When Will You Die

"I'm about to die."

An aged voice sounded beside Zhu Yingxiong's ear, shattering every response he had prepared. For a moment, he did not know what to say.

He looked up in surprise.

In the flickering candlelight, he saw that face clearly—old and withered, its wrinkles carved deep like ravines.

Xie Guangran, the head of the Yingui Sect, truly looked as though his lifespan was nearing its end. Yet Zhu Yingxiong became even more wary.

"You have obtained the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture?"

"Yes." Zhu Yingxiong took the handwritten scripture from his robes. This was a newly copied version; the previous one had been soaked and ruined when he fell into the Luo River.

"Come forward. Give it to me."

The voice remained aged, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.

Zhu Yingxiong stepped forward as instructed and respectfully presented the scripture to Xie Guangran with both hands.

At closer range, that wrinkled face became even clearer. He was so old he seemed nearly desiccated, his eyes clouded and dull—a far cry from the demonic sect leader Zhu Yingxiong had imagined.

Xie Guangran stretched out a hand.

That hand was unnaturally pale, seemingly bloodless. Under the candlelight, it even appeared faintly translucent.

He took the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture and opened it. He turned the pages very slowly, yet after reading only a few, he set it down again.

Then he raised those clouded eyes and stared at Zhu Yingxiong. His gaze was murky, but when it fell upon him, Zhu Yingxiong's heart tightened slightly.

After a moment, Xie Guangran asked, "Have you cultivated the Purple Blood Art I bestowed upon you?"

As expected.

Zhu Yingxiong had long anticipated this, but his expression remained unchanged. "This disciple has cultivated it for only a short time and has merely entered the beginner stage."

"Oh?"

Xie Guangran narrowed his eyes slightly. Something seemed to flash through those clouded pupils.

"Let me see how well you've cultivated it."

Before his words had even faded, he reached out without further discussion.

Thoughts raced through Zhu Yingxiong's mind, but in the end, he did not evade. This was a hurdle he had to cross.

Xie Guangran's hand settled upon his wrist.

The touch was icy, as though he had touched frozen iron. Every hair on Zhu Yingxiong's body stood on end.

A thread of bone-piercingly cold true qi entered through his meridians.

The true qi of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture in his dantian and the blood-colored true qi within his Shanzhong acupoint reacted at once, trembling slightly as though they were about to surge forth on their own.

With a thought, he forcibly suppressed both streams of true qi, allowing that cold thread to travel through his meridians before eventually entering his middle dantian.

The instant it entered his Shanzhong acupoint, before it could investigate anything, it was caught by the blood-colored true qi. Like a savage beast scenting prey, the blood-colored true qi lunged forward, tore into it, and swallowed that cold thread in a single gulp.

But after swallowing it, it seemed somewhat overstuffed, or perhaps frozen by the cold. Its spinning suddenly slowed, becoming sluggish and stagnant.

Xie Guangran's expression shifted slightly, and a trace of surprise passed through his eyes.

He released Zhu Yingxiong's wrist. Those clouded eyes remained fixed on Zhu Yingxiong's face, scrutinizing him closely as though waiting for something.

Yet Zhu Yingxiong's expression did not change in the slightest.

Inside his body, however, things were entirely different.

In his lower dantian, the true qi of the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture began circulating on its own. Warm, mellow innate true qi rose through his meridians and flowed continuously into his Shanzhong acupoint.

Aided by this true qi, that slowly spinning mass of blood-colored true qi gradually began to rotate again.

As Zhu Yingxiong poured in more and more true qi, it spun faster and faster, growing steadier and steadier as its crimson hue deepened.

Naturally, this mass of blood-colored true qi began circulating and spreading throughout his body. It then gathered once more. One portion returned to his Shanzhong acupoint and lay dormant there, while another entered the heart aperture, filling his heart with vigorous vitality.

This was where his confidence lay. Since he had dared to let the sect leader examine him, he had naturally come prepared.

Xie Guangran stared at his face for a long time. His gaze never shifted.

At last, he saw a faint flush appear on Zhu Yingxiong's face. After that, there were no further changes.

Suddenly.

Xie Guangran's clouded eyes erupted with a terrifying divine light!

The aura around him changed abruptly. Bone-chilling cold burst outward, and the candle flames shook violently, nearly going out!

"Good!"

Xie Guangran threw back his head and laughed. His laughter made the spacious waterside pavilion hum, leaving Zhu Yingxiong's eardrums aching.

