Demonic Sect Reward, Purple Blood Art

"Greetings, Elder." Zhu Yingxiong lowered his head in salute, his manner respectful.

Deng Yin did not respond. He merely paced forward two steps in silence and stopped beside Lan Chan'er's corpse. After looking down at her for a moment, he sighed softly. "Now, even the Destiny Sect has come to meddle in the affairs of my Yingui Sect." His voice was low and hoarse.

Only then did he turn, his gaze settling on Zhu Yingxiong. "Little Nine, what are your thoughts?"

Little Nine—the original owner of this body had not even been worthy of a proper name. Thirteen were taken in and trained back then, but only three remained in the end. He had ranked ninth.

Zhu Yingxiong had matters on his mind, but his mouth answered naturally, "The sect's dignity naturally cannot be lightly violated by others.

For the prestige of our Sacred Gate's Yingui Sect, this disciple will gladly give his life and spill his blood, at any cost!" No matter what, he had to make his stance clear first. The slogans had to be shouted loud enough.

"Heh heh..." Deng Yin gave a low laugh of unreadable meaning, his voice icy and sinister. It sent a chill down Zhu Yingxiong's spine and made his heart tremble.

He hurriedly presented the handwritten copy of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture with both hands. "This disciple was fortunate not to fail his mission and has obtained the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture. Please inspect it, Elder."

Deng Yin extended a pale hand and accepted the handwritten copy. He casually opened it and flipped through a few pages before flicking his wrist and tossing the treasured scripture back.

Zhu Yingxiong hurriedly caught it, inwardly puzzled. Did he think it was fake?

He looked up and met Deng Yin's still, ancient-well-like eyes. Then Deng Yin said, "In a few days, deliver it to the Sect Master yourself."

Before Zhu Yingxiong could think further, Deng Yin had already taken something from his robes. It was a booklet, thinner than the handwritten copy of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture.

Deng Yin said slowly, "Since you have rendered meritorious service to our Sacred Gate, you should naturally be rewarded. This was personally bestowed by the Sect Master for your cultivation." With that, he handed over the booklet.

Zhu Yingxiong hurried forward and accepted it with both hands. Lowering his head, he looked at the booklet and saw several large characters illuminated by candlelight: "Purple Blood Art."

Huh? Zhu Yingxiong's pupils abruptly contracted, and the hands holding the booklet gave an almost imperceptible tremble.

This... the original owner had not known, but if his memories were correct, this Purple Blood Art was the demonic cultivation art that "Blood Hand" Li Gong—the astonishingly gifted Yingui Sect Master from over a century ago, whose might shook both the righteous and underworld factions—had relied upon to roam the world!

Li Gong had even used it to briefly contend with Chuan Ying, who had already "shattered the void."

Zhu Yingxiong's heart was filled with uncertainty. He could not understand why the Sect Master had bestowed this supreme demonic art upon him.

Countless guesses and doubts surged through his mind, but he did not dare reveal the slightest trace of them on his face. In an instant, he lowered his head deeply once more, his voice filled with overwhelmed excitement:

"Thank you for the Sect Master's reward! Thank you, Elder, for your generous favor!"

Deng Yin quietly watched his barely restrained excitement. There was still no expression on that aged, gaunt face. Yet deep within his eyes, something exceedingly dark seemed to sway gently with the candlelight.

"Mm." He responded blandly. "Cultivate diligently, then, and do not disappoint the Sect Master's expectations!"

He no longer looked at Zhu Yingxiong. His gaze turned toward Lan Chan'er's corpse on the ground. With his back to him, Deng Yin said coldly,

"You should not remain here long. Go back. After Shaolin's year-end martial gathering, descend the mountain and pay your respects to the Sect Master."

"Yes! This disciple takes his leave!"

Zhu Yingxiong carefully tucked the Purple Blood Art into his robes, placing it together with the copy of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture. He bowed deeply once more, then backed step by step toward the door without losing his respectful posture.

When he reached the doorway, Deng Yin's voice rang out again, faint and ghostly, drilling distinctly into his ears:

"That ungrateful thing need not be kept alive."

Zhu Yingxiong's steps abruptly halted, and a chill ran through his heart. He immediately understood whom Deng Yin meant.

The traitor within Shaolin Temple who had relayed Yingui Sect orders to him, yet had leaked his identity to the Destiny Sect and caused them to set their sights on him.

"Yes, this disciple understands."

