The group was on the road, heading towards their final separation.
It had been seven days and nights since Jeong Yeon-shin’s long yet brief private meeting with the Singeom Danju. Soon, they would arrive in Wuchang, the city where the Shin Sword Corps and Jeong Yeon-shin would part ways. The city also served as the final stop before Ipwang Fortress, equipped with a relay station.
“This feels way too easy, doesn’t it? Not a single ambush so far,” said Yeon So-ha, his tone casual yet inquisitive. “We’ve been on alert since before Nanjili.”
The other members of the Shin Sword Corps responded in turn.
“True. Considering the duel between our Danju and the Namgung Clan Head, you’d expect opportunistic troublemakers from the martial world to think one of them was weakened.”
“Well, easy? We’ve already faced quite the storm. Bloodflame Cult, Simuryun, Yeoryeong, and even the Murong Society in Qingya Valley. Four major factions. How can you call that an easy journey?”
“That’s right. Under normal circumstances, we would’ve fought our way through. If the Danju hadn’t exuded his commanding aura, even the sly Yeoryeong might’ve stayed hidden, just watching.”
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“Anyone reckless enough to attack us now wouldn’t have dared after witnessing the Danju’s power during the duel. Absolute experts capable of challenging a Violet Grandmaster are bound by the vast and intricate power structure of the martial world.”
“Anyway...”
Ak Su-rim interjected with a playful grin. “It’s all thanks to Seomye. In the chaos, he managed to guide the Danju into a state of recovery. Thanks to him, we’ve had it relatively easy.”
She reached out her hand, as if intending to tousle Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair. Ak Su-rim’s height was shorter than his, making her effort even more noticeable. But as Jeong Yeon-shin subtly sidestepped her, she let out a chuckle, lightly patting his back instead.
“What a sly cat you are. ‘Seomye’ doesn’t suit you as much as ‘Black Cat.’”
It wasn’t something that warranted a response.
‘If she touched my head, she’d notice. Especially someone like Senior Ak.’
Jeong Yeon-shin reflected silently.
His thoughts circled back to his shortened lifespan and his family’s Jeong Family Martial Arts in Shinya County.
Explaining his circumstances to the Singeom Danju had required careful consideration. The Danju, after all, was not only a transcendent martial master but also a senior among Violet Grandmasters.
It was impossible to predict how the Danju would respond. Yet, to Jeong Yeon-shin’s surprise, the Singeom Danju’s expression hadn’t changed throughout the conversation. Even his occasional eccentric remarks were absent during the discussion.
“And so, you’re saying you plan to surpass me?” the Danju had said at the end, a playful gleam in his eye.
The response had been extraordinary.
“With two Violet Grandmasters in the Shin Sword Corps? Just imagining it gets my heart racing. Come on, climb up,” he had added, encouraging Jeong Yeon-shin to reach for greater heights. “Once you’re qualified, I’ll gladly face you.”
Those words from a legendary figure had set an ambitious goal for Jeong Yeon-shin, one that still felt distant.
He had initially thought sharing his family’s struggles would be a tedious recounting of his troubles. Yet, the Danju’s genuine acknowledgment left Jeong Yeon-shin with a softened heart, surprising him more than anything else.
“Your internal injuries seem much better. Those seven nights of care paid off,” remarked the Singeom Danju with a jest. When their eyes met, the Danju winked, and Jeong Yeon-shin subtly turned his gaze away.
“Wuchang’s main gate!” shouted Yeon So-ha, breaking the atmosphere.
“Looks like the inspection is pretty strict,” Ak Su-rim added. “Probably because of the poor harvest—public sentiment must be low.”
“Our Vice Commander should return to headquarters without any delays,” the Danju said, feigning authority. His tone was mock-stern as he directed Ak Su-rim to report back. “Immediately.”
Ak Su-rim smirked, unfazed by the comment. “Maybe I’ll take this chance to lecture the other seventeen division leaders. Wonder if Magwang Ikju is still lounging around the fortress?”
She swept her hair behind her ear as she glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin, her expression full of mischief.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Shin Sword Corps seemed accustomed to the banter and continued chatting among themselves.
“What do you think happened to the Elder Council Leader? Why hasn’t he rejoined us?”
“How do you think? He’s a Violet Grandmaster. Unless the Nine Great Sect Leaders or multiple Thirteen Heavens Lords launched an ambush, no one on this earth could touch him. His martial prowess has already reached the pinnacle.”
“Your theory is ridiculous. The Nine Sect Leaders and Thirteen Heavens Lords? Do you think they roam the countryside like stray dogs?”
“What’s your opinion, Elder Ma?” one of them asked.
“...The Elder Council Leader? Even if his demeanor seems unassuming, he’s not someone who would perish in the field. Your concerns are baseless,” came the curt reply.
Perhaps because they were nearing their farewell, the members of the Shin Sword Corps grew talkative. Despite their words, no one seemed genuinely worried about the Elder Council Leader. Their faith in his martial prowess was absolute.
