Chapter 48: Failure

Chapter 48: Failure

Time passed swiftly, and nearly a month had slipped by since Yue Hongling’s departure. January faded away without a sound, and now it was February, when spring blossoms bloomed and the air warmed.

The medicines were exhausted—not only the purchased blood-energy powders were insufficient, but even the daily herbal baths had run out. Recently, Zhao Changhe had sent people far and wide to buy herbs, and Fang Buping, having caught wind of it, began hoarding, leaving none to be found—not even in the surrounding towns.

Worse still, after a long period of recuperation, Fang Buping’s injuries from the Vermilion Bird’s punishment had finally healed.

In the past two months, Zhao Changhe had earned a tidy sum from the “challenges” of those fools. He had only symbolically given a small portion to the branch, signaling that the Northern Mang Stronghold was still under the Blood God Sect’s banner. As for Fang Buping’s earlier demand for half—he could go eat shit.

But this morning, Fang Buping sent a man, strutting in with arrogance, demanding half the resources.

Now that his wounds were healed, he was full of swagger. The months of pent-up resentment toward Zhao Changhe were ripe for release.

“Chief Zhao, is the Northern Mang Stronghold still a stronghold of the Blood God Sect? Or are you thinking of breaking away?”

“Ha, brother, what are you saying? We’re all brothers in the sect. Sit, sit, sit.”

The envoy looked skyward: “Captain Fang says that you agreed earlier that half of the stronghold’s monthly earnings would be handed over to the branch. Yet last month, you only sent eighty-eight taels. What is the meaning of this? As for the official bandit-suppression matter you discussed with the captain, he handled it perfectly—no government troops have troubled you for months, isn’t that so?”

Zhao Changhe sneered inwardly. No government troops? What did you think Cui Yuanyong was here for? With him around, what need was there for the petty city officials? They just had to cater to Young Master Cui’s every whim.

If they hadn’t made a move, it was either because Yue Hongling was here or because they sensed something odd about his identity—what did that have to do with Fang Buping? On the contrary, that Lin Feihu business was trouble Fang Buping had brought.

He didn’t say it aloud. Leaning back lazily in the chief’s seat, he drawled, “We agreed on the stronghold’s earnings, but these past two months’ income has mostly been prize money from my personal challenges. That’s my personal income. Throwing it into the communal treasury was me treating everyone as brothers, sharing the good fortune—it doesn’t mean it’s stronghold revenue. Giving you eighty-eight taels is already generous. Ask any brother here—isn’t that right?”

The surrounding bandits huddled timidly to the side, their thoughts divided.

In truth, what the boss said made sense. The stronghold’s own earnings were meager—still just from hunting beasts. The crops suggested by the former chieftain’s wife had only just been planted, with no harvest yet. The current income was indeed the boss’s personal challenge winnings, selflessly put into the common fund. At most, the others had helped dig a few traps. That was truly sharing good fortune.

The boss’s character was beyond reproach—he was loyal.

But when it came to taking sides, it wasn’t always about character.

Captain Fang was, after all, at the Fourth Layer of Xuan Pass and was their clear superior in the sect. Who would dare openly stand against him?

Some even thought: the so-called lack of income was because the boss forbade them from looting. Otherwise, how could there be no income? Were they even bandits anymore, farming like this?

These men weren’t driven to banditry by oppression; they were loafers or fugitives. If they’d been willing to farm honestly, why the hell would they have become bandits?

The envoy laughed loudly: “Look at your brothers—do any of them agree with your reasoning? You’re the chief of the stronghold; your income is the stronghold’s income.”

Zhao Changhe took in everyone’s expressions and smiled faintly: “Well said. Dashan, take this envoy brother to the treasury and give him half.”

At that, some faces darkened.

That was everyone’s property. With a few words, half of it was given away. Their hearts bled. Lately, no fools dared to challenge him, so where would more resources come from? After this removal, they’d be eating dirt again.

But no one had spoken up to support the boss earlier. What now?

Zhao Changhe felt like laughing. He said leisurely, “Alright, find three study companions… oh, I mean, a few men to attend to the captain’s envoy. Clear out the best room. Tonight’s roast lamb—make sure to leave the leg for the envoy brother. That’s all. Dismissed.”

With that, he ignored the varied expressions in the assembly hall and rose unhurriedly to leave.

...

Outside the mountain stream pool behind the stronghold, the water was still clear and cold. The surrounding snow had melted, trees sprouted new branches, and flowers and grass spread fragrance. Wild geese returned from the south, their cries echoing in the sky.

