107: Chapter 107 The Mark
Central Plains, Blood Fiend Sect.
When Jiang Xun emerged from that massive bedchamber, the sky was a murky gray, making it impossible to tell if it was dawn or dusk.
That collar was still fastened around his neck.
Jiang Hongyuan had put it back on him before she left, though she hadn't attached the chain.
The Profound Iron was cold against his skin, its weight so heavy that he felt the urge to reach up and touch it from time to time.
But he restrained himself, merely keeping his eyes downcast as he walked along the corridor. His pace was neither fast nor slow, resembling any ordinary Disciple walking within the Sect.
The corridor was flanked by walls of black stone, with blood-red lanterns embedded every few yards. The flickering flames within illuminated the path, making it look as if it were drenched in blood.
He walked for the time it takes an incense stick to burn.
He didn't encounter a single soul.
The place was absurdly large and so quiet it didn't seem to house any living beings.
Only the sound of his own footsteps echoed in the corridor, rhythmic thuds like someone knocking on an empty coffin.
After passing through a doorway, the view suddenly opened up.
It was a plaza.
In the center of the plaza stood a massive statue of a great demon.
It had a green Face, fangs, and six arms.
It looked fierce and menacing.
Dense runes were carved into the base of the statue, flowing slowly as if the stone itself were breathing.
Around the plaza, there were finally people.
Disciples in black robes moved about in small groups; some spoke in low voices, while others hurried along with their heads down.
Blood-red patterns were embroidered on their robes, identical to the emblem of the Blood Fiend Sect.
Jiang Xun's footsteps paused for a moment.
He looked down at himself; he was still wearing the clothes Jiang Hongyuan had torn to shreds. They barely covered him, leaving him looking quite disheveled.
He took a black robe out of his Storage Ring and put it on.
The first black-robed Disciple approached him from the opposite direction.
The person looked up at Jiang Xun and suddenly came to a halt.
Jiang Xun's heart tightened.
Since Jiang Hongyuan hadn't locked him up, it meant he was free to move around the vicinity.
He maintained a natural expression.
However, the person's gaze swept over his Face and landed on his forehead. They stared for a split second before quickly lowering their eyes, stepping aside, and bowing deeply.
The gesture was respectful and the bow perfectly executed.
"Greetings, My Lord," the person said.
Jiang Xun was stunned.
He didn't respond, simply continuing forward.
After a few more steps, two more people approached. They had the same reaction: upon seeing his Face, their gaze lingered on his forehead, then they bowed, stepped aside, and saluted.
"Greetings, My Lord."
Frowning, Jiang Xun quickened his pace and walked to a less crowded area at the edge of the plaza.
He raised his hand to touch his forehead.
The skin his fingers touched was smooth; there was nothing there.
But from the corner of his eye, he noticed a black-robed Disciple nearby stealing a glance at him. The Disciple's gaze was fixed on his forehead, filled with awe and fear.
Jiang Xun turned and walked toward that Disciple.
Seeing him approach, the person trembled and immediately lowered their head, their body stiff as a board.
"Look up," Jiang Xun said.
The person hesitated before slowly raising their head, though they didn't dare meet his eyes, staring instead at his chin.
Jiang Xun asked, "Why are you afraid of me?"
The person's Adam's apple bobbed as they swallowed hard before whispering, "My Lord belongs to the Sect Master; naturally, this lowly one would not dare offend you."
Jiang Xun was taken aback.
"How do you know I am one of Jiang Hongyuan's people?"
He had only just arrived; surely his relationship with Jiang Hongyuan couldn't be common knowledge already?
The person pointed to Jiang Xun's forehead and said, "My Lord bears the Sect Master's Mark; naturally, you are the Sect Master's person."
Jiang Xun pulled out the three lives mirror to examine himself.
On one side of his forehead, three small blood-red characters had been tattooed.
Jiang Hongyuan.
It was like a seal, or a brand.
It reminded Jiang Xun of the stamps they put on pigs at a meat processing plant.
Safe for consumption.
The person continued, "Any person or object marked by the Sect Master belongs to the Sect Master. The Mark represents the Sect Master's ownership; no one may touch, offend, or disobey."
Jiang Xun understood.
Those with the Mark held an extraordinary status within the Sect, but it also meant...
You were no longer your own person.
You were the Sect Master's property.
Jiang Xun dismissed the Disciple.
He stood there, reaching up to touch his forehead again.
Every passing Disciple slowed their pace upon seeing him, bowing their heads until he had walked far away before they dared to straighten up.
This was reverence for the powerful and deference toward "private property."
Just as a Mortal would not touch a vessel used by a noble—not because the vessel itself was precious, but because it belonged to the noble.
Jiang Xun turned and continued walking.
He crossed the plaza and followed a wider bluestone road forward.
Tall halls began to appear on both sides, with black tiles and black walls. Bronze bells hung from the eaves, chiming whenever the wind blew.
The road became increasingly crowded.
But no matter who they were, as soon as they saw him, they would stop and bow.
Jiang Xun said nothing.
He just kept walking, as if strolling through his own garden.
Until he reached a massive black stone gate.
The gate was open.
Behind the gate was a long staircase leading upward, so long the end was out of sight.
Every hundred steps along the stairs stood a black-robed Disciple, straight as a post, eyes fixed forward.
Jiang Xun was about to step forward.
"Fellow Daoist, please wait."
A voice came from behind him.
Jiang Xun turned around.
It was a middle-aged man with a lean Face. He wore the robes of the Blood Fiend Sect, but the hems were embroidered with silver thread, making them more exquisite than those of the ordinary Disciples.
The man cupped his hands in a standard, respectful salute. "I am Zhou Zhiqing, a Deacon of the Blood Fiend Sect."
Jiang Xun looked at Zhou Zhiqing and returned the salute. "Jiang Xun."
He remained vigilant; one had to be extremely cautious when dealing with people from a Demonic Sect.
Those Disciples might have been respectful just now, but that was entirely due to Jiang Hongyuan's Face.
Cultivators of the Demonic Path always acted on whim; their behavior was treacherous and unpredictable.
Zhou Zhiqing's gaze lingered on his forehead, and his smile deepened. "So you are the Sect Master's person. My apologies for the lack of respect."
"Is there something you need, Fellow Daoist?" Jiang Xun asked.
"There is no need for confusion, Fellow Daoist," Zhou Zhiqing explained with a smile. "Those with the Mark are the Sect Master's trusted confidants. No one dares to stop or question you as you move through the Sect."
"I merely wished to remind you, Fellow Daoist, that it would be best for you to change your Cultivation Technique as soon as possible."