The roar of vengeance that shook the Great Hall slowly subsided, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Yoo Sanghwa's gaze, still blazing with suppressed rage, swept over the assembled warriors, then, for a fleeting instant, met Jin Yul's eyes across the vast chamber.
Sanghwa's attention then flickered to Li Mei, who stood dutifully beside Jin Yul, her head slightly bowed. A subtle ripple of internal energy emanated from Sanghwa. "Li Mei," his voice, sharp and clear, resonated directly in her mind. "Ensure Young Master Jin is provided with appropriate attire. Something fitting for one under my direct care. Spare no expense."
Li Mei's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, a hint of surprise touching her usually calm features, but she dipped her head in a deeper bow. "As you command, Patriarch," she transmitted back.
An hour before…
The Elder Council Chamber was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Great Hall. It was a smaller, more intimate space, yet the heavy silence within it was even more suffocating. Five figures sat around a large, circular ebony table. Four empty chairs stood like spectral reminders of those lost in the recent war, a silent testament to the Crimson Shadow Sect's profound casualties.
"The Orthodox Faction mocks us openly," Elder Volkov, known as the 'Iron Fist,' thundered, his voice a gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate the very stone walls. A burly man with a perpetually scowling face and hands like gnarled oak, he slammed a fist onto the table, causing a tremor to run through it. "To deny us even the corpse of the Abyssal Shadow King! This is an insult that demands immediate bloodshed!" His eyes, small and piercing, burned with an unquenchable fire.
Opposite him sat Elder Mei, the 'Azure Phoenix,' her serene expression a stark contrast to Volkov's fury. Her movements were graceful, her voice a calm, melodic flow even when speaking of grave matters. "Rage serves no purpose without a plan, Elder Volkov".
Next to her, Elder Feng, the 'Silent Blade,' remained utterly motionless, his face impassive, eyes like chips of obsidian. He was a master of infiltration and assassination, his counsel rare but always incisive. The faint scar trailing from his temple to his jaw was the only testament to a lifetime of silent warfare. He said nothing, but his presence radiated a quiet, dangerous competence.
Elder Gan, the 'Stone Guardian,' a man of immense physical presence with a face like weathered rock, nodded slowly, his voice a low, rumbling echo. "Elder Mei speaks sense. Our external enemies aside, the rumors within our own ranks are more concerning. The morale is at an all-time low." Gan was the sect's primary strategist, known for his unshakeable resolve and unyielding defense.
Then there was Elder Ryo, the newly appointed 'Swift Shadow.' Young, barely forty, his face still held the freshness of youth, yet his eyes, sharp and calculating, belied his age. He had inherited his master's mantle after the old 'Swift Shadow' perished guarding the Abyssal Shadow King. He spoke with a quiet intensity. "Patriarch, now that you have returned from the Murim Alliance, the news of the Blood Cult's emissary feels unsettling".
Yoo Sanghwa, seated at the head of the table, his expression grim, listened intently. "Indeed, Elder Ryo," he conceded, his voice low and deliberate. "I have just returned, and the news of the Blood Cult's emissary is indeed perplexing. To send an emissary at such a vulnerable moment for us. It could be an attack." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "They seek to exploit our weakness. They have always been opportunistic vultures."
Elder Volkov snorted. "Let them come! We will show them the Crimson Shadow Sect is not broken!"
"And waste what little remains of our fighting strength?" Elder Mei countered softly. "No. We must discern their true intentions. A week is too short a time for a full assault."
The elders debated, their voices rising and falling, a tempest of strategy and frustration. The visit to the Murim Alliance, the Blood Cult's sudden arrival – it all pointed to a volatile political landscape.
Back in the Great Hall, Jin Yul felt Sanghwa's internal energy flow toward him, this time with a faint ripple of amusement. "Jin Yul," Sanghwa's voice transmitted directly into his mind, surprisingly clear, "How does the sect appear to you?"
Jin Yul merely nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. He didn't know voice transmission, but he understood the question. He looked around the now emptying hall, then back at Sanghwa, and gave another confident nod, indicating his observation.
A faint sigh, almost imperceptible, reached Jin Yul's mind. "You needn't worry about the voice transmission for now," Sanghwa conveyed, "You will be given the manuals for such techniques soon enough. For now, I wish for you to familiarize yourself with the sect."
