The warriors spoke in unison.
Their voices, addressing Seomye as a patriarch, rippled through the night air with calm yet profound resonance.
Each word came from meticulously trained inner energy, solid and unyielding.
What is this...
An impossible event was unfolding. Ju Yeon-jeong thought as much.
This wasn’t ordinary.
Even white robes were rare, a symbol of exceptional martial prowess across the martial world.
In Ipwang Fortress, those wearing such attire were certified warriors, capable of holding their ground in any conflict.
And now, these warriors, gathered as one, expressed their allegiance to a single person.
What could this mean?
"Right now..."
Ju Yeon-jeong’s voice was sharp, barbed with accusation.
"What kind of insolence is this? Have you dared to break the laws of Ipwang Fortress in plain view of the Ma Clan?"
"Is it not you, Madam Ju, who seeks to sway our convictions with baseless pretense?"
A heavy voice responded. It was Hong Joo-geum, standing at the forefront, clad in his blue robe.
The robe, resembling a general’s uniform, looked sturdy, as if brimming with energy, despite its slightly worn appearance.
"Pretense? Are you accusing me of such?"
Ju Yeon-jeong’s gaze turned sharp, her eyes glinting like cold steel.
But Hong Joo-geum was unfazed.
"Yes, I understand your meaning. You refer to the fortress’s prohibition against master-disciple relationships. But that’s laughable. What’s absurd isn’t the law, but your interpretation of it."
"Go on, then. Spin more sophistry."
Though she sneered outwardly, her thoughts were otherwise.
Ju Yeon-jeong had intended to wield Seomye, Jeong Yeon-shin, as her weapon through Ma Se-in.
She had already amassed rare treasures, weapons, and even extraordinary elixirs to secure his loyalty.
As a collateral member of the imperial family, Ju Yeon-jeong knew individuals like Jeong Yeon-shin. He wasn’t someone to break an oath lightly.
With his oath of loyalty, she would have a blade to wield for years to come.
With the destruction of Ma Gwang-ik, the timing seemed perfect to secure Seomye for myself.
She silently cursed her earlier mistake, trying to negotiate terms like a merchant.
Still, she believed another chance remained.
Aside from the fortress master, the Ma Clan elders, and the vanished Ma Gwang-ik, what else did Seomye have?
A boy of sixteen, who entered the fortress alone with no allies.
In the end, he would have no choice but to lean on her.
And when that moment came, she would embrace him fully, ensuring he could never escape the warmth and authority of her shadow.
That was Ju Yeon-jeong’s plan.
It wasn’t wrong.
Not until Hong Joo-geum brought warriors to pay homage to Seomye.
The boy who once toiled in white robes has now become a Blue-Rank warrior...
Her gaze shifted to Hong Joo-geum’s scarred face, and beyond him to Seomye.
Her glances, though subtle, were futile.
The boy’s expression was tinged with a faint disturbance she had never seen before.
It was slight, but his interest and astonishment were unmistakable.
The reason was obvious. Ju Yeon-jeong herself was a master martial artist.
Even she could sense the affinity between Seomye and the gathered warriors.
It was a bond of shared lineage. A connection forged by the same techniques.
A variable like martial arts...
It was a tactic she herself had used to shake the foundations of Ipwang Ma Clan. But there were two key differences.
First, Seomye had not engineered this situation intentionally.
Second, he had created his own martial techniques, earning the respect of a patriarch, even at this very moment.
"...Madam Ju, are you listening?"
Hong Joo-geum’s steady gaze brought her back to the present.
Entangling with Seomye was proving unpredictable.
This was only their second encounter, yet it had already left a profound impression.
"I am listening."
Ju Yeon-jeong gestured imperiously, striving to maintain her composure.
No matter what swirled in her mind, regardless of how the situation shifted.
"You claim this was not a salute to a master? That explanation is hard to accept. For warriors to offer such reverence to one so young in the Blue Rank is excessive. Can you justify this without invoking master-disciple ties? If not, you are directly challenging the fortress’s laws."
