To an unknowing onlooker, the Small Sword Queen might have appeared startled by her own recklessness. Her expression was strange enough to give that impression.
In this moment, the renowned swordswoman of Jianghu resembled neither a famed master nor a warrior. Instead, she looked like a common villager caught running along the roadside or frozen in place by sudden shock.
“It’s not a loss of confidence...”
Rather, it seemed as though she had been profoundly shaken. Why, Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t say.
“Does this mean you’ll follow us without resistance?”
The boy reverted to a polite tone as he asked.
Tae Yeom-ryong, who had been holding the nape of Cheonjil Sword Sa Do-ryeong’s neck, clicked his tongue. Leaning close to Sa Do-ryeong’s ear, he whispered mockingly, remarking how rare it was for someone to display such unpredictable behavior so effortlessly.
Sa Do-ryeong, his blood points sealed, glared furiously at his senior sister. The look in his eyes made his feelings obvious—this was not an event he ever thought he’d face.
“Yes... well,” the Small Sword Queen replied, a bright smile masking her earlier sweat-drenched state. “After experiencing the depth of your sword domain, my own recklessness now feels as vivid as a blooming flower.”
She smiled cheerfully, as though nothing had happened.
“Well, why not treat this as an opportunity to broaden my horizons? After all, it’s rare for disciples of the Nine Great Sects to set foot in Ipwang Fortress.”
“I will not tolerate rash actions,” Jeong Yeon-shin responded evenly.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
The Small Sword Queen’s lips curved into a thin smile, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“The Sect Wars of the Martial Alliance are still far off, are they not? Traveling Jianghu alongside masters of the righteous path doesn’t seem like a bad prospect.”
Her gaze toward Jeong Yeon-shin shifted. It was no longer the look of someone merely passing through a checkpoint before an audience with the Violet Highmaster. Instead, her eyes meticulously scanned him, reflecting her passion for martial arts more than any sense of wariness.
Even as a prisoner, she carried herself with the dignity of a swordswoman, her behavior rooted in her devotion to the craft.
After a faint sigh, she added, “If only my juniors weren’t here...”
Through their brief exchange of energy, Jeong Yeon-shin had already formed a tenuous understanding of her intentions. He immediately understood her meaning.
If Sa Do-ryeong and the Jeomchang Sword had not been subdued, she would have liked to test her blade against his.
“Completely different from the Sword Dragon.”
She spoke harsh truths without hesitation, grounded in her own values. Despite her current disadvantage, her zeal for swordsmanship burned brightly.
Namgung Hwa-shin stood nearby, holding her sword to the Jeomchang Sword’s throat. The latter’s previously stoic expression now seemed pitiful, her strong countenance wavering.
“Saja... (Senior Sister...)”
The Jeomchang Sword’s plea carried a mix of respect and despair, but Namgung Hwa-shin’s white blade did not waver. Her resolute aura reflected both her upbringing as a warrior of Ipwang Fortress and the steely resolve she had honed since the Myeonggondo incident.
The events of that day had not only transformed Jeong Yeon-shin; they had also hardened Namgung Hwa-shin’s resolve.
The death of her beloved half-brother, her inability to avenge her sister with her own hands, and the deaths of her comrades at Myeonggondo—all of it had shaped her into the warrior she was now.
Namgung Hwa-shin was growing alongside Jeong Yeon-shin, learning that in the turbulent world of Jianghu, only an unyielding blade could protect what mattered.
“That’s enough,” Jeong Yeon-shin said firmly.
At his command, Namgung Hwa-shin withdrew her sword. The clear ring of her blade echoed as it traced a graceful arc back into its sheath—a testament to her mastery.
Tae Yeom-ryong released Sa Do-ryeong with a dismissive tap to his nape, unsealing his blood points.
“You...!”
Sa Do-ryeong’s hand darted to his sword hilt, his movements nearly spasmodic.
But he couldn’t draw.
The sight of Tae Yeom-ryong’s dull, lifeless eyes stopped him cold. The playful banter Tae Yeom-ryong shared with Jeong Yeon-shin was gone. What remained was the stark, dry flame of someone who had long resigned themselves to a short life. The uncolored gleam in his eyes radiated a chilling authority.
“I have fond memories of the Nine Great Sects,” Tae Yeom-ryong said, his words carrying the oppressive heat of the Solar Veins’ Fiery Yang Energy. “Do not tarnish the reputation of the great sects in the mountains.”
His voice was slow and languid, yet carried the weight of a scion of a great martial family. Sa Do-ryeong’s expression faltered.
