The Tang Clan physicians carefully examined Ma Yeon-jeok’s condition.
To conduct an accurate diagnosis, they needed a glimpse of Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi’s power. Without understanding its context, it was impossible to estimate the internal injuries or the state of his health.
— "We shall handle this matter with utmost confidentiality."
The physicians pledged solemn oaths before Tang Unhwang, the clan leader, swearing secrecy about the benefactor’s martial arts.
The boy had mentioned the concept of sacred energy, stating that Ma Yeon-jeok’s azure flames were martial techniques imbued with such a force.
Among the stunned physicians, one elderly doctor stood out, his insight exceeding that of his peers.
He spoke about the resonance of shared energy within the same type of qi.
He cited examples of martial artists who had cultivated identical energies, leading to mutual amplification and even miraculous recoveries of supreme martial masters.
The elderly physician clarified that it was speculation, as such studies of sacred energy were rare and deeply enigmatic.
— "Are you saying sacred energy can influence a person’s vitality?"
— "No, I mean the resonance of identical qi."
Hearing the explanation, the Tang Clan physicians showed great interest but, under the leader’s stern gaze, had to suppress their curiosity and leave. They were told only to prepare restorative herbal decoctions.
“He’s safe for now, but...”
For Jeong Yeon-shin, other matters weighed heavily on his mind.
He gazed down at his sleeping grandfather. The wrinkled face now resembled that of a humble villager.
Though the physicians assured that with proper care, Ma Yeon-jeok could recover to a healthy state for his age, they doubted he could regain his former martial prowess.
His blood vessels and twelve main meridians had severely weakened.
Even from Jeong Yeon-shin’s perspective, the situation was grave.
To retrain this body with the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong and restore its former strength might take at least ten years.
For now, he tried to be content with the fact that his grandfather had not perished alongside the Bloodflame Cult Leader.
But seeing him so frail up close made it harder to accept.
The boy stood silently, staring at his grandfather for a long time.
At that moment, Tae Yeom-ryong, who had been standing nearby, cleared his throat.
Jeong Yeon-shin, lost in thought, lowered his head slightly and then raised it, signaling him to speak.
“It’s about the Martial Alliance’s grand opening tournament.”
“Tournament?”
“You skimmed over it earlier. It’s a friendly sparring event.”
“Explain.”
“There’s a prize involved. They’re offering the Great Rejuvenation Pill. There’s a rumor that the Sword Saint received it as a favor from the Shaolin Abbot before being appointed as the alliance leader. In any case, it’s considered the best for recovery. Though whether they’ll actually hand it out is another matter.”
“...Thanks.”
“Ah, the first time I’ve heard you say that to me. What’s the occasion?”
Tae Yeom-ryong’s lips curled into a faint smile. It wasn’t an unpleasant expression.
It felt like the grin of someone indulging a younger sibling’s awkwardness.
Jeong Yeon-shin reiterated his request for lunch and his grandfather’s porridge.
Tae Yeom-ryong exaggerated a sigh and left the room, briefly leaning on one leg as if dramatizing his reluctant compliance.
The boy turned back to his grandfather.
The old man, sleeping peacefully, no longer bore the aura of a peerless martial artist.
“You survived. Even after facing the Bloodflame Cult Leader.”
Though his heart was heavy, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a wave of relief.
One major crisis had come to an end.
The Tenfold Gate had suffered irreparable damage and retreated, while the Bloodflame Cult had taken a devastating loss.
Though the cult leader’s remains and the Sunmaryeon faction still concerned him, these were secondary matters.
The Bloodflame Cult Leader had failed to withstand Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi and the full force of Demon-Slaying Blue River Palm.
The Sunmaryeon faction had lost many elites in the battles at Myeonggondo and the Great Artisan’s Main Road.
“The Tang Clan can handle what remains.”
He had returned to Mancheon Hwawu, the Tang Clan’s stronghold.
With the Tang Clan now firmly holding the reins of power in Sichuan, Jeong Yeon-shin’s focus shifted to his grandfather’s recovery and locating the missing Elder of Ipwang Fortress.
If regular tracking efforts failed, he planned to mobilize the Hwanik Corps.
Tang Unhwang had boasted confidently that they would succeed, but Jeong Yeon-shin prepared for contingencies.
“It’s time to return home.”
When the physicians were examining Ma Yeon-jeok, the old man had briefly regained consciousness, smiled at his grandson, and mentioned the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.
He insisted Jeong Yeon-shin deliver a message to the fortress lord directly but did not reveal its contents.
“The Great Rejuvenation Pill... Could I take on the Martial Alliance tournament as a mission?”
The boy pondered.
Likely, the Black Division Trials would come first. Such was the law of Ipwang Fortress.
Jeong Yeon-shin had accomplished an astonishing array of achievements during his journey to Sichuan.
Even without presenting the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong, he had proven more than enough.
