CHAPTER 63

Jung Yeonshin bluffed.

Even he thought he had made a fairly impressive display, but that was the end of it.

He had performed feats that far exceeded the limits of martial arts. He had already reached his limit.

'This is hard.'

It felt like he had stuffed his body with wet rags.

His once-light body now felt sluggish, as if weighed down.

The Sword Song techniques demanded a heavy price.

The exhaustion in his upper dantian was severe. It had been the same at the Hwangbo branch in Pingyin County.

Could he properly execute the prepared sword techniques? He wasn't sure.

He hadn't given much thought to what would come after entering the battlefield.

He had done more than enough.

If the martial experts of the Namgoong family weren't just scarecrows, they would do something. That was the natural expectation.

This was a clan that had earned the recognition of the righteous sects of the world and even hosted the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.

He had thought they would be different from the Hwangbo clan. His impression of Namgoong Hwashin, the White Qilin he had met in Desolate Fortress, had also left a strong impact.

Yet they did nothing.

'Are they just observing?'

Were they wary of the Blood Flame Cult's leadership? He couldn't guess the reason.

It was a difficult situation. Even in Jianghu, it was rare to face enemies in an optimal state.

One of the Blood Master Swordsmen spoke.

"Pathetic. Die."

The other didn't even speak. Both of their arms moved.

With thunderous blasts, their right hands disappeared and reappeared instantly. It was a flawless throwing technique.

Whoosh!

The thunder bombs hurled by martial experts surged forward, now entering the domain of martial arts.

They tore through the air like lightning.

It was when Jung Yeonshin gripped the sword energy of the Desolate Sword tightly.

Swish!

Black hair fluttered in front of him. For a moment, Jung Yeonshin thought it was Wei-Ji Myohwa.

It wasn't.

This person exuded an aura completely opposite to the pure energy of the Zhongnan Sect.

Scarlet sleeves fluttered with an odd elegance.

He hadn't even heard her approach. The technique appeared seamlessly, like a gentle breeze.

The apex-level technique of merging energies and forces revealed itself.

The two thunderbolts grazed her white hands and suddenly shot upward. She had perfectly deflected them.

Even with their abrupt change in direction, the movement seemed natural.

The woman who had intervened turned her back, extending her palm upward.

At the same time, a massive surge of energy erupted explosively from her palm.

Boom!

The thunder bombs exploded mid-air. It happened in an instant.

"Apostle."

The Blood Master Swordsman retreated in the middle of the battlefield. They didn't question the woman who had blocked their attack.

She didn't respond and simply turned around.

"As expected."

She smiled.

Her pitch-black hair rippled in the aftershock of the explosions.

Her eerily pale, beautiful face didn't matter.

She wore a black eye patch over one eye, while her other eye gleamed crimson like a pomegranate.

An Apostle. It was said that one's blood mastery could manifest in the eyes at such an advanced stage.

"I knew it when I faced your dharma martial arts before."

Her black hair cascaded like the night sky, and her single red eye shone with energy. The Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult spoke.

"I felt it through my senses. There was something raw that emerged in that moment, but I thought it didn't make sense. Then I reviewed your actions and witnessed your strange sound techniques."

Her lips, stained like they had been dipped in blood, curled upward.

"You've inherited the qualities of a great master? To a ridiculous degree."

Her casual tone remained unchanged, but her words were far from light.

The Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.

She had faced the Squad leader of Desolate Fortress head-on.

It was clear she had embodied techniques like Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown or Five Energies Returning to Origin throughout her body.

He couldn't even imagine how sensitive her senses were.

Her smile felt chilling.

Finally, the enemy had realized it. She had completely deduced Jung Yeonshin's potential.

In the end, someone had emerged who fully understood the uniqueness of the Lightning Genius from Thirteen Heavens.

'This is dangerous.'

A chill ran down his spine. For the first time since entering Jianghu, Jung Yeonshin broke into a cold sweat.

Jianghu was a world built on martial arts.

No wealth in the world could compare to the secrets of advanced martial techniques.

There was a reason why the tombs of legendary martial artists were unearthed during times of chaos. Such was the world of martial maniacs.

Step.

The Apostle strolled forward leisurely. Layers of overwhelming energy rippled with her every step.

The aura surrounding her body was terrifyingly sharp.

Her crimson eye, like jade soaked in blood, fixed directly on Jung Yeonshin.

The madness in her energy was palpable.

Unbeatable opponent.

Even the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm wouldn't work unless the gap was manageable.

There was no miracle to hope for without chaos.

Jung Yeonshin instinctively understood this.

The sharp wind brushing past his entire body felt like blades slicing him. His innate senses whispered.

His life was already in the hands of that supreme martial artist.

"Foolish morons."

