Failure

Time flew. Nearly a month had passed in the blink of an eye since Yue Hongling left. The first month slipped away without a sound, and now it was the second month, with spring warmth and flowers in bloom.

The medicines had run out. Not only were there insufficient ingredients for the Qi-Blood Powder he had gone to buy, but even the supplies for his daily medicinal baths were gone. Recently, Zhao Changhe had sent people everywhere to buy medicinal herbs. Fang Buping heard about it and started buying them up as well, leaving none to be found, not even in the surrounding towns.

Worse still, after a long period of recuperation, Fang Buping had finally recovered from the injuries Vermilion Bird had inflicted as punishment.

Over the past two months, Zhao Changhe had earned quite a bit from those idiots' "challenges." He had handed only a token portion of the money to the Sub-Helm to show that the North Mang Mountain Stronghold still belonged to the Blood God Cult. As for Fang Buping's earlier demand for half, he could eat shit.

But early that morning, Fang Buping sent someone over, putting on airs and arrogantly demanding half their resources.

Now that his wounds had healed, he was full of swagger. After bottling up his resentment toward Zhao Changhe for months, it was time to let it out.

"Stockade Chief Zhao, does the North Mang Mountain Stronghold still belong to the Blood God Cult or not? Are you planning to strike out on your own?"

"Ha, what are you saying, brother? We're all brothers in the cult. Sit, sit, sit."

The visitor stared at the ceiling. "Helmsman Fang said that you previously agreed to turn over half the stronghold's monthly earnings to the Sub-Helm. Yet last month, the stronghold handed over only eighty-eight taels. What is the meaning of this? As for your agreement with the helmsman concerning the authorities' suppression of bandits, he settled that matter perfectly for you. The government troops haven't bothered you for months, have they?"

Zhao Changhe sneered inwardly. The authorities haven't come? What do you think Cui Yuanyong came here for? With him around, what use is there for the authorities of some little town? All they need to do is attend to Young Master Cui's eating, drinking, and shitting.

If he hasn't made a move, it's either because Yue Hongling was here or because there's something strange about my identity. What the hell does that have to do with you, Fang Buping? On the contrary, wasn't that Lin Feihu trouble you brought down on us?

In the end, he did not say any of that aloud. Leaning sideways in the seat of honor, he said leisurely, "What we agreed on was the stronghold's earnings. But the income these past two months has mostly been the prize money from my challenges. That's my personal income. I put it in the communal treasury because I consider everyone my brothers and want to share the good fortune. That doesn't make it the stronghold's income. Giving you eighty-eight taels was already plenty. Ask any brother here-isn't that how it works?"

The bandits stood timidly to one side, each harboring his own thoughts.

Their chief really did have a point. The stronghold earned very little, and what it did earn still came from hunting. The crops their former stronghold mistress had suggested planting had only just gone into the ground; there was no harvest yet... The stronghold's current income truly was their chief's personal prize money, which he had selflessly put into the communal treasury for everyone to use. The most anyone else had contributed was digging a few traps. He really was sharing his good fortune.

There was nothing to fault in their chief's character. He stood by his brothers.

But how should they put it? Choosing sides was not necessarily just a matter of character.

Helmsman Fang was, after all, at the Fourth Level of the Profound Pass, and their formally appointed superior within the cult. Who would dare openly take Zhao Changhe's side?

Some were even thinking that the only reason they had no income was that he refused to let them rob people. Otherwise, how could they have no income? Were they still mountain bandits or not? Why were they farming?

These men had not been driven to rebellion by oppressive officials. Every last one was either a layabout or someone who had fled up the mountain after committing a crime. If they had been willing to farm honestly before, who the hell would have come up here...

The visitor burst out laughing. "Look, which of your brothers agrees with your reasoning? You're the master of this stronghold. Doesn't that make your income the stronghold's income?"

Zhao Changhe took in everyone's expressions and smiled faintly. "Fair enough. Dashan, take our brother the envoy to the storehouse and give him half of everything."

Now some of their faces darkened.

Those supplies belonged to all of them. To hand over half just because someone demanded it-their hearts were bleeding. No idiots had dared come to challenge them lately, either. Where would they get so many resources? Once this lot was hauled away, they would be eating dirt again.

But nobody had spoken up for their chief just now. What could they say now?

Zhao Changhe wanted to laugh. He said leisurely, "All right, send three study companions... no, send a few men to attend to the helmsman's honored envoy. Clear out one of the best rooms. And remember to save the leg of tonight's roast lamb for our honored envoy to enjoy. That's all. Meeting adjourned."

Without sparing another thought for the varied expressions in the assembly hall, he rose leisurely and left.

Outside the pool behind the mountain, the water remained clear and cool. The surrounding snow had vanished, the trees had sprouted new branches, and fragrant flowers and grasses covered the ground. Wild geese returned south, their cries ringing through the sky.

