Chapter 1096

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

The enormous, heavy iron gates of Xining slowly opened their mouths.

The Grand Sorceress watched the backs of their enemies as they passed through the encirclement, parted at the Blood Lord’s signal, and headed for the gates. Then she spoke.

“Don’t you think you let them go too easily?”

“Perhaps. But…”

The Blood Lord replied in a low voice, then nodded toward the towering city walls.

“If we’d fought them then and there, our losses would’ve been considerable, too.”

The Grand Sorceress agreed, at least to a point.

Qinghai was a frontier among frontiers, a province that had stood prepared against foreign invasion since ancient times. Its walls, built from enormous blocks of dressed stone, were sturdier than anything in the Central Plains. Silver arrowheads already glinted along their tops.

And beyond Xining’s slowly opening gates stood a forest of spears and blades.

“Cornered, they would’ve fought all the harder. They still have teeth to bite with.”

Even a lowly rat would charge a cat if it thought its life was at stake. How much more fiercely would those people fight?

They had no fewer than seven Supreme Peak masters among them.

No—eight, counting the mysterious Great Sir who had never come down from the walls.

Then there were the Qinghai martial artists and imperial troops who had gathered in Xining early, with barely any losses. The Blood Lord’s judgment wasn’t wrong.

Of course, the Grand Sorceress thought there was another, more decisive reason for his choice.

He wasn’t certain. He wasn’t certain he could capture Jin Taekyung as that person wished—or, for that matter, that they could win outright.

But she kept the thought to herself. She could hardly stand the Blood Lord, yet they served the same master and pursued the same goal. There was no need to touch a nerve now.

At the same time, she could partly understand why he’d let Jin Taekyung and the other Supreme Peak masters leave without resistance.

“Well, it’s a shame, but there’s nothing to be done. I wasn’t the one that person first entrusted with Qinghai.”

“That’s unusual. I never expected to hear you say that.”

“I can separate business from personal feelings. I knew it would be a difficult battle, too.”

There were levels even among Supreme Peak masters, and the seven they’d just surrounded were far from ordinary.

Cheongpung, the Huashan Divine Dragon, whose exploits had been somewhat overshadowed by Jin Taekyung’s. Judging by innate martial talent alone, it wouldn’t have been strange to call him the greatest of all time.

Perfected Being Hyeoncheon and Cheongheoja, leaders of the venerable Daoist lineages of Kongtong and Kunlun.

The Bow Saint and the Slaughter Saint, who needed no introduction, and the Fire King Jeok Cheongang, their equal.

And finally, the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung, who had proven through his every action that his very existence was a variable.

Looking at that overwhelming, dazzling lineup, even the Black Ghosts—nearly immortal as they were—seemed to fade into the background.

“If we’d fought, those things would have been wiped out, whether we survived or not.”

The Grand Sorceress gestured toward the silent Black Ghosts.

“Though one has already melted away without leaving so much as its shape behind.”

Jeok Cheongang’s full-strength strike had been that powerful. It had even broken through part of the defensive magic she’d cast.

“And there’d be no question of it if the Bow Saint and Slaughter Saint joined in. Besides, there’s something about Jin Taekyung that even I can’t quite understand.”

In Murim, where strength ruled above all, the logic of power was simple. The strong devoured the weak; the weak were trampled. That was how the world worked.

But from what the Grand Sorceress had seen, Jin Taekyung stood further outside that logic than anyone.

Even if he’d received help from those around him whenever he faced a life-or-death crisis, defeating four Demon Lords and a Demon Empress hadn’t been mere luck.

She could understand why he was called the Chosen One.

“That must be it. There’s something special about him, and that’s why that person is so obsessed with him.”

A faint note of wonder entered her voice. The Blood Lord’s lips twisted.

Obsessed. Is that what it is?

He watched the gates slowly closing. More precisely, he watched Jin Taekyung’s back disappear between them.

And he remembered what he’d said moments before.

