The Seventh Apostle’s eyes softened into a subtle curve, as though she might have caught the shape of Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
She shifted slightly, taking a single step.
With just that movement, it felt as though the night air had followed her motion, and her figure gradually disappeared into the darkness of the cave.
Her movements carried a cold, serene elegance.
The Seventh Apostle turned her head once more, winking her vivid red eyes at him again.
But Jeong Yeon-shin only blinked in response, uncertain of how to react, studying instead the mysterious defensive aura that enveloped her.
"Her blood energy envelops her completely... Is this Samhwachwijeong, the unification of will and internal energy?"
Footwork, movement, and agility—he was acutely aware of how incomplete all three were within his repertoire.
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For now, he relied on Cheongmyeong's refined body techniques and the universal movement techniques of Ipwang Fortress.
To create his own distinctive steps and movements was an entirely different challenge.
"Let’s move," Ma Jin ordered.
The warriors of Ipwang Fortress, the Tang Clan, the Beggars' Sect, and the residents of Myeonggondo began to mobilize together.
Their steps took them away from the ruins of Myeonggondo.
The once-solid ground beneath their feet now felt loose, churned by the aftermath of martial energy waves.
With every step, the crunch of pulverized stone echoed emptily behind them.
Left in their wake were the eerie remains of the fallen warriors of the Thirteen Heavens.
Walking alongside Ma Jin, Jeong Yeon-shin was lost in thought.
He couldn’t determine how to process his thoughts about the Seventh Apostle. Their entangled fates felt inexplicably complex.
The fact that they had clashed without concern for life or death was not the issue. Relationships between those pursuing martial enlightenment often carried such chaos.
The real concern lay with the Elder Council Leader, who had vanished.
It was said that he had been pursuing the Seventh Apostle. There was much to question and interrogate her about.
Her position as one of the Blood Flame Cult’s most elite servants was another point of tension.
As a Grandmaster, when he had entered the cult’s main sanctum, the Third Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult had mentioned the Jeong Family Estate.
If the Apostles were aware of this, the order for annihilation could only have come from the Blood Flame Cult Master himself.
For a cult noble, their role was merely to serve as the cult master’s sword. Treating them as an enemy was inevitable.
If it came to another clash, he wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down.
But what had occurred in Myeonggondo was different.
"She saved us. Without the essence of Dharma, back then..."
It would have been annihilation.
Without the Light Wheel Skill, Jeong Yeon-shin was weak.
He wouldn’t have stood a chance against Dokgo Gwang of the Blade Demon Clan. He could picture himself being overwhelmed within just a few exchanges.
Even earlier, he had been subdued by the Seventh Apostle.
If she hadn’t intervened, she could have killed him without hesitation.
The essence of Dharma, left behind within her possession, was a treasure so rare that the mere rumor of its existence would have stirred a storm in the martial world.
It was the kind of artifact for which two of the Thirteen Heavens' great factions had relentlessly pursued Ma Gwang-ik.
The Resonance of Dharma.
The spiritual essence of the great founder of Shaolin Zen Buddhism.
And yet, rather than keeping such a priceless treasure for herself, she had given it to Jeong Yeon-shin.
It defied all logic.
"There’s no other conclusion to draw here."
The boy thought to himself.
The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult had not only given him the Resonance of Dharma but had also asked him to perfect the new technique.
She had prioritized the pursuit of martial enlightenment over personal gain, exhibiting the single-minded discipline of a true martial artist.
Could she really belong to the Blood Flame Cult, a group infamous for their practice of energy-draining techniques? He didn’t know. It was a mystery.
In handling grace and vengeance within the martial world, it was said that clarity was essential.
Favor and resentment had to be defined clearly. What should he do?
"Uh, So-hyeop..."
A cautious voice interrupted his thoughts.
When he raised his head, he saw a short boy standing beside him. It was Tang Yeo-hwa.
Next to him, Tang Ryeo-ryeo was walking alongside them, absentmindedly running her fingers through her short hair. Her hesitant demeanor was markedly different from when they had first met.
Both siblings acted with a visible nervousness that was strange to Jeong Yeon-shin.
The boy silently observed them for a moment.
"What is it?"
"Ah, So-hyeop—no, Da-hyeop. I mean..."
Tang Yeo-hwa stammered, clearly flustered. Perhaps it was the sight of Jeong Yeon-shin defeating both Dokgo Gwang and Sunma Shinsoo that had left such an impression.
Every gesture and word he made now carried an unusual reverence.
When Tang Yeo-hwa snuck glances upward, his eyes were full of admiration.
Beside him, Tang Ryeo-ryeo furrowed her brows in exasperation, but even she seemed hesitant to meet Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze directly.
She muttered cautiously, almost under her breath:
"Master Jeong... Would you and the warriors of Ipwang Fortress consider coming to our clan? If many healers are needed, few places in Sichuan can compare to the Tang Clan. It's also the closest."
The Tang Clan, renowned for their expertise in poison and concealed weapons, was equally skilled in the healing arts.
After all, no master of medicine could separate toxins from antidotes.
"Can the Tang Clan be trusted?"
