The emperor and the Imperial Preceptor were left speechless, half laughing and half crying. This demonic cult master was utterly fearless—he actually wanted to recruit both the emperor and the Preceptor into his Heavenly Saint Cult, without a shred of hesitation!
"If you can't heal your wounds, and can't reclaim the throne, at least with the skills of my Heavenly Saint Cult, you could still make a living."
Quinn Shepherd persuaded, "And if you join now, I can give you high positions—Heavenly King, Elder, and so on. If you wait until you're completely crippled, then at best I can only make you an incense master—and even then, just a deputy. Madam, can you help me convince them?"
The Imperial Preceptor’s Wife just smiled, saying nothing.
The Imperial Preceptor said calmly, "If I join, I want to be the Cult Master."
Emperor Evan nodded, "Me too."
The Imperial Preceptor said, "You be the Cult Master, and I’ll be your right hand."
Quinn’s eyes lit up. "Your Majesty really wants to be the Cult Master?"
Emperor Evan was dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected Quinn to actually consider handing over the seat of Heavenly Saint Cult Master. If he really became the Cult Master, wouldn’t the Everpeace Empire become Holy Cult territory?
That was one hot potato—no way he could accept it!
The Imperial Preceptor also felt overwhelmed, quietly shaking his head at the emperor, signaling him not to accept.
The Imperial Preceptor’s Wife burst out laughing. "Cult Master Quinn, they’re not interested, but I am. What position could you arrange for me?"
Quinn’s eyes lit up, secretly admiring her cleverness. She was smoothing things over so the Preceptor and the emperor wouldn’t feel awkward.
"If Madam joins the cult, I can give you an easy post—just a title."
Quinn smiled, "Can you embroider, Madam? How about becoming the Incense Master of the Embroidery Hall?"
"That sounds good."
The young woman smiled, pulled the Preceptor aside, and whispered, "Husband, why refuse Cult Master Quinn? When you return to the capital, what are your chances of victory?"
The Imperial Preceptor was silent for a moment. "The people support reform, and seven or eight out of ten officials in the court are loyal to me and His Majesty. Once we return, we can surely kill the traitors and reclaim our power."
The Preceptor’s Wife smiled, "Really? And Great Thunderclap Temple and Dao Gate won’t interfere? Can you stand against the World-Honored One and the Dao Lord, or will His Majesty block them?"
Quinn leaned in and grinned, "All the noble families in the capital have Daoists or monks living with them, chanting sutras or reciting Daoist scripture."
The Imperial Preceptor fell silent. His wife gently pushed Quinn aside and whispered, "The two great sacred grounds are watching your faction like hawks. Anyone close to you is either under house arrest or locked in prison. Right now, the only power you can borrow is Cult Master Quinn. If you want his help, you need to put his mind at ease too."
Quinn tried to butt in, but the Preceptor’s Wife pushed him away again.
The Imperial Preceptor thought for a moment, then walked over to Quinn. "Is your Heavenly Saint Cult still missing a Heavenly King?"
Quinn nodded. "The Fourth Heavenly King."
The Imperial Preceptor said, "I’ll be the Fourth Heavenly King, but His Majesty must never be linked to the Heavenly Saint Cult. Your Majesty, I’m joining his cult."
Emperor Evan was stunned. After a long pause, he said slowly, "It’s a sacrifice for you, Preceptor."
Quinn smiled and said to Emperor Evan, "Your Majesty seems to have misunderstood my Heavenly Saint Cult. It’s not really a sect—it’s a set of everyday principles for the common folk, a sage’s dao. Your reform and ours are actually aligned…"
The Preceptor’s Wife laughed, "Cult Master, we should get going. No need to keep preaching—His Majesty can’t join our cult."
The Preceptor’s Wife rode on the Dragon-Qilin, while Quinn, the Imperial Preceptor, and the emperor walked below, circulating the Overlord Three-Core Art Quinn had taught them to restore some qi.
The two men looked like ascetics, walking slowly and with difficulty. It took them two or three days just to reach Kin Prefecture.
The local Holy Cult branch in Kin Prefecture had already prepared medicinal herbs. Quinn finally healed Emperor Evan’s soul wounds and closed the Preceptor’s external injuries, though he couldn’t draw out the residual divine arts left by the god inside the Preceptor.
The residual divine arts of a god were immensely powerful. If the Imperial Preceptor could refine them, Quinn could heal all his wounds easily. The problem was, the Preceptor couldn’t circulate his own power—these remnants lay hidden in his body and divine treasuries, and he had to suppress them with his own strength. One misstep could trigger their full force.
"Neither the emperor nor the Preceptor can fight right now," Quinn lamented inwardly.
The two strongest men in Everpeace were now both invalids, relying on Quinn for care and protection.
Quinn kept cultivating nonstop—even just walking, the Overlord Three-Core Art ran automatically, drawing in star power from above.
While traveling, Quinn also practiced swordsmanship, tirelessly drilling the two sword moves Village Chief had taught him, trying to perfect them.
The Imperial Preceptor noticed the two Sword Diagram moves and couldn’t help but take a closer look. "Cult Master, which of your elders taught you these?" he asked in surprise.
