Chapter 192

Chapter 192
Chapter: 192

Chapter Title: Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell (3)

—

The passage remained tranquil.

Under a constant canopy of bright skies and assisted by a favorable breeze, the vessel neared the outskirts of Nanjing a mere ten days after setting sail from Wuhann.

Standing at the ship’s front, Sima Geon watched as figures huddled in small clusters, passing the time with quiet talk. Given the late hour, the various deckhands and traders had already sought rest in their quarters, leaving only Sima Geon and the companions of the Sword Empress out in the open.

The confined nature of the boat, combined with the shared miles since departing Dangga, had forged a genuine bond among them.

The friendly So Surin, alongside Noejeon and Manchu, exchanged playful remarks with the students of the Sword Pavilion, their laughter echoing without restraint. Even the prickly Cheol Woo, who had previously kept his distance, occasionally chimed in. Though his words remained haughty and blunt, the underlying sharpness had clearly begun to dull.

“Our arrival is set for tomorrow,” Neung So Hwa remarked, taking a spot next to Sima Geon while observing the boisterous group.

“Our time together is drawing to a close.”

“It seems so. Under different circumstances, we might have extended this journey.”

A light flush touched Neung So Hwa’s cheeks, her gaze reflecting a heavy sense of longing.

Had they not called an end to the Sword Empress Escort, their travels with Sima Geon’s party might have lasted much longer. However, with the mission concluded, they were bound to part ways at Nanjing. Their duty required an immediate departure for Shandong upon docking.

The situation in Shandong remained grim, despite the Blood Cult’s presence being revealed and the various Shandong Wicked Families—who had been en route to Shaolin—reversing course to defend their homes.

Rallying under the banner of the Shandong Wicked Families, the local martial forces hunted the Blood Cult relentlessly. Yet, unlike the Heavenly Demon Cult, which had engaged the Jiangnan martial world in massive, direct warfare, the Blood Cult utilized frustrating hit-and-run maneuvers rather than open battle.

The movements of the Blood Cult were so ghost-like that despite the collective eyes of the Shandong martial world and the assistance of the Beggars’ Sect, they struggled to pin them down, and the body count continued to rise steadily.

The Blood Cult’s playful torment of the Shandong forces only began to falter when the Righteous Heaven Alliance commenced its grand trek toward the north.

Guided by the Spirit Tiger Clan, the Righteous Heaven Alliance worked in tandem with Shandong’s local fighters to close the net. While they encountered numerous hurdles, they managed to draw blood, cutting down several Blood Cult assassins who had attempted to slip through the gaps.

The retaliation from the Blood Cult was savage, dealing heavy blows back to the Righteous Heaven Alliance.

The Six Righteousness Sect and Seven Yang Blade Sect, early pillars of the coalition, were completely wiped out after being lured into lethal ambushes. The Golden Dragon Gang, which had amassed significant influence at the Yangtze estuary, initially gained prestige by intercepting Blood Cultists retreating from the Six Righteousness Sect massacre, only to be shattered by a swift and brutal counter-strike.

Following these skirmishes, the Blood Cult redirected its focus in Shandong, systematically hunting the Righteous Heaven Alliance until their losses reached a breaking point.

Strangely, however, the spirit within the Righteous Heaven Alliance remained high.

With the Alliance Leader’s Left Wing leading from the front, the command staff worked tirelessly to maintain heart. Their tales of sacrifice and bravery against the Blood Cult resonated across the land, causing a flood of independent warriors to flock to their side for protection.

“Manchu mentioned that the turmoil isn’t restricted to Shandong. It seems the Shaolin Temple is in a precarious state as well.”

Neung So Hwa let out a heavy breath at Sima Geon’s observation.

“True. In some respects, Shandong is the more stable region. There, the local martial world and the Wicked Families have a unified front with the Righteous Heaven Alliance. But as for Shaolin… the outcome is anyone’s guess.”

Strictly speaking, reinforcing Shaolin Temple was the logical move. Yet, for Neung So Hwa, who carried the scar of her master’s death at the hands of the Blood Cult, her eyes were fixed on the chaos in Shandong, not the plight of Shaolin.

