Jeong Yeon-shin peered into the heart of the blue flames.
The azure fire, resembling the terrifying intensity of Sammae Purification Flame, blazed ferociously as the Bloodflame Cult Leader struggled, much like the Tenfold Gate Lord in their final moments.
The hand lodged in Ma Yeon-jeok's abdomen refused to budge.
The purifying power of Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm suppressed his internal energy, while Ma Yeon-jeok’s hardened abdominal muscles, reinforced by decades of training, trapped the cult leader's hand in place.
It was a perfect blockade, rendering the cult leader's techniques useless.
"AAAAARGH—!"
A guttural scream tore through cracked, bloodless lips.
The Bloodflame Cult Leader's regenerative abilities failed to activate.
Even the blood essence, the foundation of the cult's Blood Techniques, was incinerated strand by strand.
The cult leader’s entire body burned alongside Ma Yeon-jeok’s. Blue—vividly, unrelentingly blue.
“Leader!”
“Master!”
The Blood Cult’s elite swordsmen, who had been focused on obstructing Jeong Yeon-shin, turned their attention to the unfolding catastrophe.
But it was too late.
Jeong Yeon-shin moved first.
BOOM!
A surge of energy erupted, sending his black cloak billowing dramatically.
As all combat briefly ceased in astonishment, Jeong Yeon-shin's figure streaked forward like a flash of light.
CLANG!
An obstructing blade swung toward him, but a single explosive strike shattered it into fragments.
Jeong Yeon-shin pushed off the ground, silver shards of the broken sword scattering around him as he launched himself forward.
Ahead of him burned the azure inferno unleashed by Ma Yeon-jeok.
It was his own martial technique.
No one knew it better than he did.
When martial arts reached their zenith, they manifested in such forms, something Jeong Yeon-shin had once faintly envisioned. Now, that vision unfolded before his eyes, but alongside it came the image of his injured grandfather.
Ma Yeon-jeok had closed in on the Bloodflame Cult Leader, clutching their head to suppress their regenerative powers.
There was no other way.
The cult leader’s regenerative techniques, far superior to those of ordinary cultists, were nearly supernatural.
This was evident to anyone observing their upper dantian, the source of their miraculous abilities. The solution lay in annihilating the cult leader's Baihui Acupoint and upper dantian entirely.
It couldn’t be done with ordinary techniques. Opposing forces were essential, and Ma Yeon-jeok had fully manifested Jeong Yeon-shin’s Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm.
And here they were.
The Bloodflame Cult Leader’s death throes were that of a peerless master’s final technique, executed in full contact.
Their hand, buried in Ma Yeon-jeok's abdomen, unleashed the crushing weight of their internal power—a technique so potent it once subdued the Tenfold Gate Lord.
Jeong Yeon-shin saw everything.
WHOOSH!
The storm-like wind tore past his ears, the rush of his Lightness Technique propelling him forward. It felt as though the gale itself reached into his heart.
No.
This was his grandfather.
He couldn’t lose him to such a bloodthirsty creature. Even if Ma Yeon-jeok were destined to ascend, it wouldn’t be now—not before he overcame his own physical limitations and achieved true greatness.
THUD! THUD!
The ground beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet imprinted with each stride. His focus remained solely on the blazing azure flame ahead.
When he had first developed Jeong Family Dynamic Gong, a faint crimson hue glimmered as he refined it.
He recalled the lonely, soft orange glow cast through the lattice windows as he painted in longing for his mother.
Then, he would often curl up on his bed, falling asleep in the warmth of his memories.
That kind of sorrow, he never wanted to experience again.
Move.
The radiant wheel of his heart resonated in response.
Though the accumulated internal injuries weighed heavily on his meridians, the light’s wheel began to turn.
This was the full-body circulation of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi.
WOOOOOOM.
A faint white aura surrounded Jeong Yeon-shin’s skin. Though imperfect, it was a hastily summoned internal armor.
The vivid blue flames filled his vision.
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Jeong Yeon-shin arrived first.
He was the only one capable of entering the devastating field of Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm.
