witnessed a miracle within my body…?”

Trembling, the servant’s voice cracked.

Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t looking at him.

He couldn’t fully grasp the meaning behind the Lord of Ipwang Fortress’s words.

If so, all he could do was take whatever he could before the martial artists descended on the cult that day.

Turning his gaze, Jeong Yeon-shin locked eyes with Go Jong-hak.

Perhaps the blood of the Bloodflame Cult truly flowed differently.

For the first time, he saw someone’s face turn genuinely pale. Even his hands, once clasped behind his back, hung limply at his sides.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly.

“The Antidote Pearl hanging from your neck.”

Woosh!

At that moment, he deliberately activated Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique. His crimson robes fluttered as if alive.

A sinister wave of energy spread, enveloping his entire body.

“Present it to me. Now.”

The young Taesa of the Bloodflame Cult had spoken.