Chapter 197 : Bloodstorm of Qinghai

From ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍the day the Cult Leader had hardened his resolve, Qinghai had been covered in a sea of corpses and blood for fifteen days.

The ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Nine Demonic Sects of Qinghai—excluding the Temple of the Mad Gale and the Fierce Camel Alliance—were annihilated by the Cult Leader, the Ghost Lotus Sect he led, and the martial artists of Cheonghajin.

Not ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍a single person survived, and not a single building or even a foundation stone remained.

Such ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍was the ferocity of the Cult Leader’s campaign that demonic sects unaffiliated with the Nine Demonic Sects of Qinghai came out along his path, prostrating themselves on the ground and swearing loyalty.

The ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Demonic Path, which had once mocked the Orthodox Faction for being unable to unite, now gathered tightly under the medium of fear toward the Cult Leader.

Even ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍the Orthodox Faction, which had been concentrating its forces on Shaolin in preparation for an invasion from Tibet, shrank back in shock at the overwhelming momentum of the Demonic Path.

Amid that entire storm, strength began gathering once more toward the Main Fortress of the Bright Cult.

As part of the main force returned along with the people of the Ghost Lotus Sect, the Main Fortress also began to regain stability.

Those who survived threw themselves madly into restoration and training.

It was because they had painfully realized what their own inadequacy would lead to.

Those who had retired and lived in the Mountain Foot Village returned en masse to active duty.

They said they would burn with rage and die at this rate. Their desire for revenge against the Potala Palace blazed fiercely.

Nearly all the men of the Military Farm Village stepped forward, declaring they would learn martial arts.

It was because they had come to understand anew what it meant to have no power to protect themselves.

From all regions, believers who learned of the Bright Cult’s misfortune sent supplies, tightening their already difficult livelihoods to do so.

Someone sent a handful of rice, someone sent half a bolt of coarse cloth—but as these piled up, the quantity became immense.

It reached the point that even the Cult Leader, who had returned after uniting the entire Demonic Path across Xinjiang and Qinghai, was astonished at the mountain of supplies piled outside the Main Fortress.

“Did the believers send all of that?”

At the Cult Leader’s question, his astonishment clear, Yul Han answered.

“Yes. Even now, supplies continue to come in through the Guardian Division. According to the Strategist, we have more than enough for restoration.”

“This is…”

Truthfully, he had left things as they were because it was the work of his one and only junior brother, but the Cult Leader had never placed much significance on the increase of believers.

He had thought of them as a tasteless chicken rib—something that only leaked information and increased the number of mouths to feed.

Yet now, those very believers had added strength to the Bright Cult’s crisis—strength great enough to astonish even the Cult Leader.

And his surprise did not end there.

As he passed through the gates, the place was bustling like the center of a marketplace in a major Central Plains city.

“What is this now?”

“They are believers. All of them are volunteers.”

“Volunteers?”

“They wish to become martial artists of the Bright Cult.”

At Yul Han’s answer, the Cult Leader could not close his mouth, which had fallen open in shock.

The number of people who had gathered was truly enormous.

To sort out this unexpected situation, the Bright Cult had to spend another fifteen days.

The amount of supplies that had arrived was immense, and the number of believers applying to become martial artists of the Bright Cult reached a staggering one hundred thousand.

That was why even the Lord of the Training Hall—who had lost an arm in the previous battle—went around beaming and full of excitement.

Watching him silently, the Cult Leader spoke bitterly.

“That bastard lost an arm, so what is he so happy about…?”

“He says the future of the Bright Cult has become bright.”

At Yul Han’s answer, the Cult Leader’s gaze sank.

Truthfully, the Cult Leader had never felt much responsibility toward the Bright Cult’s martial artists.

He had simply thought that since he was the Cult Leader, it was enough to carry out his duties well.

From the beginning, he had not chosen to become a martial artist of the Bright Cult, nor to become the Young Cult Leader, nor even the Cult Leader.

He thought the others were the same.

The Bright Cult was a place where those who had been sold like himself, or kidnapped, had gathered.

So even when the Orthodox Faction derided them as a group of vagabond trash, he had let it pass. It was insulting, but when examined closely, it did not seem entirely wrong.