Her tone was icy, carrying the weight of authority.
Yet Hong Joo-geum showed no signs of shrinking back.
Ju Yeon-jeong held no formal position within the fortress, nor was she even the mistress of the Ma Clan’s household.
In contrast, Hong Joo-geum had spent decades as a White-Rank warrior before earning his blue robes.
He had mastered Circular Step thanks to Seomye, a technique whose principles aligned perfectly with his life’s philosophy of measuring distance in combat.
To him, Seomye was undeniably both a benefactor and a patriarch.
Thus, the gathered warriors unanimously shared his sentiment.
Standing firm, Hong Joo-geum’s voice rang out.
"Madam Ju, you are of the imperial lineage. All the world knows the Ming royal family’s affinity for the Shaolin Sect. The sect’s strength among the Nine Great Schools is no accident. Even Master So Shin-seung is a member of this royal lineage."
"Stay on point."
Her cold voice carried no weight. Hong Joo-geum pressed on.
"The royal family has a tradition of pilgrimage to Mount Songshan as incense bearers. I’m certain you’ve been there as well."
"And what of it?"
"The Pagoda Forest at Shaolin is renowned for housing the relics of Dalma and Hui Ke. No royal pilgrim would dare neglect to offer their respects during a visit."
Ju Yeon-jeong’s eyes widened.
"Are you implying..."
"Seomye and we are no different. The only distinction is that the patriarch of this lineage is still alive, and indeed young. Just as incense bearers pay their respects at Shaolin, we have offered our due to the patriarch of our martial lineage. What fortress warrior could object to this? Only those with twisted minds could find fault."
His words were sharp, mirroring her earlier tone, now turned back on her.
Ju Yeon-jeong’s eyes flashed white with suppressed rage.
Seomye now had nothing to regret.
Those bound to his martial lineage were enough to replenish any forces he might lack.
This undeniable reality struck Ju Yeon-jeong like lightning.
Even Ma Se-in, standing nearby, looked unsettled and restless.
"Are they truly..."
Hong Joo-geum, ignoring her fury, turned his gaze toward the eminent figure of Ma Yeon-jeok.
"The Ma Clan patriarch has truly raised an extraordinary descendant.
The practitioners of Seomye’s lineage will forever be grateful for this."
His flattery left room for retreat, demonstrating seasoned rhetoric.
Even Jeong Yeon-shin imagined himself sweet-talking the fortress master with such honeyed words.
"You are not wrong. Yeon-shin has found reliable allies."
"Patriarch!"
Ju Yeon-jeong’s cry was ignored. Ma Yeon-jeok’s expression remained calm as he spoke, his gaze fixed on his grandson.
"Born with talent of the ages, you have built both martial arts and a lineage."
"...Grandfather."
"I have shown you too much shame. I am proud. When you return safely, you will see a changed clan..."
Cough!
His words were cut off by a violent fit of coughing, blood speckling his lips.
"Patriarch!"
"What is the meaning of this...?"
The figures of the Ma Clan froze, their faces filled with shock, as Ma Yeon-jeok wiped the blood trickling from his lips and gave a bitter smile.
"Has it already come to this? All I did was make a single trip to Nanjili."
He ignored Ju Yeon-jeong and the gathered elders, turning instead to Jeong Yeon-shin and Ma Se-in, extending a hand to them with a subtle shake of his head.
"This is karma. The path of tyranny I walked in my youth has come back as arrows to pierce me. I severed too many necks without understanding the toll of excess. It’s only natural that the martial prowess I built so quickly is now crumbling away."
"The reason you cannot go to Sichuan... is it because of this?"
Jeong Yeon-shin asked, but Ma Yeon-jeok shook his head.
"The law. The law forbids it. Protecting the fortress takes precedence. That is all."
The former Sword Master’s voice carried the weight of conviction.
Even as his abilities waned and his body deteriorated, his unwavering commitment to the fortress’s rules remained intact.
