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After France collapsed, the overflowing enthusiasm of the French people was utterly crushed.

It wasn’t a typical case of anarchy—it was a chaotic disaster that left everyone dead without understanding what had happened in such a short time, making the reactions of the French people entirely justifiable.

Suddenly, lunatics shouting for a restoration of monarchy burst in and beheaded the president and all the officials?

At least they could have sat down and started rebuilding the country properly.

Is it even logical to think that a warrior, out of nowhere and with unknown appearance, just showed up and chopped everyone to bits?

Besides, it wasn’t just the bizarre fact that the elite of society were wiped out; another issue arose. A vacancy was created, yet rebuilding was impossible.

The worst assassin remained in France.

He had cut down the prince who declared himself the next king.

The very person who aspired to be king was also butchered.

Even those who wanted to be ministers were not spared.

Chop, chop, chop.

The warrior seated in France decided to slay anyone who dared claim they would take charge of the nation.

He removed men and women without discrimination, slashing anyone entering the palace and those who dared propose a solution.

There was no way to stop the attacks from the warrior.

How could anyone defend against an assassin who could kill from hundreds of meters away?

Even worse, he didn’t have to do it from an open area like a sniper.

This insane assassin didn’t care about any obstacles in the way; he only needed to get within his range to take someone apart. He could dig underground and swing his sword, decapitating people, or use his ability to float in the air, striking from the sky.

Under this ruthless blade, power holders continued to perish, and the vacated spaces remained empty.

Sitting down meant death. Stepping out meant death. It was certain: death.

In normal circumstances, one would aspire for positions of authority, targets of desire, yet those vacancies turned into seats everyone avoided, resembling nothing less than execution devices.

Eventually, France gave up on forming a government.

Even if they wanted to, there was no way to do it. What could they do when stepping forward only led to death?

If only there was even one person to block the swords.

Sadly, all those capable fighters had perished in the war.

Could they even find an artifact to protect themselves?

Countries that shouted for reparations would never let go of such precious artifacts easily.

They were all snatched away.

Purchasing new ones was impossible.

There was no money.

Even if they did have money, artifacts with the power to ward off strikes from a warrior would be priced exorbitantly. They were items truly akin to treasures, unattainable even with cash.

However, people are beings that somehow come up with solutions.

They almost managed to acquire an artifact.

They directly approached other countries, partially threatening that if France became a lawless area, it would negatively affect all of Europe, successfully bargaining for artifact rentals with several interests involved.

Just as it seemed they had obtained the artifacts…

The warrior made a move once again.

This time he began slicing off the heads of officials from other countries.

He slashed the neck of a politician on stage and another council member heading to parliament.

Only those who noticed the warrior’s attack and managed to escape or block could survive; everyone else fell helplessly as they had in France. And while killing, the warrior scratched the wall with his sword to send a message.

Do not provide artifacts to France.

Of course, other nations were in an uproar.

They shouted that there would be no negotiations with terrorists, deploying people to capture the warrior, and putting enormous bounties on his head.

But they couldn’t catch him.

This insane psychopath darted around, continuously slaughtering high-ranking officials, mocking the soldiers and capable individuals who tried desperately to capture him, slipping away effortlessly.

How many had been slaughtered by now?

Governments had no choice but to acknowledge the truth.

Currently, there was no way to stop this crazy assassin.

Thus, they ultimately canceled the artifact rental to France, making excuses, and sent those who came to negotiate back home.

And the person who returned… got slashed the moment he set foot back.

As he got off the airplane, it was as though the Grim Reaper had harvested him—he had a clean line across his neck before his head slid off and rolled away.

Thus, the last hope was extinguished, and France became a lawless wasteland.

The French people could only band together at the village level, unable even to attempt building cities. The moment a region advanced enough to become a city, the madman would appear, slice the mayor’s head off, and vanish, leaving them no choice.

People clung to small units, living solely for their collective interests; once a joyous and curious people, the French now found themselves caught up in a grim struggle, merely fighting to survive in this lawless land.

And so, France was doomed.

And naturally, nobody wanted to be in a failed nation.

People became refugees, spreading throughout Europe, among them a considerable number of farmers who held the key to the precious cultivation methods France needed to rebuild.

Jinseong approached these farmers, offering vast sums of money for their farming techniques. The farmers were delighted, as a wandering shaman was offering them a fortune in exchange for sharing how to cultivate.

Had these methods been offered for sale by farmers or merchants aiming for profit, they might have hesitated.

If sold, the value of their knowledge would diminish, and the odds of making big money from crops would be slim, forcing them to scrape by instead.

Yet, a shaman who looked like someone filled with curiosity was asking to buy?

It would be foolish not to sell.

One wouldn’t expect shamans to be living off the land!

And especially since this one didn’t even wear silk but rather seemed to be traveling around in ragged clothes.

Thus, Jinseong easily learned how to cultivate elixirs.

‘High-quality life force and energy. A suitable amount of blood and yang energy, distilled water…’

Yixian Qinglian was a magical plant that boosted yang energy.

Its ecosystem and leaf shape resembled that of a lotus, with roots reminiscent of a lotus’s base. Its shape, adorned with air sacs, looked quite like a water lily, while its roots, which moved to suck blood, evoked images of leeches and snakes.

The insides of the roots were hollow to facilitate blood absorption, and the outer structure acted like a tube, inflating when air was drawn in and contracting when it was released.

Yixian Qinglian could narrow and expand its root canal through this space, facilitating the absorption of blood to nourish its body.

The air sacs, looking like those of a water lily, would periodically swell and shrink, serving not just to float but also as a pump to draw in blood from the roots.

‘A bloodsucking plant.’

Yixian Qinglian grew by sucking blood from animals.

Instead of obtaining nutrients through photosynthesis, it preferred to drain them directly from living creatures, favoring blood over rainwater. It shunned ordinary decaying matter for the life force extracted from living beings, and its meticulous design included spikes to prevent the roots from slipping out once inside prey.

Thus, Yixian Qinglian thrived by sucking the life out of its victims.

Its leaves grew larger, its roots toughened, and its stem swelled.

And at its peak of nourishment, it bloomed.

That flower, thin and transparent like a cicada’s wing, evoked a sense of purity as if nothing existed inside, bringing forth feelings of cleanliness. Its beauty could easily be mistaken for that of a celestial maiden’s elaborate garments, creating lotus-shaped patterns, with the texture as soft and ticklish as brushing against a delicate spider web.

Yixian (翼蟬).

Thin and transparent like a cicada’s wing.

Qinglian (淸蓮).

A lotus flower in pristine, clear appearance.

‘An elixir related to yang energy and life force; it must surely have its uses.’

Jinseong pictured Iarin in his mind.

Since she was adopting martial arts imitating beasts, increasing her life force and yang energy would undoubtedly assist her achievements.

Moreover, Iarin’s martial arts were unique enough that gaining advice from others wasn’t easy, so this elixir would surely be of some help.

Yang energy was meant to activate the body; if it was ample, then it transformed people into beasts. Given that she utilized instincts and primal urges in her martial arts, it should pair well with yang energy, and if digested properly, transcending boundaries wouldn’t be too difficult.

Of course, issues could arise if her vessel was frail…

However, the elixir and foods aimed at enhancing life force and promoting health were perfectly suited for Iarin. The size of her vessel was undoubtedly sufficient.

Jinseong smiled gently as he watched the thriving Yixian Qinglian and the bloodsucking warrior.

That smile was clear and pure.

Like a lotus about to bloom.

 

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