Chapter 37: Red Star Guarding the Heart? Or…
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Chapter 37: Red Star Guarding the Heart? Or…

“Red Star Guarding the Heart… Red Star Guarding the Heart! Even among the various Star Fiend Strange Fates, it was considered the fiercest and most perilous!”

At the very thought of this possibility, the Medicine Manor Lord felt his heart skip a beat.

The ominous nature of this fate spelled doom to any who encountered it—if a person encountered it, they died; if an army encountered it, it lost; if a nation encountered it, it was destroyed. The moment it appeared, the very foundations of empires were shaken, throwing all under heaven into turmoil!

The fate was fierce, and the person was also fierce! Anyone who bore such a Heaven-Ordained Fate, should they strive for success, would inevitably walk a path piled high with corpses, the so-called “For one general’s achievement, ten thousand bones must bleach.”

It was fitting, so fitting…

——It was meant to be the future Heavenly Demon War General for their Heavenly Will Divine Sect to conquer the world!

At the same time…

“Fellow Junior Brothers and Junior Sisters, while we have this opportunity, I want to tell you all a truth.”

Having fully awakened his Heaven-Ordained Fate and secured partial authority over the Imperial Heaven Star Fiend Grand Rite from within, An Jing seized the moment when the demonic energy was dispersed, and his soul connected with all the other boys and girls within the ritual. He sent them a message—memories, in fact.

He held nothing back as he said, “Hanging Fate Manor is not what they claim—a hidden orthodox lineage.”

“Their true identity is the Heavenly Will Demonic Sect.”

“As for our other fellow disciples—those who left us before—they did not go down the mountain because they lacked talent or were reassigned outside the manor. Rather, they became materials for the Demonic Sect’s elixir refining.”

“They were eaten.”

An Jing’s thoughts swept through the entire great array, and his voice echoed in the minds of all sixty-six who still lived.

Yet at first, not everyone grasped what exactly An Jing was saying—they had just escaped their Inner Heart Demons, and many still felt dazed, at a loss.

For a moment, the interior of the ritual swelled with the clamor of confused adolescent voices.

“I broke free of my Inner Heart Demon? Wait… hang on, what’s happening?!”

“Haha… hahahahaha! I survived! I did it! Mother! Father, do you see this?!”

“Liu Jie?! Don’t die, please don’t die! I beg you… please don’t leave me…”

“I… it seems like I was dreaming… did we succeed in overcoming the trial? No, this memory… this, this is…”

Having cast off their Inner Heart Demons, they each reacted differently.

Some, more perceptive than others, might have escaped their Inner Heart Demons even without An Jing’s help—though they could not have awakened their Heaven-Ordained Fate. They noticed right away that other children beside them had perished, and they were stunned.

Others, on the brink of being swallowed by their Inner Heart Demons, were rescued by An Jing. Still in shock, their emotions surged wildly, verging on delirium.

Some realized their friends or companions had died and grieved so deeply that even their very souls sobbed in sorrow.

But soon, all heard An Jing’s words. They received the many memories he shared.

A black, stormy night, lightning tearing through the silence.

They all seemed to personally experience what An Jing had gone through—running through pelting rain, searching the manor grounds, bearing that dread of confirming a horrifying truth while clinging to feeble hope that the Heavens or the Demonic Sect might show mercy. Though deep down they already knew, they still used nearly hopeless courage to lift a stone cover.

They all saw that single bone drifting to the surface.

They saw the person who had vanished.

Afterward, they saw the dungeon—the butchery in the dungeon, those hung-up carcasses and corpses.

Silence.

Bright scarlet light shone into the depths of their hearts. Through the power of the altar, An Jing’s spirit connected with every one of them.

At this moment, he could sense all the emotions stirring in them: some raged like tempestuous waves; some were sunk in the deepest grief; some became cold and numb like ice; others fell into a calm confusion.

And then came responses, one after another.

“No… impossible…”

Some boys and girls who believed wholeheartedly that Hanging Fate Manor was like new parents to them now babbled incoherently, “They would never treat us like this… The instructors and teachers have always been so kind…”

“How could it be, Ah Zhu…” Others recognized the name of a familiar friend in An Jing’s memories, and promptly lost all composure. “Impossible! Ah Zhu didn’t die—he went down the mountain; I’m sure we’ll meet there again! Senior Brother, you’re lying to me! You’re lying, aren’t you?!”

These children at least showed some reaction. Their hearts had not been wholly corrupted by the Demonic Sect. The intense emotional shock—learning that friends who had accompanied them so long had died nearby and that those who they once thought simply departed “down the mountain” had long since become “medicine pulp”—shattered their mental defenses and spurred their uncontrolled panic and horror. Yet it also ripped away the mask they had worn over their hearts all this time.

Still, others had already been distorted by the Demonic Sect’s methods to the point of utter apathy.

They felt nothing about anyone else’s death: though they had lost many companions, wasn’t that to be expected? Hadn’t they all been prepared to stake their lives? When risking their lives, how could they not have anticipated such a possibility?

They were the victors; those who died—even those who ended up as medicine pulp—were failures.

——Why should the victors empathize with the losers?

An Jing had anticipated this.

He himself had nearly been twisted by the Demonic Sect’s methods, so how could he blame these apathetic youngsters? Moreover, the Demonic Sect had indeed “purchased their lives.” Even he could not deny that.

