"Seventh Apostle, would you kindly... accept this offering?"
A voice suddenly called out to the Seventh Apostle. She, who had been blankly gazing at the young Taesa, slowly turned her head.
Her crimson pupils lowered, her expression transforming into one of dull disinterest.
She briefly questioned, "An offering?"
"Yes, yes, most revered Seventh Apostle."
The speaker was a man with black hair streaked with red—a Bloodblade Guard of the Blood Flame Cult. Bowing deeply, blood smeared on his lips, he looked up at the Seventh Apostle.
At his feet lay a martial artist draped in a black cloak, sprawled lifeless. The unmistakable marks of teeth were visible on the victim's neck.
"......"
The Seventh Apostle silently stared down at the Bloodblade Guard. His youthful face, flushed with fervor, exuded reverence.
It was a familiar expression—one she had known since birth. Every cultist she had ever encountered looked upon her with that same awe, their faces reflecting the same devotion.
"The demonic essence of the Sunmaren seeds is a rare delicacy. Please..." the Bloodblade Guard began.
"You lunatic!"
Another guard shrieked, rushing forward using a light-foot technique. Without hesitation, he shoved down the back of the first guard’s head and urgently whispered into his ear.
"You insolent fool! Apologize a hundredfold for your presumptuous words! How dare you, a mere novice, offer such vulgar sustenance to the exalted one? The Seventh Apostle is refining the infinite essence of primordial blood into pure, transcendent energy. To suggest something as crude as consuming life essence is to insult her sublime martial path!"
"But wasn’t the Third Apostle said to have achieved her level of mastery through the Blood-Absorption Technique?"
"The Seventh Apostle is of the purest bloodline, rivaling even the Myeongjok! Her lineage is said to embody the sacred blood itself, so revered even by our cult's nobility! Recall the Sun Meridian she awakened in Je-nam—it was said her heat energy increased infinitely. The Seventh Apostle’s innate blood energy is akin to that!"
"Ah..."
"Blood absorption is not for one of her divine lineage. It is a charity granted to us lowly followers by the grace of the Cult Leader. How dare you defile the sacred lips of the Seventh Apostle with human blood and flesh? The pain and tribulations of the martial path are trials meant for us mortals alone!"
The Bloodblade Guard who had tried to offer the "offering" trembled violently. He immediately pressed his forehead to the ground.
"Please forgive my ignorance!"
His plea was desperate, his voice quivering with dread. Reverence, after all, was an emotion tainted by fear.
Every single follower of the Blood Flame Cult felt this way about the Seventh Apostle. Even the Bloodblade Guards, whose strength was said to rival those capable of conquering provinces, were no exception.
"Pathetic creature, stop making such a racket. There's a principle even in Mara’s Roaring Blood Technique about this. It just doesn’t apply to me."
The Seventh Apostle replied dismissively, turning her head once again. It was then that another guard stepped forward.
"Seventh Apostle."
This was the one who had stopped the earlier offering. Though her gaze flickered with irritation, he respectfully bowed.
"As per the Cult Leader's command, reinforcements from Ipwang Fortress have arrived here in Myeonggondo."
"Ah. Now I won’t have to expend so much effort producing sound. How convenient."
"Should I prepare a letter for the Cult Leader, then? It seems likely he will order a complete extermination. Shall I instruct the subordinates to hone their sword energy for the task?"
The Seventh Apostle gently shook her head.
"No, don’t. My Taesa made a promise to me—to create a martial art unique to me. What I’ve learned through the ordeal of the cult is this: even a Grandmaster must tread their martial path unwaveringly for divine techniques to emerge. My Taesa must live a long life in a suitable environment."
"...I don’t understand your meaning."
The guard’s expression was puzzled. Simultaneously, the Seventh Apostle’s lips curled into a faint smile.
"It’s fine. In the next life, you’ll understand."
Fwoosh!
A crimson, blade-sharp flower of energy bloomed, etching a menacing fragrance into the air. A bloodflower—symbolic of her sacred bloodline’s martial prowess—blossomed vividly.
The guard’s vision tilted.
The world seemed to slow, shifting as though reality itself dragged on. He slowly, oh so slowly, glanced down at his chest.
It was soaked in blood. Scarlet, as though drunken brushstrokes had carelessly splattered the crimson ink across his body.
He hadn’t even seen the strike. A blow unleashed from a realm far beyond his comprehension had claimed him.
He collapsed with a thud. The other guard, who had been groveling on the ground moments earlier, now lay headless beside him.
"Is this... complete eradication...?"
