Within the cavernous belly of a massive ger—a nomad’s tent vast enough to rival a four-story mansion—men dressed in the rugged attire of the steppes sat in disciplined rows.

At the head of the assembly, a great chair draped in massive wolf pelts held a titan of a man standing nearly ten feet tall. Though his hair was white with age, the dense, corded muscle packing his frame declared him a man who had transcended the ravages of time. Standing before this mountain of flesh and iron was a figure clad in pristine white martial robes. The elegant line of his jaw marked him as handsome, yet the mask obscuring his upper face suggested he was no ordinary scholar. That he could stand so calmly before the giant, his face concealed, was a testament to the dangerous trust between them.

“O’ Khahurai Khan,” the masked man began, his voice smooth. “How fares the body after the Blood Creation Fruit bestowed by our cult? You have surely tasted the efficacy of our sacred treasure, an earthly marvel, have you not?”

The title ‘Khan’ signified a King of the Steppes. For centuries, countless men had claimed the title, but none had gathered a force worthy of its formidable legacy. This elderly man, Khahurai Khan, however, had subjugated twenty-two tribes, forging the largest nomadic power of the age. His rise had been terrifyingly swift; in a mere five years, he had amassed an empire.

“Hoo…” The Khan exhaled a heavy breath. “Indeed. It is truly the earthly treasure of the Blood Immortal Cult. I felt its power rewrite my very being. My skin, once like dry tree bark, has grown smooth, and I feel strength flooding every fiber of my muscles.”

“However,” the masked man interjected softly, “though it is our cult’s treasure, an artifact that defies the heavens is an exceedingly difficult thing to create. Do not forget: the Blood Creation Fruit only sustains your youth for five years.”

“I am aware. So, emissary of the Blood Immortal Cult, what brings you here? The price for the previous fruit has already been paid, has it not?”

At that moment, the handsome man produced a jet-black jade box.

Click.

The instant the lid parted, a crimson fragrance exploded into the room. It was a thick, heady scent—a mixture of sweet apples and honey, laced with the faint, metallic tang of blood. It was the sweet perfume of hell. Gazing at the crimson fruit, which bore the disturbing likeness of a human face, Khahurai Khan licked his lips.

Gulp.

“Here is another Blood Creation Fruit,” the emissary said, the fruit hovering in his palm. “If you consume this, you will once again live for five years in the prime of your youth.”

“…And the price?” The Khan’s voice trembled with naked greed.

“This time, we require the blood of the Empire’s people.”

“Kekekeke. How curious. Just as I finished unifying the tribes and turned my gaze toward expansion, the Blood Immortal Cult finds itself in need of the spoils from those fat Imperial pigs?”

In that instant, instead of a verbal reply, the Blood Creation Fruit levitated into the air and drifted toward Khahurai Khan.

Thwack.

He caught it without hesitation. Rather than agreeing to the contract with words, he immediately took a large, savage bite.

Crunch.

The crisp snap of apple flesh was accompanied by a chilling auditory hallucination—the faint, distinct echo of a human groan.

“Then, Heavenly Lord Won, emissary of the Blood Immortal Cult,” the Khan rumbled, juice staining his lips. “We shall meet again.”

The man was Heavenly Lord Won, one of the Ten Heavenly Lords who had once assaulted the Martial Alliance alongside Heavenly Lord Dong.

He replied with a chilling grin. “We shall meet again very soon.”

***

Arc 33. Boiling Point

The conscription order had not been issued to the White Qilin Medical Pavilion alone; it had been dispatched to every martial arts sect in the Central Plains.

The situation was so severe that, barring the radical Demonic Cult, the order extended even to certain sects within the Unorthodox Alliance. After all, the major powers of the Unorthodox Alliance, criminal organizations though they were, inevitably ran large-scale legitimate enterprises. Any sect profiting from gambling or loansharking—activities technically legal in this era—received the summons. Even if their operations were somewhat extralegal, the Embroidered Guard and the Eastern Depot undoubtedly had them on record. If they didn’t want their businesses dismantled, they had to answer the call.

However, even within their alliance, some were exempt from the draft. These were not the region-based syndicates, but the wandering plunderers: the river bandits, mountain bandits, and pirates. The Yangtze-Yellow River Water Stronghold, the Eighteen Strongholds of the Green Forest, and the Sea Sand Gang were like swarms of locusts, ready to abandon their bases and vanish at a moment’s notice. They paid no taxes and answered no conscription orders.

Instead, they were forced to pay a hefty sum to the other sects of the Union. It was a matter of fairness; the other members were being dragged off to war while the wanderers enjoyed a free ride. This rule had been established by the Technique Emperor, implemented after several enraged, region-based unorthodox sects had clashed with the three groups, demanding to know why the locusts were the only ones spared.

Amidst this simmering political chaos, the great Empire began to move.

***

“According to the information I’ve received, I am the only one at the Sect Leader level who has been mobilized,” Zhuge Rin said calmly, adjusting his sleeves. “I hear the deputy sect leaders and deputy clan heads are also trying every trick in the book to avoid going, so this should be a rather comfortable trip for us, Hee-ya.”

“I can understand the sect and family leaders, but even their second-in-commands are trying to shirk their duty?”

“There’s no profit in it for them, so naturally they resist. It seems one sect was even caught trying to appoint a temporary vice-leader just to send him in their stead. That says it all.”

