"Mancheon Hwawu! Do not throw hidden weapons!"
"We must neutralize him without causing an uproar—Aargh!"
Groans and screams echoed throughout the banquet hall.
The returned blades swirled like a tempest, tearing through the space.
The large room was engulfed in relentless shockwaves. Amidst the bursts of blood, none could muster the skill to counterattack.
Having mastered Mancheon Hwawu, Jeong Yeon-shin was now the nemesis of any hidden weapon expert. No one could get near him.
He didn’t even glance back. The state of the Grand Elder was spectacular.
As if his internal meridians had been burned by the power of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi, the old man slumped limply in his chair, groaning weakly.
With his left hand stretched outward, Jeong Yeon-shin grabbed the nape of the grotesque old man with his right hand, forcing their gazes to meet.
“Where is the Elder of Ipwang Fortress?”
The young man’s question was abrupt, but in the moment he confirmed the identity of the infiltrator, a peculiar sensation brushed across his upper dantian.
The closer one is to death, the more sensitive the crown acupoint at the top of the head becomes.
Though the timing of these spiritual whispers was unpredictable, their relevance and frequency were gradually becoming more refined.
Heh-heh.
The Grand Elder chuckled. Although he was staring at Jeong Yeon-shin, his gaze seemed fixed on something far beyond.
"Do you know why the Tang Clan developed mastery over hidden weapons and poison arts?"
His voice was remarkably lucid for his condition. He seemed not to expect an answer.
The old man continued, speaking slowly.
"It’s because these methods demand fewer sacrifices than traditional swordsmanship. The essence of Tang Clan martial arts avoids direct confrontation. It was the foresight of our ancestors, who feared that reckless swordplay might lead to the loss of family lives. Swords are unpredictable, like fluttering petals. No matter how skilled a swordsman, the weak may still find fortune and end their life."
“In other words, you admit it. You were involved in the Elder of Ipwang Fortress and the Thunderbolt project.”
Jeong Yeon-shin paid no attention to the Grand Elder’s musings.
He had already pressed his fingers against the old man’s nape, identifying the mahyul pressure point.
He had to remain vigilant of the poison arts the old man had mentioned. Now, the Grand Elder could do nothing but move his mouth.
The old man didn’t seem to care. He merely chuckled faintly and continued.
"Protecting one’s family is a labor of love, Seokgwa Bulsik. Even if others ridicule us for developing dishonorable methods, we have gladly borne that criticism. Our ancestors abandoned their desire for recognition from righteous sects, prioritizing the safety and prosperity of their descendants. That intent became the foundation of Tang Clan martial arts."
It was a roundabout justification for doing whatever it takes to achieve one’s goals.
Jeong Yeon-shin had seen such justifications repeatedly among the martial clans. They excelled at adorning their actions with noble-sounding words.
"You’re shameless. The power of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi burned away your demonic energy. My energy’s capabilities can be proven anytime, but you have only two choices to make."
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly. There was no need to elaborate further.
Suicide or confession. Those were the only endings available for a martial artist of a noble sect who had plotted treachery.
The wrinkled corners of the Grand Elder’s lips curled upwards. At last, his eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze.
"You don’t strike me as a foolish boy, yet you seem impatient. There’s no composure in your eyes. What’s chasing you? You’ve captured your adversary, and my son has chosen loyalty over the clan’s reputation—a truly remarkable rascal."
"......."
"Ah... yes. You’re a child of rare caliber. But you don’t have much time, do you? Even the heavens are unfair."
It wasn’t a taunt. His words carried the solemn tone of an old warrior dulled by the passage of years.
With the return of Mancheon Hwawu to the Tang Clan, Grand Elder Tang Tae-duk had lost the driving force of his life.
Now that his supreme ambition was fulfilled, it had paradoxically drained him of his vitality.
A lifelong wish had been realized through a boy from outside his clan, someone entirely unconnected to him.
That vision had been passed on to the son he had ruthlessly cast aside.
What must that feel like? Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t care. He was merely surprised by what he had come to understand.
The old man knew. He understood the nature of this body.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s grip on Tang Tae-duk’s wrinkled nape tightened.
The boy’s previously calm eyes lifted slightly, an edge sharpening within them.
‘So it was the Blood Flame Cult after all.’
The Elder of Ipwang Fortress was known as a supreme swordsman of unparalleled skill, comparable to the headmasters of the Nine Great Sects.
Such a martial artist would not have vanished without a trace unless compelled by extraordinary circumstances.
Now, it was clear. The leader of the Blood Flame Cult had survived and had collaborated with Tang Tae-duk.
The spiritual whispers in his upper dantian, the Elder’s disappearance, Tang Tae-duk’s cultivation of demonic arts, and the suspicions surrounding the Thunderbolt production—all of it unraveled at once.
Meanwhile, the raging storm of Mancheon Hwawu began to subside across the banquet hall.
No one was left standing.
The elite martial artists of the Tang Clan, who had faced their natural nemesis, lay sprawled about, nursing grievous wounds.
A few knelt on one knee, but none were in any state to move easily.