Hyeon Won-chang suddenly interjected.
It was a natural suspicion, given their mission with Ma Gwang-ik. One of their objectives had been to determine whether the Tang Clan was manufacturing thunderbolts and collaborating with rebels.
Accepting their invitation could mean walking into a den of tigers.
Still, the decision wasn’t Hyeon Won-chang's to make.
Jeong Yeon-shin wordlessly handed over some pebbles to Ma Jin.
The Ma Gwang-ik Lord inspected the swirling patterns of absorption and dispersal etched into them with his weathered gaze.
"Well... Things like this aren’t entirely unheard of," Ma Jin muttered, letting out a dry laugh before speaking.
"In that case, we can call the Tang Clan to the Ipwang Fortress Sichuan Branch. Entering Tang Manor directly would be too risky in our current state. We can’t know what hidden mechanisms or poison formations might await us."
His gaze swept over his empty left shoulder and the injured members of their group with a pained expression.
Jeong Yeon-shin merely nodded, turning his eyes to the Tang siblings.
Their lips moved hesitantly, but they ultimately agreed to relay the message.
Even the proud heirs of the Tang Clan couldn’t argue with the supreme martial prowess displayed before them.
The rain of blossoms had long been a symbol of their clan's unfulfilled aspirations.
Before a grandmaster wielding such techniques, pride had no place.
The Tang siblings left to make preparations, their parting words heavy with both respect and anticipation.
And as they departed, a faint, melodic voice tickled Jeong Yeon-shin's consciousness:
"Beware the Cult Master, little Grandmaster," the Seventh Apostle's voice whispered like a breeze.
The warning held a note of concern, though a hint of mirth lingered in her tone as she addressed him.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t look for her figure again. The resonance of his Light Wheel told him all he needed to know:
"I need to focus on consolidating my energy first."
The boy mulled over her words as he continued forward.
***
Sichuan Province, Eastern Region, Jiju Branch of Ipwang Fortress.
A man stood atop the roof of a pavilion, his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the city below.
Clad in a blue martial robe, he seemed to savor the sensation of the fluttering fabric against his skin. The character "황" (Hwang) was boldly inscribed in black on his clothing, a sight that inspired awe even from a distance.
A group of children, munching on dang-gwa (traditional Korean sweets), paused in their stroll to stare blankly up at him.
"Let’s hope nothing unusual happens."
Jang Il-do (장일도), the only blue-ranked martial artist of the Jiju branch and its director, paid them no attention. Known as the "Sword of the Tower" (탑탁검), he was a man whose reputation extended across Sichuan.
As the leader of the branch, Jang Il-do facilitated the convenience of the Shingeom Corps' 17th-generation masters, ensuring their needs were met, while also overseeing the region's public welfare within the limits of the branch’s capabilities.
When his name was mentioned, even the heads of local martial clans would rush out barefoot to greet him. Despite the fact that the branch’s power couldn’t rival the core force of Ipwang Fortress, its connection to the fortress commanded respect.
"But lately, something feels...off."
Recently, the attitude of various martial sects had shifted subtly yet noticeably. This change followed rumors about the annihilation of the Namgung Clan's direct line by a late-stage martial expert from Ipwang Fortress, as well as the subsequent extermination of the Hwangbo Clan.
For now, there wasn’t much Jang Il-do could do.
Born and raised in Sichuan, he considered himself fortunate to have become a blue-ranked warrior of Ipwang Fortress. He lived a life of contentment until the arrival of Ma Gwang-ik (마광익) and other high-ranking martial artists from the fortress disrupted the status quo.
When they arrived, most were severely injured, and their group included a rare contingent of Cheoljok (철족, iron-blooded warriors). Their presence was startling enough.
"The fortress is in chaos."
In what felt like an escape, Jang Il-do had instructed his servants and subordinates to treat them with the utmost care. A messenger was sent to request healers from Sichuan Tang Clan, and the branch’s forces braced themselves for what lay ahead.
The reason Jang Il-do now stood alone on the gracefully curved roof was more pressing. A letter had arrived from the fortress:
"The martial world is in turmoil. The purple cloak has been donned. Prepare to welcome the former leader of the Shingeom Corps. Be especially wary of the Tang Clan and the remnants of the Thirteen Heavens."
From the moment he read the words, his nerves had been on edge.
A forgotten legend was making their way to his branch. Today was the appointed day. Even with the presence of figures like Ma Gwang-ik, the Tang Clan's direct members, and Hu Gae (후개) of the Beggars' Union below, they were not his immediate concern.
Jang Il-do bit his lip nervously.
He had shown none of this apprehension when facing Ma Gwang-ik or even when meeting the esteemed Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan earlier that morning.
At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight graced the tallest roof, he had taken his place, awaiting the arrival of someone once regarded as the second most revered individual in the martial world.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but an ominous energy seemed to creep along the streets under the clear blue sky. The day was unnervingly tranquil.
"What are you doing here?"
"Hup...!"
Jang Il-do flinched violently. He instinctively reached for his sword but froze under an overwhelming presence.
Only then did he notice the stiffness spreading across his nape. He could barely move his eyes.
