Chapter Two: The Bloodshadow Lord

Qi Fei reached out and touched his abdomen, only to discover that the wound, once torn and gaping, had completely healed. The white-browed Daoist had used his arcane arts to refine the medicinal power within the elixir, his face growing even more pale. Gazing thoughtfully at Qi Fei, he spoke in a soft, slow voice: “If you harbor no ill intent and obey my commands, there will be great rewards for you. But if you scheme against me, do not blame me for being merciless.”

Qi Fei, inwardly wiping cold sweat from his brow, hurriedly replied with utmost respect, “I know my mistakes and dare not act rashly. Please instruct me, Master Daoist, and I will obey without question.”

“Go fetch something to eat. I am also a little hungry.”

Qi Fei wore a troubled expression and asked cautiously, “Master Daoist, your powers are boundless—you’re practically an immortal. In this desolate wilderness, I don’t know what food would suit your taste?”

A peculiar look flashed across the Daoist’s face before he grew solemn. “Though I cultivate the mysteries of the Dao, I am still far from the boundless Way. How could I claim to be an immortal untouched by mortal needs? Just bring me some common game and wild fruits.”

Having witnessed the Daoist’s supernatural powers, Qi Fei had already resolved to seize this opportunity. He was well aware that a man of such miraculous abilities might be able to change the course of his own fate. Humbly, he asked for guidance: “I am dull-witted, Master Daoist. Could you tell me how one might learn these profound Daoist arts?”

Although Qi Fei’s clothes were ragged and his appearance disheveled, the white-browed Daoist noted a scholarly air in his words and manners. “Have you studied before?” he asked.

A flash of pain appeared on Qi Fei’s face. “I am Qi Fei. My family was once of scholarly lineage. Several years ago, after the Zhou Emperor passed away, chaos overtook the land and my parents perished in the turmoil. Wandering the world, I was fortunate to be taken in by the immortals of Danxia Sect on Mount Cangyun, where I became an herb-gathering boy. A few months ago, I accompanied some companions and several immortal masters into these mountains to collect herbs, but we encountered a most ferocious beast. The immortal masters and other boys were all slain; only I, by luck, escaped. Since then, I have been hiding in these woods.”

A hint of disdain flickered across the Daoist’s face. He snorted, “Danxia Sect? Such a paltry third-rate sect dares call its members immortals?”

Qi Fei was struck with terror and quickly replied, “You speak true, Master Daoist. It was my own ignorance.”

The Daoist slowly raised his head and looked intently at Qi Fei. “Now the world is in chaos and war is everywhere. In these remote forests, peace remains. Since fate has brought us together, you need not beat around the bush. Speak your desires openly.”

Qi Fei’s heart leapt at these words. He immediately knelt before the Daoist and said, “Master Daoist, I wish to become your disciple and learn these wondrous, unfathomable arts. I beg you to accept me.”

The Daoist seemed unsurprised by Qi Fei’s request. “You wish to be my disciple? Weren’t you with the Danxia Sect on Mount Cangyun?”

Qi Fei quickly explained, “Master Daoist, you may not know—I am of mediocre talent and was only an herb-gathering boy. I was never formally admitted as a disciple of the Danxia Sect.”

A cold glint appeared in the Daoist’s eye. “Is that so? Then do you know who I truly am?”

“Your powers are boundless; surely you are a figure of great renown.”

“Renown? You’re not wrong. Qi Fei, you come from a scholarly family and were taken in by Danxia Sect. No doubt you know the difference between righteous and demonic paths. If I were a wicked, infamous demon, would you still wish to be my disciple?” The Daoist’s words grew sharp and threatening.

Qi Fei was taken aback. He had been eager to learn the Daoist’s miraculous arts, but now realized that his hasty request might have been reckless. If he answered wrongly and angered this formidable figure, his life would be forfeit.

Torn with anxiety and uncertain how to respond, Qi Fei could only force himself to answer, voice trembling, “The difference between righteousness and evil lies in one’s heart. Though you claim to be a man of the demonic path, you have not harmed me. This proves your goodness. No matter your path, I am willing to be your disciple. Please accept me.”

The Daoist’s expression remained unreadable. “Well said—‘the difference lies in the heart.’ Qi Fei, you do suit my tastes. Do not be afraid, and do not give me false assurances out of fear for your life. I am now gravely injured after a battle with a powerful foe. That adversary and I both suffered greatly. Once he recovers, he will surely seek me here. In the coming days, I can teach you some methods of cultivation. But know this: by following me, you will inevitably be drawn into my deadly struggle with him. Are you still willing?”

