The Blood God Cult

"What's that?" Zhao Changhe felt a little uneasy. Was this book so popular that everyone in this world was expected to have read it? Even the Bible didn't have that kind of standing. If he went back and started a book on Hetu with that title, would it become a hit?

Luo Qi rolled his eyes. Before he could answer, the Sub-Helm leader said, "The ceremony is concluded. Return to your training. You two, come up here and speak with me."

They shut their mouths, went around the blood pool, and climbed onto the platform.

The Sub-Helm leader's manner was neither cold nor warm. "You two have rendered a service. The cult leader wishes to give you each a post, as a sign of our Holy Cult's sincerity in seeking talent. Our North Mang Sub-Helm was only recently established, and many duties still lack manpower. What particular skills do you possess? That will help me assign you according to your abilities."

The Sub-Helm leader was actually someone they knew: the man who had crippled Luo Zhenwu with a concealed weapon. His name was Fang Buping.

Luo Qi spoke first. "I have already broken through the first Profound Pass."

Fang Buping looked him over in some surprise. "You reached the first heaven using the Luo Family's outer sect teachings?"

"Yes," Luo Qi said.

"Not easy. You're a talent." Fang Buping clearly knew more about these things than Zhao Changhe. After a moment's thought, he said, "In the depths of winter, our Sub-Helm often needs to go out to procure food. You can lead a squad... you're qualified for that."

"Going out to procure food" most likely meant raiding. Whether Zhao Changhe understood that was uncertain, but Luo Qi certainly did. His expression showed no change as he cupped his hands. "Thank you for recognizing my abilities, Branch Leader."

He knew he wasn't the one who had "rendered a service," so he had hurried to demonstrate his strength in the hope of being taken seriously. It had worked reasonably well. At least he was now a minor leader, rather than merely Zhao Changhe's tagalong in everyone else's eyes.

Fang Buping seemed to see through his thoughts. He gave a faint, noncommittal smile, then turned his gaze to Zhao Changhe. "And you?"

"I've never practiced martial arts," Zhao Changhe said.

Fang Buping smiled with a trace of mockery. "The way you stabbed Luo Zhenwu, the way you applied force-anyone who knows the trade could tell you've never trained. So what other abilities do you have? Literacy? Arithmetic?"

Zhao Changhe felt that his modern knowledge could certainly earn him a living handling internal affairs, but he hadn't come here merely to earn a living.

He drew a deep breath and gritted his teeth. "On the road, I heard the brothers say that the Holy Cult's arts forge a different path, and many don't necessarily require training from childhood... Could I formally join the cult and learn its arts?"

Fang Buping narrowed his eyes.

The requirements for learning the Blood God Cult's supreme art, the Blood God Art, were stringent. Even he had not reached that level. But admitting Zhao Changhe to the cult and teaching him some decent core techniques was clearly possible.

Unlike Luo Qi, Zhao Changhe had truly delivered a pledge of allegiance. He had killed someone the First Seat of Great Xia's Demon Suppression Office wanted to rescue, right before his eyes. Such a man could only follow them down this road into darkness. He could safely be taken in as a core member.

They had been permitted to enter the altar and speak precisely because the cult leader intended to admit them. Otherwise, neither of them could have come inside.

But Fang Buping was deeply displeased.

He had been the one to wound Luo Zhenwu first! The credit had slipped through his fingers, only for this country bumpkin to reap the reward. True, First Seat Tang had already arrived by then, and he really couldn't have killed Luo Zhenwu, but he still resented Zhao Changhe. He was jealous.

Since the cult leader didn't seem to value him that highly, and had placed him in Fang Buping's Sub-Helm, wasn't Fang Buping free to make life difficult for him whenever he pleased? Even his admission to the cult could be left hanging for a few months...

After a brief silence, he said slowly, "It isn't only our Blood God Cult's techniques... Anything the outside world calls a demonic art is, in their eyes, 'chasing quick gains.' Most don't require years of foundations laid from childhood, and progress is swift. But in exchange, there are many drawbacks. For instance... training can be extremely painful, and it's very easy to suffer cultivation deviation."

"I'm mentally prepared for that," Zhao Changhe said.

Fang Buping sneered. "What use is being mentally prepared? Without faith in the god, what will sustain you through the pain? Who will protect you from cultivation deviation? You may not even know what the Blood God is. How can you have faith?"

Fuck... Zhao Changhe could only say, "I'll make sure to learn."

"We are a religious cult, not a martial sect. Until you believe in the Blood God, you cannot join." Fang Buping smiled smugly. "But don't say we fail to reward those who render service... Before your admission assessment, I can teach you a subsidiary technique called the Blood Baleful Art. It also serves as a foundation for the cult's other divine arts. Once you truly become a brother of the cult, its guardians will naturally teach you those arts."

Zhao Changhe wanted to speak, but stopped himself. He could only cup his hands and say, "Thank you, Helmsman Fang."

Fang Buping waved a hand. "Go. For now, you are only permitted to live in the mountain stronghold. You may not enter the altar unless summoned. However, tonight you may each have an extra chicken drumstick, as a reward for your service."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

For fuck's sake, all that credit earned me a subsidiary technique and a chicken drumstick? This branch leader clearly isn't that friendly toward me. There'll be more petty hurdles ahead.

What can I do?

There obviously weren't going to be good people in a Demon Cult. He had already expected thorns at every step. He would take it slowly. At least he now had a technique.

Night fell.

In the mountain stronghold, Zhao Changhe was still assigned to share quarters with Luo Qi. They were put in the same wooden cabin, with one bed between them.

In fact, the arrangements had been the same at the inns along their journey back. But Luo Qi had worn a sour face and been at odds with him, refusing to lie down beside him. Zhao Changhe had cheerfully taken the bed without ceremony, leaving Luo Qi to sleep slumped over the table.