Thanks to the protective qi that enveloped his body, he took a step forward.
CRACKLE!
He entered the sapphire inferno.
Immediately, crimson eyes met his gaze—the Bloodflame Cult Leader’s.
The light in their pupils flickered as if fading away.
They had already absorbed a significant portion of the Tenfold Gate Lord’s energy.
There was no time to even attempt draining Ma Yeon-jeok’s blood energy.
“You... here...”
The cult leader’s lips moved faintly, directing their gaze at Jeong Yeon-shin.
They seemed to want to say something.
Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward swiftly, the power of the Ipwang Sword coiled in his right hand.
Perhaps it was the chaos of the moment, but the cult leader had made a critical mistake.
Before they could utter another word, they should have withdrawn their crushing hand from Ma Yeon-jeok’s abdomen.
Jeong Yeon-shin gripped his sword tightly and swung his arm. A decisive slash.
The force was deliberate, precise, and effortless—a subconscious execution of his Quick Sword Principles.
SWISH!
A thin trajectory carved through the flames. The shimmering white blade cleaved the cult leader’s neck with ease.
The Ipwang Sword’s technique unfolded seamlessly.
There was no resistance from a protective qi barrier—it had all been incinerated by Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm.
The cult leader’s body collapsed, lifeless.
The once ceaselessly billowing crimson robe finally stilled.
Yet, the Bloodflame Cult Leader was no ordinary being.
The head gripped in Ma Yeon-jeok’s rigid hand slowly curled its lips into a grin.
Even as its brows furrowed, its mouth formed words once more.
“My stepdaughter is coming. I am not like your clan—I shall never perish.”
Jeong Yeon-shin ignored the taunt, delivering a second strike without hesitation.
This time, his movements were both swift and meticulously calculated.
Before the cult leader’s body had completely collapsed, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped sideways and slashed vertically.
SPLAT!
The arm embedded in Ma Yeon-jeok’s abdomen was severed.
The strike combined the Quick Sword Principles with a gripping technique, ensuring the cut was clean.
The blood that spurted out evaporated into mist within the azure flames.
Jeong Yeon-shin quickly pulled Ma Yeon-jeok into his arms, his left hand working to seal the bleeding from the abdominal wound.
Though his attempts were imperfect, he forcibly channeled Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi to stem the flow.
Ma Yeon-jeok’s meridians and blood vessels had lost their elasticity. His internal energy was undetectable.
The fierce energy of Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm faded.
The blue flames that had consumed the entire space dissipated into wisps of haze.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt the texture of his grandfather’s skin—rough, dry, and brittle.
The once robust frame now seemed hollow, like a withered husk drained of vitality.
Slowly, life ebbed from Ma Yeon-jeok’s body.
Then, a wrinkled hand rested gently on Jeong Yeon-shin’s head. Its warmth was profound.
And that was the end.
The Bloodflame Cult Leader’s head fell to the ground, and silence followed.
Ma Yeon-jeok’s heartbeat ceased.
“Ah.”
Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes wide.
Even as the Blood Cult’s cries echoed around him, he remained still, his energy coursing desperately through his grandfather’s veins, attempting to resuscitate him.
“Master is an immortal god! Retrieve the body immediately!”
“The Gate Lord lives! His qi remains!”
“Move out! Open the way now!”
The Blood Cult swordsmen clashed with the Tang Clan warriors, but Jeong Yeon-shin paid no heed.
Surrounded by the chaos of battle, his focus stayed on his grandfather.
He poured every ounce of energy into the lifeless body.
“Please...”
The teachings of Buddhism spoke of a sword that could preserve life—a sacred blade that brought salvation instead of harm.
Jeong Yeon-shin clung to this hope, invoking the sacred energy etched into Ma Yeon-jeok’s being through Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm.
He fought desperately, even as the battlefield fell into silence.
Time passed.
“...Hmm.”
A low murmur reached his ears.
Several Tang Clan physicians examined Ma Yeon-jeok repeatedly, shaking their heads in regret before bowing and leaving.
The sun set.