A man now stood beside him, unnoticed until that moment.
The elder’s long white beard reached down to his chest, perfectly straight. His powerful frame was adorned with a purple martial cloak, its upright collar lending an air of regality.
The attire matched the elder’s imposing and sharp demeanor.
"Is everything in order at the branch?"
Ma Yeon-jeok (마연적) asked slowly, his piercing black eyes glinting with intensity.
Even though his aura was restrained, it was impossible not to feel the sheer weight of his presence. The deliberate choice to let it spill slightly was unnerving.
Jang Il-do’s eyes darted up and down, his neck damp with cold sweat.
An unapproachable figure had finally arrived at his branch. The sheer power radiating from the elder was suffocating, combining with his legendary reputation to create an almost invincible aura.
A purple-ranked warrior from Ipwang Fortress had arrived in Sichuan.
The great clans of the region had yet to react, their movements cautious and tentative.
***
"You must relinquish your position as the leader of Ma Gwang-ik. It’s time for you to return to the main family," Ma Yeon-jeok declared.
Seated before a wooden tea table, his voice carried the weight of finality.
"The extermination of the scum from the Ten Front Sect and Sunmaryeon was well done. However, we cannot afford a gap in our forces. Ma Gwang-ik must maintain the integrity of its martial lineage, but it must also undergo restructuring."
Jeong Yeon-shin, sitting calmly, responded, "The iron-blooded artisans have promised to craft a prosthetic arm for my uncle. A device responsive to internal energy, a true marvel of craftsmanship."
For the first time, Ma Yeon-jeok’s brow furrowed deeply. Unable to rebuke his grandson directly, he turned to Ma Jin, his tone rising in reproach.
"You’ve lost your left arm, severing the meridians of the Lung Channel of Hand-Taiyin (手太陰肺經) completely. This disrupts the flow of your internal energy throughout your body. How long will it take for you to regain the internal energy circulation you had before losing your arm? The martial world's situation is far from stable. Instead of clinging to your position as leader, you should focus entirely on recovery."
Ma Jin remained silent, his expression heavy. He closed his eyes briefly, unwilling to argue. The silence weighed on the room, the aroma of tea now seeming oppressively loud.
After a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin reached into his robes and retrieved a small, worn booklet. The pages looked ancient, their texture showing their age.
On the cover were the characters: Jeong Family Dynamic Gong (정가동공).
The boy carefully placed the booklet on the tea table, gently pushing aside the three teacups resting there.
"This could benefit both my uncle and my grandfather," Jeong Yeon-shin said quietly.
"It is a technique well-suited for recovery. I intended to share it as a contribution to our clan’s efforts, so it matters little if you see it first."
Both Ma Yeon-jeok and Ma Jin immediately recognized the significance of this gesture. Years of experience in the martial world told them this was not merely a casual offering. It was a deliberate act of deep thought and intention.
Ma Jin finally broke the silence, his voice strained. "This is the foundation of your martial arts, isn’t it?"
"Yes. I am confident in its effectiveness," Jeong Yeon-shin replied.
Ma Jin let out a soft hum, his nephew’s words resonating with him. His expression remained heavy as he continued.
"It’s extraordinary. Combined with your accomplishments and contributions thus far, this alone could justify ascending to the rank of Black. You wouldn’t need to accumulate additional achievements."
Jeong Yeon-shin replied simply, "Judge it after reviewing the text. I’ll excuse myself now. The focus on breathing and intent resembles meditation."
Awkwardly, he rose from his seat, offered a stiff bow, and quickly exited the room. The wooden door creaked slightly as it closed behind him.
Ma Jin watched his nephew leave, his gaze lingering thoughtfully. After a pause, he reached out and opened the first page of the booklet.
Ma Yeon-jeok, unable to contain his curiosity, moved closer, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Ma Jin as they both examined the text.
The opening lines of the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong read:
"Those who sleep are as though dead. They forget life itself.
If the energy cultivated through controlled breathing slumbers, internal energy too withers. This is incomprehensible.
Stagnation is death. Why cease the flow of energy? Internal energy must continuously move through the body’s meridians.
From the lower dantian to the Liver Meridian of Foot-Jueyin (足厥陰肝經), it must form an infinite, circulating loop.
In doing so, internal energy becomes like a mother.
Even if unseen, even when one cannot sense it during sleep, it envelops the body. It holds the body with warmth and tenderness.
There is no need to seek external comfort.
By gently caressing the lower dantian’s Qi Sea (氣海穴) with the intent of a mother, the energy flows back to the Life Gate (命門穴) along the spine.
It strengthens bones and muscles and nourishes blood vessels continuously. Because it never ceases, it is called Dynamic Gong (動功).
Only with this mindset toward energy can its effects manifest.
Even with resentment, one remains part of the Jeong family. Even if never seen, a mother exists, watching from the heavens.
Because she chose the Jeong household.
Thus, this shall rightfully be called Jeong Family Dynamic Gong."
A profound silence followed, so absolute it seemed even the fragrance of the tea was swept away. Neither man spoke as they absorbed the text’s meaning.
The weight of Jeong Yeon-shin’s intentions became undeniable.