Do you think a fishing rod cast over a lake knows what its owner is thinking?

He hadn’t said it only to Jin Taekyung. It was a self-mocking question directed at himself—and a plaintive complaint to the Lord of Heaven, who wasn’t there to hear it.

Why is that brat special to you? Why, exactly?

At that moment, the person the Blood Lord most wanted to kill wasn’t Mae Jonghak, who had once taken his arm, or Jeok Cheongang.

It was Jin Taekyung.

A greenhorn who had grown into a towering tree in barely two years. He was no longer a bright-yellow sprout the Blood Lord could crush underfoot. He had deep roots and thick branches now, yet his master still would not let his servants cut him down.

Lord of Heaven. What is it you truly want? This foolish servant cannot begin to guess.

A fishing rod.

Even if it broke against the strength of a great fish that had taken the bait, its owner could simply replace it.

The three words he’d spoken of his own accord, and the meaning they carried, weighed unusually heavily on the Blood Lord’s heart.

That was when it happened.

Bwooooo!

A horn sounded, long and deep. The Potala Palace’s army slowed to a halt some twenty-odd zhang¹ away.

Of the hundreds of elephants standing like iron towers, thirteen of the largest and most lavishly adorned moved forward.

Thud. Thud.

The Blood Lord slowly raised his head as a vast shadow fell across his face. The elephants reached him, their heavy footfalls rumbling. A voice came down from atop their heads.

“It has been a long time, donor.²”

Anyone from the Central Plains might have snorted at the halting Han speech. But the immense internal energy and authority behind the voice belonged to the grand master of a sect. It carried unmistakable anger, too.

“And yet…”

Thirteen figures dropped to the ground with a rush of displaced air.

At their center stood an old monk, slender and bony as a withered tree.

“If this humble monk has not mistaken what he sees, then I believe a convincing explanation is in order.”

The old monk ruled Tibet like a kingdom. He was the Palace Lord of the Potala Palace—or, as his people had called him by ancient custom, the Dalai Lama. He fixed his piercing gaze on the Blood Lord.

“Why did you let them go? I may be old, and my eyes may be failing, but even from a distance I could tell they were no ordinary people.”

Roused from his thoughts, the Blood Lord glanced at the gates, now firmly shut. Then he gave the Dalai Lama, who had brought a substantial force to join them, a warm smile.

“As expected of the Palace Lord. You saw them clearly.”

The Dalai Lama did not smile back, despite the Blood Lord’s unusually friendly manner.

What he’d just seen touched on one of the chief reasons the head of his fiercely insular sect had accepted Dark Heaven’s proposal decades ago and formed an alliance. It was also one of the main reasons he’d gathered the Potala Palace’s forces from across Tibet and brought them all the way to Qinghai.

“Then forgive this old monk for asking, just in case.”

When he continued, his voice was so cold that no trace of his halting speech remained.

“Were any of the enemies you just let go among those I’ve been searching for?”

At that moment, the Grand Sorceress’s lips moved behind her tightly woven silver-white veil.

I’m only saying this in case, but… don’t forget. Until we achieve our goal, the Potala Palace is a rather useful card to have.

Her warning reached the Blood Lord before he could answer. His lips twisted despite himself.

Our goal?

Ordinarily, he would have let the phrase pass. Now, for some reason, it struck him as absurd.

She and he were both fishing rods, after all. Someone could replace them whenever they pleased.

I’ve had only one goal from the beginning: to serve that person with body and soul, and help him rule as the master and father of all under heaven.

But why?

Why did he find himself thinking that his master, the great Lord of Heaven, wanted not the vast world, but one young man?

“Ha.”

A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

The Dalai Lama’s gaze grew darker.

“I’m still waiting for an answer.”

Amusement in his voice, the Blood Lord replied, “Surely you’ve already guessed.”

“Does that mean…?”

