“As expected, no black-robed masters.”

Jeong Yeon-shin scanned his allies again. The unique, overwhelming energy of the black-robed masters was absent.

It was only natural. The central plains were vast, more extensive than the combined territories of over a dozen foreign nations. The scope was too much for even the seventeen military units of Ipwang Fortress to cover effectively.

On top of that, three of those units were currently stationed to monitor the Hwangbo Clan, leaving the fortress stretched thin.

Most of their forces were scattered across the central plains. Even the Master of the Divine Sword Corps rarely visited Ipwang Fortress itself, fulfilling their duties elsewhere.

Even if one or two black-robed masters had come, they would likely be containing the Apostles of the Blood Flame Cult who were not present here.

Blue-robed forces were abundant, primarily commanding martial artists drawn by honor and influence. They were currently locked in fierce combat with the cult’s main forces.

“Have you joined the Blood Flame Cult?”

The familiar cry rang out amidst the chaos. A young Taoist adept had rushed to the forefront, clad in a Mount Hua Sect robe embroidered with a plum blossom insignia.

“Yu Hyeon.”

It was Yu Hyeon, Jeong Yeon-shin’s close friend and the chief disciple of the Mount Hua Sect.

His demeanor exuded a strange nonchalance, even amidst battle. He hadn’t changed since the first day they’d met.

Wei Ji Myo-hwa, the successor of Zhongnan Sect, and So Shin-seung, the Shaolin monk, were also present.

The alliances from the Nine Sects had arrived, bringing their senior disciples. Jeong Yeon-shin instantly understood—they had come purely out of camaraderie and a sense of righteousness. They must have obtained special permission from their sect elders to participate.

“The disappearance of chivalry...”

The words of the Blood Flame Cult Leader resurfaced in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind, his claims of famine and despair. Jeong Yeon-shin silently shook his head.

Would he dare say such things if he truly knew these people?

Tap.

“These guys are pretty strong.”

Cheongmyeong’s agility stood out as he gracefully landed nearby, his blue robe of Ipwang Fortress fluttering in the wind.

He moved lightly, exuding effortless confidence.

Whoosh!

Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair swayed in the distinctive breeze of the Ming faction as Cheongmyeong clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. In this moment, no one seemed more reliable.

Wei Ji Myo-hwa and Baek Mi-ryeo arrived shortly after, strong gusts of wind marking their arrival. And they weren’t alone.

Yu Hyeon and five Plum Blossom Sword Masters. So Shin-seung and four extraordinary monks. Ten familiar masters from the Zhongnan Sect. And finally, Hyeon Won-chang.

Jeong Yeon-shin exchanged brief glances with some of them. There was no time for lengthy greetings.

“The Blood Flame Cult’s main base... it lives up to its reputation.”

One of the Plum Blossom Sword Masters muttered grimly.

The standoff had begun.

Jeong Yeon-shin and his martial allies stood in the center, surrounded by the core members of the Blood Flame Cult’s forces.

“They’ve intentionally opened up the space.”

Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

It was clear the Sixth Apostle and the Bloodblade Guards had a plan.

They seemed to have assessed the intruders’ martial prowess as the strongest and drawn them in for a decisive confrontation.

“The artifact of the Servant of Ipwang Fortress has been secured.”

Baek Mi-ryeo spoke.

“The issue now is how to escape. Who knows how long the Sovereign will take to kill the Cult Leader?”

As she spoke, her gaze swept over Jeong Yeon-shin’s body, clad in the Pureblood Robe. She seemed to be checking for injuries.

“Isn’t that guy an Apostle?”

Hyeon Won-chang belatedly exclaimed, pointing at the Sixth Apostle.

The elite martial artists who had arrived earlier had been watching him closely from the beginning.

Among the enemies, his qi was the most potent, radiating a palpable pressure. The stronger the martial artist, the sharper their senses, and the more they instinctively regarded him as a threat.

“Mount Hua, Zhongnan... Shaolin. The Nine Sects have joined us?”