But he would resist, like a trapped rabbit caught in a snare or a crab bought at the market—he would bite or clamp down if given the chance.

Hence, An Jing spoke plainly.

“Open your eyes wide and see.”

An Jing raised the sword in his hand, pointing toward those younger disciples who had perished when failing to awaken a Heaven-Ordained Fate. Threads of dark-red mist seeped from their corpses—blood essence. The pure blood essence of these adolescents gathered in midair, collected by the massive ritual array, converging into something far away.

Drawing on the power within the altar—likely originating from some sword spirit—An Jing manipulated the grand array. He guided the consciousness of all the surviving youths along the strands of blood essence to trace them back—and in practically an instant, their view returned to Hanging Fate Manor, to the fifth floor of the Medicine Pavilion, specifically the Medicine Manor Lord’s study.

They saw a vessel of dark golden metal.

Within it, those dark-red wisps condensed into round, glossy pills that emitted a crimson glow—pure inside and out.

【Blood Pill Great Medicine】

In the study, two stationed apothecaries watched over the vessel. Seeing the blood essence congeal into pills, they did not look excited or greedy; rather, they looked…

They looked dissatisfied.

“Why so few?”

One of the younger apothecaries frowned at the Blood Pills inside the Life-Nurturing Vessel, appearing somewhat displeased. “So many made it through the trial this time?”

“Yes, they really are stronger than usual,” said the older apothecary, gazing thoughtfully toward Hanging Fate Valley. “I saw two columns of starlight pierce the sky just now—I suspect two people awakened a 【Strange Fate】!”

“You haven’t been at Hanging Fate Manor long, so you don’t know. The reason this Imperial Heaven Star Fiend Grand Rite divides one hundred eight people into twelve groups is that too few participants would be unable to withstand the power of the Divine Sword and Heavenly Demons, while too many would interfere with one another, unable to define their own ‘self.’”

“Within the ritual, each time one member of a group dies, the others’ likelihood of being invaded by demonic energy increases, but so does their chance of comprehending and clarifying their Heaven-Ordained Fate.”

“However, if there is someone in the group whose mind is abnormally strong, two possibilities arise.”

“The first is that apart from this person, everyone else’s spirit becomes overwhelmed by him, leading to their deaths and turning them into nourishment for his success.”

Here, the older apothecary smacked his lips, somewhat regretful. “The second is that his mind is like a colossal tree, shading others under its canopy—thus allowing them to survive together.”

“It seems our two Strange Fate masters this time are the more ‘benevolent’ sort… While there will be big rewards from above, they’ll go to the Manor Lord and the Head Instructor and a few other elders.”

“For us, it would honestly have been more practical to split up more Blood Pills.”

“Indeed.” The younger apothecary memorized the older man’s words and nodded. “Pruning the branches strengthens the trunk. We really don’t need so many ordinary survivors. Twenty or thirty, at most forty, would be more than enough.”

“As for the rest—even if they live, what good are they? Don’t even talk about those without Heaven-Ordained Fates—even the ones with only common Mixed Fates would still need constant training from the manor. And in the end, they’d amount to nothing, not as good as us apothecaries…”

Though somewhat boastful, it was accurate: having a Heaven-Ordained Fate was a prerequisite for a martial artist to reach Internal Fortification, but possessing one did not guarantee aptitude in martial arts, nor did it ensure they would accomplish Internal Fortification.

Particularly for those who bore Mixed Fates, encompassing all sorts of possibilities—some baffling, such as a “Laundry Immortal,” “Roasted Meat Immortal,” or “Cooking Immortal,” conferring the power to wash clothes or cook food with extraordinary skill. At least the last two could serve as chefs, but the first… was that truly for doing laundry?

Apothecaries looked down on such Mixed Fates. Moreover, the rewards from above were vague and intangible. The Blood Pills, on the other hand, were substantial benefits they literally held in their hands.

The strands of blood essence dispersed, ending the backtracking.

Those children whose blood essence had been drained were already starting to decompose rapidly into shriveled husks. Soon enough, their remains would be nothing but bleached bones—just like the skeletons that the newcomers had seen when they first arrived at the white sandy ground.

An Jing surveyed all the silence. He felt the stifled fury and terror within them, each realizing that they were nothing but livestock.

“From here on,” he said, “I’ll stop explaining and start doing.”

“Then, if you want to go back to Hanging Fate Manor, go back; if you want to follow me, follow me.”

No one dared talk back to An Jing, who made the declaration. Instinctively, they obeyed.

Perhaps that was a bitter fruit of the manor’s own making—An Jing had performed so well that almost all the instructors grew lazy, leaving much of the teaching and training to him.

He had trained and walked the mountains with them.

He had drunk and eaten side by side with them.

He had fought alongside them.

He taught martial techniques and explained classic texts, listened to their troubles, and consoled them.

At this point, the authority and influence of An Jing, the Senior Brother, already surpassed that of any instructor or teacher over these young disciples.

“Wake up, and then form ranks!”

When An Jing gave the order—

No one questioned him. There was no need to explain.

All of them subconsciously complied with his words.

In the blink of an eye, every boy and girl awakened from the dream induced by their Inner Heart Demons. Some looked bewildered or dazed, at a loss.

But they saw one figure—the first to stand, the first to raise his weapon.

So they, too, rose.

So they, too, gripped their blades and swords.

(End of this chapter)

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