CHAPTER 88

Jung Yeonshin intended to keep Namgoong Mi alive.

If this woman had shrewdly presented her justification, then Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin could also employ their schemes.

If subjugation had proven difficult, he would have severed her neck in one stroke. However, having captured her alive, he could now paint the ideal picture.

The final act was left to Namgoong Hwashin.

While Jung Yeonshin hoped he would overcome his emotional wounds, he also intended for him to establish merit.

He sought to create a situation where the Desolate Fortress could justifiably execute the Namgoong family's bloodline.

Namgoong Mi had been completely subdued. It was a situation worthy of being regarded as the best among the scenarios Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin had envisioned.

"What should I do with you?"

He spoke while wearing the devil mask of the Pure Blood robe. Perhaps it was due to the destructive and erratic energy waves of Demon Roaring Blood Art.

The veins bulging on the back of his hand that held Namgoong Mi's neck appeared eerie.

"A despicable Namgoong surname of the orthodox sect. Yet, since it is a name widely spread for so long, you may serve to announce our sect's resurgence."

His words revealed the purpose of the Blood Flame Cult noble who had intruded upon this scene.

"Haah!"

"So it has come to this…"

Martial artists observing the fight between the Namgoong family and the unorthodox master of the cult sighed.

Although they lacked the courage and strength to side with the defeated Namgoong Mi, they at least had the discernment to understand the situation.

Many of those who attacked the Blood Flame Cult's main hall were local martial artists from around South Zhili.

In terms of numbers, they outmatched the warriors of the Desolate Fortress at the time, meaning that the fall of the main hall was far from secret.

Martial artists wielded martial arts and honor. The Blood Flame Cult was no different.

To display the remaining strength of their disgraced cult, even its noble bloodline had stepped forward. Anyone could comprehend the reasoning.

"I could snap your neck right here. Yet, it feels like such a waste. There may be ways to make use of you for a long time."

A voice tinged with a low, mocking laughter.

It was said that masters who reached a certain level no longer appeared human. Among the lower ranks of the martial world, the Eight Great Clans and the Thirteen Heavens embodied such presence.

The piercing resonance of the youthful voice mingled with his inner energy amplified this atmosphere.

"How about making you my servant, to wash my feet?"

"…"

The devil mask seemed to stare intently at Namgoong Mi's face.

It was a mask with a grotesquely torn mouth, like the gaping jaws of a dragon, appearing as though it contemplated how to handle its prey.

Namgoong Mi, looking distressed, barely managed to speak. It seemed she forced her lips to move.

"You… just now, did you say… servant?"

"I did."

"A vile man hiding behind a mask dares…"

The devil mask laughed.

"Do my words offend you? Fallen Namgoong scion of the orthodox sect. The term 'vile' suits you well. Didn't you entangle even the innocent as unorthodox martial artists, using them as fodder to build your fame? Even our cult would not stoop so low."

"Nonsense, ugh!"

Her insult turned into a pained gasp. It was because the devil mask's left hand blurred the moment Namgoong Mi opened her mouth again.

A series of muffled explosive sounds echoed as the energy strikes landed on her body.

It sounded like drums bursting in succession. Anyone could tell it was no ordinary acupoint strike.

Namgoong Mi's body, still gripped by the neck, hung limp as the eerie noble of the Blood Flame Cult spoke.

"Did you think my talk of making you a servant was a joke?"

"W-what…"

"If you want to wield your energy, you'll need my permission. Such is the divine capability of blood arts."

He had applied a technique to seal her internal energy, a method used by the Blood Flame Cult's Seventh Apostle.

It was not difficult to replicate the sealing technique experienced by the Desolate Fortress' Lightning Genius.

Adapting the destructive control of Demon Roaring Blood Art sufficed.

"How dare you! How dare you!"

Her voice suddenly rose. Namgoong Mi's delicate brow twisted into a fierce scowl.

It was not despair but intense fury. Something she could not accept had occurred.

'I'll kill him! I'll make him kneel and die beneath my feet!'

The man who subdued her and even robbed her of the freedom to wield her energy. She glared fiercely as if to etch his figure into her mind.

Her eyes scanned the devil mask's body, focusing intently on the sleeves where skin was faintly visible.

The perception of a master could surpass imagination.

By observing the movement of pulses and the flow of internal energy near the meridians, there was room to deduce his identity.

"A commendable spirit."

"Keuhk!"

It was when the devil mask tightened its grip on her neck.

At that moment, the main gate of the hall swung open with a resounding creak.

A cool breeze swept in. It carried an extremely direct flow of energy.

"A blood fiend at the site of an unorthodox sect's downfall."

A young man, perfectly suited in a blue martial robe, appeared. His gaze was heavy as he looked toward the devil mask and Namgoong Mi.

