A Day Later.
The boy who returned leading three grand carriages had become a sensation. The procession itself was extraordinary.
As the acting commander of the hastily assembled Hwanik Squad, Jeong Yeon-shin had rescued many of the Ma Gwang-ik elites. Rumors claimed that the former Swordmaster Commander and the Elder Council Leader, now drained of their strength, were inside the carriages.
If the rumors were true, he had achieved an unprecedented feat.
"I'd like to know the exact details, but the General Directorate is dragging their feet on announcing the merits. It's only been a day, but still..."
The wide streets of the inner fortress were filled with groups of martial artists gathered here and there.
Beneath the late summer sun as the Mid-Autumn Festival approached, they leaned casually against walls or stood straight, engaging in animated discussions.
"I returned from a mission only to find my juniors gone. This Hwanik Squad business—if their performance doesn't match the urgent drafting, there'll be trouble. Our commander looked furious, utterly seething."
"Isn't rescuing Ma Gwang-ik's squad already an overwhelming accomplishment? They say they nearly wiped out the Thirteen Heavens. Word is that the Sunmarion and Ten Gates suffered heavy casualties."
"They say the Blade Demon and Sunmarion Sovereign were slain by Seomye's hands. If that's true, the boy could rightly claim the rank of a commander. Genius or not, his growth speed is baffling. I witnessed his White Rank trial myself, and..."
"The journey to Sichuan is so far; it's frustrating. Our White Kirin and Shin Bin-bin have kept their mouths shut. Hasn't anyone heard the full story?"
Meanwhile, the Sword Empress and her group claimed only a fraction of the attention.
Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin, clad in black robes with one sleeve cut off, left a strong impression. Even the Younger Generation of the Nine Clans couldn’t find an opportunity to interject.
Even elders who had cultivated martial arts for decades and were revered as hermit-sages in civilian circles could only watch from the sidelines.
“Let’s go,” the Sword Empress said.
She had been observing the numerous Blue and White Rank warriors. To her sides, the Sabre Spirit and the Swordsman of Mount Tianzang accompanied her as guards.
Only at that point did the sharp eyes of many high-ranking Ipwang Fortress martial artists focus on them.
This was the leeway granted to the Nine Clans. If it had been a minor sect or an outsider, covert surveillance would have been the least of their concerns.
"There’s discipline here. The ability to gather this many masters under one banner is... truly fearsome."
The youth in blue martial attire, known for his title Heavenly Blade of Tianzang, muttered to himself.
"The single most powerful sect. No one in the world disputes this. If the sect's goal weren’t maintaining order across the central plains, we might all have to bow our heads. Thankfully, their forces are scattered. That’s what the Alliance Assembly and the Thirteen Heavens are exploiting."
The Swordsman of Mount Tianzang murmured in agreement.
The Tianzang party wandered the fortress within the boundaries permitted to them and eventually returned to their quarters—a detached building near the General Directorate.
The accommodations, albeit good, made their position clear: they were guests, not equals.
A small pavilion surrounded by a pond fed by the river caught sunlight, but the three disciples of Tianzang sat on rocks by the water, paying the scenery no mind.
"Here in Ipwang Fortress, they’ve quietly cultivated an unparalleled talent: Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin..."
The swordsman, dressed in white, trailed off as he glanced toward the Sword Empress.
Her calm disposition was well-known within the Tianzang sect. When her fellow disciples ventured into the martial world, she was often tasked with accompanying them as a steady guide.
Among her peers, Sword Empress Chu So-ok was one of the few capable of reigning in her seniors' excesses.
"It’s hard to predict what kind of impact he’ll have on the martial world. An unexpected rising star. If he participates in the Alliance’s Sect Competition, he’ll be stepping onto the central stage of the martial world. How will the righteous sects respond?"
"Can we even call him a rising star anymore? Saying we’ve failed to build a connection with him is just arrogance. What are you worried about, though?"
The Sword Empress absently traced the rock she sat on as she posed her question.
The swordsman swallowed nervously.
"I’m concerned about the stance the Alliance might take. From what I see, Seomye will likely head toward the Martial Alliance soon."
"And why is that a problem?"
"The kind of master representing the Alliance in the Sect Competition could change everything."
"Martial arts are always like that, whether among the righteous sects, the unorthodox, or the outsiders."
The Sword Empress’s voice flowed in a rhythmic cadence. The swordsman sighed deeply.
"True, we were the ones who picked the fight, and Seomye’s group didn’t behave poorly. It doesn’t make sense to hastily antagonize them. However, the Alliance might not see it that way."
"Considering they were founded in response to the annihilation of the Hwangbo Clan and the purge of the Namgung lineage..."
The Sabre Spirit, trying to appear composed after his earlier defeat to Tae Yeom-ryong, added in a neutral tone.
The Sword Empress gave a small laugh, finding her junior endearing.