He closed his eyes momentarily, leaning back in his chair and letting the warm, translucent sunlight wash over him.
For quite some time, he stayed that way. The summer air was pleasantly warm.
“I brought it. Driving off the servants who wanted to help was a chore.”
Tae Yeom-ryong entered, carrying a large tray. Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his eyes.
“Let’s eat. You’ll need your strength to nurse someone properly.”
They set the well-prepared meal beside the bed and sat across from each other.
Ma Yeon-jeok’s porridge was left untouched, as it was best served cooled.
Jeong Yeon-shin followed the physician’s instructions without deviation.
Even Tae Yeom-ryong, who often teased the boy, refrained from doing so this time.
As the two finished their meal, a man and a woman called out to Jeong Yeon-shin from outside the door.
“Benefactor.”
“Benefactor...!”
It was the twin siblings, Dokbong and Dokryong.
The twins, acting like humble attendants, hurried over with quick steps.
Dokbong, Tang Leryeo, carried a bundle of rolled-up papers.
Once inside, they handed a small letter to Jeong Yeon-shin.
The script on the envelope was exceptionally respectful.
[To Seomye, from the Master of the Tang Clan]
It was a message from Tang Unhwang. Due to the vastness of the Tang Clan’s estate, the Twin Venoms of Yongbong had likely been tasked with delivering it.
Jeong Yeon-shin carefully opened the letter and skimmed its contents.
“Finally...”
The hastily written message brought good news.
Traces of the Elder of Ipwang Fortress had been found on one of the peaks of Sichuan’s Sword Gate Pass.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly spoke.
“Send a request to the Ipwang Branch. There are matters to seek the clan leader’s approval on.”
“Yes, sir!”
Tang Yeo-hwa responded with bright, eager eyes. Tang Leryeo also inclined her head slightly.
“I’d like Ma Gwang-ik and the Hwanik Corps to come to the Tang Clan’s estate briefly.”
Jeong Yeon-shin stated firmly.
It was a dual-purpose decision.
Both his authority as a Black Division member and his temporary status as acting commander of the Hwanik Corps supported the request.
This was, in essence, a formal summons.
***
For seven days and nights, tension filled the vast Tang Clan estate, a domain larger than most manors.
“Arghhhhh!”
The blood-curdling scream of Tang Tae-duk, the former clan patriarch, echoed sharply through the air, piercing even the farthest corners of the estate.
Jeong Yeon-shin paused, halting his preparations to depart.
It was said that Duanzang Poison had been administered—a toxin true to its name, designed to induce excruciating pain as if severing one’s internal organs.
The strict laws of the Sichuan Tang Clan left no room for mercy.
These were not individuals prone to showing leniency, even if they had previously displayed softer sides to Jeong Yeon-shin.
He now fully understood that the Tang Clan’s infamous reputation stemmed from its razor-sharp decisiveness.
He considered himself fortunate that he had not encountered them as enemies.
Even the former patriarch could not escape punishment for colluding with the imperial court’s designated cults.
The execution followed the arrival of the Elder of Ipwang Fortress, who had been escorted to safety by Tang Clan experts.
This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.
Tang Unhwang, the clan leader, maintained an icy composure, balancing propriety with the need for decisive action.
The matter was concluded without further animosity toward Ipwang Fortress, and the debt of gratitude toward Jeong Yeon-shin as Seomye was duly honored.
Tang Unhwang had poisoned his own father, the elder patriarch of the clan, in full view of their household.
The judgment was carried out publicly, with all family members as witnesses.
The result was the agonized screams reverberating now.
Jeong Yeon-shin decided not to dwell on it. His priority was preparing for the journey ahead.
He stepped out of the hall where he had spent the past few days.
His strides cut through the summer breeze, unhesitating and firm, heading toward the grand gate of the Tang Clan estate, a battlefield just days prior.
“Commander.”
“Seomye!”
The martial artists of Ipwang Fortress, already prepared, greeted him with salutes and waves. Their formation was unique.
At the center stood a colossal carriage—a detail meticulously arranged under Jeong Yeon-shin’s supervision.
With the help of Ma Jin, Cheongmyeong, and Baek Mi-ryeo, he had organized the returning procession.
As the leader of the group, Jeong Yeon-shin bore the responsibility for their safe return.
Ma Jin had temporarily transferred the authority of Ma Gwang-ik’s commander role to him, a decision supported unanimously by the senior members.
They acknowledged the boy’s rapidly advancing martial prowess and the significant contributions he had made during the Myeonggondo incident.
In the martial world, mastery of martial arts often translated to tactical prowess, as one’s ability to perceive the battlefield correlated directly with their capacity for strategic thinking and action.
“Be especially cautious of any jolts or shocks,” an elderly physician warned urgently.
He stood near the three massive carriages in the center of the procession. To call them carriages was almost misleading—they were built with robust mahogany and spacious enough to comfortably accommodate five people lying down.