"I came to toast my sister, yet this is what I find."

Bearing the character 'Desolate' prominently embroidered near his shoulder, he exuded an unrestrained aura.

With a sharp nose and tightly closed lips, his features bore a striking resemblance to Namgoong Mi, prompting onlookers to immediately suspect a blood relation.

"Desolate…! The Desolate Fortress!"

"He said sister. Could he be…?"

"White Qilin! It's Namgoong's White Qilin!"

Expressions of hope lit up the faces of the spectators. Namgoong Mi had fallen. They didn't know what fate awaited them.

White Qilin, Namgoong Hwashin.

He was a martial artist who made a name for himself even before entering the Desolate Fortress.

Recognized widely among the Eight Great Clans, he had already surpassed the level of a rising star within the martial world.

An opponent to challenge the Blood Flame Cult noble seemed more than adequate.

The noble of the Blood Flame Cult left with a low laugh.

"…"

After a long silence, it fell to Namgoong Hwashin to handle the aftermath.

Only then did he turn his gaze toward his half-sister, the enemy who had always looked at him with contempt and hatred.

However, the reunion with her blood relative seemed to matter little to Namgoong Mi.

She stood proudly, as if she had never been thrown to the ground. Her raised eyes were fixed on the main gate.

It was the direction the devil mask had exited. Her gaze burned with resentment, an obsession that even Namgoong Hwashin had never witnessed before.

Namgoong Hwashin, staring at her silently, finally spoke.

"We will take responsibility for your safety. You'll be protected until the duel."

"What…?"

"Radiant Demon Squad Lightning Genius is with me. With Young Hero Jung and myself, you'll be safe until you reach South Zhili."

Behind Namgoong Mi, who finally turned her head, the faces of the martial artists from Wuchang came into view.

Their expressions revealed a mix of complicated emotions.

"This is serious. That man earlier, isn't he an incredibly powerful master? A demon like him wandering Wuchang…"

"More than that, we should be worried about Namgoong's retaliation…"

It was the behavior of those who discard when bitter and swallow when sweet. Namgoong Hwashin inwardly frowned but ignored it.

The fruits of the struggle for justification were beginning to ripen.

"You're protecting the opponent you vowed a duel to the death with?"

"Truly… isn't that noble and honorable?"

"The Desolate Fortress. They talk about protecting the people…"

It was exactly what Jung Yeonshin and Namgoong Hwashin had intended. Most of the people gathered here were high-ranking figures.

Leaders of escort agencies, heads of martial clans, and even the dean of Wuchang's academy were present. Their words would soon shape the public opinion in the area.

Now, it was done. Without fearing public scrutiny, they could execute the Namgoong clan's leadership.

On one side of Wuchang's marketplace, there stood the tallest ancient tree in the area.

A woman sat leaning on one of its thick branches.

Her jet-black hair, like flowing silk, swayed gently in the breeze.

Her red eyes, as brilliant as rubies cherished by demons, gazed downward.

Her attention was caught by a boy who slipped away with movements as light as dancing leaves.

His steps resembled the divine footwork of noble clans. Although his presence was nearly imperceptible, she could hear his footsteps clearly.

The Seventh Apostle softly parted her lips.

"My little Grand Master."

She spoke to herself. Perhaps it was the result of spending too long as a solitary force dominating the martial world.

No, it must have always been this way. She was born noble and alone.

She laughed quietly, a slight snort escaping her unintentionally.

"You are so sweet."

Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin.

She had engraved his voice, infused with the energy of the Demon Roaring Blood Art, deep into her ears.

His appearance, once again adorned in the Pure Blood robe, was dazzling.

Thanks to his radiant talent and resolute nature, no one could wear it better.

He exuded an allure as vivid as the brands burned into the slaves of the unorthodox sects.

His voice, his appearance, his demeanor of absolute dominance.

Watching and hearing him made her feel as if her entire body would melt. Even her mind felt as soft and warm as clouds drifting in the night sky.

The Seventh Apostle' right eye, glowing with a brilliant red hue, carefully traced Jung Yeonshin's every detail.

The young Grand Master of the Blood Flame Cult, noble and precious, stood alone in an empty clearing.

He had removed his mask and taken off the Pure Blood robe.

Suddenly, her heart ached as if it were being torn apart.

Even his position seemed to be staged for the Seventh Apostle. He wasn't far from Namgoong Hwashin.

"Haa…"

She let out a sweet sigh and murmured softly.

"How can I make you accept me?"

If only that boy would look only at her.

Would it be so wrong to sever his limbs and bring him to her?

The Seventh Apostle quickly shook her head.

She needed to perfect martial techniques that would illuminate the world like a comet.

He was someone too precious to be ruined by corrupt desires.

"Show me a weakness…"

She lightly licked her lips.