The expressions of the Tang Clan Leader and the Tang siblings were calm.
No one reproached Hyeon Won-chang.
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Neither were there any signs of displeasure; they simply stood quietly, gazing at Jeong Yeon-shin.
The Ipwang Great Hero's (Da-hyeop) muttered words were ignored.
“You probably don’t understand what I mean. This water, imbued several times with the moonlight of the full moon, gains mysterious effects.”
Tang Unhwang, the clan leader, spoke with a subtle smile.
The language, which had previously been steeped in reverence, shifted to a more familiar tone. This was because Jeong Yeon-shin had requested at the Ipwang Fortress branch for Tang Unhwang to address him less formally.
According to the other clan leaders, even such familiarity felt burdensome.
This held true even if the boy transcended the usual level of a martial hero (So-hyeop).
After all, his status in the world of martial arts was one of exceptional honor.
Yet Tang Unhwang did not go so far as to speak in a condescending manner.
“They call it Spirit Water (Yeongsu), a mystical liquid that can substitute for the artisan’s soul, which only descends when heaven’s fortune aligns. It’s a miraculous substance, a treasure tied to ley lines and spirit veins. It’s why the great ancestor of our clan established their roots here and unlocked the martial veins of our family.”
The sound of water cascading from the hills seemed to wrap Tang Unhwang’s calm voice in its refreshing melody.
It was a scenic, tranquil place.
Jeong Yeon-shin brushed his hands over the grips of his twin swords and nodded.
“I am deeply grateful.”
“The spirit armaments that our clan periodically produces come from this water. They’re rare, but not unheard of. However, it’s too early to speak of repayment, so please refrain from offering thanks so lightly,” Tang Unhwang said with a faint smile.
His beard, which thickly covered his lips, gave him an air of warmth.
Jeong Yeon-shin observed the juxtaposition of Tang Unhwang’s affable demeanor and the image of a vengeful demon burned into his memory.
In the boy’s mind, the sight of Tang Unhwang sweeping away Hyeonggeom Gal Saryang and numerous martial artists from the Thirteen Heavens (Sip-sam-cheon) with his legendary Mancheon Hwawu was vividly clear.
Yet the way he carried himself with Jeong Yeon-shin felt like a completely different person.
“We will melt it down again, mixing it with refined black steel imbued once already with Spirit Water. Weight and size will be an issue, but for your swords, the Spirit Water should suffice. Both are classic three-foot swords (samcheokgeom) with blades less than an inch wide. True weapons of martial artists.”
Tang Unhwang’s eyes swept over Jeong Yeon-shin’s twin swords.
The Ipwang Sword had already been drawn during battles, but in the case of the Bukmyeong Sword, he discerned its form from just its guard and scabbard.
It was true that they were typical martial weapons. A length of three feet—approximately one meter—meant it required both hands for an untrained person to wield.
As Jeong Yeon-shin’s fingers moved along the hilt of the Bukmyeong Sword, the eyes of Tang Unhwang and the Tang siblings followed.
The moment his fingertips brushed against the Ipwang Sword, Tang Unhwang spoke again.
“Common but renowned. Remarkably well-made. I’m curious about the artisan behind it. For a weapon distributed as part of the Ipwang Fortress’ supplies...”
The sword had long carried the essence of Jeong Yeon-shin’s Gwanghwa Sword Style.
There was a rumor that weapons forged by the Iron Clan (Cheoljok) grew alongside their wielders. Even if this sword had been mass-produced for distribution, it had become most familiar to Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand.
At one time, he thought no weapon could suit him better.
Now, things were different. Having recently reached the black level through his creation of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi, Jeong Yeon-shin knew he would face top-level martial artists.
The blade was already chipped and worn.
‘The sword won’t endure.’
It was difficult for it to withstand the overwhelming internal energy and sword techniques of his foes.
Weapons were inherently consumable.
The Ipwang Sword was labeled a supply weapon for a reason.
The warriors of Ipwang Fortress frequently received new high-quality weapons after missions, as their opponents often wielded techniques capable of damaging steel.
Even internal energy used to protect the blade had its limits.
Sching!
Jeong Yeon-shin drew both swords at once.
Tang Unhwang’s eyes immediately swept over the Bukmyeong Sword.
Sunlight scattered across the rippling patterns along its blade.
It was a sword he had received as a reward for his achievements at the Bloodflame Cult’s main base.
“A rare and exceptional sword.”
Tang Unhwang’s words suggested it had impressed even his discerning eye as a renowned artisan.
Jeong Yeon-shin also felt the Bukmyeong Sword was extraordinary. It cut through the air with remarkable grace.
While the Ipwang Sword was similarly balanced, the Bukmyeong Sword felt sturdier and sliced through the air with more precision.
The only drawback was its lack of opportunity to absorb martial essence.