She had reached this conclusion believing that the gathering forces of the Wudang and Mount Hua Sect, among many others, would be enough to protect Shaolin. However, disaster struck from a completely unanticipated direction.

Three days before their scheduled arrival in Nanjing, a terrifying update arrived.

The news that the Iron Blood Palace had launched an invasion into the Central Plains sent a shockwave of dread through the entire jianghu.

With the Jiangnan warriors pinned down by the Heavenly Demon Cult, the North Sea Ice Palace looming over Shaolin, and the Blood Cult ravaging Shandong, the sudden strike by the Iron Blood Palace—the hidden masters of the great curtain—paralyzed the Central Plains with fear.

The opening gambit of the Iron Blood Palace was unlike anything seen before.

The historic and respected Mount Hua and Mount Chungnam Sects, traditionally the foundations of the Martial Alliance, were utterly broken.

Mount Chungnam left behind no living witnesses. Mount Hua narrowly avoided the same fate; only three monks stationed at Lotus Peak to care for the eldest elder survived the slaughter, and only because reinforcement units headed for Shaolin arrived just in time. Without that intervention, the sect would have vanished.

The ripple effect of the Iron Blood Palace’s entry wasn’t confined to the inner provinces.

The North Sea Ice Palace, which had been on the verge of assaulting Shaolin, had torn through the Shanxi martial world before coming to a sudden, inexplicable halt after merging their forces.

The official reason given was a need to recover from the exhaustion of the campaign, but the consensus was that they were pauses to observe the Iron Blood Palace’s destruction of Mount Chungnam and Mount Hua. There was also a strategic fear that moving too soon would allow the Iron Blood Palace to seize the ultimate victory while others fought.

“So, you are heading for Shaolin?”

Sima Geon inquired.

“We cannot. The Sword Pavilion disciples have gathered at Nanjing, and the senior leaders have set the strategy. We must first wipe out the Blood Cult presence here before moving to support Shaolin.”

“I have faith that Neung So Hwa will succeed.”

Encouraged by his words, Neung So Hwa opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, choosing silence instead.

Sima Geon acted as though he hadn’t noticed her internal struggle.

He thought back to how past acts of kindness from places like the Living Immortal Medical House or the Flying Heaven Hall had soured into enmity. More than anything, his recent meeting with Sima Jin had intensified the ache of missing his other lost siblings.

Had Sima Geon known that the master of the Iron Blood Palace was none other than Eun Jeok So, his choices might have been different. Unfortunately, while the survivors of Mount Hua remembered the title of the Iron Blood Palace, the name Eun Jeok So had not yet become common knowledge. Thus, the leader’s identity remained a secret to the wider world.

Knowing Sima Geon’s personal burdens, Neung So Hwa found she couldn’t bring herself to ask for his aid.

Thus, the two of them sat in the quiet regret of things left unsaid, watching the moon reflect off the water.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Within the subterranean vaults of the Haomen branch in Hangzhou.

The forms of men bound to chairs, previously limp and unconscious, started to stir.

“Gah…”

Ban Cheon Su, who had been installed as the leader of this sub-branch a year prior to fix the damage caused by Sima Geon’s group, groaned as he regained consciousness.

“What is… Elder!”

Wincing against a throbbing skull, Ban Cheon Su saw Jeok In Sul tied up nearby and let out a startled cry.

The shout rumbled through Jeok In Sul, who woke with a grimace of agony identical to his companion’s.

“Are you harmed?”

Ban Cheon Su asked with urgency.

Jeok In Sul did not answer immediately, instead mentally checking his internal state.

His meridian points were blocked; he could not move his internal energy, and even shifting his weight was a monumental task.

“What occurred?”

Jeok In Sul asked, his voice heavy.

“I… I am uncertain. My memory ends with our drinks last night, Elder.”

The elder’s face turned grim at this. He, too, could remember nothing past the wine. It was clear their drinks had been compromised.

Just then—

The screech of metal echoed through the room as the heavy door moved.

“You’ve finally returned to us.”