Each was outfitted with luxurious bedding, transforming them into opulent mobile resting places.
Within these carriages lay Ma Yeon-jeok, the Elder of Ipwang Fortress, and several severely injured experts.
In one carriage, Ma Jin, missing a limb, rested alongside other wounded figures like Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, who had sustained serious injuries during the battles.
The craftsmanship of the Myeonggondo artisans was evident in the carriages.
While most of these artisans stayed with the Tang Clan, twenty had chosen to accompany Jeong Yeon-shin’s group.
For the typically insular people of Sichuan, this decision was extraordinary. Their clan had chosen Ipwang Fortress as their next haven, an act of gratitude toward Ma Gwang-ik and the Hwanik Corps.
Including the servants and physicians provided by the Tang Clan, the returning party now numbered seventy strong.
“Thank you for your generosity,” Jeong Yeon-shin said, bowing respectfully to the elderly physician.
The old man waved dismissively, muttering that it was nothing compared to the aid the boy had provided.
“It’s nothing, truly. We still owe a debt to Ma the Great Hero and the young Elder. I’m just ashamed we couldn’t do more.”
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the area as dozens of Tang Clan experts released their qi.
It seemed the execution of Tang Tae-duk had concluded.
Tang Unhwang, with the Twin Venoms of Yongbong by his side, landed at the forefront of the procession.
Behind them, the other Tang Clan martial artists raised their hands in formal salutes, their green sleeves brushing together audibly.
They had come to bid the party farewell.
Jeong Yeon-shin returned the gesture, clasping his hands in a polite bow. There was no need for further words; farewells had already been exchanged.
“Benefactor, will you attend the Martial Alliance’s inaugural event?” Tang Leryeo asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure.”
“We’ll be there,” Tang Yeo-hwa murmured wistfully. “It would be great if you could join us.”
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a faint smile and patted the twins on their heads.
Their faces flushed slightly at the gesture.
“Safe travels, Commander.”
“May fortune accompany you, Benefactor,” Tang Unhwang said, offering a slight nod as a rare smile flickered across his lips.
Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward, his back straight and his black robe fluttering lightly.
At his waist hung the Beomyeong Sword, transformed into the Divine Sword, its silver hilt gleaming under the scorching summer sunlight.
“Let’s move out.”
His voice was calm and steady.
Behind him, the procession began to march. At his sides were Hyeon Won-chang, Namgung Hwa-shin, Tae Yeom-ryong, and Hong Jugeom.
The entourage moved with a grandeur surpassing even that of most escort groups.
The three massive carriages, each pulled by four powerful horses, were surrounded by layers of martial experts, artisans, servants, and physicians, forming a triple-layered defense.
The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed as the group departed the Tang Clan estate.
The slow pace was necessary due to the poor condition of the two gravely injured elders.
As they advanced onto the wide highway that cut straight through Sichuan’s main city, they drew considerable attention.
“Who are they? That’s the road leading from the Tang Clan estate.”
“Look at their uniforms! Those are Ipwang Fortress martial artists.”
“And those carriages... Could they be carrying the Great Hero?”
The bustling road was filled with traders, peddlers, innkeepers stretching after a long day, and wandering martial artists.
All eyes turned toward the procession.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked silently at the forefront, gripping his sword. He was ready to draw at the first sign of trouble.
Finally, the return mission as Hwanik Corps Commander was nearing its end.
Though the sky was clear and blue, his heart felt heavy.
The recent conflicts in Sichuan had sent ripples through the martial world.
The sight of Ma Yeon-jeok, reduced to a frail figure, had been witnessed by the Tenfold Gate.
“We must remain vigilant.”
Ipwang Fortress had many enemies, and even opportunistic fools could pose a threat.
Jeong Yeon-shin reminded himself to stay cautious, recalling the Tang Clan physician’s warning.
“Greetings to the martial artists of Ipwang Fortress.”
The interruption came from the left flank.
Three figures approached with light, swift movements, exuding a formidable aura.
At their head was a swordswoman with flowing black hair, wearing a scarlet silk robe and carrying a dark sword at her waist.
“I am Chui So-ok of the Qingcheng Sect,” she said, bowing gracefully.
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent, his focus unbroken as he continued walking.
“May I inquire about your purpose?” he asked flatly.
The swordswoman’s polite demeanor faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered.
“I have long admired the Great Hero’s swordsmanship and wished to pay my respects,” she said, her tone tinged with sincerity.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s response was curt.
“Leave.”
His cold dismissal left the group momentarily stunned.
Only Hyeon Won-chang, who had known the boy for some time, understood the gravity of his recent experiences.
“Commander suggests that the timing is unfavorable. Perhaps another day,” Hyeon Won-chang interjected diplomatically.
From atop one of the carriages, Tae Yeom-ryong let out a hearty laugh, pausing mid-bite on a poppy seed cake.