Dokgun Tang Unhwang’s Mancheon Hwawu (Flowers of Steel Rain) tore through Gal Saryang’s body.
But it didn’t stop there. The downpour of steel flowers ripped into the remaining martial artists of the Thirteen Heavens.
At that moment, the true strength of Mancheon Hwawu was revealed—it was a calamity for those whose martial skill hadn’t reached a certain level. The technique swept through them all.
By that time, So Jinrang had already lost the will to fight under Jeong Yeon-shin’s grip.
For the first time as the heir of Sipjeonmun, he experienced a profound and chilling fear. His heart was stained with it.
He knew that escaping, even with ulterior motives, was his only option. As a scion of the martial underworld, survival came first.
And so, here he was.
A quiet breeze swept through a desolate mountain forest, rustling fallen leaves on the ground.
The sound of footsteps crunching dried foliage stopped just before So Jinrang’s face.
A crimson robe, dark and heavy in texture, fluttered faintly in the dim light. Standing before him was one of the Seven Apostles of the Bloodflame Cult.
Her pale face carried an air of detachment, devoid of the sly grin she had worn moments ago. Her gaze pierced into So Jinrang as she spoke.
“Do you think your twenty years could compare to even one year of that boy’s life? You ran your mouth without knowing a thing. Be grateful. Your lifespan has just been extended by half an hour, thanks to our Taesa’s boundless patience.”
Her slender fingers opened and closed idly, exuding a strange allure.
The irregular waves of colorless energy emanating from her joints sent a clear message: she could kill at any moment. The atmosphere wasn’t forced; it was terrifyingly natural.
So Jinrang knew this woman. She was notorious.
The Seventh Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult.
Born into nobility, they said she possessed innate mastery over Blood Qi, having reached her current status as an apostle at an age comparable to the post-advanced disciples of the orthodox sects.
Among the Bloodflame Cult's aristocracy, she was a prodigy favored by the heavens.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
Rumor had it her mother had died laughing moments after giving birth to her—a legend that felt disturbingly plausible.
The Seventh Apostle tilted her head slightly.
“Well, I suppose this is far enough. How should I handle you so that you’ll truly appreciate my devotion? I mean, to our Taesa. Hmm... no, he’d probably just despise me more the better I treat you. With those eyes of his, so radiant with talent... Ah? But that disdain, that would be thrilling too...”
Her words grew increasingly incoherent, at least to So Jinrang.
Could it be that the famed Heavenly Sword of Sipjeonmun wasn’t even worth her notice? This woman was clearly out of her mind.
“What on earth are you talking about...!”
Instinctively, he felt a surge of terror.
The Seventh Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult. She was not someone who would care about the reputation of a scion of the Thirteen Heavens.
And it seemed she had some connection to Jeong Yeon-shin, which made things even more incomprehensible.
Was this black-clad prodigy, considered the future of Ipwang Fortress, truly an acquaintance of the Bloodflame Cult's apostle?
It was then that a cascade of silvery white hair spilled into view behind the apostle.
The figure leaned into view from over her shoulder—a man whose presence had been utterly undetectable until now.
A breathtakingly beautiful man with striking white hair.
“Even with your mind steeped in impure desires, your internal energy is impressive. Seventh Apostle, you’ve brought quite the offering. My long journey was worth it after all.”
The man’s voice was smooth and melodious, yet it carried an inexplicable weight.
If he stood alongside the Seventh Apostle, he could only be another high-ranking figure of the Bloodflame Cult. Yet his words, invoking terms like “impurity” and “offerings,” felt oddly in place.
For So Jinrang, with his extensive knowledge of the martial world, the implications were chilling.
He knew the origins of the Bloodflame Cult.
It was said that its founder had borrowed extensively from the teachings of the Indian Theravāda Buddhism, modifying them to spread the cult’s influence far and wide.
“The Bloodflame Cult Master...?”
So Jinrang’s voice quavered. His lips trembled uncontrollably.
Anyone would have reacted the same way if they found themselves face-to-face with both the Seventh Apostle and the Cult Master in such an unremarkable mountain clearing.
They were calamities that emerged from the shadows.
“An offering? How vulgar.”
The Seventh Apostle’s tone was disdainful. She didn’t even spare the Cult Master a glance, her attitude far from reverent.
The Cult Master offered a faint smile, as if indulging a petulant child.
“You say that only because you haven’t yet experienced the sword of Ipwang Fortress’s lord. I should have taken precedence over the Yin energy emanating from that boy’s existence. After all, who in this world is more attuned to Yin energy than you and I?”
