Chapter 7: Blood God Sect

Chapter 7: The Blood God Sect

“What is that thing?” Zhao Changhe felt a bit uneasy. Was this book really that popular? It sounded like everyone in this world had to have read it—even the Bible wasn’t held to that standard. If he went back to Qidian and started a book with that title, would it blow up?

Luo Qi rolled his eyes but didn’t have time to answer before the branch leader said, “The ceremony is over. Everyone, go about your cultivation. You two, come up and speak.”

They fell silent, skirted the blood pool, and ascended the platform.

The branch leader’s tone was neither warm nor cold: “You two have rendered meritorious service. The sect leader’s intent is to grant you both a position, to show our holy sect’s sincerity in seeking talent. Our Beimang branch is a newly established one, and many divisions are short-handed. Do either of you have any particular skills? I’d like to assign you accordingly.”

The branch leader was actually someone they knew—the one who had crippled Luo Zhenwu with a hidden weapon, named Fang Buping.

Luo Qi spoke first: “I have already broken through the first barrier.”

Fang Buping gave him a surprised once-over: “You broke through the first heaven using the Luo family’s outer sect techniques?”

Luo Qi said, “Yes.”

“Not easy. You’re a talent.” Fang Buping was clearly more knowledgeable than Zhao Changhe. After a moment’s thought, he said, “In this deep winter, our branch often needs to go out foraging. You can lead a team… You have that qualification.”

“Going out foraging” most likely meant raiding. Zhao Changhe might not have understood, but Luo Qi did. His expression betrayed nothing as he cupped his hands: “Thank you, Branch Leader, for the recognition.”

He knew that the “meritorious ones” didn’t include him, so he had rushed to show his strength, hoping to gain attention. It worked—he got a minor leadership role, no longer just Zhao Changhe’s appendage in others’ eyes.

Fang Buping seemed to read his thoughts, gave a faint smile, and turned his gaze to Zhao Changhe: “And you?”

Zhao Changhe said, “I’ve never trained in martial arts.”

Fang Buping laughed, with a hint of mockery: “The way you stabbed Luo Zhenwu—the movement, the force—anyone with an eye could tell you’ve never trained. So what other skills do you have? Literacy? Arithmetic?”

Though Zhao Changhe thought his modern knowledge could let him scrape by in internal affairs, he hadn’t come just to get by.

He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth: “On the road, I heard the brothers say that the holy sect’s arts take a different path, and many types of techniques don’t require training from childhood… Can I formally join the sect and learn its arts?”

Fang Buping narrowed his eyes.

The Blood God Sect’s signature technique, the Blood God Art, had harsh conditions for transmission—he himself hadn’t reached that level. But as for joining the sect and learning some decent core techniques, that was clearly possible.

Zhao Changhe was different from Luo Qi. He had truly offered a blood oath—killing the person the Grand Xia Demon Suppression Bureau’s chief had wanted to save, right in front of her. Someone like that could only follow their path to the end and was perfectly suited to become a core member.

The reason they had been allowed into the altar to speak was precisely that the sect leader intended to recruit them. Otherwise, neither would have gotten in.

But Fang Buping was secretly displeased.

He was the one who had first wounded Luo Zhenwu! The credit had slipped through his fingers, only to be snatched by this country bumpkin. Though the Tang chief had arrived then, preventing him from killing Luo Zhenwu, he still resented Zhao Changhe—jealous.

Since the sect leader didn’t seem to care much, and Zhao Changhe was under his branch, he could make things as hard or easy as he pleased. Even if Zhao Changhe wanted to join, he could be kept waiting for months…

After a long silence, he said slowly, “It’s not just our Blood God Sect’s arts… Any technique the outside world calls demonic is considered ‘quick and dirty’ in their eyes. Most don’t require years of childhood foundation and progress rapidly. But they come with many downsides—like being painful to practice and prone to qi deviation.”

Zhao Changhe said, “I’m mentally prepared for that.”

Fang Buping sneered: “What use is mental preparation? Without faith in the god, how can you endure the pain, and who will protect you from qi deviation? You don’t even know what the Blood God is—how can you have faith?”

Damn… Zhao Changhe could only say, “I’ll study it well.”

“We are a sect, not a school. Without faith in the Blood God, you cannot join.” Fang Buping wore a smug smile. “Don’t say we don’t reward the meritorious… Before your initiation assessment, I can teach you a subsidiary technique called the Blood Fiend Art, which will lay the foundation for other divine arts. Once you truly become a brother in the sect, the protectors will teach you the divine art.”

Zhao Changhe opened his mouth, then closed it, and could only cup his hands: “Thank you, Branch Leader Fang.”

Fang Buping waved a hand: “Go. For now, you’re only allowed to live in the stronghold. Don’t enter the altar without being summoned. But tonight, you can have an extra chicken leg as a reward for your service.”

Zhao Changhe: “…”

Damn it. Such a big merit, and the reward was a subsidiary technique and a chicken leg? This branch leader clearly wasn’t friendly—there would be more trouble ahead.

What could he do?

In a demonic sect, no one was a good person. He had expected thorns everywhere. Take it slow—at least he had a technique now.

…

Night fell.

In the stronghold, Zhao Changhe was still assigned to share a room with Luo Qi—a wooden hut with a single bed.

