“Substitute Blood Pellet.”

Because the Expanding Blood Pellet requires the blood of a master at least beyond the near-Transcendent tiers, it cannot be made easily; thus they produced a replacement for it—the Expanding Blood Pellet’s stand-in.

Among those, the better quality uses the blood of trained martial artists, but the lower quality can even use the blood of livestock.

The Expanding Blood Pellet earns a certain regard as a precious elixir, but the Substitute Blood Pellet is so poor in quality it’s treated as outright poison even within the Blood Cult.

Poison that can truly turn the taker into a blood-hungry fiend, and if the addiction grows severe, there is the risk of literally losing reason and going on a “rampage.”

“Mo-wol brought me an Expanding Blood Pellet.”

But when I needed it the second time, as expected, what she handed over was a Substitute Blood Pellet.

Show a sure result with the Expanding Blood Pellet, addict the target to the point they don’t notice the side effects, then hand over Substitute Blood Pellets so there’s no escaping at all.

The method Mo-wol meant to use on me was exactly the same method the Blood Cult used to addict the Wudang Sect.

“Warriors know how precious a true elixir is. When they received the Expanding Blood Pellet, addiction likely never crossed their minds.”

“But not one of Wudang’s warriors suspected anything? In Wudang, there should be no few who would scorn windfalls and devote themselves to cultivation.”

“That depends on who approaches.”

Gong Cheon understood at once, sighed low, and nodded.

“So that’s how it happened.”

“I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

Seolhwa raised one finger.

“One person. Hwaoru likely approached exactly one disciple of Wudang.”

For Hwaoru to gain access, the go-between needed to move freely between the main peak and the town; that would mean at least a first-seated disciple.

“Once you addict one, the rest is easy. An addict can’t secure Substitute Blood Pellets on his own, so he would have clung to Hwaoru. And Hwaoru, in exchange for supplying the Substitute Blood Pellets, would have told him to deliver Expanding Blood Pellets to other disciples.”

In that process, the blood needed to make Expanding Blood Pellets would come from the disciple already addicted.

The Wudang Sect is counted the foremost sword sect of the Central Plains.

That means they have many powerful masters.

“And so one person, then two, then four....”

From there the spread would be swift beyond compare.

No doubt some, curious about their seniors’ sudden gains, would have reached for the secret as well.

“Those who haven’t taken many can pull themselves out. At least at the moment they realize they’re addicted.”

“You mean... not a single Daoist among Wudang stopped...?”

“Someone must have tried.”

****

The Daoist who fled Wudang was Wudang’s first-seated disciple, Seo Heo.

Seo Heo told an unbelievable story.

“Several elders said the supply of pellets must be cut off, but the sect locked them in the dungeon instead. The remaining elders made the disciples take pellets on a schedule....”

He himself only pretended to take them and did not.

There were likely a few such among the Wudang disciples.

If it was discovered that you weren’t taking the pellets, you were thrown into ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the dungeon; under suspicion himself, he fled before he could be seized.

“I don’t know if it’s because of the pellets, but those who took them no longer looked like Daoists at all. Violent, their judgment clouded—they couldn’t weigh what is right conduct.”

That Wudang was in an abnormal state had been clear ever since they cut off the envoy’s arm and sent him back to the Martial Alliance.

To choose a fight they could not win meant they could no longer make such judgments.

“What was Taeul Jinin doing? Your Sect Leader.”

At Namgoong Mucheon’s question, the Daoist’s expression twisted as if he might cry then and there.

“The Sect Leader as well....”

He bowed his head low.

“He is no different....”

“...What?”

“The one who ordered us to take pellets on a schedule... is the Sect Leader....”

Shock colored Namgoong Mucheon’s face as Seo Heo’s shoulders heaved.

Invincible Gentleman Sword Taeul Jinin.

Wudang’s Sect Leader was one of the Ten Great Masters; as a swordsman, he alone could cross blades on even terms with Namgoong Mucheon.

The two were old friends. Before either rose to lead clan or sect, they crossed swords and forged a bond.

It was a time when sects disdained clans and clans opposed sects, yet once their swords met, the two could not help but acknowledge each other’s skill.

Since then, as matchless rivals, they often exchanged blades and deepened their friendship.

And that Taeul Jinin....

“The Taeul Jinin I remember knew right conduct. He is not one to lean on such windfalls.”

But Seo Heo only sobbed harder, never taking back what he’d said.