The voice was melodic, yet the glare of the torch she carried hid her face in shadow.

“Identify yourself!”

Ban Cheon Su barked.

“My, my. Even in your state, I wouldn’t think you’d fail to recognize my voice.”

“You… it’s you—!”

Jeok In Sul realized who she was before the sub-branch leader could.

She lowered the flame, revealing a woman of striking beauty that would command any room.

“Han Seol! Why have you done this? Why turn on us?”

Ban Cheon Su stammered, his complexion turning ghostly.

“A fair question. Why did I do it? Well, we are going to explore that together very slowly.”

Han Seol offered a gentle, terrifying smile.

That look, saturated with a cold, spectral energy, sent a wave of terror through both men.

“I must say, Drunken Dream Powder is quite effective. I didn’t think it would keep you under for half a day. Even when I tried to rouse you earlier, you were dead to the world.”

“You used Drunken Dream Powder on us?”

Jeok In Sul’s jaw tightened.

“I did. Despite it being tasteless and invisible, I was shocked at how easily you succumbed. And you are supposed to be an elder of Haomen.”

“How dare you!”

Jeok In Sul’s face twitched with a mix of fury and fear.

It was humiliating to think they had been poisoned within their own walls, during a casual evening with their own people.

“Why go to these lengths?”

Ban Cheon Su’s eyes darted around the room as he spoke. Han Seol looked at him with disdain, leaning in close to stare into his soul.

“Blood Cult.”

The color drained from Ban Cheon Su’s face.

“What… what are you talking about? The Blood Cult?!”

He tried to regain his composure, shouting his denial.

“Save your breath. I am already certain. I simply require more specifics, which is why I’ve set this stage.”

Han Seol’s smile remained fixed and mocking.

The two captives felt a cold dread settle in their stomachs.

“It all began quite by accident,” Han Seol said, her voice drifting as she recalled the past.

After the loss of her master and her brothers at the hands of Sima Geon and Cheol Woo, Han Seol had been fueled by a singular desire for revenge. Yet Haomen, cowed by the strength of her enemies, showed no drive to seek justice for her fallen comrades.

She accepted their inaction as a temporary lack of power and dedicated herself to the restoration of the Hangzhou branch, all while secretly cataloging every detail regarding Sima Geon and Cheol Woo for her eventual strike.

During this time, she noticed the strange behavior of the new leader, Ban Cheon Su.

He met with unfamiliar faces and dealt with data that felt off. At first, she didn’t jump to conclusions, thinking it was just the nature of an information-gathering guild. But then, one of his contacts was identified as a sleeper agent for the Blood Cult.

Her gut told her something was rotten, and she began a silent shadow investigation.

She waited for Ban Cheon Su to leave the premises and searched for evidence, but anything truly incriminating had been expertly erased.

Still, she was patient. After many attempts, she discovered a few discarded notes—bits of intelligence that were entirely outside the normal scope of Haomen’s business.

Her suspicions were no longer mere guesses.

She didn’t make the mistake of going to the Haomen high command. Over the past year, her doubts had spread to the entire organization, making her wary of everyone at the top.

Waiting for the perfect moment, Han Seol finally moved.

She orchestrated a “random” meeting with one of Ban Cheon Su’s regular informants—not in the city, but in a remote spot.

Ban Cheon Su had introduced the man as an envoy from the Nanjing hub, but Han Seol knew better. She had linked his history to the Blood Cult spy who had recently been caught and killed.

The informant found her presence odd, but he didn’t run. He recognized her from the leader’s social circle, and since he was pretending to be a high-ranking member of the guild, he couldn’t simply ignore her.

“The power of Drunken Dream Powder is truly remarkable.”

Stopping mid-sentence, Han Seol walked to the dark corner of the room.

It was only then that Ban Cheon Su and Jeok In Sul saw that they weren’t the only ones in the dungeon.

“Meet Hyang Gwang, a member of the Blood Cult’s Eastern Division.”

As she spoke, Han Seol placed a boot firmly on Hyang Gwang’s head, her cold expression enough to make the blood of her captives run cold.