Qi Fei thought to himself: the Daoist’s words sounded generous, but if he refused now, he might never escape alive. Besides, the Daoist arts were indeed wondrous—he had yearned for them since his days at Danxia Sect, but his poor talent barred him from becoming a disciple. Now that this white-browed Daoist was willing to teach him, why not play along for now? Once he learned enough, he could find his own way forward.

Lowering his head in thought for a moment, Qi Fei then looked up resolutely. “I am willing. Master, please accept my bow.”

He was just about to kowtow when the Daoist flicked a sleeve, halting him. “Becoming a disciple is no trivial matter. Over the next few days, I’ll teach you some methods. Only if you prove useful in eliminating my enemy will I consider accepting you as my disciple.”

Qi Fei thought himself most unfortunate. That enemy who had wounded this formidable Daoist must be a fearsome master indeed. To be caught in their conflict was surely to risk his life.

Seeing Qi Fei’s grave expression, the Daoist continued, “Earlier, you asked how you might learn the Daoist arts. I agreed to teach you a little, so let me tell you of the paths of cultivation in this world.”

Qi Fei had only ever been an herb-gatherer and knew nothing of these profound methods. Seeing the Daoist willing to instruct him, he quickly composed himself and listened intently.

“In this world, whether one practices martial or immortal arts, the goal is to transcend life and death, to reach the boundless Way. The martial path is divided into twelve heavenly levels. Martial artists cultivate their martial souls, sanctify their bodies, and with supreme techniques break through heaven and earth. The immortal path consists of seven levels of miraculous power. Cultivators condense their spirit, their souls leave their bodies, and with Daoist arts seek transcendence from the cycle of life and death.”

Hearing the Daoist speak of such miraculous methods, Qi Fei could not help but feel exhilarated. “Then you must practice the same Daoist arts as Danxia Sect, Master. May I ask, what level have you reached? And what distinguishes the seven levels of miraculous power?”

The Daoist shot him an impatient look. “I have reached the fourth level, the Transformation Stage, as a True Person of the Dao. Also, since you are not yet my disciple, do not call me Master. My Daoist title is True Lord Bloodshadow, elder of the Heart Demon Sect—a demonic order. You may address me as True Lord.”

Qi Fei had only known that Mount Cangyun housed three rival sects. Since True Lord Bloodshadow dismissed Danxia Sect as a mere third-rate sect, the Heart Demon Sect must be far superior—a demonic order of great power. A cultivator at the Transformation Stage was surely beyond even the Danxia Sect’s leader.

Noting that True Lord Bloodshadow was not truly angry, Qi Fei, for the sake of survival, set aside his pride to curry favor with this self-styled demonic lord. Bracing himself, he said, “Though I once dwelled at Danxia Sect, I was never a disciple. Since you are willing to teach me, True Lord, you are my benefactor and teacher. As your student, I owe you my deepest respect. Once I have learned the arts, I will risk my life to aid you against your enemies, and only then will I perform the formal rites of discipleship.”

True Lord Bloodshadow sighed lightly. Seeing Qi Fei gather boar meat from a beast-hide pouch and busily prepare a meal, he let the matter of titles pass.

He sat cross-legged before the wooden hut, circulating his energy to heal his wounds while watching Qi Fei’s actions closely.

Qi Fei took fresh boar meat from the pouch, fetched a well-preserved fire starter from the crude hut, and began awkwardly to build a fire and roast the meat.

True Lord Bloodshadow thought to himself that this small valley, ringed by mountains and shrouded in mist, was indeed an excellent hiding place. He had fled the Heart Demon Sect only to be relentlessly pursued by Daoist Hundred Ghosts, who had also reached the Transformation Stage. Now, gravely wounded and poisoned with that man’s deadly corpse-cold venom, he knew the enemy would find him as soon as his injuries eased. When that happened, his end would likely come. His only hope lay in a surprise attack to kill Daoist Hundred Ghosts before being discovered.

While Qi Fei appeared calm as he tended the fire and meat, his mind was in turmoil.

He knew that if True Lord Bloodshadow truly taught him the miraculous Daoist arts, his fate would change forever. But as he thought further, a sense of unease crept in. He had seen Danxia Sect disciples cultivate before. True Lord Bloodshadow, being so gravely wounded, should have been focused on healing. Yet, instead of tending to his injuries, he had repeatedly displayed his supernatural arts to incite Qi Fei’s desire to become a disciple. Was this all part of some scheme? Had he anticipated Qi Fei’s plea to become his student? Or did the demonic lord have some other plan?

Moreover, True Lord Bloodshadow had openly admitted that his enemy—the one who had wounded him—would surely come for him. If immortals fought, mortals suffered. How could Qi Fei, swept into such a conflict, hope to survive?

In the tranquil mountain valley, the old and the young each nursed their own thoughts. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, as if foretelling the storms to come.