Namgoong Mucheon clutched his throbbing head.

“Please... I beg you... stop the sect’s wrongdoing....”

****

Thud—!

“Kh...!”

At the rough kick, Jegal Hwi, who’d been gripping the bars, went tumbling.

“I told you to shut up! Make noise one more time and I’ll cut out your tongue!”

But Jegal Hwi clung to the bars again and shouted on.

“At this rate I’ll lose the use of my leg! I don’t even ask for treatment! Just one jar of Golden Wound Powder...!”

“Lord Cheonghae...!”

Namgoong Cheonghae grabbed Jegal Hwi’s arm in a panic, stopping his protest.

Sweating coldly, clearly unwell, Cheonghae begged him off with all he had; Jegal Hwi looked at him with a complicated expression, then dropped his gaze.

His body trembled with anger.

“Che. Soon to be ‘materials.’”

The Wudang Daoist guarding the dungeon grumbled and wandered off to another row of cells.

At such coarse words and conduct—unfit for any Daoist—Jegal Hwi could not contain his shock.

“Haa....”

“...Deputy Strategist!”

At the long sigh, Jegal Hwi hastily checked Namgoong Cheonghae’s state.

Red seeped again through the cloth binding his thigh.

Namgoong Cheonghae had taken a slash to the thigh from the elders’ swords when facing them down.

The problem was that, left for days in this filthy dungeon without proper treatment—without even Golden Wound Powder—the wound had worsened.

“I’m sorry. Because of me, your injury—”

“It isn’t because of you. I failed to be careful. I’m fine.”

Jegal Hwi clenched his fist, staring at Cheonghae’s leg, which was now starting to stink with rot.

Did the Martial Alliance know what was happening here?

Had they moved the troops?

Did they know Wudang was not in its right mind?

“What they were making then....”

Jegal Hwi recalled the underground workshop he’d stumbled on while surveying Wudang.

Every sect or clan has a hidden place for brewing elixirs.

It was strange that such a place lay where outsiders could reach it easily, but what they were making had certainly been pellets.

Only—

“That was definitely blood.”

A large jar set to one side of the workshop.

What it held was unquestionably blood.

The moment he realized that, Wudang’s warriors had rushed in, seized him and all the Alliance envoys, and thrown them into the dungeon.

From the way they shouted among themselves, it seemed his entering that basement was the issue.

After that, Wudang’s Sect Leader appeared and personally sealed the Alliance members’ Blood Channels, locking down their internal strength—and that led to this.

“If only I hadn’t gone there....”

“Don’t say that. Nothing—nothing has happened yet.”

Haaa....

He said it to steady Jegal Hwi, but Namgoong Cheonghae knew his own body was wearing down.

At this rate, even if he were freed, he might lose the use of his leg.

“No—losing a leg would be fortunate. At this rate....”

Hadn’t the Wudang Daoist just called them “materials” a moment ago?

He could only hope those words meant nothing more.

****

The man the Martial Alliance sent had found the workshop where the pellets were made.

That, said Seo Heo, was why they’d been imprisoned.

“The workshop is underground in this building.”

Seo Heo traced the layout of Wudang’s stronghold and continued his explanation.

“Normally someone stands guard, but that day, sensing something suspicious, he left his post briefly—and in that time, it seems a man of the Alliance went in.”

“Then where is the dungeon? You’re leaving out the most important part!”

Having returned late from Songshan, Seop Mugwang slammed the table—bang!—and roared.

Since Seo Heo came down the mountain, he had drawn a detailed map of Wudang’s main quarters.

They had gathered to plan a raid based on that information, and he was furious that the most crucial piece—the location of the hostages—had not been given.

“I told you, didn’t I? For us, rescuing the captives comes first! If even one of the Alliance’s people comes to harm, you Wudang Daoists—your tongues—by my hand...!”

“Chief Division Lord. Calm yourself.”

“...Damn it...!”

Soothing Seop Mugwang, Namgoong Mucheon looked at Seo Heo, face set.

“I’ll ask plainly. Do you not know where the dungeon is?”

Seo Heo hesitated, then spoke.

“I know where the dungeon is. However....”

“However?”

“The dungeon is already full, because they’ve locked up our own Daoists who refused the pellets. So, for some time now, I only know they’ve been taking people somewhere else....”

Seo Heo finally lowered his head.

“I don’t know where that is....”

Sighs broke from all around the council.

Namgoong Mucheon, too, closed his eyes.