Actually, on the way back, they had shared rooms at inns, but Luo Qi had sulked and never slept with Zhao Changhe. Zhao Changhe had unceremoniously taken the bed, leaving Luo Qi to sleep on the table.

Zhao Changhe felt no sympathy. Had anyone forced him to the table? He was just being dramatic.

But tonight, he tried to pull Luo Qi up from the table: “Since you’ve stopped scowling and are willing to talk, why still sleep on the table? Get on the bed.”

Luo Qi pulled his wrist back. Zhao Changhe found he couldn’t even touch this seemingly frail senior brother—that first-barrier breakthrough was indeed something. He gave up: “What’s with the attitude? It’s not like you have your own courtyard anymore. We have to squeeze together. Are you going to sleep on the table forever?”

Luo Qi said coldly, “I’m not used to sleeping with others.”

Zhao Changhe snorted: “What if it’s a woman?”

Luo Qi looked him up and down for a long moment, then snorted back: “Do you even know you have a scar on your face now? You look hideous. Even if it were a woman, she’d be ugly beyond compare—I’d kick her out if she came to me.”

A scar on his face? Zhao Changhe hadn’t looked in a mirror for a long time and wasn’t sure. When he saved that child in Zhao Village, he had been cut, and he’d never treated it. It had probably scarred.

“A scar is fine,” Zhao Changhe said flatly. “It reminds me of what I need to do.”

Luo Qi narrowed his phoenix eyes.

Zhao Changhe crossed his arms and studied Luo Qi’s slender brows and phoenix eyes, smacking his lips: “I’m a bit ugly, but you—if you were a woman, you’d pass. You don’t even need to be a woman; just put on a dress.”

Luo Qi’s brows shot up in anger: “Do you think I can’t kill you?”

“Uh…” Zhao Changhe suddenly remembered this wasn’t the modern world, where friends would just laugh at such jokes. Here, someone might actually want to kill you, and they weren’t even close.

With that thought, Zhao Changhe felt listless. Different world, after all: “Fine, you take the bed. I’ll take the table.”

Luo Qi’s anger froze on his face. He asked in surprise, “What’s with the sudden change? On the road, you hogged the big bed and never asked me a thing.”

“Back then, I figured I didn’t owe you anything—in fact, I’d saved you. If you gave me the cold shoulder, why should I bother? Now that it’s all over…”

“I never expected you to have such a temper for someone with so little skill.”

“Ha… same to you.” Zhao Changhe waved a hand. “Go to sleep. I’ll read for a bit—unless you won’t even lie in a bed I’ve slept in? What a fussy man.”

Luo Qi: “…Read your book.”

The book was the *Blood Fiend Art* manual.

Though the stronghold was new, it was well-equipped. There was even an oil lamp in the room, but to Zhao Changhe, the light was dim. Yet he surprisingly found he could see without strain—this so-called “eyes in the back of his head” seemed to enhance not just normal sight and hearing but also gave him some night vision. He felt there was more to explore.

But reading traditional characters was exhausting.

Fang Buping had tossed him the manual casually, as if it weren’t valuable, but Zhao Changhe noticed the envy in the eyes of the surrounding disciples when they saw the booklet.

Maybe the technique was decent, or maybe any technique was rare for ordinary people…

Too bad—his blood oath should have earned more than this.

He sat at the table, staring blankly at the manual, while Luo Qi leaned against the headboard, watching him.

Seeing his dazed look, Luo Qi’s lips curled with a hint of schadenfreude as he said soothingly, “Don’t be too down. Getting the Blood Fiend Art is still something…”

Zhao Changhe asked, “You’ve heard of it?”

“It has some reputation, I’ve heard of it,” Luo Qi said leisurely. “They say the Blood God Sect only teaches it to bandits who’ve rendered meritorious service, to quickly build combat strength. So it’s indeed fast to progress, and from how others envied you, it’s a good thing—much better than my shabby outer sect technique. But since it’s taught to unaffiliated bandits, it probably has its limits…”

Zhao Changhe asked, “If it’s decent, do you want it? The manual doesn’t say it can’t be shared.”

“You’re quite generous,” Luo Qi said, surprised. “This was earned by your merit, and you’d just give it to me?”

Zhao Changhe sighed. “The demonic sect is no good place… We’re bound by fate now. If we don’t stick together, we’ll just be bullied. Why split hairs over whose merit it is?”

Luo Qi studied him for a long moment, the gleeful smirk fading from his face, his voice softening considerably: "Though it wasn't forbidden to show others, it's hard to say there wasn't a hint of testing you in it. Sect Leader Fang's attitude toward you isn't too favorable—you'd best be careful not to give him a handle to grab."

Zhao Changhe scratched his head and said nothing.

Luo Qi continued: "Besides, my mental cultivation method has already laid its foundation; this one is of little use to me. What would truly benefit me is to find a chance to return to the Luo Family Estate, to see if the core techniques passed down from father to son lie beneath the ruins—hoping no one has dug them up."

He paused, then added: "Hmm... if you want this shabby mental method of mine, it's not that I'm stingy—if you wish to learn, I'll give it to you. But as I've said before, your age isn't quite right for practicing this kind of orthodox internal art; I'm afraid the Blood Fiend Art is still more suitable."

Zhao Changhe paid no heed to that crude external mental method, instead lowering his gaze to the Blood Fiend Art in his hands. From the preface in the booklet, this thing truly seemed to be one of the techniques best suited to his current situation.