“Then why did you lose?”
“The nature of his martial prowess transcended the laws of elemental compatibility. Even without a divine ability to counteract regenerative techniques, his pure swordsmanship slaughtered many.”
His words were calm and antiquated, as if casually discussing the highest echelons of martial excellence.
So Jinrang shuddered once more, overcome by the gravity of the conversation.
The Cult Master and the lord of Ipwang Fortress.
Two titans of the martial world—the Bloodflame Cult, which spanned across the land, and Ipwang Fortress, the unshakable pillar of the northern Huanggwang Province.
Their clash had shaken the entire martial world.
The ripples of their battle didn’t merely capture the attention of martial artists; it also disrupted trade and commerce from Huanggwang Province to Southern Zhili. These were beings who stood as gods among men.
“Just what... what on earth...”
Even So Jinrang, the heir of Sipjeonmun, found it impossible to maintain his composure.
The Cult Master was a monstrosity in human form.
Even the faintest attention from him sent a haze over So Jinrang’s mind.
“The breathing technique I granted the apostles, Mara Absorption, will be necessary. Without it, I won’t recover. But the life force from this little demon’s elixirs will suffice. Now, I can fully reclaim my title as Cult Master. How convenient. Dealing with that pest Ma Yeonjeok was becoming tiresome.”
“Ma Yeonjeok? That decrepit old man?”
“Yes. His skill had returned to remarkable levels, but even that wasn’t the entirety of it. There was something else, something unsettling. My weakened body forced me to avoid him for a time, but I suspect our Taesa played some role. That precious boy seems to have altered the blood techniques significantly. We’ll have to handle him with care moving forward.”
“...”
“If we mishandle the Taesa, history will repeat itself. The lord of Ipwang Fortress would personally intervene again. It seems he cherishes that boy deeply. The last time he drew his Sword of Nirvana was during the annihilation of the Dairiguo royal family.”
“The lord of Ipwang cherishes him?”
The Seventh Apostle’s eyes narrowed.
The conversation between these maniacs was utterly incomprehensible.
The Cult Master didn’t bother answering. Running a hand through his silken white hair, he smiled faintly, his expression tinged with malice.
“Now that we’ve brought up the Taesa...”
“...?”
“Why did you fail to report it?”
His question was lethargic, but the sudden silence that followed was chilling.
A cold wind swept through the forest, accentuating the weight of the Cult Master’s words.
“I heard about the events at Myeonggondo, where the Taesa annihilated everything. Reports claim his martial prowess has reached the black rank. Given what I’ve heard of the events at Giju, it might be true. But, did the boy really kill my subordinates there?”
“...”
“Look at me.”
“Your eyes are hideous—too unnecessarily red.”
The Seventh Apostle’s casual retort caused the Cult Master’s lips to curl into a faint grin.
“Are you vying for my throne? That would be a captivating sight. With your noble bloodline, you’d be crowned the Trueblood Cult Master. Haven’t your achievements surged since receiving the altered technique from the Taesa? Perhaps taking my relics would allow you to advance further still.”
“Not particularly interested.”
“You should be. Who knows? Something could happen to me amidst all this turmoil. The world’s strength is rising. I heard the Overlord of Broken Swords killed the Celestial Sect’s headmaster.”
“The Celestial Sect's headmaster? Isn’t that the Scarlet Mist Swordmaster? The Overlord of Broken Swords took him on alone?”
“A natural-born prodigy turned hermit has emerged stronger than ever. His next target seems to be the headmaster of the Zhongnan Sect. After losing to them, he entered seclusion and returned with unparalleled enlightenment.”
So Jinrang’s eyes grew lifeless as he listened.
Standing there, it seemed a gust of wind could carry him to death’s embrace.
Before he realized it, the Cult Master had already grasped the top of his head.
“For now, we head to the Tang Clan. I will personally safeguard the Taesa Method.”
The Cult Master spoke languidly.
The Seventh Apostle said nothing.
She merely tucked her long black hair behind her ear and lowered her crimson eyes, as if lost in thought.
***
The events on the streets of Giju spread far and wide.
It was a rare spectacle of major martial factions clashing.
The alliances between the Ten Thousand Arts Sect, the Pure Demonic Union, the Abyssal Sovereign Hall, and the Tang Clan captivated the attention of the entire Sichuan martial world in an instant.
“Could such a young expert truly exist?”
“Hundreds witnessed it firsthand. While martial artists debate whether it was two or three exchanges, we common folk saw it as over in a single moment. The rumor is that Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin defeated the Pure Demonic Union’s Blade Demon in just one strike. They say he also killed the Pure Demonic Behemoth and the Sword Demon.”