Zhao Changhe stood silently for a long while, then suddenly drew his three-stone bow. Without aiming, he loosed an arrow at a passing goose high above.

The bowstring twanged; the arrow flew like a meteor. Two geese were pierced through and thudded to the ground.

Zhao Changhe didn’t go to retrieve them. He gazed into the distance and could clearly see the wounds on the geese—not a clean arrow hole, but a gaping cavity torn by spiraling, howling blood-fiend energy. The edges of the wounds were corroded by swirling blood malice, and the bones were shattered, splintered into fragments.

His archery had reached its peak. His ears and eyes were sharp, reflecting everything in his mind. Without a breakthrough in his cultivation, he had hit a bottleneck.

Lacking medicinal ingredients, he couldn’t make bricks without straw. Zhao Changhe’s ambitious pace had to slow, and his resolve to leave grew stronger.

If even resources for the second and third layers were insufficient, what would he do when he needed more?

Fang Buping’s envoy had left, but he would surely return to cause more trouble. As Yue Hongling had said, since fate had brought him here, this was the fuse. This period of recuperation and growth was coming to an end.

He pondered for a moment, then hid his bow and arrows behind a tree by the pool, and strode away.

Even though he felt he wasn’t quite ready, Zhao Changhe decided to attempt a breakthrough to the third layer tonight. Success or failure, he would deal with the consequences.

Tomorrow was the Waking of Insects. Even insects break through the soil—why should a dragon remain hidden?

He returned to his room, took his last herbal bath, drank his last dose of medicine, bathed and changed clothes, then slowly assumed a strange posture.

The third layer of the Blood Fiend Art was no longer a horse stance. The pose now was as embarrassing as a statue of David, and he had to shift slowly through even more embarrassing positions—but it was better for circulating the blood fiend energy, and for pushing the blood energy from the blood vessels and muscles into the sinews, bones, and internal organs.

When the blood fiend spread through the entire body, the Blood Fiend Art would be complete. Yue Hongling’s judgment was correct—this was indeed a high-ceiling technique. Among external arts, few could train the bones and internal organs.

But the further he went, the more energy supplements he needed, and the more painful it became.

He could clearly feel the surging blood fiend energy in his veins, seeping outward into his skin, spreading through his fascia... Gradually, excruciating pain began to assault him. Heat rushed to his head, his reason grew more violent, and he only wanted to tear apart everything in sight, to vent the savagery within and the agony of his flesh.

Zhao Changhe knew that if anyone were watching, they would see his eyes turning crimson, like a beast on the verge of madness.

Before his reason was completely extinguished, he activated Xia Longyuan’s technique. A thread of cool energy rose from the perineum into the middle dantian, then up through the heart meridian, and further to the crown, preserving the light of his consciousness.

But the clearer his mind, the more unbearable the pain. The violence of the Blood Fiend Art was, in a way, a means to ignore or release physical suffering—if you were willing to stop being human.

Zhao Changhe was not willing.

Tendrils of true qi flowed from his dantian through his meridians, dispersing into his bones and sinews, easing the pain.

From the initial help of Xia Chichi to his current reliance on Xia Longyuan’s technique, internal cultivation had always alleviated the flaws of the Blood Fiend Art, never eliminated them. The true cure was the Blood-Settling Pill given by Instructor Sun, but to this day, Zhao Changhe had never taken a single one.

Once he became dependent on that, he would never be free again.

Internal cultivation was enough to ease the pain. A man of iron bones—how could he not endure a little suffering?

In a daze, he heard noises outside, and someone seemed to knock on the door. His mind was clouded, and he paid no attention, tirelessly assaulting the final barrier.

After enduring for what felt like an eternity, Zhao Changhe could feel his sweat soaking through his clothes. The blood fiend energy tried to break through the fascia, but it was always just a little short.

Just a little.

No matter how many times he endured the pain and struck, his strength was insufficient—simply insufficient.

Not enough energy, not enough medicine, not enough time.

In the end, he was no heaven-blessed genius.

“Fuck!” Zhao Changhe roared in fury, opening his eyes. He kicked the bath barrel beside him, shattering it. The medicinal water splashed across the floor, proclaiming the failure of his breakthrough.

“Boss! Boss!” Hearing the commotion inside, someone outside shouted urgently, “Boss, you’re finally awake...”

Zhao Changhe panted heavily, exhausted, and barked, “What is it?”

“Someone broke into the stronghold tonight and got stuck in a trap... but her swordsmanship is terrifying. We’ve been at a stalemate for nearly half an hour and still can’t take her down...”