Zhao Changhe had no sympathy whatsoever. Had anyone forced him to sleep at the table? What a fuss.

Tonight, however, he tried to pull Luo Qi up from the table. "Since you've stopped scowling and are willing to talk to me, why are you still sleeping on the table? Go to bed."

Luo Qi withdrew his wrist, and Zhao Changhe realized he couldn't even touch this seemingly frail senior brother. Someone who had reached the First Level of the Profound Pass really was something else. He helplessly pulled back his hand. "Why act so prickly? You don't have your private outer sect courtyard anymore. If we have to squeeze together, we have to squeeze together. Are you really going to sleep on the table forever?"

"I'm not used to sleeping with other people," Luo Qi said coldly.

Zhao Changhe snorted. "What if the other person were a woman?"

Luo Qi looked him up and down for a long while, then snorted too. "Do you realize there's a scar on your face now, making you look vicious? Even if you were a woman, you'd be hideous beyond compare. If you offered yourself to me, I'd kick you right out."

A scar on his face? Zhao Changhe hadn't looked in a mirror for a long time, so he wasn't really sure. He had indeed suffered a cut while saving the child in Zhao Cuo, and had never treated it. It probably had scarred over.

"A scar's good," Zhao Changhe said quietly. "It can remind me of what I need to do."

Luo Qi narrowed his phoenix eyes.

Arms folded, Zhao Changhe studied Luo Qi's phoenix eyes and slender brows, clicking his tongue. "I may be a little ugly, but if you were a woman, you'd be pretty decent... You wouldn't even need to be a woman. Dressing like one would do."

Luo Qi's brows drew together, his eyes blazing. "Do you think I can't kill you?"

"Uh..." Only then did Zhao Changhe remember that he wasn't back in the modern world, shooting the shit with his gay buddies. Friends back home would only laugh at remarks like that. Here, someone might genuinely want to hack him to death. Besides, the two of them weren't that close.

At that thought, Zhao Changhe lost interest. It really was a different world. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll take the table."

Luo Qi's angry expression froze. Puzzled, he asked, "Why the sudden change of heart? You sprawled out on the big bed all the way here without asking me a damn thing."

"Back then, I figured I didn't owe you anything. If anything, I'd saved you. You kept giving me the cold shoulder, so why should I cozy up to you? Now it's all behind us..."

"Who would've guessed? You don't have much ability, but you've got a foul temper."

"Heh... right back at you." Zhao Changhe waved a hand. "Go to sleep. I'll read for a while-don't tell me you refuse to lie somewhere I've already slept? You're a grown man. What a fucking fuss."

Luo Qi said, "...Read your book."

The book was the Blood Baleful Art manual.

Though the Mountain Stronghold was new, it was fully equipped. There was even an oil lamp in the room, although Zhao Changhe found its light terribly dim. Yet, strangely enough, he discovered he could read without difficulty. These so-called "Eyes Behind the Head" seemed to have enhanced not only his ordinary vision and hearing, but also given him some degree of night vision. It felt as though there was more to explore.

Still, reading these traditional characters was truly exhausting.

Fang Buping had tossed him the manual so casually that it hadn't seemed particularly valuable, but Zhao Changhe had noticed considerable envy on the faces of the surrounding cultists when they saw it.

He didn't know whether that was because the technique really was quite good, or because any martial technique at all was already a rare prize for ordinary people...

What a shame. His pledge of allegiance should have earned him more than this.

He sat by the table, staring absently at the manual, while Luo Qi leaned against the head of the bed and watched him.

Seeing his distracted look, Luo Qi's lips curved with a hint of amusement at his misfortune. He offered a leisurely word of comfort. "There's no need to be dejected. Getting the Blood Baleful Art is already pretty decent..."

"You've heard of it?" Zhao Changhe asked.

"The technique has something of a reputation. I have heard a little." Luo Qi continued languidly, "They say the Blood God Cult only teaches it to bandits under its command who have rendered service, hoping to quickly turn them into fighting forces. So the advantage of rapid progress must be real. And judging by everyone else's envy, it's a good thing to have. In any case, it's much better than this lousy outer sect technique of mine. Of course, since they're willing to teach it to bandits who aren't formal members, there's probably a limit to how good it can be..."

Zhao Changhe asked, "Since it's fairly decent, do you want it? The manual doesn't say I can't show it to anyone."

"You're certainly loyal." Luo Qi was a little surprised. "You earned this through your own service. You'd just give it to me?"

Zhao Changhe sighed. "A Demon Cult isn't a good place... Our fates are tied together now. If we don't stick together, are we just waiting to be bullied? Why quibble over who earned what?"

Luo Qi watched him for a long while. The smile at his misfortune vanished, and his voice grew much gentler. "It doesn't say you can't show it to anyone, but that doesn't mean this isn't partly a test. Helmsman Fang's attitude toward you isn't very good. Be careful not to give him something to hold over you."

Zhao Changhe scratched his head and said nothing.

Luo Qi continued, "Besides, I've already laid the foundation with my own internal cultivation method. This wouldn't be much use to me. What would really help me is finding a chance to return to Luo Family Manor and see whether the Luo family's core technique, passed from father to son, is buried beneath the ruins. Hopefully nobody has dug it up and taken it."

After a pause, he added, "Hmm... if you want this lousy internal cultivation method of mine, I'm not stingy. I'll give it to you if you want to learn it. But as I said before, you're not really the right age to train in this kind of orthodox internal art. The Blood Baleful Art probably does suit you better."

Zhao Changhe wasn't interested in that lousy outer sect method. He lowered his head and continued reading the Blood Baleful Art in his hands. Judging by the manual's introductory preface, this might genuinely be one of the techniques best suited to his current circumstances.