Eventually, Sa Do-ryeong released his grip on his sword hilt, lowering his head slowly.
“Well done. Quite docile,” Tae Yeom-ryong teased before stepping back. Hyeon Won-chang, watching nearby, gave him a nod of approval.
“You’re quite sharp for an unheralded junior. You’ll make a decent successor.”
“...”
Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin observed the Small Sword Queen, who was conversing with the Jeomchang Sword.
“You did well, Saja. I’ve weighed the risks, and there was nothing to gain from clashing with Ipwang Fortress here,” said the Jeomchang Sword, her clear eyes betraying her calculated nature.
The Small Sword Queen absently fiddled with her sword and replied casually, “Oh, really?”
“As disciples of the righteous path, we cannot engage in a baseless fight. It would bring disgrace to our sect.”
“Ah... yes, of course.”
“Even if fortune had favored us and we won, the consequences afterward would have been severe. And had we lost publicly, there would be no greater shame. Honestly, I believe you would have lost. Just the black cloak of Ipwang Fortress alone suggests the rumors about Seomye are no exaggeration.”
The Jeomchang Sword’s eyes briefly met Jeong Yeon-shin’s, only for her to quickly avert her gaze as if looking at a thunderstorm waiting to strike.
“Surely traveling together is better than being dragged along. Saja, I warned you against indulging your curiosity.”
“My apologies, my apologies.”
“It is fortunate that you made the right decision in the end. Ipwang Fortress treats the Nine Great Sects relatively well. We can stay briefly in Yangyang and then proceed to the Sect Wars of the Martial Alliance.”
“Hmm... yes, that’s right.”
The Small Sword Queen turned her head, glancing at Jeong Yeon-shin with a faint smile.
Their eyes met, and the boy gave her a slight nod.
There was a reason he had been patient.
The addition of Jeomchang Sect’s representatives created opportunities. Traveling Jianghu with a small, elite force from Ipwang Fortress was one thing, but adding figures of importance from the Nine Great Sects to the party significantly changed their position.
It brought about a profound shift—one that favored avoiding direct conflict.
“In a very good way.”
Moreover, Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t even needed to cross swords with the Small Sword Queen. Their cooperation turned into an alliance. The next heir to Jeomchang Sect’s leadership now walked alongside him.
With Jeomchang Sect as a potential ally, the journey ahead would undoubtedly become smoother.
This was a fortunate turn.
Compared to the vast expanse of the realm, Ipwang Fortress was small. To counter the lesser clans and mid-tier sects scattered across the land, the influence of the Nine Great Sects carried far greater weight.
Outside of Huguang, where Ipwang Fortress was rooted, the Nine Great Sects’ lofty reputation was undeniably a resource worth leveraging.
“Ah... where should I walk?”
The Small Sword Queen hesitated, stepping forward tentatively. Her wary glances toward the sword at Jeong Yeon-shin’s waist betrayed her interests.
It was clear: she was curious about the sword and the martial arts it embodied.
Her desire to meet masters of the Violet Highmasters was undoubtedly rooted in similar motivations.
“You’ll lead the way,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied curtly.
“...Couldn’t I walk beside you instead? Your grip on the sword seems rather unique.”
Her remark was oddly out of place, likely referencing Jeong Yeon-shin’s Gwanghwa Sword Style. The boy shook his head, dismissing the idea.
“You’ll lead,” he repeated.
“But I’m curious about your swordsmanship. Can’t we get to know each other better?”
Her tone had completely relaxed. Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t respond. There was no need to indulge her eccentric personality.
He turned to the drivers of the carriages, signaling them with a nod to resume the journey.
“Move out!”
The procession began to advance again, the thundering hoofbeats scattering the curious onlookers who had been watching from a distance.
“Agh, there’s no one else my age who interests me this much...”
The Small Sword Queen, mumbling to herself, was pushed forward by the Jeomchang Sword, who sighed heavily at her unruly senior sister.
And so, the party from Jeomchang Sect joined the journey.
What had initially been a decision born of pragmatism quickly yielded astonishing results.
For seven days and nights, Jeong Yeon-shin’s party encountered no further interruptions.
***
"Already at Yangyang?"
Hyeon Won-chang muttered, walking alongside Jeong Yeon-shin.
A warm breeze brushed across the hero’s forehead, rustling the martial headband tied firmly there. The once tranquil mountain path now resonated with the rhythmic clatter of hooves.
The atmosphere was serene, almost leisurely.
“The arrangement is proving useful,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought, gazing at the disciples of Jeomchang Sect walking ahead.