Zhao Changhe stood silently for a while, then suddenly drew the Three-Stone Bow. Without even aiming, he shot an arrow at the returning geese flying high overhead.

The bowstring rang. The arrow streaked like a meteor, pierced two geese, and sent them crashing to the ground.

Zhao Changhe did not go to retrieve them. Gazing into the distance, he could already make out their wounds. It was not merely an arrow hole: the spiraling, howling blood baleful energy had blasted a gaping hole through their bodies. Blood fury coiled around the wounds, shattering their bones and cracking them apart inch by inch.

His archery had now reached mastery as well. His eyes and ears perceived everything clearly, as though it were reflected in his mind. Without a breakthrough in his cultivation, everything had reached a bottleneck.

Without medicinal herbs, even the finest cook could not make a meal without rice. Zhao Changhe had no choice but to slow his ambitious advance, while his resolve to leave grew firmer.

If there were not even enough resources for the second and third levels, what would he do when he cultivated further?

Fang Buping's envoy had already left, but he would plainly return to make more trouble. As Yue Hongling had said, since fate had brought things to this point, it would serve as the fuse. This period of rest and recovery had reached its end.

After pondering for a moment, he hid the bow and arrows behind a tree beside the pool and strode away.

Even though he felt he was not quite ready, Zhao Changhe still intended to attempt a breakthrough to the third level that night. Whether he succeeded or failed, he had his plans.

Tomorrow was the Awakening of Insects. If even insects broke free of the earth, why should a dragon remain hidden!

He returned to his room, soaked in his last medicinal bath, drank his last dose of medicinal decoction, then washed and changed before slowly assuming a peculiar stance.

The third level of the Blood Baleful Art no longer involved holding a horse stance. His current pose looked rather like the Statue of David, which was thoroughly embarrassing, and he had to keep slowly changing poses, which was even more embarrassing... Yet it better facilitated the circulation of blood baleful energy, and allowed his blood energy to begin penetrating from his blood vessels and muscles into his bones, tendons, and internal organs.

Once the blood baleful energy spread throughout his body, inside and out, the Blood Baleful Art would reach full mastery. Yue Hongling's judgment had naturally been correct. This truly was an art with a very high ceiling. Among the many kinds of external arts, very few could train the bones and internal organs.

Only, the further he progressed, the more energy he needed to replenish, and... the more painful it became.

He could clearly feel the baleful energy surging through his blood, seeping outward into his skin and spreading through his fascia... Gradually, agonizing pain began to assail him. Hot blood rushed to his head, and his mind grew increasingly savage. He wanted only to tear apart everything he saw, venting both the violence in his heart and the pain in his flesh.

Zhao Changhe knew that if anyone were beside him, they would see his eyes glowing red, his entire bearing like a wild beast about to go berserk.

Before his reason could be extinguished, he began circulating Xia Longyuan's art. A thread of coolness entered from his perineum, passed into his Central Court, then traveled up through the meridians of his heart and on to his Spirit Terrace, keeping the light of his consciousness alive.

But the clearer his mind remained, the harder the pain was to endure. In a sense, the berserk state induced by the Blood Baleful Art was also a means of ignoring or venting bodily pain. It was simply a question of whether he was willing to stop being human...

Of course Zhao Changhe was not.

Threads of true qi traveled from his dantian through his meridians, dispersing into his bones and tendons and easing his body's pain.

Whether it had been Xia Chichi helping him at the beginning or his own use of Xia Longyuan's art now, internal cultivation had only ever alleviated the drawbacks of the Blood Baleful Art, never eliminated them. The way to truly eliminate them was the Blood-Stabilizing Pills Instructor Sun had given him back then. But to this day, Zhao Changhe had never taken a single one.

Once he became dependent on that stuff, he could forget about ever being his own master again.

It's enough that internal cultivation can ease it... With the iron bones of a true man, how could I fail to endure a little pain?

Through his haze, he seemed to hear a commotion outside, and perhaps someone knocking at the door. His reason muddled, Zhao Changhe paid it no mind and continued tirelessly battering at the final barrier.

After enduring for who knew how long, Zhao Changhe could feel that sweat had soaked through his clothes, yet the fascia his blood baleful energy was trying to break through remained just beyond his reach.

Just a little short.

No matter how many times he endured the pain and tried again, insufficient force was still insufficient force.

Not enough energy. Not enough medicine. Too little time.

In the end, he was no genius favored by creation.

"Motherfucker!" Zhao Changhe opened his eyes in fury and kicked the bathing tub beside him to pieces. The medicinal bath splashed across the floor, proclaiming the failure of this breakthrough attempt.

"Chief! Chief!" Apparently hearing the noise inside, someone outside called in frantic haste, "Chief, you're finally awake..."

Zhao Changhe panted wearily and snapped, "What is it!"

"Someone broke into the stronghold tonight and got caught in a trap... but her swordsmanship is incredible. We've been at a standoff with her for nearly an hour, and we still can't take her down..."