“That’s right. The Fire King Jeok Cheongang. And the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung. The Fire Gate Clan’s scions you’ve searched for so desperately were among them. Ah, come to think of it…”

He extended a finger toward the ground at the Dalai Lama’s feet.

“I believe they were standing right where you are now. Only moments ago, of course.”

“…!”

“…!”

The air around them shook with the aura pouring from the Dalai Lama and the Twelve Secret Monks, the Potala Palace’s finest fighters.

“You let them go so easily? Even knowing how much I—how much we—hate the Fire Gate Clan?”

His voice was as dry as a desert of burning sand. The ruler of Tibet’s vast martial world was furious.

The Fire Gate Clan.

A cursed name every Secret Monk of the Potala Palace knew and none could forget.

They were the ones who had driven the Potala Palace’s transformation from a Buddhist sect known for its excessive belligerence into a theocratic state with formidable martial power.

“How dare you break your promise? What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, now…”

The Dalai Lama glared at him with a frost-sharp aura, speaking down to him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The Blood Lord gave a short laugh.

“Don’t worry. I remember perfectly well. That heartrending story from two hundred years ago, and the close bond behind our promise.”

“What?”

The Dalai Lama’s eyes widened at the offhand reply. The Blood Lord continued quietly.

“But unlike me, Palace Lord, you seem to have forgotten something.”

“Forgotten? What are you talking about?”

“You know better than anyone how much help that person gave you in making the Potala Palace what it is today.”

“That…”

The Dalai Lama bit his lip, unable to finish. The Blood Lord clicked his tongue.

“As I said, I’ll keep my promise. If you play a substantial part in capturing Jin Taekyung, I’ll put the Fire King in your custody and give you a generous reward besides.”

The Dalai Lama was silent for a moment before speaking heavily.

“How can I believe you?”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“I trust that person. But you let them go right before my eyes, when we had the perfect opportunity.”

A sneer touched the Blood Lord’s lips. It wasn’t the Dalai Lama’s distrust that offended him. He found it laughable that the man truly believed what he’d said.

Even accounting for Dark Heaven’s full support, the strength the Potala Palace had amassed was undeniable. The Dalai Lama was its greatest master; he could stand against any one of the Ten Kings besides Jeok Cheongang without being outmatched.

But…

That’s as far as you go.

It wasn’t a question of martial skill.

It was a question of the size of one’s inner self. Of the person one was.

The Grand Sorceress had already understood what the Blood Lord intended when he let their enemies go, and had said nothing. The Dalai Lama could only lament the great fish he’d watched slip away.

“Do you still not understand?”

“What is it I’m supposed to understand…?”

“I wanted to make certain of everything. To leave them no opening to escape, however small.”

The Dalai Lama was about to say something when he suddenly realized something and opened his eyes wide.

“Could it be…?”

The Blood Lord nodded without a word.

If his guess was right, it would happen today: the Yangtze River Channel League’s hundreds of ships would finally enter the Yellow River tributary leading to Qinghai, where the Green Forest Alliance would meet them alongside the ten thousand followers who had joined them in advance.

“Another day, two at most. This battle will be over within that time.”

Thirty thousand additional troops would cut through the swift current to reach Qinghai and close even the smallest gap.

They were the final key to a certain victory.

They were also why he’d given Jin Taekyung a day to think.

His promise?

He had never intended to keep it. In fact, he hoped Jin Taekyung would not be foolish enough to sever his own Sinews and Meridians.

Because only then—only if Jin Taekyung resolved to fight to the death—would the Blood Lord have grounds to kill him.

Lord of Heaven, forgive me. Even if this is not what you wish, I act only out of loyalty.

As if confessing his sins, the Blood Lord murmured to himself, then slowly parted his lips.

“So…”

He turned to the Dalai Lama, who was watching him with a face much brighter than before.

“Shut your mouth. Speak down to me again, and I’ll rip that mouth apart.”

“…!”

Watching the Dalai Lama freeze in place, the Blood Lord laughed wildly.

Once was enough to be treated like someone else’s fishing rod.