Ma Yeon-jeok remained motionless.
When Jeong Yeon-shin came to his senses, his grandfather’s body had been moved to an ornate marble dais.
He didn’t know when or how it had happened, but he found himself sitting on the ground, dazed.
“Was it stolen? The Bloodflame Cult Leader’s corpse?”
“Apologies, clan leader. We were en route to incinerate it in the forge...”
“And you didn’t act?”
“The intruder was formidable.”
“Describe them.”
“A woman in a crimson robe. She wore an exquisite eyepatch over her left eye, while her right eye was a vivid red. She appeared to be one of the Bloodflame Cult’s Seven Apostles.”
“Any peculiarities?”
“She smiled... as though we weren’t even there. She muttered incomprehensible words but seemed deliberate in her actions.”
“Speak.”
“She... said, ‘I’ll bring back the Taesa. I’ll take over as cult leader.’”
Jeong Yeon-shin dismissed the meaningless chatter and staggered to his feet.
The ground felt unnaturally solid beneath him.
He gazed at his grandfather’s serene face.
“Master.”
Tang Unhwang approached swiftly, speaking with a sorrowful tone.
The Tang Clan Leader exuded the demeanor of a great hero, bowing his head in reverence.
Together, they looked down at the great martial artist who now rested peacefully.
The indomitable Ma Yeon-jeok.
A warrior of seventy-six years who had ascended to the celestial fields, taking a sworn enemy with him.
A towering figure who, even in his withered state, seemed poised to rise and wield his sword once more.
“Rest in peace, old master.”
Tang Unhwang lowered his gaze and bowed deeply.
The Tang Clan gathered around, paying their respects to the revered benefactor of their family.
Suddenly.
COUGH!
The withered figure stirred.
***
One Day Later.
Throughout Sichuan Province, a single announcement was posted.
It was a lengthy scroll, displayed across official roads and bustling markets to spread the word widely. The paper itself was exceptionally long.
[...Thus, to commemorate the Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋节), the Martial Alliance Assembly shall be formed. It is hoped that comrades of the martial world will celebrate this joyous occasion...
...We hereby extend invitations to esteemed martial artists to attend the grand opening ceremony of the Martial Alliance...
...Prominent young talents who will become the pillars of the martial world shall also grace the event.
Yunzhong Sword Dragon Wei Ji Myo-hwa, Little Sword Queen Chui So-ok (娶蘇鈺), Mount Hua's Hidden Dragon Yu Hyeon, ...and Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin...]
"Every notable martial artist, regardless of their sect or clan, has their epithet listed. Even sect masters are mentioned. But isn't it laughable? They're speaking as if they have the authority to summon the likes of the great masters from Ipwang Fortress by including them among their so-called 'promising young talents.'"
This was Tae Yeom-ryong speaking, now fully immersed in the role of a martial artist from his homeland.
For once, he stood properly, refraining from his usual casual posture.
He gazed at Jeong Yeon-shin, who sat quietly in a chair, calmly skimming the document.
In front of the boy, Ma Yeon-jeok lay with his eyes closed, resting amidst golden silk bedding within a grand chamber.
The room was spacious, adorned with ornate wooden carvings of turtles, cranes, and deer. Along one wall hung a landscape painting that appeared to be a rare treasure.
These symbols of longevity and prosperity, along with the intricate décor, reflected the meticulous care of the Tang Clan.
"Quite the arrangement," Tae Yeom-ryong remarked, casting an amused glance at the room’s symbols of longevity.
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin took the scroll handed to him and burned it without hesitation.
Whoosh!
The Sammae Purification Flame ignited between his index and middle fingers, reducing the paper to ashes that dispersed into a wisp of smoke.
With a slight wave of his hand, Jeong Yeon-shin activated the dispersal technique of Mancheon Hwawu. The faint trail of smoke drifted out the window.
Tae Yeom-ryong glanced at the boy, whose expression remained somber. After a moment, he smirked and broke the silence with a feigned casualness.
"Come on, I went out of my way to bring that to you."
"Bring lunch. And my grandfather's porridge too."