But the current scene was enough to overturn all of those thoughts.

Leaving the Cult Leader like that, Yul Han withdrew.

He had judged that the Cult Leader needed time alone.

Except for the fact that anger and a desire for revenge were the driving forces, the Bright Cult had become even more vibrant than before the Tibetan attack.

People now clearly understood why they needed to strive.

It was a completely different atmosphere from before, when they had been buried in training simply because they had to do it.

The training of the Twenty-Seven Ghosts, who had lost their comrades, showed that atmosphere more clearly than any other group.

The Twenty-Seven Ghosts devoted themselves not only to individual training, but also to group combat drills as the thirteen survivors fought together as a unit.

It was an effort to make up for their lacking abilities through coordinated techniques.

Even in Yul Han’s eyes—who emphasized sparring as close to real combat as possible—it was dangerously realistic training.

So much so that injuries began to pile up after training.

There were even voices saying they should be stopped, but Yul Han instead sent the Poison Demon and ensured thorough treatment.

Because he too understood the pain of losing comrades.

With a heavy heart, Yul Han left the Main Fortress and walked past the Mountain Foot Village, arriving at the Military Farm Village.

People still remained in the Main Fortress.

Only the essential manpower for farming worked under the escort of many martial artists.

The food produced in the military farms was also a crucial resource for the Bright Cult.

Fortunately, before this battle had occurred, they had harvested an enormous yield and stored most of it in the Main Fortress granary.

Of course, the food that the villagers had stored in their own granaries had all been looted.

The Tibetan martial monks had consumed or taken everything as they withdrew.

The amount was massive, but since an even greater quantity had been stored in the Main Fortress, they were not at immediate risk of starvation.

More important than food was the loss of the farmland’s function.

Fortunately, the Tibetan monks had not greatly damaged the farmland.

Some parts were ruined, but more than eighty percent remained intact.

Farmers were sweating profusely as they restored the land.

To sow seeds again in the coming spring, the damaged farmland had to be repaired.

Turning his gaze away from the busy fields, Yul Han walked to one side.

There, burial mounds filled the plains.

At a glance, there were well over ten thousand.

They were the bodies of those who had died buying time for the villagers to evacuate.

The Ten Thousand Swords Unit was buried here, as well as the three Stronghold Lords including Gu Tae.

Standing before the foremost of those burial mounds, Yul Han’s eyes sank.

<He slept while protecting the believers with an icy Ghostly Aura. Tomb of the Ghost Demon>

At the inscription written on the long wooden board, Yul Han’s eyes eventually grew moist.

The foolish grin of the Ghost Demon vividly came to mind.

The thought that he would never see that selfless smile again left a hollow emptiness in his chest.

Drenched in a greater sense of loss than expected, Yul Han realized that another burial mound that should have been here was missing.

“Profound Demon, Ice Heaven Blade King….”

People had said it.

That they had fought more bravely than anyone.

Yet their bodies could not be found.

People had wanted to at least erect symbolic graves, but Yul Han had forbidden it.

Because he held onto the hope that they might still be alive as prisoners.

Holding onto that hope, before the Ghost Demon’s grave, Yul Han made a vow.

If the two of them were alive, no matter what state they were in, he would rescue them without fail.

As he turned away, his eyes gleamed with a fiercer and colder killing intent than ever before.

Preparations for the Bright Cult’s campaign to conquer Tibet began in earnest.

Of the twenty thousand First Rate martial artists the Bright Cult had possessed, only three thousand had survived.

It was proof of just how desperate the battle atop the walls had been.

That loss was filled by the masters of the Demonic Path whom the Cult Leader had brought with him.

Though masters above Peak Realm were lacking, the Demonic Path had an abundance of First Rate experts, making it easy to fill the numbers.

After reorganization, as many as thirty thousand First Rate experts belonged to the Bright Cult’s campaign force.

Among them, Yul Han included Pageuk, the Possessed Martial Artists, and the Thirteen Bloods.

The Five Demons without the Ghost Demon and Profound Demon, the Twenty-Seven Ghosts now reduced to thirteen, as well as the Blood Sword Unit and Red Blade Unit, wished to remain behind with the Cult Leader to guard the Main Fortress.

