Chapter 101

Chapter 101
Chapter 101

Within the absolute gloom, two crimson glows flickered. Instantly, a heavy, coarse voice broke the quiet stillness.

“Branch Leader.”

A figure materialized from the darkness. Though wrapped in obscurity, its silhouette was far too distorted to belong to a mortal man.

“High Priest.”

“How go the preparations to offer more blood for our great cult’s cause?”

The misshapen figure, addressed as the Branch Leader, dropped down on one knee.

“We have tracked the rumors to their origin and eliminated them, then disseminated fabricated tales via our agents. No living soul shall venture near Baek Su Mountain now.”

The twin crimson gleams narrowed. It bore a striking resemblance to a grin.

“Over a thousand lives trapped within the tomb, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Heh heh heh. Splendid.”

The lights fluttered, mimicking the opening and closing of eyelids.

“All for our cult… the great Blood God Blood Cult.”

The Blood God Blood Cult—one of the three malevolent sects that would later ignite the Demonic War. The Sixth High Priest, Blood Eyes Luo, felt a rare wave of deep gratification. The sect held forbidden techniques capable of elevating a follower’s spiritual might through the harvesting of human blood, flesh, and life force. Sacrificing the thousand-plus captives held inside the tomb would push them one step closer to their ultimate ambition.

And that was not all…

“The Blood God will favor this humble vessel all the more.”

Merely picturing it sent a jolt of ecstasy through his veins, rivaling physical indulgence. If only He would grant this wretch the honor of licking His feet.

A thousand sacrifices. Every single one a trained martial artist. Their souls would transform into malevolent spirits, their vital essence would enrich his dantian, and their remains would be fashioned into jiangshi. All presented as offerings to Him.

“Branch Leader. Provide me with the exact timeline.”

“Yes. Your Holiness need only arrive in roughly seven days and nights.”

The precise window required for the captives to exhaust their provisions, wasting away from hunger until their physical strength gave out entirely. Taking everything into account, seven days and nights was the ideal duration.

“In my estimation, for the sake of absolute security, we ought to allow a bit more margin…”

“Do that, and the quality of the offerings will plummet.”

“Indeed.”

At moments like this, he found himself missing the departed Ghost Slave from years past. With that individual’s innate talent for manipulating malevolent spirits without constraint, matters could have concluded far more swiftly.

“Very well. Proceed with utmost caution. Let there be no failures in surveillance.”

“Understood. We have maintained constant observation, aside from the brief departure required to suppress the rumors.”

Blood Eyes Luo slowly shut his eyes and laced his fingers together. His fingernails, unnaturally elongated and razor-sharp, scraped against his skin. The slow ooze of crimson droplets. One droplet suddenly levitated, drifting toward his tongue.

“Mmm.”

Blood after such a long interval. Soon enough, he would be able to drink his fill.

“Our cult… has waited far too long.”

He dared not presume to decipher the Blood God’s divine will, but the wait had stretched out interminably. So long, in fact, that he had taken to acting independently, bending that will to serve his own desires. So long that he had failed to notice his own self-deception that every action was for Him.

Savoring that solitary drop, Blood Eyes Luo slipped back into slumber.

And thus, seven days and nights elapsed.

“High Priest.”

The Sixth High Priest, Blood Eyes Luo, unclosed his eyes—stirred not by the Branch Leader’s voice, but by the surge of blood energy within his own frame rousing his senses.

“Has the hour arrived already?”

“Yes.”

His eyes snapped open, crimson lights flashing. Blood Eyes Luo exhaled a measured breath. Strangely, his breath radiated a ruby hue even within the pitch-black surroundings.

“Rise, my servants.”

His crimson breath rippled through the shadows, dispersing outward. With each pulse, eyes gleamed, and the sound of breathing echoed through the previously silent enclosure.

“Let us depart.”

“We obey.”

Blood Eyes Luo stood. His maiden excursion into the outside world in thirty years by the calendar. He stepped forward, his blood-red silk garments billowing behind him. His ten fingernails, each exceeding a foot in length, caught the faint light. A hundred warriors trailed behind him.