"Our village chief—the oldest one."
The Imperial Preceptor pondered a moment. "You’re trying to blend the three basic sword forms I created into these two sword moves? These two are nearly perfect already—adding my basics might boost power, but it’ll also create flaws. Why do it?"
Quinn unleashed Sword Opening the Emperor’s Bloody Sea, and suddenly felt a surge of poignant emotion—lonely mourning for lost homeland and martyrs. It was a sword sentiment, tragic and heroic.
The Imperial Preceptor picked up a branch from the ground. "Your moves still have plenty of flaws. Let me feed you some techniques."
Quinn’s eyes lit up, smiling, "Please teach me."
"I wouldn’t dare."
Quinn grabbed a branch too. The two of them used branches as swords—the Preceptor attacking, Quinn defending with his two Sword Diagram moves. In just moments, the Preceptor broke through and defeated Sword Treading the Rivers and Mountains.
Quinn pondered for a long time. The flaws the Preceptor pointed out were different from those the Village Chief had found. Both were grandmasters, but their paths diverged: the Village Chief’s sword was full of tragic heroism, while the Preceptor’s embodied reform and strategic expansion.
[Irrelevant webnovel system message—skip translation.]
Different ideals, different sword-daos.
Their guidance gave Quinn different kinds of benefits.
With the Village Chief’s guidance, Quinn had exhausted his own wisdom—his foundations weren’t deep enough to further improve the two moves. But the Preceptor’s advice opened a new path, letting him keep refining his swordsmanship.
As they practiced while walking, Quinn’s understanding of swordsmanship grew. He felt on the verge of leaping to a higher level, but always separated by a thin veil he couldn’t break through.
"No need to keep practicing. You won’t improve further this way."
The Preceptor said, "To break through, you’ll need your own realization."
Quinn was puzzled, but Emperor Evan understood, sighing, "One more step and you’ll be a little grandmaster. Quinn, you’re still so young—when I reached this level, I was fifty-seven. I cultivated the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art, drawing dragon-qi from the land, feeling the tides of the empire. That’s when I broke through. You’re ahead of me by thirty or forty years."
Quinn smiled, "What’s the essence of Your Majesty’s Nine-Dragon Emperor Art?"
"Its essence is change."
Emperor Evan said solemnly, "If you want to learn, I can teach you. Before me, the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art was just a spell-art. But in my hands, any spell, sword, or bodily divine art can be expressed through it. Why? Because dragon means transformation! Dragons can be large or small, hidden or manifest, soar to heaven, dive into the sea, stir wind and rain, wield fire, control thunder, bring sweet dew. Want to learn?"
He thought Quinn would refuse—after all, he was the infamous cult master. But Quinn replied crisply, "I do!"
Emperor Evan was stunned, then burst out laughing. "So be it! Who says the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art can’t be passed outside my clan? I’ll teach you."
The Preceptor’s Wife looked at Evan in surprise, while the Preceptor said calmly, "His Majesty is always bold—otherwise he wouldn’t have trusted me. Actually, I’ve studied the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art’s original form at least ten times."
Emperor Evan taught Quinn the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art, showing him how to circulate qi and channel dragon-qi.
This art was different from the Overlord Three-Core Art—grand and forceful, yet endlessly variable. Every gesture contained the power of heaven and earth.
"The Nine-Heavens Divine Dragon Shroud is a spell—it turns into nine real dragons hidden in the clouds to attack enemies. Watch!"
Emperor Evan stirred his qi. Three inches above his head appeared a tiny cloud, and several dragon-qi strands, thin as worms, writhed fiercely.
When Evan’s qi ran out, the cloud and dragon-qi vanished with a pop.
Panting, Evan said, "I’m out of power, but you get the idea."
Quinn nodded, activated the Overlord Three-Core Art, merging the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art with his own qi. Suddenly dragons appeared and vanished in midair—nine dragons clawed, smashing the rocks around them to dust.
Evan was stunned, and the Preceptor was amazed too. The nine dragons circled overhead, then turned to fire dragons, flames swirling, forming a fiery tornado that lifted them up.
The fire dragons changed again, commanding water to hold them aloft, then thunder exploded, lightning crackling everywhere.
Evan and the Preceptor exchanged glances, both seeing the shock in each other's eyes.
Quinn handled the Nine-Dragon Emperor Art like he’d practiced for decades—his mastery surpassed most princes in the Imperial Academy.
Quinn dismissed the Nine-Heavens Divine Dragon Shroud. Evan taught him everything he knew, sighing, "If only you were a Ling…"
Only two or three days from the capital now, and three days until the crown prince’s enthronement. Suddenly, a giant bird swooped down, tumbled, and turned into a woman in green, bowing before them: "Sacred Teacher, everything is ready."
Quinn nodded. "Go on ahead."
"Yes, sir." The woman ran a few steps, then shook her body—two wings sprouted from her back and she soared away.
"If the Great Thunderclap Temple and Dao Sect can kill an emperor, so can our Heavenly Saint Cult. Otherwise, how could we claim to be the number one sacred ground of the devil path?" Quinn said softly.
The Preceptor frowned. "What are you planning?"
"Enter the city. Kill the emperor."