He had initially anticipated some degree of pursuit. In the regional martial world, Ipwang Fortress wasn’t an untouchable power. Two main types of sects might dare to challenge it: smaller sects unaware of the world’s vastness, and larger factions calculating opportune moments to act.
The world was indeed expansive, vast beyond measure. Small sects might foolishly provoke them in pursuit of fame, while grand sects could consider assassination or annihilation when the time was right.
“...Nothing has happened. It’s almost boring now.”
Tae Yeom-ryong reclined atop the lead carriage’s roof, using his arm as a pillow.
From Yunnan to the far reaches of Sichuan, the name of Jeomchang Sect held immense weight, comparable to noble families who privately claimed royal lineage. A figure like the Small Sword Queen was akin to a royal heir—a supremely noble status.
Now, with the destruction of much of the Thirteen Heavens of Demonic Marauders in Sichuan, that prestige was even more significant.
From a distance, the sound of long hair swaying reached him.
“Jeong Gongja...! A spar, perhaps—no, never mind.”
The Small Sword Queen turned back, her expression soft yet awkward, only to spin around abruptly when she remembered that Jeong Yeon-shin’s grandfather was resting in the lead carriage.
Clearly, she had been restraining herself for some time. Fascinated by the fleeting display of Gwanghwa Sword Style during their earlier exchange of energy, she had been itching to test her blade against his. Yet, bound by martial decorum, she couldn’t outright ask about the origin of his technique.
Instead, her desire to spar with him hung like a lingering cloud.
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t reply.
Unlike figures such as the Sword Dragon Wei Ji Myo-hwa or Namgung Se-jin, the Small Sword Queen failed to inspire much feeling in him.
Though celebrated for her martial fame, to him, she remained an enigmatic and peculiar figure.
He regarded her simply as a highly effective tool.
“Because that’s exactly what she is,” he thought plainly.
Just then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
“There you are, Mi-ryeo.”
To the left of the road ahead, where the mountain path widened, a figure emerged like a mirage from the Great Desert beyond the Great Wall.
The woman resembled the Westerners of the Mara Sect, though her hair was the dark black of Zhongyuan rather than their typical blonde. However, her striking blue eyes betrayed her origins.
Her posture, slightly slouched, exuded a casual arrogance unbefitting a leader of any significant sect.
And yet, Jeong Yeon-shin instantly recognized her.
“The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect.”
He immediately activated the rotation of his Gwangryun Energy. Disaster loomed. The aura she exuded bore a resemblance to the energy of Baek Mi-ryeo, his senior, but it was far deeper and more profound.
He quickly surmised her identity.
The Pure Devil Sect’s leader, sensing his gaze, smiled and stepped out of the underbrush. Her sharp features and elegant jawline bore a striking resemblance to Baek Mi-ryeo’s.
“So, you’re the one who shattered my sect’s forces. Your reputation precedes you, as if your martial name seeks to pierce the heavens of Sichuan.”
Her presence was overwhelming.
Whoosh!
An invisible gale swept forth, carrying an almost tangible pressure that seemed to reverse and press down upon Jeong Yeon-shin’s Gwangryun Energy. The demonic energy she commanded was impossibly deep for any human to cultivate.
“Let’s see how well you can handle this.”
The Pure Devil Sect’s Lord smiled as she unleashed her energy. It was a force comparable to the Bloodflame Cult’s leader, a peerless master revealing her true might.
“Kgh...”
“Pure Devil Sect’s leader...!”
Gasps erupted from the Jeomchang disciples and Ipwang Fortress warriors who had been walking ahead. Some even fell to their knees as if compelled by the oppressive aura, as though in the presence of royalty.
“Even though we received reports... to think she’d...”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t look directly at her. For once, his gaze moved past her shoulder, an uncharacteristic flicker of surprise in his eyes.
When did she appear?
Could she be here to investigate the details of Ma Yeon-jeok’s presence? Or was she already targeting the Pure Devil Sect’s leader, waiting for the moment to act?
All of his conjectures were swept aside by the arrival of another figure, whose presence eclipsed everything else.
Unexpectedly, and yet precisely on time.
Standing with an air of immaculate grace, she entered the scene.
Her striking beauty, like an immortal’s, immediately drew the eye. Beneath the shade of a cypress tree, her long, light-green hair shone even in the dim light, and her deep green eyes seemed to silence the entire mountain.
“A body so finely honed—it’s astonishing. Your aura alone could contend with the Demon Marauder,” the Pure Devil Sect’s Lord remarked with a smile.
From behind her, someone stepped forward.
The Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress.
Walking softly, she emerged from the shadows, sunlight dancing across the gleaming blade of her divine sword.