"Just as I thought!"

His expression shifted wildly. Zhu Yingxiong had never seen such complex changes upon a single person's face.

Ecstasy, greed, regret, relief... all manner of emotions surfaced on that aged face, intertwining and changing in an instant, as though he had gone mad.

At last, he stopped laughing.

The astonishing aura that had burst from him abruptly faded as well, and he returned to being that frail old man on the verge of the grave.

The candlelight flickered, illuminating his aged face.

Xie Guangran panted for a moment, then lifted those clouded eyes and looked at Zhu Yingxiong again.

"Does the Purple Blood Art within you stir restlessly every time you fight someone?"

Zhu Yingxiong's heart shifted, but his face remained calm as he answered, "Yes."

As expected. There was something wrong with the Purple Blood Art.

Xie Guangran nodded slightly, a reminiscent look appearing in his clouded eyes.

"That is because the Purple Blood Art cultivates baleful qi. It uses baleful qi to refine the blood and cleanse the marrow, reversing the acquired state to achieve the innate. Whether it is the vital qi cultivated by orthodox mystic sects, or the baleful qi, yin qi, death qi, and killing qi cultivated by demonic sects, at their root, they are all qi."

Zhu Yingxiong's heart stirred at those words. The analysis from his cheat ability had indeed mentioned "using extreme methods to refine the blood and cleanse the marrow, reversing the acquired state." So that was what it meant.

Xie Guangran continued, "As long as one fights and kills, baleful qi will inevitably arise. This is the foundation of demonic divine arts—cultivating through ceaseless slaughter. Therefore, the more those who practice this art kill, the faster their cultivation progresses."

Zhu Yingxiong remained silent. From what he knew of demonic cultivation arts, there was no method in this world that brought only benefits without drawbacks.

Sure enough, Xie Guangran changed his tone.

"Yet do you know that the more baleful qi you absorb, the more violence and demonic thoughts will grow in your heart? This is the fatal flaw of most demonic cultivation arts—the deeper one cultivates, the greater their temperament is affected. The further one goes, the harder it becomes to break through."

He paused, his gaze dim and distant.

"Since your Grandmaster Li Gong, no one has been able to cultivate the Purple Blood Art to completion and make that final leap into reversed innate nature. No one could endure the backlash of baleful qi and the torment of demonic thoughts. My master could not do it. Neither could I."

At this point, his eyes suddenly burned as he fixed them upon Zhu Yingxiong.

"But you can. You truly cultivated the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture, and you can eliminate this flaw."

He raised that pale hand and made a grasping motion in the air.

"Just now, I sent true qi saturated with baleful qi into your body, yet you showed no abnormality. If it had been anyone else, the baleful qi would already have invaded their heart, driving them into a murderous frenzy. But you—"

He stared at Zhu Yingxiong's face, enunciating each word.

"Your face bears only the flush of vigorous blood and qi, without the slightest trace of violent malice."

His guess had indeed been correct, Zhu Yingxiong thought.

When the head of the Yingui Sect had sent him to Shaolin all those years ago, what he had truly been waiting for was this very day: to use the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture to make up for the fatal flaw of the Purple Blood Art, allowing this divine art to truly reach completion.

But Xie Guangran suddenly let out a long sigh, and the fervor in his eyes dimmed once more.

"Unfortunately, it is too late."

His voice was filled with exhaustion and regret.

"Too late... this old, broken body of mine has exhausted its oil and run dry. It cannot last until that day."

He lowered his head and looked at his hands, pale enough to be nearly translucent, falling silent for a moment.

Then he abruptly raised his head. A strange light suddenly burst from his clouded eyes.

"But there is still you!"

His voice rose sharply, echoing through the empty waterside pavilion.

"You have cultivated the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture, while also cultivating the Purple Blood Art!"

"Now, only you can cultivate the Purple Blood Art to completion and restore the former glory of our Sacred Gate!"

By now, his face was filled with fervor. His aged features twisted slightly with excitement, as though a dying man had seized his final lifeline.

"I will take you as my disciple and establish you as the Young Master."

He stared at Zhu Yingxiong, speaking each word slowly and forcefully, leaving no room for doubt.

"After I die, you will be the head of the Yingui Sect."

The candlelight flickered, casting his shadow against the wall behind him. It swelled and shrank like a ghost.

Then when will you die?! That was the only question in Zhu Yingxiong's mind when he heard those words.