"True. For appearances, they’ll find it difficult to align closely with Ipwang Fortress."
"But the fact that Seomye is a tempestuous young master is another issue entirely."
"Ah."
For a moment, the Sword Empress chuckled blankly. She swept her hair back as it fell across her shoulder.
"Is that what worries you? It’s true. If he behaves toward the elders of the righteous sects the way he did with the Sunmarion Sovereign...?"
Her lips curved into a wry smile before parting slightly.
"Hyaa."
A curious sound escaped her, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Her juniors reacted predictably: the Sabre Spirit blushed and looked away, while the swordsman sighed deeply.
"If something major happens during the Sect Competition... what stance should our Nine Clans take?"
"Well, first, he needs to ascend to the Black Rank, doesn’t he? To represent in the Martial Alliance’s Sect Competition, I mean. I heard he hasn’t officially assumed the title of commander yet."
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
The voice came from across the pond. A man in blue martial robes approached with a poised gait.
He radiated an aura of refinement, his sharp chin and smooth features setting him apart. His pale skin contrasted with his sharp demeanor, and his high nose carried the confidence of a swordsman.
"Everyone in their group seems extraordinary. If Seomye matures further, he might surpass even Namgung Hwa-shin. Maybe we should call them the Flower Squadron instead of Hwanik Squad. They’re all exceptional swordsmen, after all."
The Sword Empress murmured absently, her gaze dreamy, while the swordsman beside her lowered his head with a faint groan.
The Sabre Spirit bit his lip lightly before stepping forward.
"White Kirin Namgung Hwa-shin. What brings you here?"
"I’ve come to escort you. The Black Rank Promotion Test is about to begin."
Even the weight of his voice exuded the majesty of a formidable master. Namgung Hwa-shin’s jet-black eyes scanned the Tianzang disciples.
It was a statement bound to catch attention. Interest flickered in the eyes of the Tianzang masters.
Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.
"You’re allowing outsiders to witness such a test?"
The swordsman stepped forward beside the Sabre Spirit. Namgung Hwa-shin gave a small nod.
"A suggestion slipped during a discussion with the commander. I volunteered to deliver the message, but I assure you, it has the approval of the General Directorate."
"The commander you speak of..."
The Sword Empress rose slowly, her gaze alight with curiosity, like stars twinkling in the night.
"Do you mean Suncheon Ik-ju, or the Hwanik Commander?"
"...Neither. Former Commander Ma Gwang-ik."
Namgung Hwa-shin replied calmly.
***
The boy, now dressed in a blue martial robe, walked down a long corridor.
The polished wooden flooring beneath his feet shimmered with a dark sheen, evoking an antique elegance. Despite being laid over stone, the surface was smooth, reflecting meticulous upkeep.
The corridor stretched endlessly. At his usual walking pace, its end seemed almost unreachable.
Ahead, a servant hurriedly led the way, his steps quick and precise.
“Are you certain I am suitable for this task?”
Hyeon Won-chang, walking beside the boy, suddenly broke the silence. Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slightly, his tone calm as he responded.
“Taeyeomryong is merely an unnamed disciple and therefore unfit. Shin So-bin, being from the prestigious Shin family, might give the impression of relying on their influence. The other seniors are burdensome because of their rank. There’s no one else I can entrust this role to but you, Hyeon So-hyeop.”
“What about Namgung So-hyeop?”
“He is of Suncheon Ik.”
“Hmm.”
“The Hwanik Corps has been officially disbanded. It’s only natural, given that each member has returned to their respective main divisions. The assistance they’ve provided me up until now is a debt I’ll likely never repay in my lifetime.”
The boy’s words carried a quiet sincerity. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Hyeon Won-chang’s lips.
“Then I’ll ensure I support you better than anyone else. Not that standing by your side is a particularly demanding task,” he added with a playful shrug.
“I’ve always trusted you.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s statement was heartfelt.
Having entered Ipwang Fortress alongside Hyeon Won-chang, there was something peculiar about him. Though his martial prowess wasn’t extraordinary, he never seemed like someone who would die an untimely death. Sometimes, his claim about preserving seventy percent of his innate energy felt oddly believable.
Hyeon Won-chang, the Upright Hero of Ipwang Fortress.
‘His character is what sets him apart.’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought, reflecting on how rare it was to encounter someone so virtuous among the experts he had met.
Save for exceptions like Ju Yeon-jeong of the Ipwang Ma Clan, nearly everyone he encountered had offered him their strength. His good fortune seemed almost excessive, as if mere words couldn’t describe it. Truly, he was lucky.
Thud.
At last, they reached the end of the corridor. A grand door loomed before them, its surface decorated with a golden carving of a dragon’s head as its handle. The door itself was massive, likely spanning a full jang in height.
“This is the place.”