Dispersed across the chaotic martial world, the Sword Division forces were stretched thin. But Ma Yeon-jeok would only cite the law as the reason for his limitations.
Yet, his gaze held nothing but pride as he looked upon Jeong Yeon-shin. Then, he turned away, his purple robes swirling.
"I wish you good fortune. I always have, and I always will."
Walking away, he added, "The Ma Clan’s members will see the guests out and follow me."
The command was not directed at Jeong Yeon-shin.
His voice grew stern as he addressed the Ma Clan elders and Ju Yeon-jeong.
"Ju Yeon-jeong has spoken and acted beyond her authority. The elders tacitly supported her misconduct. After hearing the full extent of today’s disgrace, I cannot overlook this insubordination. The royal family's Golden Immortal Eight Steps? Nonsense. If we are to discuss the revival of this clan, we must first restore discipline and the rule of law.
Even if it means discarding my pride and disregarding life and death, punishment must be served."
His words were measured but carried a suppressed intensity.
The declaration of punishment from the purple-clad Sword Master of the Ma Clan was unprecedented.
For the first time, Ju Yeon-jeong’s voice wavered with unease.
"Patriarch...!"
"I said, follow me. How deep do you think your martial arts run that you would look down upon me? I have been humiliated before my grandson. I will know the extent of your abilities. I won’t draw my sword. You might die with one strike otherwise."
With that, Ma Yeon-jeok’s words ended.
Jeong Yeon-shin left the Ma Clan’s premises alongside the warriors of the Seomye lineage. There was nothing else to do but leave.
Yet his heightened martial senses clearly felt the surge of internal energy emanating from beyond the threshold.
Boom!
The sound of an explosive force struck like a hammer, accompanied by Ju Yeon-jeong’s fragmented breathing and Ma Yeon-jeok’s calm coughs.
"Well, that’s quite the spectacle."
Tae Yeom-ryong, walking alongside Jeong Yeon-shin, remarked.
Jeong Yeon-shin continued forward silently, pushing his concern for Ma Se-in to the back of his mind.
The presence of the warriors following him loomed heavily.
Overnight, he had gathered a force strong enough to form an entire martial unit.
The magnitude of their strength was enough for the Fortress Command to willingly approve a mission to Sichuan.
All that remained was persuasion.
"The news about Ma Gwang-ik... we’ve heard it."
Hong Joo-geum suddenly spoke up.
Jeong Yeon-shin stopped in his tracks, turning to face him as the warrior continued.
"We went to the Command Office in pursuit of the patriarch’s movements. A matter like this would inevitably spread across the fortress."
"..."
"If you have need of us, simply say the word."
"I need you."
Jeong Yeon-shin responded without hesitation.
Looking back, he saw the faces of the warriors.
Some nodded silently, while others lifted the corners of their lips in subtle smiles. Traces of the unique martial techniques Jeong Yeon-shin had created were evident in each of them.
They spoke with reverence, their voices tinged with admiration, while exchanging thoughts among themselves.
"The patriarch must know... Sichuan’s martial world is in utter chaos."
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"Indeed. Eight noble families, three of the Nine Great Sects, three factions of the Thirteen Heavens, and seven forces of the Daebang Sect are entangled there. Can you even imagine it?"
"Nowhere else in the world is like it. While the population is massive, so is the number of talented individuals. But it’s also a place where countless martial artists die, and schemes abound."
"Still, we discussed this on the way here. Sichuan is the perfect stage to showcase the Seomye lineage’s martial arts. Moreover, this mission is to rescue comrades. How could we not follow? Our righteous spirits burn brightly."
One of the younger White-Rank warriors spoke, and Hong Joo-geum turned his gaze back to Jeong Yeon-shin.
Under the vast expanse of the night sky, the moonlight cast long shadows of the boy and the warriors standing together.
"No matter how vast or boundless the martial world of Sichuan may be, the warriors here are bound by a lineage bestowed by heaven."
He bowed respectfully, hands clasped in a formal gesture.
"Lead the way, and draw the sword of Ipwang. You are our true patriarch."