The Apostle sneered. It seemed directed at the martial experts of the Namgoong family, who had finally started to act.

Without turning around, Jung Yeonshin could sense it.

Blood Flame Cult elites had descended and blocked his rear. They were facing off against the Namgoong family.

"You're mine."

The Apostle smiled as she moved her lips.

It was said that calamity came in countless forms in Jianghu.

Death and defeat were the most common occurrences in this world.

Even those who had been triumphant could suddenly find themselves strangled by fate, and no one would question it.

A poor state, an overwhelming enemy, insufficient numbers.

He had learned this well from the Radiant Demon Squad. Calamity could take any form, and right now, he faced them all.

This wasn't a sudden misfortune.

Jung Yeonshin had knowingly entered a battlefield where an Apostle might be present.

He had sensed the presence of an immensely strong enemy and still came.

He had trusted his own sharp talent. He had relied on the reputation of the Namgoong family, famous for their swords and chivalry.

It was a mistake unworthy of a martial artist. Even more so for someone who wished to live long.

'This is karma.'

The sixteen-year-old martial prodigy reflected only now, as the situation unfolded.

Fellowship was good, but he had been too trusting.

"Let's go."

The Apostle blurred into motion, and Jung Yeonshin's vision turned black in an instant.

Her speed was so extreme that his consciousness faded, despite faintly hearing Wei-Ji Myohwa and another young man shouting.

* * *

He became aware of dully rising sensations throughout his body. The warmth touching his skin felt blunt.

How long had he been lying down?

Jung Yeonshin immediately grasped the situation.

He was captured by the Seventh Apostle. He had been dragged somewhere while unconscious.

There was one more thing. Though he felt hunger like his stomach was being dissolved, he hadn't starved to death.

If you search within about a fortnight's distance radius from Huizhou, this place would come up.

'She sealed paralysis points.'

It seemed only his mouth could move.

"I was thinking of waking you soon."

His vision was blurry, but along with an unfamiliar ceiling, the Apostle's face was captured.

The Seventh Apostle wore a faint smile. Her long flowing hair lightly brushed Jung Yeonshin's cheek.

"You're the first Desolate Fortress' seed to set foot in our sect's main hall. I should welcome you, right?"

"Water."

"What?"

"I'm thirsty."

His forced out voice was hoarse. Jung Yeonshin tried to maintain composure.

They were ones with desires.

Since they wouldn't kill him here, he recalled what he learned from the Radiant Demon Squad seniors and Heon Wonchang.

'They're evil sect bastards. My lifeline is caught anyway. If I bow my head, there'll be no end.'

The Seventh Apostle who briefly showed a blank expression soon started giggling.

The black hair gently stroking Jung Yeon-shin's face suddenly lifted. He thought it was good to have that irritation removed.

"Aah…"

She stopped laughing with a strange sigh.

Then she stared blankly. Her red outer eye that seemed to tickle met gazes as it scanned Jung Yeonshin's face.

"You."

The corners of the Apostle's mouth rose.

"You think I can't do anything to you?"

"..."

"Feeling inspiration, creating verses. Since torture would be poison for creating martial arts."

Her upper body that had been sitting on the edge of the bed came down.

Along with ebony-like hair. This time he had to feel it on his nape.

The hair texture was creepily smooth.

She whispered.

"You probably didn't know."

The red eye came closer. The Seventh Apostle's elbow gently came down and pressed beside Jung Yeonshin's face.

Her snow-white fingertips on the other side touched his cheek.

The Seventh Apostle's slender fingers slowly climbed his face, and eventually pressed his eyelid. His eye naturally closed.

"I can make your eyeball like mine too. I can cut off your limbs without killing you. I'll give you our sect's regenerative ability. Though your technique blocked my eye's recovery, I don't have opposing martial arts like you. It'll heal right away."

Her breath tinged with madness weakly brushed Jung Yeonshin's bridge of nose.

The one whose eye was taken, unprecedented talent, unbelievably young age, evil sect fanatic's bewitching nature.

At this moment, horrible possessiveness was sprouting. Jung Yeonshin felt it completely. Through her gaze and exhale.

"I'll wait forever while pulling out your fingers."

"..."

"Until you create martial arts just for me."

The madness in her eyes felt disturbingly real, her crimson smile appearing almost white in contrast.

Raising her waist and lifting her head, the Apostle rose from the bed.

She no longer whispered but spoke clearly.

"I'm going to teach you blood arts. You'll gain regenerative power."

Her crimson robes rippled slightly, as if she were excited.

"Something learned by ordinary cultists or swordsmen wouldn't suit your level, would it? What kind of martial art will be born if I grant you the Apostle's secret techniques? I'm trembling with anticipation!"

"There won't be time for you to torture me."