From the Cult Leader onward, all those named opposed it.

To them, Yul Han spoke with intensity.

“A countless number of believers have gathered. You must have also received the Institute of Reason’s report that the Orthodox Faction has gathered at Shaolin. Even so, do you intend to abandon the believers and march out again?”

At his question, neither the Cult Leader nor the Five Demons could respond.

Looking at them, Yul Han spoke in a chilling voice.

“I will carry the fury of those who remain here and annihilate them.”

At those words, the Cult Leader asked.

“Not a single one?”

“I will not leave a single one alive.”

At Yul Han’s answer, they reluctantly nodded.

Having finally obtained their agreement, Yul Han departed from the Main Fortress of the Bright Cult.

Leading Pageuk, twelve Possessed Martial Artists, the Thirteen Bloods, and thirty thousand First Rate experts.

The manor built on a mountainside filled with exotic flowers so beautiful it hardly seemed like the human world was breathtaking.

Beyond the vast flower fields lay a blue lake reflecting the sky, and beyond that stood rows upon rows of fruit trees.

It seemed as though the Immortal Realm from storybooks existed right here.

Perhaps because of that, people called this place the Earthly Immortal Realm.

Of course, that was not a name used by outsiders. To outsiders, this place was merely a valley within a valley deep in remote mountains, without even a name.

In truth, they did not even know such a place existed.

The people of this Earthly Immortal Realm called themselves those who lived in the Heaven beyond Heaven.

That was right. This was the headquarters of the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens.

Within that beautiful setting, a very different discussion was taking place in the central pavilion.

“The grand plan to subjugate the Bright Cult has gone awry. As a result, the Bright Cult has raised a massive army to take revenge on Tibet. This means the grand design of peace under heaven is collapsing.”

The one who spoke with dissatisfaction was a middle-aged man wearing golden robes.

Within the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens, he was called the Kirin Pavilion Lord.

One of the five pillars alongside the Three Dukes Pavilion, the Inner Directorate, the Honor Pavilion, and the Reception Pavilion—he was the lord of the Kirin Pavilion.

The world knew him as Du Manho.

The Supreme Elder of the Heavenly Gold Merchant Guild, the greatest merchant group under heaven.

Unlike the others, he still maintained an active position.

Though he had stepped back as Supreme Elder, his influence remained absolute within the merchant guild.

In effect, he was the financial backbone of the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens.

Because of that, even though he was not a martial artist, none of the others could look down on him.

At his criticism, the expression of the woman behind the curtain—who had planned and forcefully pushed this matter—darkened.

Then, the gentle voice of the Reception Envoy reached her ears.

“The Three Dukes Pavilion has only Lord Hwan left. The Honor Pavilion has suffered damage to the point of worrying about its survival. The Inner Directorate, having lost the Makbu Eighteen Elders, is the same. Setting aside responsibility, we don’t even know where or how to begin restoring the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens.”

At those words, the woman behind the curtain closed her eyes.

Because it was not wrong.

Those who formed the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens had gathered over periods ranging from two hundred years to as little as thirty years.

Even if they began restoration now, it would not be possible in the short term.

No matter how many elixirs and secret manuals they provided, they could not mass-produce masters of the Profound Realm and Transcendent Realm.

The reason Profound Realm masters had appeared in places like White Tiger Village and the Assassination Guest House was because they had the necessary human resources.

That is, there had been Transcendent Realm masters right on the verge of breaking through.

For such individuals, a single elixir or a single manual that could grant insight was decisive.

But raising a mere Peak Realm martial artist to the Profound Realm was impossible—even for the Assembly of the Beyond-Heavens.

Having listened with her eyes closed, the woman behind the curtain opened them.

“If there were a way to solve that, what would you do?”

At her words, the old man with an immortal-like demeanor seated at the head—who had only been listening—leaned forward with interest.

“A way exists?”

At the question of Lord Hwan, the only remaining one among the Three Dukes, she answered.

“Yes. There is.”

“What is it?”

At his question, her gaze turned—and from that direction, he stood up.

The Eightfold Confusion Monk.

The very one who had scattered like ashes before Yul Han.