The Sixth Apostle sneered. His sunken cheeks hollowed as he spoke.

“Are you so afraid of future consequences? Your forces are weak—no elders among you.”

No one answered his words.

The Blood Flame Cult was vast, its branch forces sometimes exceeding the strength of the main base.

The individual might of the First and Second Apostles was said to rival the leaders of major sects.

The relationships between the great sects and factions often fell into the realm of politics.

Even the Nine Sects and the Thirteen Heavens of the Martial Underworld carefully avoided open warfare unless absolutely necessary. A declaration of war between sects was rare and catastrophic, often ending with the annihilation of one side, as seen in the clashes between Zhongnan Sect and the Blade Specters.

Even for righteous sects, pragmatic concerns often outweighed ideals.

Swish.

The Bloodblade Guards advanced, forming their lines with practiced precision. Their collective momentum exuded a suffocating sense of pressure.

The battle was moments away from erupting.

Perhaps due to the tension, Hyeon Won-chang’s voice suddenly broke through.

“Why do these Bloodblade Guards seem so strong?”

It was a secret transmission. Jeong Yeon-shin replied immediately.

“Because they are.”

He had spent a long time at the cult’s main base, training and sparring with many of its members.

Numerous Blood Demons had been sacrificed to the cult, many of them martial artists. Among them, the Bloodblade Guards who consumed their energy were exceptionally strong.

“There’s a prison where victims are held. We need to win to save them.”

Jeong Yeon-shin had arranged for one of the prisons to be under his jurisdiction, ensuring the safety of those who had been spared as tributes.

Hyeon Won-chang’s expression shifted. He tightened his grip on his sword, exuding a sharp, deadly aura.

Jeong Yeon-shin raised his internal energy again.

He focused on the Inyeong Point on either side of his throat and the Yeomcheon Point above his larynx, channeling qi into these critical areas.

“We can kill all the Bloodblade Guards.”

This message was sent to Baek Mi-ryeo.

“Will you cover me?”

“...You’re a blue-robed warrior on a long-term mission. You deserve respect.”

Baek Mi-ryeo adjusted her expression from curiosity to calm as she answered.

The enemies were closing in. While the masters from the Nine Sects guarded all sides, elite martial artists from the cult scrutinized Jeong Yeon-shin carefully.

Woong!

Jeong Yeon-shin activated the Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy.

The flowing, blue-tinted energy was different from before, radiating an unusual resonance.

The Sixth Apostle seemed to notice first, but by then, Jeong Yeon-shin was already unraveling the mysteries of the Swordstorm Arc through the Subjugation Energy.

Woong!

It was an advanced technique that channeled outward qi into the energy blade, but this time it wasn’t just sound—it was infused with spiritual power.

The energy spread throughout the cult’s main base. The carefully embedded force Jeong Yeon-shin had planted during his thirty-six cycles of observation began to awaken.

One by one, the stored energies resonated. The entire base echoed with the sound.

The Sixth Apostle moved first, his body flashing with terrifying speed.

Boom!

Shards of marble exploded in all directions.

Shaolin monks, led by So Shin-seung, intercepted him, exuding a unified and overwhelming aura.

For a brief moment, the image of a Buddha appeared—an embodiment of internal energy made manifest.

The Eighteen Arhats Formation, typically requiring eighteen monks, was deployed by only five.

“The Buddha’s will descends upon your head!”

So Shin-seung, at the center, deflected the Sixth Apostle’s punch with his martial techniques, unleashing the Shaolin Dragon Fist.

Even so, he was pushed back. Letting out a deafening roar, So Shin-seung’s companions amplified his force with synchronized strikes.

The sheer power of Shaolin was staggering.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt grateful.

With Cheongmyeong, Baek Mi-ryeo, and Hyeon Won-chang near him, he could sense their presence protecting him.

The trust they showed warmed him unexpectedly.

Clang! Boom!