“It’s really time for us to part ways now, isn’t it?”
“You’ve broadened your horizons, Seomye. Your martial arts are truly innovative.”
“Yes, from your palm techniques to your swordsmanship. Everything was exceptional.”
More and more of the Shin Sword Corps’ members patted Jeong Yeon-shin on the shoulder, much like Ak Su-rim had done earlier. Despite their reputation for arrogance, the Corps didn’t seem as insufferable as their name suggested.
Perhaps it was the camaraderie they’d built over the week since witnessing his duel with Namgung Se-jin, the Azure Qilin.
“This is a good development. One day, I’ll need to gather them under my command,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought, harboring an ambition many would deem audacious.
The Shin Sword Corps members, however, never mentioned recruitment. Jeong Yeon-shin realized that he had yet to become an indispensable asset to them.
The world of the Azure Rank in Ipwang Fortress was vast indeed.
“Still, with the insights I’ve gained this time...”
He pondered the next steps: integrating the family’s martial art with his innovative techniques and refining his control over Hwangang’s True Qi. Perhaps then, he could compete with the likes of Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, aiming to be counted among the finest of the Azure Rank.
When he next met the Shin Sword Corps, he would show them a different version of himself.
“It’s been enjoyable,” Ak Su-rim said.
“Vice Commander, you’d better return directly.”
“Tell the old man from the Ma family to calm down,” someone joked.
Even their parting words were lighthearted. Their seemingly casual demeanor was always supported by their incredible strength.
“Let’s go,” Ak Su-rim said, preparing to return with Jeong Yeon-shin and Ma Yeon-jeok. As Vice Commander of the Shin Sword Corps, she needed to complete her mission report.
“Your palm techniques are excellent, but don’t neglect your swordsmanship,” the Singeom Danju advised as they bid farewell. “Your swordwork has much potential.”
A transcendent figure who had once wielded a blade of pure energy offered this counsel. Jeong Yeon-shin bowed deeply in gratitude.
“May fortune favor you.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a cheerful laugh echoed behind him, carried by a breeze.
“You’re the only one who’d wish me luck.”
When Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head again, the entire Shin Sword Corps had disappeared, moving swiftly with their Lightness Skill. Twenty shadows darted across the vast horizon, blocking out the sun with their elegant forms. The Singeom Danju was already out of sight.
“Let’s go,” Ma Yeon-jeok said. It was time to return.
***
The Day Before the Duel with the Namgung Clan
The sunlight was bright and unwavering.
Within the fortress of Ipwang, a towering structure known as the Heavenly Golden Martial Vault (Cheon-geum Mugo) stood proudly—a fortress within a fortress.
Its pristine white stone walls rose elegantly, so much so that those unfamiliar with its purpose often mistook it for a library rather than a repository.
This was where Ipwang’s martial manuals were stored, a treasure trove of knowledge and mastery. It was said to house the Compendium of Martial Arts, established with imperial support to bolster the foundation of martial arts within the fortress.
Even unique and secret techniques donated by the fortress’s martial artists found their way into its hallowed halls.
Yet, a marble-walled repository for martial arts? The thought alone would perplex any first-time visitor.
Such notions were often etched into the expressions of newcomers. However, the boy who now stepped inside was nothing like them.
His face was serene, his expression utterly composed.
Step.
The steward of the Heavenly Golden Martial Vault, Oh Mun-sa, recognized him instantly.
This was the same boy who had submitted the unparalleled Myeolma Cheonggangsu manual, which even required reporting to the imperial court. Oh Mun-sa could still recall the meticulous brushstrokes of the report—a rarity, even for him.
“Seomye So-hyeop.”
“Mun-sa Oh,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied, mirroring the polite gesture. His greeting was sharp and precise, a display of practiced etiquette.
Oh Mun-sa thought idly for a moment. The boy, whose name had been rising rapidly in the martial world, seemed perfectly suited to the scholarly atmosphere of the vault.
Perhaps it was the martial manual tucked under Jeong Yeon-shin’s arm that gave this impression. For a fleeting moment, Oh Mun-sa pondered what the boy might have been like had he walked a different path—not one of martial mastery.
He brushed aside the idle thought and spoke.
“And that is?”
“I wish to donate it to the fortress,” replied Jeong Yeon-shin, his tone calm and businesslike. “It is my own creation. I also request an official evaluation of its merits.”
His words were straightforward, devoid of expectation or flourish. He delivered them with the dispassion of someone explaining wares at a marketplace.
Oh Mun-sa stifled a grimace. The Myeolma Cheonggangsu incident still lingered in his mind.
The donation of that manual had required imperial decrees and the utmost secrecy to ensure that none of the major sects in the martial world became aware.
It had been a chaotic ordeal, and even though it was now over, Oh Mun-sa’s lingering frustration over the matter remained.
The manual had been deemed unfit for widespread use—it neither aligned with Ming Imperial Chancellor Zhang Juzheng’s ideals of strengthening the nation nor offered sufficient accessibility.