Or could they truly be termed warriors? Their complexions were the pallor of corpses, their eyes a lifeless black. Several bore wounds that ought to have proved fatal, yet no blood leaked forth—only a dark ooze that had crusted over like scabs.

“High Priest. We are nearly there.”

The distance from the Blood God Blood Cult’s Sixth Branch stronghold to the Baek Su Mountain tomb was short. In reality, that very proximity was what made today’s ritual feasible.

“Hrm. So that is the spot.”

His coarse, gravelly voice echoed, and the subordinates halted in unison, reacting to the spiritual command embedded in his tone. Blood Eyes Luo peered down into the perfectly circular pit, its bottom shrouded in shadow.

“The fragrance of blood… how intoxicating.”

Down below, the offerings awaited. Drained of strength, ripe for devouring without the need for preparation.

“Come, let us descend.”

“As you command!”

Spearheaded by the Branch Leader, every cultist cast themselves into the pit without a moment’s hesitation. Blood Eyes Luo came after, floating downward at a leisurely pace.

Whoosh!

The earth rushed upward amid the howling wind. In that very fraction of a second, Blood Eyes Luo perceived a discordant note.

“High Priest! Something is amiss!”

He had no need for the Branch Leader’s warning. His own eyes could discern the truth unfolding below.

“What? It was genuine?”

“A blessing we trusted the missive.”

“Thought we were destined to starve, but someone tossed us provisions—had to take a leap of faith.”

“These demonic wretches are the ones who sealed us in here, aren’t they?”

Blood Eyes Luo touched down lightly, his flowing red silk robes settling around him. His crimson-gleaming eyes swept across the vicinity. The captives were not huddled together in hunger, frail and ripe for slaughter. They stood robust and vibrant, forming a tight encirclement.

The corners of Blood Eyes Luo’s mouth curved upward.

“Fascinating.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇

Demonic sects were demonic sects, but Yang-hui refused to pass up an opportunity to sabotage the Namgung Clan brats. Therefore, he adhered to the original strategy, which meant thoroughly upending the plans of both the Namgung Clan and Wudang.

“Provisions dropping straight from the heavens!”

“You fool! It’s the ceiling, not the sky!”

“A downpour of dried jerky instead of water!”

“Is starvation making our minds play tricks on us…?”

“No, I can actually taste it!”

The orthodox factions had elected to wait out the underworld organizations until they starved and weakened. The underworld forces, conversely, intended to strike before their stamina completely vanished, seizing the supplies for themselves. Just as the standoff reached its absolute boiling point, Yang-hui dumped the entire stockpile of jerky and rations from above.

‘Kekekeke! You waited for the underworld scum to wear themselves out, but it’s all for nothing now! Kekekeke! What absolute fools!’

He could vividly picture the frantic expressions of the Namgung Clan young masters, especially Namgung Cheon-hu. It was truly regrettable he could not witness it face-to-face.

“Chui-dal. Isn’t this sideshow hilarious just picturing it? Keep feeding them provisions to drag out the stalemate, while we quietly pocket the treasures of the Sword King Tomb.”

“Sounds entertaining, sure. But isn’t it pointless now?”

“It still gets my blood racing just thinking about riling up those Namgung bastards.”

“Our big brother genuinely holds a suspicious amount of hatred for the Namgung Clan.”

You would feel the exact same way if your head had been severed in a past life, punk. No, wait—your head was the one that rolled off.

“Regardless. Time to slip letters in among the food drops.”

The notes outlined the situation concisely:

[Demonic forces lured in with falsified Sword King Tomb intelligence to construct a trap.]
[Once the trapped martial artists weaken from starvation, the demons intend to massacre them all.]
[Driven by righteousness, I have risked my life to deliver provisions—do not turn on each other; instead, ambush the demons upon their arrival.]

Something along those lines.

“figured they wouldn’t buy into it.”

“They won’t.”

“And yet there’s no chaos, and they are behaving remarkably well.”

“They possess the sense to deduce the reality. Look at them—they’re actively digging away.”

Now cognizant of a third party’s presence, they understood that infighting would only lead to mutual destruction. Consequently, they set to work digging an escape route—or perhaps, despite the fabricated intelligence, raw greed for the tomb’s hidden treasures continued to spur them on.

“Tang brother is still dwelling on it, though.”