‘Because I wielded the Ipwang Sword while developing the Gwanghwa Sword Style.'
In the rush of countless battles, he had unconsciously stuck to what he was most familiar with.
It was a minor yet persistent cycle.
Now, it seemed time to break it.
Having survived numerous battles with a supply weapon, Jeong Yeon-shin had entered a new realm.
Despite the attachment, he realized a divine weapon (singeom) would better serve his fight for survival.
“An excellent choice. This sword is undoubtedly superior. Its foundation is more precious,” Tang Unhwang said, accepting the hilt of the Bukmyeong Sword.
“A weapon that does not break under pressure—this is the hallmark of a true divine weapon. Such a blade entrusts the outcome of the fight entirely to the wielder’s martial prowess. You’re well aware of how much more effective this makes your techniques.”
“Yes. Forgive my impertinence, but how long might this process take?”
The boy asked quietly. Tang Unhwang burst into hearty laughter.
“Such politeness! It’s almost disheartening. Speak freely, and I’ll answer anything. To forge this divine weapon anew, it will likely take about a month. I aim to mix the refined black steel with Spirit Water in the most ideal way. I’ve already informed our master artisans. As for who will wield the hammer—that will be me.”
***
"Your clan’s later-generation talents are truly astounding. Ipwang Fortress is blessed with an excess of fortune."
"Are you referring to the White Qilin? Or perhaps Seomye?"
Deep within a secluded cavern, aged voices echoed in the darkness.
"Both are present. That fledgling Seomye was the first to be polished—refined into none other than black."
"Heh, heh-heh..."
A dry, elderly laugh broke apart, its rhythm faltering.
"Black, you say...? I witnessed it during the contest before the duel with Namgung. I thought his talent was overflowing, but... to think it had fully blossomed... Astonishing, truly astonishing."
"My lifelong ambition was resolved during my journey through Sichuan. Ho Cheon Bul Mun—I spent my entire life pleading to the heavens for the inspiration of Mancheon Hwawu, but my unworthy son stole the culmination of my life’s wish. Your Seomye, that fledgling talent of yours... He is extraordinarily dangerous. He possesses a natural talent that drags divine martial techniques down into the realm of human skill."
That statement.
The once listless voice now carried a forceful conviction.
What had previously been labored responses now came with striking clarity.
"That, too, is remarkable. I feel even less inclined to hinder him. Tell me, why do you keep this decrepit body of mine alive?"
"It seems the answer still eludes us. My grandchildren's bodies are unusual. Although we have replicated a substantial portion of Seomye's anatomical schematics, the results remain unsatisfactory. My grandchildren cannot wield their talents as that boy does. Even after thoroughly examining your body, with its Blood Energy Techniques and Samyanggong essence."
Laughter erupted simultaneously, rough and biting.
"You fail to grasp the meaning of the word 'genius.' It refers to a talent bestowed by the heavens—a gift that mere mortals cannot hope to reproduce through human effort. Your struggle is futile. Accept your limits and find peace in simplicity."
"Say whatever you like, Elder of the Ipwang Fortress."
***
The Next Day
Jeong Yeon-shin was invited to a banquet hosted by the Grand Elder of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
It was a predictable development. The conflict between the Clan Leader and the Grand Elder was far from resolved.
The martial families of the murim (martial arts world) thrived on blood and power.
The Grand Elder, who had once held absolute authority, would not relinquish their influence so easily.
The banquet hall was magnificent.
Its size rivaled that of a modest training ground.
The loud cries of cicadas in the summer heat mingled with the earthy scent of grass wafting in through the windows.
Tables made of ancient trees, arranged in a "口" shape, exuded an antique charm.
Each row seated ten people.
Dancers swayed gracefully in the center, accompanied by musicians playing stringed instruments, adding to the lively atmosphere. The banquet had already reached its peak, like the glowing red lanterns illuminating the hall.
People sipped their drinks, sampled delicacies, exchanged pleasantries, and discussed martial arts.
Some delved into discussions about Sichuan's political situation.
“I hear that the rogue sects have been gathering young disciples for meetings in broad daylight. It truly feels like the end of times. Lowly outlaws from the unorthodox sects strutting around as if they were accomplished talents—it’s disgraceful.”
“There’s also word that the leader of the Qingcheng Sect has passed away. They say it was at the hands of an unparalleled swordsman.”
“Are they referring to the ‘Scarlet River Swordmaster’? Such an outlandish claim... More credible and intriguing, however, is the rumor that the ‘Young Sword Queen’ of the Mount Emei Sect has joined forces with Qingcheng disciples and others. It’s about time our clan’s Twin Venoms of the Dragon and Phoenix subdued them.”
Jeong Yeon-shin had already received several toasts. All of them were from the Grand Elder’s people.