The servant stepped aside, bowing deeply.
Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated briefly. The sheer presence emanating from beyond the door made his body pause instinctively. The source of the energy was clear—there were many individuals inside, far more than just one or two.
The boy wondered for a moment if the people he was about to meet would resemble the experts he had encountered thus far in Ipwang Fortress.
‘No.’
He shook his head internally. They couldn’t possibly be the same.
The martial world of Ming China was vast and unpredictable, filled with individuals whose values and behaviors defied categorization. Not even the most revered teachings could encompass the myriad personalities within it.
Among these, the individuality of martial experts stood out the most. These were people who transcended human limitations, wielding supernatural principles and immense strength. Such uniqueness was only natural.
And among these individuals, the seventeen grandmasters of Ipwang Fortress were undoubtedly exceptional.
‘They won’t be inferior to anyone.’
Jeong Yeon-shin grasped the dragon’s head handle. It felt cool to the touch, as though the golden material absorbed the cold presence of those within. Almost immediately, it began to warm under his hand, a reflection of the formidable figures on the other side.
“......”
The door opened noiselessly, a testament to its meticulous maintenance.
Jeong Yeon-shin surveyed the scene before him. At the center of the room was a colossal round table, its size large enough for more than a dozen people to lie atop comfortably. Surrounding it were towering chairs with backs carved from white marble, each imposing and reminiscent of thrones belonging to prominent sect leaders.
There were eighteen seats in total.
The table belonged to the Grand Assembly of Ipwang Fortress, where only the highest-ranked members convened. Even the assignments for Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin during their initiation were determined here.
“Hmm.”
Hyeon Won-chang, standing behind him, let out a low groan.
Jeong Yeon-shin understood why. The chamber was saturated with an overwhelming concentration of qi, the likes of which were unmatched anywhere else.
Though only six of the eighteen seats were occupied, the room still felt as though it brimmed with an overwhelming presence.
Twelve pairs of eyes turned toward the boy.
Seated figures of immense authority, alongside the towering experts standing by their sides, regarded him with piercing gazes. The oppressive energy they exuded was akin to a towering tidal wave.
‘Six.’
The six individuals dressed in flowing black robes etched themselves into Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision. Among them were three women and three men, each with their unique bearing.
One man lounged lazily in his chair, observing the boy with only his gaze. Another woman sat upright, her regal composure unwavering. Meanwhile, a young girl perched with one knee up, her chin resting on her hand, studying him with keen interest.
These were the Black-Robed Elders of Ipwang Fortress, known for their unparalleled strength.
‘The strength of six alone is unimaginable.’
Even as his allies, their mere presence carried an exceptional weight.
Then, one of them spoke.
“No disrespect to you, but...”
The voice came from a man with sharp, blade-like eyebrows. A pure white sword rested across his lap.
“You’ve set your sights on taking one of my subordinates, as though you’ve already ascended to the rank of a Black-Robed Elder yourself. Even if you were, such arrogance is unbecoming.”
Jeong Yeon-shin recognized the speaker. Though they had never met, he knew the face well.
‘Suncheon Ikju, Ha Do-un.’
Namgung Hwa-shin’s direct superior, renowned for his mastery of the Baekbyeok Gwanggeomse (White Lightning Sword Technique). His reputation included massacring three hundred soldiers of the Simmuryun faction in half a day—a feat that earned him the nickname White Lightning Sword Demon in some circles.
Ha Do-un’s cold gaze bore into Jeong Yeon-shin.
“I intend to teach my junior a lesson in manners. If any other elder wishes to intervene, speak now.”
“......”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s thoughts were conflicted. He felt both a pang of guilt and a flicker of irritation.
‘What could Namgung So-hyeop have possibly done this time?’
The suppressed emotions he had long buried were beginning to surface, spurred by the hardships of his recent journey.
Even as he struggled to compose himself, a faint aura stirred within him—a swirling light that manifested as a blade in his mind’s eye.
Without meaning to, he exuded an almost imperceptible ripple of energy.
‘Hocheo.’
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze met Ha Do-un’s, the elder’s sword flashed as he stood abruptly.
“Hmm?”
“What’s this? Are you planning to draw blood already?”
The other elders furrowed their brows, their attention shifting sharply. Ha Do-un’s sweeping gaze scanned the room before his sword was slowly sheathed again.
His eyes lingered on Jeong Yeon-shin, scrutinizing him as though to say, ‘I know you’ve done something.’
“What just happened?”
Beside him, Hyeon Won-chang muttered in confusion, his voice loud enough to echo in the hall. Ha Do-un’s expression briefly flickered at the sound.
‘Hyeon So-hyeop is more like an elder brother than any sibling could be.’
Feigning indifference, Jeong Yeon-shin marveled internally. In that fleeting moment, he had learned something valuable.
‘So that’s how you provoke someone.’