Yang-hui stepped over to Tang Jun.

“Tang brother.”

“Ah, Hui brother.”

“Still convinced we ought to have revealed ourselves and delivered a stern warning regarding the demons?”

“…Indeed. It simply feels like the righteous path.”

Yet adopting such a course would have spelled absolute ruin for both the Tang and Baek clans.

‘I cannot be certain which of the three sects it is, but their hidden influence can crush local rumors instantly.’

Which meant exposure equated to painting a target on their own backs. They were forced to operate in the shadows to secure maximum advantage and maximum gain. Righteousness had its place, but Yang-hui’s paramount objective remained the preservation of his clan.

“My apologies. But I must ask you to concede on this matter, Tang brother.”

“I am well aware your judgment is sound. It merely… sits heavily on my conscience.”

Chui-dal stared at Yang-hui in sheer astonishment.

“The mighty big brother of the realm… offering an apology over something this trivial?”

Just as he harbored an inexplicable loathing for the Namgung Clan, he consistently displayed an unusual gentleness toward Tang Jun.

“Regardless, little brother. Judging by the trajectory of their excavation, they are bound to breach the passage shortly.”

“Agreed. It is time we resumed our exploration of the Sword King Tomb.”

To guard against unforeseen contingencies, they had left one person behind to monitor the cavern rather than moving as an entire unit. A-du was, naturally, exempted from guard duty.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

They scrambled down the vertical shaft and landed firmly within the corridor. Rather than pressing west toward the Iron Poison Fluttering Wings, they pivoted east. Their caution was immediately rewarded as they uncovered the hazard ahead.

“A corridor of venom, of a sort.”

A hallway slightly broader than the standard passage, crawling with serpents and insects—every single one highly venomous. Tang Jun and Tang Yeon each captured a live specimen for examination.

“Hm. Exceptional condition.”

“Big brother, I want to take the whole lot back home. Centuries of selective breeding and cannibalism have turned their venom into something monstrous.”

Yang-hui cast his gaze down the corridor. Considering the sheer density and length, traversing it without sustaining a single bite seemed an impossibility.

“Tang brother. Can you manage the antidotes if someone is bitten?”

“Consult Yeon on that front. Her mastery of poison far surpasses mine.”

Tang Yeon beamed with radiant confidence.

“Whatever are you relying on Tang Clan antidotes for? With the poison core in my dantian, my own poison arts, and the herbs I brought along, it is entirely manageable. Given adequate time, of course.”

She drew a collection of antidotes from her pouch and set to work combining them.

That settled the matter. Thus, the first barrier from the cavern had been the Iron Poison Fluttering Wings. The second was this Poison Corridor. What could it signify? He pondered the question briefly.

Plink, plink, plop.

The sound of a distant pebble falling—the prearranged signal from Chui-dal stationed behind them.

“Fall back first!”

Without hesitation, the group vaulted toward him. Moments later, all six peered out side by side from the cracks in the rock face.

“Ma…!”

A-du’s grotesque grimace fractured the narrow opening as his sheer bulk forced its way through, accompanied by the loud splintering of rock.

“Hey, now!”

“Keep your voice down! Stay still.”

“Ma…!”

“Understood. I will let you thrash them all to your heart’s content shortly. Just hold it in for now.”

“For real?”

“Naturally. I relish beating down demons just as much.”

Having finally placated A-du, they shifted their focus back to the scene below.

Long, trailing robes of blood-red silk. Fingernails resembling crimson spikes—unmistakably inhuman. Spotting the grotesque Branch Leader standing at his side confirmed Yang-hui’s suspicions entirely.

‘Blood Eyes Luo.’

The wretched creature leading the sixth pack of blood-crazed beasts belonging to the Blood God Blood Cult.

“Hahaha.”

“Little brother. What brings on the laughter?”

“Ah, nothing of consequence.”

In truth, he had a compelling reason. He simply could not voice it aloud. A straightforward reason indeed.

‘You crawled right back here to meet your end once more, didn’t you, you punk.’

Because the very subordinates of the Blood God Blood Cult’s sixth branch, spearheaded by Blood Eyes Luo, had already perished once before by Yang-hui’s own hand in his previous existence.