“That’s because His Majesty the Emperor is not a man to be trifled with.”

“Is it only His Majesty? His confidant, the Admiral Eunuch, and his Eastern Depot are no pushovers either. They are truly wasting their efforts.”

They sat inside Zhuge Rin’s private carriage, a special vehicle that was less a mode of transport and more a mobile fortress. Within its massive interior lay a bed, a stove, and ample space for medicine chests and tools. Originally built to serve as a mobile clinic and to alleviate the chronic chills from his Nine Yin Severed Meridians, it had since been extensively upgraded. The exterior was reinforced with iron plating, and the bed was lined with precious, self-heating Heat Stones. With additional extensions, it could transform into a field hospital—a veritable sanctuary on wheels.

Accompanying this remarkable carriage were several dozen physicians from the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, along with three of its martial units: the First, Second, and Third. Their numbers totaled over six hundred men, every one of them an expert. It was a force capable of crushing a small or medium-sized sect with a mere breath.

Master… isn’t this defense a little excessive?

Jin Cheon-hee had caused enough trouble himself that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud. Instead, he said, “It seems they would be more willing to participate if there were something to be gained from it.”

“Hmm, I wonder. A significant factor is that this is in lieu of military service, so there isn’t much immediate profit. One could, of course, be appointed a general by achieving great merit, but…”

“…The major families wouldn’t approve of that.”

“A smaller family would be delighted to join the military and receive a stipend. But for the major families, continuing their existing businesses is far more profitable. Moreover, the children raised in such environments tend to develop… free spirits, making it difficult for them to adapt to the rigid structure of military life.”

“Free-spirited” was a polite fiction; “arrogant wretches” was the truth.

Children born into the ruling class underwent marrow washing and meridian cleansing from a young age, their bodies forged by a steady diet of elixirs. Their training was harsh, but that very harshness reinforced their sense of exceptionalism. As a result, they often grew into adults with prickly, class-conscious personalities—adept at being strong against the weak and cowardly before the strong.

There was no way people like that would join the military. In their own territories, they lived like kings; in the army, they’d be nothing more than grunts serving His Majesty. Unless they belonged to a family with a long tradition of military ties, like the Hwangbo Clan, the choice was obvious.

“What about prize money?” Cheon-hee asked.

“Mmm… His Majesty is not the type to grant as much prize money as the great families would desire.”

His Highness Eun was quite the frugal ruler. He governed by grinding his very bones to dust; he wasn’t the type to overspend when he could just as easily collar the sects and force them into compliance.

“So it will be some administrative conveniences at most,” Jin Cheon-hee concluded.

“Correct. However, that is only appealing to a place like ours, which has just begun to expand. For those who are merely maintaining what they have, it’s not a very attractive offer.”

“Because they can just keep doing what they’ve always done, I suppose.”

“Yes. You catch on quickly.”

Jin Cheon-hee fell into thought for a moment before asking, “What happens if another sect attacks a family while its young clan head or junior sect leader is away?”

“It’s not without precedent. In one such case, exactly three months after the attack, an anonymous villager claimed to have found evidence of treason and reported the attacking sect to the authorities. The Embroidered Guard arrived to surround them on that very day, and after a trial that lasted about a week, three generations of the family were exterminated.”

“…They went that far to make an example of them.”

The ‘anonymous villager’ was surely an Eastern Depot agent in a human-skin mask, Cheon-hee thought grimly.

His master continued, “If attacking a family while its leader is away were permitted, every family would start refusing to go. So, such matters are handled with an iron fist. Furthermore, it is likely that a contingent of the Eastern Depot will be stationed in disguise near the territories of the mobilized families.”

“His Majesty is quite thorough.”

“Indeed. And even if a few unorthodox sects with nothing to lose tried a masked raid, the White Qilin Medical Pavilion is no pushover.”

“That’s true.” For some reason, Cheon-hee felt that as long as Yoo Ho was defending the Medical Pavilion, it would be perfectly safe.

Zhuge Rin opened his fan and began to wave it slowly. “However, it is true that we are making a great sacrifice. I have many matters to attend to, as do you.”

“That may be so, but it can’t be helped.”

“You truly are a curious one. In some matters, you refuse to compromise, yet in others like this, you yield so easily.”

“Really? I feel like I compromise quite a lot.”

Jin Cheon-hee replied nonchalantly, his fingers plucking at the strings of the Seven Demonic Zither that Sima Hyeon had gifted him.

Trilling—

As befitting a divine instrument specialized in sound-based techniques, its resonance was exquisitely clear and pure. Zhuge Rin listened to his disciple play, passing the time in leisurely quiet.

Then, a telepathic message arrived from Gwan Sam, the First Unit Leader.

[Pavilion Master. A group is approaching. They carry a military banner… It is the flag of Her Highness Ju’s estate.]

Zhuge Rin responded in kind.

[It seems the situation at the border is more serious than I thought. Are they Wangya Ju’s soldiers?]

[It appears Her Highness Ju herself is with them, sir.]

[We will join them.]

[Yes, Pavilion Master!]

Following the White Qilin Divine Physician’s order, the First Unit Leader gave a sharp hand signal. Instantly, the entire procession halted in perfect unison. Jin Cheon-hee and Zhuge Rin adjusted their robes and stepped out of the carriage, preparing to pay their respects.

A herald’s voice boomed across the plains.

“Her Royal Highness, Wangya Ju, arrives!”