Jin Yul nodded again, then turned to Li Mei, a small, polite smile on his face. "Li Mei-jie," he began, using the respectful address for an elder sister, his voice soft, yet carrying a new, almost musical resonance, "I am not familiar with the sect's layout. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?"
Li Mei, caught slightly off guard by the request and his respectful tone, straightened. "Of course, Young Master Jin," she replied, her eyes twinkling with a hint of warmth. Then, a small frown touched her brow as she looked at his still somewhat tattered, simple clothes. "However, we cannot possibly go out while you are dressed like that. Please, come with me. We must find you something more suitable."
It took a few hours. Li Mei, with the help of Xiao Bao and Hong Lu, meticulously selected fabrics of the finest silk and woven crimson, tailored to fit Jin Yul's now refined physique. The resulting attire was a stunning blend of deep crimson and rich, dark purple, with subtle silver embroidery that seemed to shift in the light. When Jin Yul finally emerged, he looked less like an orphan and more like a young noble from a prestigious house – elegant, poised, with an almost ethereal grace that made even Kang Dae and Choi Eun, his silent guards, exchange glances of surprise. The soft folds of the fabric draped perfectly, enhancing his newfound beauty and the quiet power that now resided within him.
News of the mysterious boy from the righteous lands, someone the Patriarch had personally brought back, spread like wildfire through the Crimson Shadow Sect. Whispers followed Jin Yul and Li Mei as they walked through the sect grounds. Even the elders seemed to notice. Elder Volkov, ever suspicious, grumbled to his subordinates. "Keep an eye on that boy. The Patriarch's whims are not to be trusted blindly. See if he is trustworthy. Report any… unusual activities."
As they walked, Li Mei, now more at ease, ventured, "Young Master Jin, if you don't mind me asking… how did you meet the Patriarch?"
Jin Yul's smile was innocent, almost disarming. "It was simply by fate. If not for the Patriarch, I would not even be alive." He kept his explanation vague, allowing her to fill in the gaps as she wished.
His eyes, however, were not idle. As they passed by a training ground, his gaze fixated on a group of disciples practicing. Several men, clad in total black, moved with startling swiftness and silence. Their movements were a blur, almost like shadows flitting across the ground. It was Jin Yul's first time witnessing martial artists execute movement techniques, and he was captivated. He watched their feet, how they barely seemed to touch the ground, how their bodies swayed with an almost impossible lightness. He could see the faint ripple of internal energy, qi, flowing through their bodies, concentrating, not just in their feet, but specifically targeting the Yongquan acupoints on their soles, propelling them forward with incredible speed and grace. He saw the subtle contraction and expansion of their gastrocnemius muscles, the precise angle of their ankles, the delicate balance of their core, all working in perfect synchronicity.
The training ground stretched before them, a vast courtyard of weathered stone surrounded by towering pavilions with upturned crimson eaves. Ancient pine trees dotted the perimeter, their gnarled branches casting dancing shadows across the practice area. Li Mei continued speaking about the sect's history, but noticed Jin Yul had grown quiet, his gaze drawn to the disciples moving like shadows across the ground.
She followed his line of sight and smiled. "That's shadow step, Young Master Jin. One of our foundational movement techniques. Have you not learned them?"
Jin Yul turned to her with a gentle expression. "I have only read a basic martial arts book." His voice carried a soft, almost wistful quality.
Li Mei blinked, a flicker of genuine astonishment in her kind eyes.
Jin Yul, however, felt a surge of quiet confidence. He had not just seen the Shadow Steps; he had analyzed them completely. He could perceive the flow of qi in others with startling clarity. He had memorized every subtle shift of qi through the Yongquan, Taichong, and Zusanli acupoints, the precise muscle contractions, the minute adjustments of posture. He knew, with absolute certainty, that if the need arose, he could perfectly replicate those movements.
As they continued their walk through the winding pathways of the sect, Jin Yul marveled at the sheer scale of the Crimson Shadow Sect. Mountainous peaks rose like ancient guardians around the complex, their slopes dotted with smaller training halls and meditation chambers carved directly into the rock face. Ornate bridges spanning deep valleys connected different sections of the sect, their red lacquered railings gleaming in the afternoon sun.