Jung Yeonshin spoke slowly. The Apostle turned her head sharply, her crimson eye flashing.

"Acting tough, are you? That's only until you master the blood arts. I'll have you licking my feet."

"...Come back. Check my Baihui point."

As he calmly responded, dozens of thin gusts of wind swept through.

It was the Apostle's movement technique.

Once again, her fingers subdued Jung Yeonshin, reaching his crown.

The Apostle was an extraordinary martial artist. She would immediately notice something by touching his head.

It was ironic. Neither his uncle nor grandfather had ever dared to touch his crown, yet now an enemy was stroking it.

Her eye widened.

"You...!"

"With your level of internal energy, you should be able to feel it with your hands. It's still growing, isn't it?"

"This kind of constitution... in all the world..."

The Apostle murmured blankly.

"Torture and recovery? How long would that take?"

Jung Yeonshin asked nonchalantly.

He had heard this was the Blood Flame Cult's main stronghold. It was hopeless.

The chances of escape were slim, but he needed to keep his body intact to improve his martial arts and at least attempt an escape.

Even refining a single technique required dozens of refined energy flows.

They wouldn't dare destroy his dantian. He just needed to avoid torture.

Then it happened.

"You, you're truly radiant..."

She was too close. The Apostle's crimson eye filled his vision.

He saw the eerie heat writhing in her white face and the piercing glow unique to supreme martial artists.

Was this what it felt like to witness a monster from the Classic of Mountains and Seas being born?

This wasn't romantic affection between a man and woman.

It was the obsession of a martial fanatic who breathed through techniques and lived by martial arts.

The enchantress whispered with a smooth breath.

"You're mine. You belong to me. Create martial arts for me, and let only my eyes see you. Burn through your talent until there's nothing left."

"You're insane."

The words slipped out unconsciously.

Her hand stroking his crown no longer felt soft.

Feeling a chill, Jung Yeonshin's mind raced.

How could he overcome this situation?

He didn't know how long he'd have to think.

* * *

For two days, he had to eat gruel made from finely chopped meat.

During that time, Jung Yeonshin grew sick of the Blood Flame Cult's main stronghold, which he hadn't even fully explored.

'She's crazy.'

The Apostle personally brought the bowls and fed him, refusing to let servants do it.

After confirming his lifespan, she had completely lost herself.

She acted like she was beholding a comet that could only be seen for a fleeting moment.

'Or perhaps...'

It reminded him of how the royal family in Beijing cherished and raised exotic beasts.

Was this what it felt like to become a treasured pet?

Only after enduring prolonged hunger, acupoint sealing, and the aftereffects of sword techniques did he regain some freedom.

But it wasn't complete freedom.

She had used a technique similar to the Seven-Step Death Acupuncture of the Annihilation Squad's leader.

Her blood arts energy had filled key pressure points, and if it wasn't drained periodically, it would cause fatal internal injuries.

"Let's go greet the cult leader."

The Apostle smiled brightly.

Without a word, Jung Yeonshin stood up. It was his first outing.

'The Blood Flame Cult Leader.'

The sworn enemy of Monk Won Jong, who had helped create the Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm.

The ruler of the Blood Flame Cult, said to have the largest influence among the Thirteen Heavens.

A martial artist counted among the absolute masters of Jianghu, alongside the abbot of Shaolin Temple and the leader of the Divine Sword Squad of Desolate Fortress.

He likely had a hand in the annihilation of the Jung Family, alongside the Tyrant Sword Tribe leader.

Jung Yeonshin needed to see this figure.

As he stepped outside, he suddenly found his current situation surreal.

Walking beside the Apostle felt entirely different from being spoon-fed gruel like a pampered animal.

His vision opened up.

An expansive village spread before him, lined with elegant, traditional buildings in neat rows.

Hundreds of people moved about, most of them with red hair.

"What the..."

He muttered involuntarily.

Where was this place? How was it possible to hide a city-like village from the rest of the Central Plains?

"Dear, the cult leader's hall is quite far. Stay close and follow me."

The Apostle took his sleeve delicately, as if handling a precious gem.

As they walked, Jung Yeonshin memorized the city's layout and the distribution of martial experts.

The Blood Master Swordsmen lowered their gazes as they passed. Ordinary cultists didn't even dare to look.

"Grand Master!"

A Blood Master Swordsman, one of the two who had thrown thunder bombs in Huizhou, knelt on one knee in shock.

It was strange.

He didn't seem to be saluting the Apostle. Instead, she gestured toward Jung Yeonshin.

Her visible eye curved slightly, confirming his suspicion.

The Blood Master Swordsman was bowing to him.

The man spoke again.

"This unworthy swordsman humbly greets the Grand Master."

Jung Yeonshin remained silent for a moment.

This wasn't how prisoners were treated.