“I heard he demonstrated the miraculous skill of the Tang Clan’s Ten Thousand Blossoms in Rain.”
“It’s said the Tang Clan plans to bring him in as a son-in-law and honor him as a master. Such a talent is unprecedented. Who would’ve thought someone so promising resided beyond the basin?”
“A black-clad master from the Abyssal Sovereign Hall, and he’s just a boy? It’s hard to believe.”
Alongside the return of Tang Unhwang, Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin’s name swelled larger with each passing day.
As the days went by, Giju grew even more boisterous instead of calming down.
Invitations from countless renowned families across Sichuan began arriving at the front gates of the Abyssal Sovereign Hall’s branch in Giju.
It was rumored that Jang Il-do, the Azure Rank master who governed the branch with such authority, hadn’t even stepped out for a walk as he was busy sorting through documents.
By then, Jeong Yeon-shin was already on his way to the Tang Clan.
After ensuring that So Jin-rang could leave safely and bidding a brief farewell to Tang Unhwang, he set out.
— "Our main family wishes to serve you with utmost courtesy."
Tang Unhwang had repeated this as Jeong Yeon-shin turned away.
He had sincerely requested that Jeong Yeon-shin visit again soon, stating that it would only be for a short time until he fully regained control of the family.
There was also a promise to prepare the Abyssal Blade for transformation into a divine weapon.
The reasons were twofold:
To counter the Ten Thousand Arts Sect and other major sects that had lost their senior masters, and to repay the Tang Clan’s master for his aid.
The Tang Clan was a sect skilled in medicine, poisons, and hidden weaponry.
This also meant they were proficient in forging and crafting, boasting a wide range of extraordinary armaments.
“He even mentioned looking forward to the elixirs.”
Thus, the journey to the Tang Clan began.
The cheerful faces of the Ma Gwang-ik seniors who waved him off remained fresh in his memory.
Even the rare warmth in the touch of Baek Mi-ryeo’s hand as she patted his head lingered.
As a senior adept in refined martial arts, she promised to later discuss the Heavenly Devil's Treasure Map.
The major sect leaders, including the remaining Gao Peng seniors, returned after pledging to meet again.
Though it wasn’t a perfectly clean departure, Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t dwell on it.
There were too many responsibilities left to address.
Most of the Phantom Wing Corps remained at the Abyssal Sovereign Hall’s Giju branch.
As their interim leader, he completed a report on their mission’s progress, treated his subordinates’ internal injuries, and departed.
He was now traveling with Hyeon Won-chang, Tae Yeom-ryong, and Namgung Hwa-shin, alongside the Tang siblings, on horseback.
“We’re almost there,” Tang Yuhwa said, steering her horse to ride beside Jeong Yeon-shin.
Despite her small stature, her skill in horseback riding was evident, as was that of her younger brother, Tang Ryeo-ryeo.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought back to the wrinkled face of the Grand Elder of the Tang Clan, who had stood silently beside Tang Unhwang.
His expression had been inscrutable, leaving an odd impression.
“A peculiar old man.”
Amidst the rhythmic sounds of galloping hooves, Tang Ryeo-ryeo’s horse edged closer.
“Eun Gong,” the girl said.
Her way of addressing Jeong Yeon-shin had changed since he had passed the Ten Thousand Blossoms in Rain to Tang Unhwang.
The boy turned his gaze slightly toward her.
Blushing with embarrassment, Tang Ryeo-ryeo hesitated to speak further, her small head bobbing slightly as her horse trotted.
Jeong Yeon-shin guessed the reason—it must have been something the Grand Elder had said.
“Don’t worry. I have no thoughts of marriage.”
He had already found himself at a crossroads in his dealings.
To enlist the Tang Clan’s aid against two factions of the Ten Thousand Arts Sect, arranging a political marriage with Tang Ryeo-ryeo would complicate matters unnecessarily.
It would lead him into a quagmire at best.
They had already spoken candidly about the Thunderbolt Bombs during their first meeting.
With a calm demeanor, Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze forward, his steady eyes fixed on the road ahead.
At last, the Tang Clan appeared.
In the distance, the sprawling tiled roofs of an enormous complex came into view.
“...”
As Tang Ryeo-ryeo fell silent, Tae Yeom-ryong interjected, lazily chewing on a poppy flower petal with half-lidded eyes.