Even the dancers and musicians, who turned out to be Tang martial artists, lay fallen, struck down by their own hidden weapons.
Tang Tae-duk, glancing over Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder from his place on the upper seat, deepened his smile.
"A talent unseen in a thousand years...! You, boy of Ipwang Fortress, are truly like a comet."
"You’ve lost your mind."
Jeong Yeon-shin’s quiet retort didn’t stop Tang Tae-duk’s muttering.
His identity as an infiltrator had been exposed, and his lifelong wish had been hollowly fulfilled.
The old man’s aimless voice sounded like the ramblings of one bereft of purpose.
"To shine so brightly through martial arts, only to fade with time—such is your destiny. Seeing you up close makes it all the clearer. Banwon Samyanggong maintains distance, separating medicine from poison. The schematics of your body were flawed. A frame that lives two hundred years in twenty... The impartial heavens are revealed through you. Truly, an extraordinary martial talent."
"......."
"I understand now why the demonic seeds covet you. Anyone who leads a sect would desire you. The Lord of Ipwang Fortress, a woman as cunning as the nine-tailed fox of Shanhaijing, must shield you with relentless devotion. How tender her embrace must be."
"She’s my master. Do not speak of her."
Tang Tae-duk chuckled bitterly.
"A boy like you, raised properly in this world... It’s truly miraculous. In any case, you are correct. I have few options left. To consider the clan’s future, I should beg for mercy. Imagine the disaster if word spread that the Tang Clan had colluded with the Blood Flame Cult."
"Speak. Where is he?"
"You ask his location without questioning his life or death... Your tone is full of conviction. It’s fascinating, truly fascinating. That, too, must be the ability of your upper dantian. How I’d love to open your head and study its workings."
The crazed gleam in the old man’s eyes confirmed it—he was indeed deranged.
At this point, Jeong Yeon-shin realized this was no longer his responsibility to resolve.
He couldn’t very well torture the Grand Elder of a martial clan at its heart.
"Enough. Don’t speak."
Without hesitation, the boy dragged the old man by the nape.
Rendered powerless by direct exposure to Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi, Tang Tae-duk was hauled away with ease.
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin strode past the groaning elite martial artists who had served under the Grand Elder.
No one tried to stop him. He carried himself with the bearing of a black-level expert, someone who could replace the head of any elite squadron.
Tang Tae-duk’s golden robe trailed across the ground beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s grasp.
There was no need for arrogance or unnecessary theatrics.
Jeong Yeon-shin propped the old man up against a pillar in the banquet hall and let go.
The Grand Elder, chuckling weakly, glanced up at the boy.
"Your actions are decisive, yet you understand discretion. You’re no fool who relies solely on talent."
"Be quiet."
The boy’s response was curt.
From the moment he entered Ipwang Fortress, Jeong Yeon-shin had been mindful of his reputation.
It was a necessary step to ascend to the position of Sword Squad Leader. The observation that he understood discretion was accurate.
He had no intention of creating unnecessary disadvantages for himself.
Creak.
Jeong Yeon-shin opened the door and stepped out.
Servants holding bottles and dishes flinched, startled by his sudden appearance.
Judging by their tense expressions, they had been lingering near the door, listening to the sounds of battle.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.
"Summon the Clan Leader. There has been an incident."
"Y-yes, of course!"
None dared peek inside.
The Clan Leader of the Tang Clan had publicly declared that Jeong Yeon-shin, the Seomye of Ipwang Fortress, was not an outsider but a mentor to their family.
The Tang Clan’s creed of repaying kindness twice and vengeance tenfold meant that their recognition of Jeong Yeon-shin elevated him to a highly esteemed position.
Even within the Tang Clan, he was now an untouchable figure.
The two servants hurried off.
Shh.
Jeong Yeon-shin leaned against the pillar, lifting his gaze slightly. He didn’t move for half a moment, his focus elsewhere.
The boy stared blankly at the fading daylight, watching as the summer sun dipped below the horizon.
A faint luminescence spread with the twilight, like a translucent veil draping over his body, tinging his hair with a pale reddish-brown hue.
The sharp bridge of his nose cast a subtle shadow.
The remaining servants stood respectfully, stealing glances at him.
Their postures were elegant, befitting attendants of a noble household, but their stolen glances were persistent.
"......."
The radiance of Jeong Yeon-shin’s Gwangryun-infused energy was more defined than ever.
His features, too, had grown more striking. As a boy in his prime years of growth, he bore the resemblance of his mother, Ma-yeon-jeok, whose beauty had once captivated even the formidable Ban-ak, the head of the Jeong family.
Jeong Yeon-shin was aware that his appearance was rather exceptional.
Even if he felt no particular attachment to the fact, it was undeniable.
If his looks could aid his rise to the position of Sword Squad Leader, he was prepared to make use of them.
Just as he had entertained guests with sparring during their discussions.
“When you become a master, you should grow your hair out,” the Ipwang Fortress Lord had once said.
Perhaps it was the servants’ gazes that brought the memory back to him. The thought flickered briefly before dissipating.
Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head slightly, dismissing the distraction. It was a trivial notion, unworthy of consideration now.
And then—
Ah.
He sensed movement in the distance. Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze.
Three figures approached. They seemed to have dismissed their attendants intentionally.
The Clan Leader and the Twin Poison Dragons of Yongbong.
By now, they had become familiar faces.
Rumors swirled that the siblings were beginning their competition for succession. It seemed the clan was finally returning to normalcy.
Even from their expressions, it was clear. Their finely featured faces radiated serenity and vitality.
“Master, what is the matter...?”
Tang Leryeo inquired softly.
Glancing briefly at her, Jeong Yeon-shin cupped his hands toward the Clan Leader in a gesture of respect.
He had to hurl a stone into the calm waters they’d just reclaimed. It was a pity.
“The Grand Elder is a spy for the Blood Flame Cult.”
The transmission of sound reached them.
Tang Unhwang’s eyes widened as if they might split apart.
***
Tang Tae-duk, the Grand Elder of the Tang Clan, was a martial artist of unparalleled skill and poise.
To render such an individual powerless with a single clash of hands, without leveraging the principles of mutual destruction, was a feat achievable only at the Violet Rank—a level of mastery so refined it verged on the miraculous.
Such was the essence of the Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi.
Tang Unhwang had experienced its power firsthand when Jeong Yeon-shin laid his palm over his. He felt the profound, almost divine resonance within the technique. Witnessing the demonstration of its kinetic force before his eyes only solidified his understanding.
"Imprison the Grand Elder and prepare to try his crimes through capital punishment."
Tang Unhwang's command was resolute.
He did not conceal the fact that his father's treachery had brought shame upon the Tang Clan.
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While he expressed gratitude to Jeong Yeon-shin for discreetly communicating the matter, he committed himself to uncovering the full extent of the incident.
Tang Unhwang, known as the Poison Commander (Dokgun), was every bit the noble hero his title implied.
His actions rallied the martial artists of the Tang Clan rather than dividing them. With the fall of the Grand Elder’s authority, Tang Unhwang once again became the family’s leader, restoring order to the clan.
The entire process unfolded swiftly.
The Tang Clan’s martial elites obeyed their leader’s decree, dispatching dozens of warriors to scour the area in search of the cave where the elder had hidden the imprisoned Ipwang Fortress Elder.
Everywhere, martial experts skilled in the clan's secret Cheontae Gugung Body Art demonstrated their extraordinary movement techniques.
They also utilized the sensory perception unique to the Banwon Samyang-gong to track their target.
With Tang Unhwang choosing not to conceal the affair, the Grand Elder’s secret hideout would soon be uncovered.
During this time, Jeong Yeon-shin received several elixirs from the Tang Clan’s attendants. It was Tang Unhwang’s gesture of repayment.
Jeong Yeon-shin immediately instructed Namgung Hwa-shin and Hyeon Won-chang to deliver the medicines to his bedridden seniors at the Ipwang Fortress branch.
“Take care of yourself until I return. As for the Tenfold Gate, we don’t yet know the master’s plans, and we can’t predict how the Pure Devil Sect Lord will act. I’ll go and unlock seventy percent of my full strength soon enough.”
This was Hyeon Won-chang’s farewell as he departed for the time being.
He was right.
With Ma-yeon-jeok’s whereabouts still unknown, there were no martial artists at the Tang Clan capable of confronting the lords of the Thirteen Heavens.
It was almost certain that either the Pure Devil Sect Lord or the Blood Flame Cult Leader would appear.
The Tang Clan itself thrummed with a mix of vitality and tension.
Even the sunlight brushing against the rafters seemed to weigh heavily on the shoulders of the clan members.
I must become stronger.
Jeong Yeon-shin dedicated himself to cultivating energy while rotating the Gwangryun.
At the center of the training ground, where stone steps extended in all directions, swirling winds lifted earth and leaves, converging upon the boy’s body.
The stability of the Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi, imbued with its unique resonance, was incomparable to ordinary energy techniques.
Hoooong—!
Simply by rotating the Gwangryun, an unprecedented amount of energy gathered.
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind dissected the martial arts of three sects—the Blood Flame Cult, the Pure Devil Sect, and the Tenfold Gate.
He had encountered them all extensively.
There was even precedent for betting everything on a single countermeasure against an elder of the Blade Specters and succeeding.
So, what would happen if he prepared in advance?
Until now, he had never approached a confrontation with premeditated tactics, focusing solely on countering martial techniques.
How effective this would be against supreme experts like the lords of the Thirteen Heavens was uncertain, but Jeong Yeon-shin was determined to give it his all.
Even when facing an opponent two or three moves ahead, if I exploit an opening, I can close the gap by at least one move.
He meticulously analyzed the energy waves emanating from their techniques, the movements of their defenses, and the forms of their fist and sword arts.
He refined his own striking patterns to exploit those gaps and consolidated the optimal sequences for releasing the Gwangryun’s energy waves against different types of opponents.
His upper energy center burned white-hot with intensity, anticipating brief, decisive battles.