No matter the reason, betraying the sect meant death. And assigning him the task of eliminating the traitor was also a cold reminder and warning.

Zhu Yingxiong left the small hut without wasting a moment, plunging into the night and racing toward Shaolin Temple.

Only after putting a great distance between himself and that small hut did Zhu Yingxiong let out a long breath. At Deng Yin's side, he had felt invisible pressure every moment.

The night wind passed through the gaps in the forest, bringing a faint chill and gradually calming his turbulent thoughts. Recalling everything fragrant and perilous that had happened tonight:

Although Deng Yin, this demonic sect elder, was unfathomable, the fact that the Destiny Sect had dared attack him so brazenly showed that the Yingui Sect was likely declining by the day. No wonder his memories from his previous life contained no mention of the Yingui Sect during the Ming Empire.

"But now that I'm here." He looked toward the faint outline of Shaolin Temple beneath the night sky, a glimmer passing through his eyes. "The script from now on will be different."

After some further trouble, Zhu Yingxiong successfully returned to Shaolin Temple.

By the time he returned to his meditation chamber, the sky outside had shed its deepest black and taken on a hazy crab-shell blue. Faint light filtered in.

He lit an oil lamp and eagerly took out the Purple Blood Art from his robes.

By the light of the lamp, he began rapidly and intently reading through the Purple Blood Art. The booklet was thin and had few pages, but the writing and diagrams on every page carried an eerie quality. Its phrasing was also abstruse and obscure, involving many secret terms and crucial points unique to the demonic sects.

As he flipped through it, the familiar interface indeed appeared before his eyes the next moment.

[Martial arts manual detected: Purple Blood Art]

[Recording...]

[Interpreting...]

A moment later

[Interpretation: Purple Blood Art]

"Purple" is the color of utmost nobility, revealed when blood has been refined to the deepest degree;

"Blood" is the foundation of life's essence, the sea that bears qi and carries the spirit.

The true essence of this art lies in using extreme methods to refine the blood and cleanse the marrow, reversing acquired impurities. It uses the domineering progress of demonic cultivation to transform one's body and nature, making it a supreme method of entering the Dao through demonic means.

Bloodline Tempering Diagram: (Within a human silhouette, blood vessels emerge. Their color gradually shifts from crimson to deep purple, spreading through the entire body like a spiderweb before finally converging into the heart aperture's Purple Sun.)

Cultivation Risk: This art is easy at first and difficult later. To reach great mastery, one must cross layer upon layer of barriers. Eight or nine out of ten practitioners die from its backlash. Of those who can truly pass the death barrier and enter the Dao through demonic means, not one exists in ten thousand.

Looking at the many clearly listed dangers in the "Interpretation," Zhu Yingxiong could not help feeling his scalp tingle. It truly deserved to be called a demonic sect cultivation art—it was like dancing on a blade's edge, where the slightest mistake meant eternal ruin.

However, when he noticed phrases such as "transform one's body and nature, enter the Dao through demonic means," especially "refine the blood and cleanse the marrow" and "reverse acquired impurities," a thought suddenly struck him. This description... seemed to share a subtle similarity with the core principle of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture, which sought to "cleanse away mortal impurities and return to the innate."

A vague thought arose. He seemed to understand why the Yingui Sect had painstakingly spent ten years planting an agent in Shaolin Temple, all to steal the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture and the Marrow-Cleansing Scripture!

These two supreme Buddhist scriptures might be precisely the unmatched methods needed to verify, complete, or even break through the final and most dangerous barrier of the Purple Blood Art—entering the Dao through demonic means!

If not for this golden finger's ability to "interpret" and directly reveal the essence of these two arts, he would never have thought of this connection.

Perhaps only after cultivating the Purple Blood Art to an extremely profound level, personally experiencing that insurmountable bottleneck and the omen of destruction, could one vaguely perceive it. But by then, one might already be trapped deep within the shackles of demonic cultivation, unable to turn back.

By then, the sky had gradually brightened. Holding the booklet that recorded this supreme demonic art, he suddenly brought it close to the lamp flame.

The tongue of fire licked upward.

"Fss..."

The flames flared, swallowing the pages.

Since the cultivation art had already been recorded, there was no need to keep this manual.

Moreover, he had no intention of cultivating this demonic art for the time being. After all, if it exposed his identity because of this, would that not be more loss than gain? It was best to be cautious in all things.

Before long, the entire booklet had burned clean, leaving only a small pile of ashes on the ground.