“Let’s leave the Ten Thousand Arts Sect to the Tang Clan for now, Eun Gong. Afterward, we’ll only take the essence of what we need. Delivering the Ten Thousand Blossoms in Rain alone makes you their benefactor for a millennium. If they’re truly magnanimous, they’ll open up their forges. Then we can decide. If necessary, we’ll conduct a thorough search.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Namgung Hwa-shin chimed in, nodding gravely with his picturesque face.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s lips curled faintly into a smile.
Amidst the rushing wind, his words carried a clear and direct meaning.
“You’ve already slain the Pure Demonic Behemoth, the Sword Demon, and the Blade Demon in succession. Even the fact that you so effortlessly dispatched Gale Saber Gal Saryang is partly thanks to you. To compare you to the leader of the Eighteen Arhats of Shaolin Temple might finally be a worthy discussion.”
“...”
“Let’s take the divine weapons, elixirs, warm bedding, and exquisite delicacies—everything they offer—and leave. The fates of noble families, well, they can crumble as they will.”
“Brother Hwangbo isn’t wrong. You’ve fulfilled your duty, my lord,” Namgung Hwa-shin replied once again, his tone as impassive as before.
Their conversation unfolded in front of the Tang siblings.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s reputation for being unconventional held true, yet Namgung Hwa-shin’s words carried an unexpected weight, even in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.
Trailing slightly behind them, Hyeon Won-chang muttered under his breath.
“I suppose I’ll have to be the one to maintain some semblance of sanity.”
Half an hour later, the group arrived at the Tang Clan’s grand gates and dismounted.
The towering walls stretched endlessly in both directions.
The summer sun bathed the massive estate walls in bright light, a testament to power and wealth.
It was just as the rumors said.
The Tang Clan was renowned as the most opulent and grandiose estate in Sichuan.
Hyeon Won-chang glanced at the Tang siblings with newfound respect.
“You really are from an extraordinary family.”
Upon entering the Tang Clan’s inner courtyard, Jeong Yeon-shin was greeted with unprecedented hospitality.
Tang Yuhwa’s astonished gaze was telling enough.
“Master, we humbly greet you,” Tang Unhwang said, his voice brimming with joy.
Yet Jeong Yeon-shin could barely focus on him.
The sight of the Tang Clan’s masters standing in two lines, perfectly aligned as if performing a ritual, captured his attention.
Between the two rows lay a long, wide path leading to the high seats of the Tang Clan’s central hall, where Tang Unhwang and the elders awaited.
“....”
It was an overwhelming display of respect.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked down the path, received the Tang Clan’s hospitality, dined alongside Tang Unhwang, and humored the approaches of the Tang Clan’s younger generation and relatives.
Time passed slowly, yet the memories failed to imprint themselves deeply in his mind.
At some point, Jeong Yeon-shin looked up. The dusk had begun to settle.
The day’s sun, racing across the summer sky, left behind a breathtakingly beautiful horizon.
The heavens draped themselves in a serene glow, reminiscent of silk dyed in the soft hues of twilight.
At this hour, he would normally be curled up on a bed within his base, lost in solitude.
“It’s time,” Tang Unhwang said, rising gracefully.
Jeong Yeon-shin and his party, along with the Tang siblings, followed suit.
The group ventured deep into the Tang estate, toward its most secluded inner sanctum.
Standing to Jeong Yeon-shin’s left, Namgung Hwa-shin rested his hand on the hilt of his Abyssal Blade, his fingers tightening slightly.
They walked in silence, a calm broken only by the chirping of small birds that added a peaceful rhythm to the otherwise still air.
Eventually, they arrived at a modest yet elegant garden.
At its center stood an artificial rock formation atop a tiny lake.
Gentle mist rose faintly from the serene, circular waterway that wound around the formation.
The tranquility was palpable.
“Do you remember my earlier promise? To transform your sword into a divine weapon,” Tang Ryeo-ryeo said, stepping forward with a slight bow.
She gestured toward the water with a delicate motion.
“All you need to do is immerse your blade. Only one, though.”
“...?”
After a brief silence, Hyeon Won-chang spoke.
“Was the Tang Clan always a den of quack doctors? Are you seriously trying to sell us some elixir now?”
Realizing he had spoken his thoughts aloud, he quickly covered his mouth with one hand, startled.
Tae Yeom-ryong leaned toward Jeong Yeon-shin, whispering lightly.
“Whatever happens to the Phantom Wing Corps, let’s start by leaving this fool out of the plans.”
Without a word, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward.
Adjusting the dark hem of his robes, he carefully reached for the hilt of the Abyssal Blade and the Northern Light Sword, alternating between the two with a discerning touch.