The clash of masters resonated like drumbeats on his skin, the vibrations fully palpable.

The martial masters on both sides were in utter chaos.

“This battle can’t last long.”

Jeong Yeon-shin thought. The sheer scale of the conflict and his months of meticulous preparation ensured that.

A faint ripple of qi spread outward in concentric circles, centering on his right hand, which glowed faintly with the energy of Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy.

The reaction was immediate.

Woong!

Starting from the railing of the thirty-six steps, the force of spiritual energy exploded outward.

Even with his eyes closed, Jeong Yeon-shin could sense the impact.

“Ugh!”

Two Bloodblade Guards faltered, their rhythm disrupted. They had been dueling Plum Blossom Sword Masters on the steps.

In the instant of their lapse, one Sword Master’s blade flashed, severing an enemy’s neck.

“What just happened?”

The victorious Sword Master muttered in disbelief.

It was just the beginning. Similar incidents began occurring all over the battlefield.

The cultists' defeats multiplied rapidly. The source of the disruption was clear.

Amid the bloodshed and the Sixth Apostle’s rampage, both allies and enemies started extending their senses toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

Step by step, he began ascending the thirty-six steps.

Step.

Climbing steadily, he moved peacefully under the protection of his comrades.

No enemy could approach him. The resonance of the Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy intensified with every step.

Woong!

With each movement, the force grew stronger. The long-prepared Purification Bloom had reached its peak.

Throughout the cult’s main base, carefully embedded energies detonated in succession.

Jeong Yeon-shin ascended to the top of the thirty-six steps, the final step of Bunnoe. Opening his eyes, he stood where the Cult Leader had once lorded over all.

Lifting his foot to take the final step, he felt a burning sensation in his mind as the energy in his upper dantian consumed his thoughts, turning them white-hot.

Boom!

He stomped his foot.

That was the trigger.

Wooooong—!

A pale blue light began to ripple outward in waves.

The Dual Blood Spirit Array transformed into a purification formation against demonic energies.

Even the remnants of the shattered array, dismantled by the Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress, were altered.

The energy of Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy, embedded across the cult’s stronghold over countless days, surged forth like a tidal wave.

Starting from the railings, it spread to the steps, rooftops, and beyond, triggering a chain reaction of explosions.

Screams echoed throughout the Blood Flame Cult’s headquarters, turning the battlefield into chaos.

The cries were those of the Blood Demons. Their pain filled the air, raw and visceral, painting the sky with agony.

In an instant, the cult’s stronghold was plunged into a hellscape. The cultists writhed as if they had fallen into the unrelenting grasp of Acala, the Immovable King of Wrath.

“Ugh, h-huk!”

“What... what is this?!”

The devastation was most intense in the Cult Leader’s hall.

Those struck directly by the layered spiritual waves collapsed where they stood, dying swiftly.

Those who staggered found themselves cut down by the righteous sects’ swords, their fates equally grim.

Compared to the aura of menace they had displayed at the start of the battle, their demise seemed almost pitiful.

The phrase "Exterminate evil" was harsh and merciless. The righteous martial artists treated the demonic cultists with unrelenting brutality.

Yet the dying cultists in the inner sanctum did not look at their executioners. Even as they perished, their eyes were fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin, standing atop the steps.

The young Taesa.

His jet-black hair, falling to his shoulders, rippled in the waves of energy, and his eyes gleamed like sunlight dancing on the surface of the sea.

He stood with one hand extended downward, surrounded by an even deeper blue radiance.

The sacred, undulating blue light merged with the crimson robe of the Pureblood Mantle he wore, creating an uncanny yet awe-inspiring sight.

“That accursed boy...!”

“A demon... has entered our ranks.”

“How can someone so base exude such... such noble grace...?”

“If only he had truly embraced his role as the Taesa...”

The righteous martial artists were no different. Even as they ended the cultists’ lives, their eyes turned toward the Servant of Ipwang Fortress.

The original plan had been different. The goal was to hold out against the onslaught of the Apostles and other senior cultists.

Their trust had rested on the Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress and her unmatched might.

They had expected heavy sacrifices. But it had been unnecessary.

The reality seemed surreal. The young genius from Ipwang Fortress, taken prisoner, had single-handedly shifted the tide of battle.

“What on earth is happening...?”

“Hey! The cultists are committing suicide!”

“No, it’s not suicide. This is... a method of the orthodox sects.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like it. Who in the world could have—”

The martial artists gathered from various regions muttered among themselves. Among them were blue-robed warriors of Ipwang Fortress.

Those who had arrived from the outskirts stopped in their tracks upon witnessing the spectacle on the thirty-six steps.

Silence fell briefly.

Even as seasoned warriors with keen senses, they could clearly feel the spiritual waves emanating from the boy in the Pureblood Mantle at the top of the stairs.

At some point, only one enemy remained.

The Sixth Apostle.

His blood-soaked fists dripped red, having crushed several masters from the Nine Sects. Yet that was all. The battle had naturally come to a halt.

“Has Vairocana descended upon us…?”

The Sixth Apostle sighed. His words were uncharacteristic of a cultist.

“You’re not the Taesa... you’re the Servant of Ipwang Fortress. We should never have—”

“The Apostles.”

Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted him, speaking slowly.

“You all talk too much. Every one of you.”

He raised his hand, still infused with the energy of the Purifying Azure Subjugation Energy.

The spiritual waves, still rippling and distorting without end, seemed to speak for him: there was no room for words.

The supreme formation of purification was on his side. He could endure.

“But it’s exhausting.”

His body said otherwise.

The backlash of the energy storm was overwhelming his upper dantian. His head felt as though it were caving in.

He forced himself not to show it.

The Shaolin monks who had countered the Sixth Apostle’s attacks were in tatters.

Now, only Jeong Yeon-shin remained capable of combating the cultists.

“Hah.”

The fleeting despair on the Sixth Apostle’s face vanished.

Gone were his greed and dogma. Instead, there was a glimmer of pure fighting spirit.

“Even if it’s just your head—”

BOOM!

Before he could finish, his entire body exploded into fragments. The sheer force of the ensuing shockwave swept away even the shards of his remains.

Step.

A woman descended lightly, as if her feet were flower petals brushing the ground.

She stood beside Jeong Yeon-shin.

“Sovereign!”

Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, bloodied and battered, immediately prostrated themselves.

Hyeon Won-chang, though late, also dropped to his knees.

The warriors of Ipwang Fortress present in the hall bowed in reverence.

Many other martial artists followed suit, either kneeling or cupping their hands in salute.

Their faces displayed a mix of awe and terror, reflecting the Sovereign’s transcendence.

“Sovereign...”

Jeong Yeon-shin barely managed to speak. His entire body suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

The burden he had been barely holding back came crashing down like a dam bursting.

With effort, he turned his head slightly.

Their eyes met.

Her deep green eyes shimmered like sunlight filtering through leaves as she gazed at him. The sight was dazzling.

Perhaps it was her transcendent mastery. It was always this way when he faced the Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress.

Her presence felt like the touch of grass brushing against his senses, a dreamlike caress that swept over him.

She slowly parted her lips.

“Your position will change.”

Her voice seemed to echo from a distance. He wasn’t sure when his eyelids had closed, but his vision darkened, as though he were drifting into a dream.

“I permit you a long rest. Sleep well.”

Rustle.

A soft fabric brushed against his cheek.

His body, which had been tilting, stopped.

Was he being held? The Sovereign had spoken of rest. Perhaps he would wake again in Ipwang Fortress.

He didn’t care for the idea of being transported.

“If only she had granted me even a fragment of the fruit...”

Just a single piece.

Even that desperate, fleeting thought began to dissipate.

He sank into a deep, crushing abyss, unable to resist.

The blade of his resolve, honed by his arduous journey through the martial world, finally dulled.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought it would be only for a moment.