Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Chapter 1535. Drip. Drip. Drip.

---Silk River Sect, some time earlier---

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water drops was the only sound echoing across the quiet cave. In the deepest part of the dark cave system was an azure pool of water, giving off a faint, supernatural glow. At the center of the pool was a small island, where an old man in loose robes sat with his legs crossed.

The energy of heaven and earth saturated the air, giving it a clean, reinvigorating property when breathing it in. With every breath, the old man circulated the clean energy through his body, enriching his body and soul.

It had taken him 280 years and the lives of countless sacrifices to amass this amount of Earth Spirit Water, but experiencing the thick energy made it all worth it. The appearance of a new province was a real stroke of luck. Thanks to the natives, he had created the perfect space for his breakthrough.

Although he had shed the shackles of death, he had not shed the shackles of age. However, just one more step and he could reverse his age and truly ascend to the ranks of the ancients, forever young and powerful, untouched by the flow of time.

Just a year, maybe two, and he would be able to become one with the world and wield itʼs power like it was his own! Maybe he could even move to the central regions! His body shivered as the excitement disrupted his concentration.

With a deep breath the calmed his thoughts and returned his thinking to nothingness. He kept repeating the mantra of his master, the founder of the Silk River Sect, in his mind. His thoughts calmed, and the cool energy circulated through his body.

Time passed by like a flowing river. He enjoyed losing the sense of time when in closed-door cultivation. His mind experiences pure serenity as all he did was lose himself in the flow and guidance of the world and-

Tremor. Drip! Drip! Drip! Drip!

His cave was shaken ever so slightly, but it provoked an aggressive cascade of rain falling from the damp ceiling. The cold rain could not break his concentration, but curiosity did. How could this place be shaken?

...

--A couple of minutes earlier---

A quiet, wistful melody blew across the streets and alley, along the trails and mountain halls of the Silk River Sect. Disciples across all 9 peaks heard the sound, whether they were sweeping the courtyards or sunken in deep meditation behind closed doors.

At first, they did not even notice it. It came with the wind and blew past, but by the time they noticed it had already snuck in their ears and had taken root like a parasitic vine. Inadvertently, people hummed along, whether they were washing dishes or practicing swordplay.

A simple melody had become the soundtrack of their day and the rhythm of their bodies. An elder who had contemplated an immortal technique to the whims of the melody cracked his eyes open. He felt his energy move more smoothly and his thoughts faster under the influence of this power.

Had an immortal graced them with a visit? Or maybe it was a passing ancient giving their sect a rare blessing? It was not uncommon for immortals or those about to become ones to travel the lands to gather the power of virtue by doing good deeds. He stood up to leave his hall and look for the senior to thank him, but his legs suddenly froze.

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At first, he thought they had fallen asleep, as he had forgotten how long he had been meditating. However, he could neither feel nor control his own legs. At that moment, he realized there were words mixed in with the melody.

It was a melancholic voice singing in a foreign tongue. The world surrounding him seemed darker, more dangerous. It felt like the walls themselves were growling at him. Was this sound art? An illusion? But why would that senior do this, or... maybe this was reality.

He couldnʼt understand the song, but it injected thoughts into his mind. It felt like a heart demon, but not his own. He knew something was wrong, but intrusive thoughts kept interrupting his own. he was frozen in internal battle when the door to his abode opened.

“Elder! I knew I had heard someone inside. You are out of closed-door training!” A young woman fell through the door. One of the many disciples of her peak. She was popular for her beauty and quick wit. Now, however, she was on the ground, her robes disheveled.

Was it the music, or was it his own mind poisoning his reason? Desires long forgotten were stripping away his sanity. He felt it growing inside him. He wanted to break out of this shell. He felt like he was bigger than his body, and it was restricting him.

His hand clawed into his robes and his own flesh.

“I donʼt know what is happening, but the whole sect is suddenly squirming with monsters and- Elder?”

As the pain of stripping his own skin washed over his mind, his thoughts turned cold and crystal clear. As if he had an epiphany, he overcame his demons. The shackles of his own body could no longer hold him back. Looking down on himself, he felt that he could grow even further. He was bigger than these bones...

“Elder? Please stop, you are scaring me...” the female cultivator stuttered, looking at the sect elder mutilating himself, while looking at her like a predator. Her voice gave him one last doubt, but there was nothing he could do against this awful energy.

“Right, you should be scared of me...” he muttered. “Just who was in control?” he asked himself as the last clear thought left his mind and the melody took over his mind and body. It was a wild dance of blood, self-mutilation, and transfiguration.

A dance mirrored all across the Silk River Sect as a bloody party was reaching its height. The rhapsody “Whispers of Paimon” had taken a terrifying hold of the whole sect.

...

As the bard unleashed his song, he watched the happenings in the vast sect below with a hint of shock. Although the ballad came with a considerable strain, it was not the most exhausting he had ever tried. it was actually manageable, so he didnʼt expect such an outcome.

Across the sprawling city made up of shops, halls, and mansions, cultivators were losing their minds. He witnessed two distinct groups forming. Those worn down by a sudden onset of paranoia, becoming bundles of fear and despair, and others, who became extremely aggressive. It was like they revealed their primal, bestial instincts. But it didnʼt end there.

The latter group mutilated themselves, driven by some kind of urge, and they turned. Under the influence of Paimon, these people actually transformed into inhumane creatures driven by the lowest of desires. This was not in the description of the epic ballad....

The blacksmith swallowed hard at some of the sights below. He really didnʼt expect things to turn this bad. After the battle of Little Gamma, the Silk River Sect had lost their sect leader and most of their big shots.

They had done something called “closing their gates”, which meant that they shut themselves off from the outside business and focused on regaining their strength, or something like that. What it really meant was that they were truly afraid to run into their enemies when they had nobody of significant strength to back them.

Still, Seth had not expected the Whispers of Paimon to be so effective. Unable to cross it unnoticed, Seth was standing on Vegr flying outside a massive barrier protecting the whole territory of the main sect. Yet, this and any other of their defenses did nothing to stop the demonʼs unholy power from seeping in.

Originally, he had only wanted to use the ballad to distract and weaken the cultivators, to allow him to plant the seed of the guardian tree and let it finish it. Now, he considered planting the tree a mercy, compared to letting things below play out.

He was glad Fin and Mina had split off to take care of other places.