He had already been through such entertainments in Seojeu, enduring a sparring match thinly veiled as hospitality.
Even a simple acknowledgment was enough to bring smiles to their faces.
It was then.
“Tiring of all this beating around the bush. Boy.”
The Grand Elder, seated beside Jeong Yeon-shin, spoke up. He was dressed in the same golden robes as when they first met.
His half-lidded eyes glanced sideways at the young man.
Was he drunk because he had intentionally avoided clearing the intoxication? Or was it a deliberate facade?
—A truly fearsome snake.
Taeyeomryong’s words echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.
“Boy, Seomye. What are you so deep in thought about? You look burdened, though you’re a prodigious talent who has the world at your feet.”
“......”
“Or is that not the case? The black-level expert of Ipwang Fortress.”
The Grand Elder’s quiet question carried a weight that seemed to emanate from the depths of his aged breaths.
Before anyone noticed, the hall had fallen silent.
The sharp, shining gazes of the assembled martial experts were now entirely focused on Jeong Yeon-shin.
“I was merely curious.”
Jeong Yeon-shin calmly opened his mouth.
“You spoke of ‘beating around the bush’ earlier. I wondered what you truly wanted.”
“Ah... indeed. That would make sense.”
The corners of the Grand Elder’s mouth lifted.
A faint madness glimmered in his smile, the motion almost tearing his lips apart.
“I summoned you out of curiosity. That day, you passed on the Mancheon Hwawu to my son. I found it incomprehensible. How could merely grabbing his hand and letting go enable our Clan Leader to command petals as if they were extensions of himself? I tried not to inquire, but as a martial artist, my curiosity has proven unbearable.”
The banquet hall, surrounded by the Grand Elder’s elite martial artists, was a space where even the lightest words felt like an imposition.
The Grand Elder asked quietly.
“Would you share it with this old martial artist? Separate from the Mancheon Hwawu that has already entered our clan’s possession, I’m deeply curious about your martial techniques. Is it too shameless of a request?”
“...It is not. It’s hardly difficult.”
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
“When the most esteemed person in the house asks, how could I refuse? Surely, there is no one in the Tang Clan higher in status than the Grand Elder.”
“No, no. The young ones who sustain the clan are the truly noble ones.”
The Grand Elder shook his head slightly, his smile remaining.
A faint cheer rippled through the martial artists gathered in the banquet hall.
“Then.”
Jeong Yeon-shin extended his hand to the Grand Elder.
At the same time, he activated the Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi.
Unlike the martial artists of the Thirteen Heavens who had witnessed him execute the technique against the Blade Fist Demon, its power was neither ostentatious nor overwhelming from afar.
The technique’s foundation had been built using passages from the Diamond Sutra and Cai Gen Tan.
Internally, it was heavy and grounded; externally, it exuded subtle grace.
The advanced essence of the martial art, gleaned from a master of the Daebang Sect, was an invaluable secret.
The Thirteen Heavens martial artists who had noticed the Gwangryun-gi had all been slain.
Only the Tenfold Gate might have learned of it through Geukwolgeom So Jinrang.
However, Sichuan was vast, and the speed of information flow had its limits.
Even the spiritual treasures recovered from So Jinrang remained within Jeong Yeon-shin’s possession.
Unlike the widely known Demon-Slaying Azure Subjugation Energy, the capabilities of the Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi remained a closely guarded secret.
Swish.
The wrinkled hand met the youthful one.
Even as they clasped hands, Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself: Surely, he can’t be the true Grand Elder of the clan.
Ka-aaaaaahk—!
A groan erupted. It came from the Grand Elder.
“...?”
Jeong Yeon-shin was momentarily caught off guard. In his mind, both Hyeon Won-chang and Taeyeomryong spoke simultaneously.
“Is there another martial clan as chaotic as this one in the entire world?”
“You scoundrel!”
“Let go of him, now!”
The individuals seated to the Grand Elder’s left and right leaped to their feet in an instant. Their reactions were startlingly swift, striking like flashes of lightning.
At some point, the Grand Elder’s martial artists had drawn their weapons.
With no hesitation, they hurled their blades.
From all directions, hidden weapons and flying needles streaked toward Jeong Yeon-shin like rays of light.
Jeong Yeon-shin extended his left hand. Waves of adhesive and repelling qi radiated from the Laogong and Shaofu acupoints in his palm.
The rotating shockwaves of the Gwangryun-gi began to swirl in an instant.
As dishes, cups, and other objects flew through the air in the trembling room, the intricate rhythm of the martial art unfolded with a genius-like precision.
Mancheon Hwawu.
Whoosh!
The incoming weapons halted momentarily before swirling into a vortex, threatening to sweep the entire room.
In the blink of an eye, ownership of the storm shifted. The whirlwind of energy and brilliance began returning everything to its original senders.