"The sect spans three mountain peaks," Li Mei explained, following a cobblestone path that meandered between towering pagodas. "We're currently on the central peak, where the main halls and living quarters are located. The eastern peak houses the advanced training grounds and martial libraries, while the western peak contains the medicinal gardens and alchemy halls."
Jin Yul nodded appreciatively, though his eyes continued to track the movements of disciples they passed. A group practicing basic fist techniques caught his attention briefly—their stances, the flow of their internal energy, the subtle inefficiencies in their form. He absorbed every detail without breaking stride, his expression stone cold.
Li Mei pointed toward a massive waterfall cascading down the northern cliff face. "That's the Crimson Falls. The sound of the water helps mask training noises, and the mist provides natural concealment for our more... sensitive practices."
They paused at an overlook carved into the mountainside, where Jin Yul could see the full expanse of the sect spread below them. Hundreds of buildings in varying architectural styles dotted the landscape—some ancient wooden structures with curved roofs, others more recent stone constructions built for durability. Wisps of smoke rose from scattered forges and kitchens, while the distant sounds of training echoed off the mountain walls.
"It's beautiful," Jin Yul said softly, and Li Mei found herself smiling at the genuine appreciation in his voice.
"The founders chose this location over three hundred years ago," she said with evident pride. "The natural formation of the peaks creates a defensive barrier, while the abundant qi flowing through the mountain veins makes it ideal for cultivation."
That was how the day ended for them. As they made their way back to Jin Yul's manor, Li Mei reflected on their tour. The boy from the righteous lands had been polite, attentive, and asked thoughtful questions about the sect's history and structure. Nothing unusual, really. Just a well-mannered young man adapting to his new circumstances.
Jin Yul returned to his room. The moment the door closed behind him, his demeanor shifted. He concentrated the qi to flow as he had observed, precisely through the Yongquan and Taichong acupoints, mimicking the muscle contractions. And just like that, he perfectly recreated the Shadow Steps. No, not just recreated them; he did it better. His movements were fluid, silent, as if he weighed nothing at all.
Next, he turned his attention to the third-rate fist technique he had witnessed. He didn't need to throw a single punch. In his mind, he refined the qi circulation, harmonizing it with the observed movements, discarding the unnecessary, optimizing the inefficient. The technique, once crude, transformed into something far more potent.
A week passed. To the elders and Patriarch Yoo Sanghwa, it was a day of immense significance. They stood in the Grand Reception Hall, ready to meet with the representatives of the Blood Cult. The tension was palpable, a heavy cloak in the air.
The elder who had ordered his men to watch Jin Yul, Elder Volkov, received their reports. "The boy… he shows no sign of internal energy cultivation," his subordinate reported, his voice tinged with confusion. "We haven't seen him train qi, nor have we detected any significant energy fluctuations around him."
Volkov frowned, his brows furrowed in suspicion. It was all thanks to Jin Yul's Heavenly Qi Art. His body constantly absorbed nature's qi, making it impossible to detect his true martial level through conventional means. Volkov grunted, dismissing his men. 'No internal energy? Impossible. He must be hiding it. Or the Patriarch is even more foolish than I believed.'
The doors to the Grand Reception Hall slowly swung open. The Crimson Shadow elders and Patriarch expected a representative, perhaps a high-ranking emissary. Instead, what stood before them was a figure that sent a ripple of shock and dread through the hardened martial artists present.
It was none other than the Blood Demon, Baek Mugang. One of the strongest individuals in all the Unorthodox Faction, a living legend who shouldered the blood-soaked history of the Blood Cult. His presence was overwhelming.
Flanking Baek Mugang were two imposing figures. To his right stood Crimson Scythe Yeon Hwa, a formidable woman whose cold, sharp eyes seemed to dissect everything they landed on. To his left was Shadow Gore Mok Daehan, a hulking man whose silent, unnerving presence promised immense, brutal strength. These were no mere guards; they were the Blood Demon's most trusted lieutenants, powerful martial artists in their own right, and their presence here alongside Baek Mugang himself spoke volumes of the Blood Cult's intentions.