His lips moved soundlessly, his wide eyes losing their vitality.
"Perhaps the Cult Leader has grown sluggish after dealing with the Ipwang Fortress Lord? He seemed willing to listen to anything I said lately. Couldn’t even recognize a prank painting. Not that it would have worked properly, but... he must have thought I underestimated my Taesa’s uniqueness."
Her murmurs brushed against the ears of the dying guard like a taunt.
"The young Taesa’s martial will exceeded my expectations, I must say."
Her voice carried a faint trace of laughter.
***
The village of Chunryeok in Myeonggondo was engulfed in silence, a quiet so absolute it felt suffocating.
Only stillness prevailed in this place, where even the air seemed stagnant. It was a village devoid of life.
"Was it always like this?"
Jeong Yeon-shin doubted it.
He had reached the outskirts of the village, sensing the gathering of qi in a distant square. These were martial artists, the chaotic nature of their energy flows suggesting they belonged to either the Thirteen Heavens or the murky middle ground between righteous and unorthodox factions.
This was the entrance to the artisan city, Myeonggondo.
The group occupying Chunryeok, the first village, had taken control.
Even without seeing them, the deserted streets and homes spoke volumes.
Inside the picturesque houses, Jeong Yeon-shin could feel the frightened, shallow breaths of those cowering in fear.
They were enslaving the artisans who were said to forge the finest weapons under heaven.
The words of Jang Jong-myung, the blacksmith he had met at the entrance, echoed in his mind. The man had pleaded with him, as a disciple of the Ipwang Fortress Lord:
"Our city has countless commoners! Please, protect them!"
He had been right.
The further Jeong Yeon-shin walked, the clearer the distant sounds became—the crackle of a forge fire, the rhythmic hammering on anvils.
Even in this lifeless village, weapons were being made. The artisans were coerced into their work; it was impossible to ignore the force behind it.
Suddenly, a light breeze stirred, ruffling Jeong Yeon-shin's hair.
"Shall we handle this?"
Before he realized it, Tae Yeom-ryong was standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The heat from his Sun Meridian was evident, as his hands were stained with dried blood.
But he wasn’t alone.
To the side, Namgung Hwa-shin’s pristine azure robes billowed in the breeze. Behind them, the steadfast qi of Hong Jugeom radiated with determination. The faint sound of light footsteps followed as the elite of the Hwanikdae lined up behind Jeong Yeon-shin, ready to act.
They had swiftly annihilated the warriors of the Hyungchang Sect. The bloodstained scent of their weapons lingered in the air—none had yet sheathed their blades.
These were all seasoned warriors, veterans who had lived longer than Jeong Yeon-shin. They had sensed, just as he had, the lingering presence of the looters ruling over Chunryeok.
Even if their qi did not reach far, their experience led them to the same conclusion.
The intruders in Chunryeok, these scavengers from the unorthodox factions, were still here.
"Young Lord, your orders," Namgung Hwa-shin said.
The limitless energy of the Infinite Sky Sword Technique surged from her. More than just a display of her martial prowess, it was the indomitable spirit of a true warrior.
She had set aside despair over the plight of the villagers to focus on the task at hand.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
"Young Lord... did she just call him Young Lord?"
Hyeon Won-chang stammered in disbelief. He had never imagined witnessing such a scene. Namgung Hwa-shin, a prodigy who had conquered the Yongbong Gathering in the south, was treating Jeong Yeon-shin as her superior.
Was this even possible?
"I’ve been appointed as the temporary commander of the reinforcements," Jeong Yeon-shin explained briefly.
That alone left Hyeon Won-chang wide-eyed with shock as Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again, his voice calm and low.
"Eliminate them."
It was a simple command, but the consequences were anything but.
Those words heralded death for the looters remaining in Chunryeok. The elites of the Hwanikdae scattered in all directions.
Clang! Boom!
"Ipwang Fortress! Is Ma Gwang-ik still here?!"
"Stop! Stop this! In the name of my clan, I offer a truce—"
Schlick!
The clash of blades and the explosion of qi shattered the silence of the underground village. The stillness was replaced by the cacophony of battle.
"This can’t be..."
"The elites of the Ipwang Sword Corps..."
Martial artists from the Tang Clan and the Beggar Sect whispered in shock. From the nameless cliff near the Sichuan Tang Clan to this very scene in Myeonggondo, the carnage wrought by the Ipwang Fortress forces was overwhelming.
This wasn’t about Jeong Yeon-shin’s martial prowess alone.
It was the fact that a single word from him had mobilized the formal warriors of Ipwang Fortress—a feat few could believe.