It was simply too esoteric, its mastery attainable by few. Whether the decision to downplay it came from the Ipwang General Office or the imperial court itself remained unclear.
“May this proceed without incident,” Oh Mun-sa thought silently as he took the manuals from Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands.
“Mun-sa Oh,” Jeong Yeon-shin said, breaking the silence, “I hear you’re adept at speed-reading. May I wait while you assess its value? I’ll soon be departing on a mission and would like to know the outcome before I leave.”
Martial manual evaluations followed a rigorous process.
The manuals first underwent scrutiny by senior stewards at the General Office before being forwarded to higher authorities, including seasoned Black-Rank Grandmasters.
The evaluation considered the techniques’ efficacy, training difficulty, and potential for mastery, compiling a report based on these factors.
As a martial artist himself, Oh Mun-sa prided himself on his ability to discern the value of techniques—a qualification that had earned him his position here.
“Your mission is tomorrow, you say? Fortunately, I have no pressing matters today. I’ll review them promptly,” Oh Mun-sa said, swiftly picking up one of the manuals.
The title caught his eye.
Shihwa Muguk Kwon (Ultimate Polar Flower Fist).
The cover was plain, the characters scrawled in a bold yet unrefined hand. Clearly, the manual had been hastily compiled using standard formats from the General Office.
The rough finish of the binding drew a slight smile from Oh Mun-sa as he opened the book.
And then he fell silent.
Slowly.
Inexorably.
As though consumed by the words on the pages, he sank into profound quiet.
Shihwa Muguk Kwon, Hwanikbo, Shigukgyeong, Gwanghwageomryu...
Four distinct martial techniques, one after another. The silence persisted as the only sound in the vault was the faint rustling of pages.
Oh Mun-sa read through every line, every inscription of martial principles etched into the manuals, until he had consumed them all.
Finally, he let out a soft hum and looked up. His bloodshot eyes betrayed both astonishment and exhaustion as they met Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze.
The expression on his face spoke volumes, filling the gap left by the heavy silence.
With deliberate care, he parted his lips to speak.
“As you may know, unique martial manuals donated to the fortress are evaluated by our proprietary standards, based on their potential to enhance the general combat capabilities of our martial artists.
While we do not rely on the perspectives of elite grandmasters for such evaluations...”
Oh Mun-sa hesitated, his voice trembling slightly as he chose his next words carefully.
“...in the case of **Seomye So-hyeop’s contributions... I dare say...”
***
Suddenly, the steward folded his hands over his desk, sighing deeply as he broke his train of thought.
"Excuse me, but I must ask you something," came a voice, tinged with impatience.
The steward of the Heavenly Golden Martial Vault—a man who had spent countless hours at his desk surrounded by inkstones and brushes—sighed again. Without looking up, he already knew the nature of the question.
This was the fifteenth time today. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the weariness seep into his bones.
"Seomye's martial manuals have been transferred to the upper vaults," he said flatly. It was a phrase he had repeated countless times, almost a mantra by now.
"Today must be the day for troublemakers," he thought bitterly, rubbing his tired eyes.
As a steward of the Ipwang General Office, his position required patience and diplomacy, but today, he felt as though he were a mediator in a storm of discontented martial artists.
The voice of the man before him—a young martial artist clad in simple training robes—grew louder, his tone tinged with outrage.
"Transferred? Transferred! What are you saying? How can that be?"
"It was the decision of the General Office," the steward replied, his voice even. "These manuals are no longer accessible to just anyone. One must, at the very least, hold a proper White-Rank title to gain access. High-level martial arts have always been restricted to promote ambition and drive among our warriors. It is a directive from the Grand Overseer."
"How ridiculous!" the young man snapped. "Do you mean to tell me that because I am not yet a White-Rank, I am not considered a person of worth in Ipwang Fortress?"
"That's precisely the standard," the steward retorted, his tone dry. "As you well know, formal assignment to the 17th Sword Division of the Divine Sword Corps begins at White-Rank. If you take issue with this, why not enter the Ipwang Trials and earn your rank?"
The steward’s voice carried an edge of impatience, though it was hardly surprising. This was the fifteenth such confrontation that day, and he had long since run out of energy for diplomacy.
The young martial artist glared at him, his fists clenching as though he might burst into flames on the spot.
It was all because of Seomye's manuals—a ripple effect caused by the reassignment of Jeong Yeon-shin's self-created martial techniques to the upper vaults. The manuals, once accessible to lower-ranked warriors, had been moved to a restricted archive, available only to those of sufficient rank and merit.
"Damn it all," the steward cursed inwardly.
With news of Jeong Yeon-shin’s victory in the duel against the Namgung Clan, the fortress was abuzz with excitement and turmoil. Every martial artist seemed to believe they deserved a piece of Seomye's legacy, sparking endless debates and challenges at the gates of the Heavenly Golden Martial Vault.
The steward glanced at the young man’s reddened face and sighed. This chaos was far from over.