And yet, no one could raise an objection.
The Hwanikdae’s actions were indisputably just.
Their strikes were precise, and their vengeance for the enslaved artisans of Myeonggondo was justified.
"Seomye... there’s no need to record his position further," Hugae thought.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s authority was undeniable. He had earned the unwavering loyalty of the Ipwang forces under his command.
How this had happened was a mystery even to Hugae.
"I’ll have to investigate. This isn’t just another prodigy with exceptional martial arts."
The chaos in Chunryeok raged on.
Hugae, the second most respected figure in the Beggar Sect, turned his gaze to the boy clad in deep azure robes.
There was something about him, an aura of innate dignity that Hugae had only felt in the presence of true heroes.
It wasn’t just the sight of Jeong Yeon-shin commanding the Ipwang warriors with a single word—it was the very essence of him.
"If the Martial Alliance is formed, he must be placed on the watchlist. He’s a threat."
Their eyes met briefly, and Hugae instinctively averted his gaze.
Half a shichen later.
At the entrance to Ha-ryeok, the next village, they gathered. The massive stone gate loomed, carved into the shape of a semi-circle.
The elites of the Hwanikdae had assembled the residents of Myeonggondo. The battle in Chunryeok had ended.
The blood of the looters stained the stone streets, flowing from the forges, houses, and squares they had occupied.
"Thank you, truly thank you!"
"We thought we’d become slaves... thank you so much."
The villagers, most of them short and frail, bowed repeatedly. At the forefront was Jang Jong-myung, the village chief of Chunryeok, who pressed his forehead to the ground.
Meanwhile, Hong Jugeom sought Jeong Yeon-shin’s permission to interrogate the captured enemies.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a quiet nod.
"I... I’ll talk!"
"Silence, you spineless wretch!"
The man who had shouted for silence lost his head in an instant, Namgung Hwa-shin’s blade drawing a perfect line. Not even a trace of blood remained in the air.
"It should’ve been me earning the credit," Tae Yeom-ryong grumbled as Hong Jugeom questioned the captives about their intentions.
Few martial artists truly walked the path of righteousness with conviction, and yet the answers came quickly.
"They say the Emanation of Bodhidharma is in Myeonggondo... in the form of a treasure relic."
"Bodhidharma’s emanation?"
The Tang siblings, who had been watching Jeong Yeon-shin closely, echoed the words.
It was understandable—emanation referred to one of the three bodies of the Buddha. In the martial world, it had come to represent a condensed core of qi or an inner relic left behind by a great master.
The mention of Bodhidharma’s emanation—a fragment of the profound energy the legendary figure had amassed in life—had even the most stoic Tang Clan martial artists perking up.
Jang Jong-myung, who had prostrated himself before Jeong Yeon-shin, now stood and spoke.
"So that’s what they were after."
"But how could such an ancient artifact still exist?" Tang Leryeo asked.
Jang Jong-myung glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin, who gave a nod of approval before he continued.
"It seems there were people even before the Iron Clan. They refined the crystallized fragments of profound energy. It must’ve been a craftsman of unparalleled skill, one rarely seen across the ages."
"You’re saying someone refined fragments of qi? But how could such a thing be possible?"
"The Tang Clan Leader might manage it, though it seems you’ve distanced yourselves from such matters. The concentration isn’t particularly high, but if smelted into a blade, it would become a divine sword. If consumed... who knows? It’s certainly a treasure worth coveting."
His expression turned bitter as he finished, as if no comforting words could come to mind.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze to the groove in the stone gate marking Chunryeok’s exit and Ha-ryeok’s entrance. He placed his palm on the stone.
"We’re moving on. Take care."
He bid farewell to the people of Chunryeok, including Jang Jong-myung.
"Whoever you are to lead the Ipwang warriors, you are as foolish as your youth suggests," a voice sneered.
It came from one of the captured enemies. The speaker was a middle-aged man, his chest scorched and flesh charred from Tae Yeom-ryong’s Sun Meridian.
His high-quality robes hinted at his noble origins.
"The key to the treasure relic in Ha-ryeok has been divided between the Ten Thousand Gates and Sunmaren. Tamper recklessly, and the stone walls will collapse."
His words carried an unusual weight. This was no ordinary man.
The Ipwang warriors, including Hyeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong, stared at him silently.
"I hold three-tenths of the map to the relic’s profound energy. Don’t think torture will work on me—I can withstand it. But... if you grant me one condition..."
Rumble—
A faint light seeped through as the gate began to open under Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand.