‘Humiliation, she said.’
The term, more fitting for thugs in back alleys than high-ranking martial artists, strangely suited Ak Su-rim.
With a composed motion, Jeong Yeon-shin offered a martial salute to Ak Su-rim, a gesture of gratitude for her encouragement.
“I have a question,” he said.
“Hm? What is it?” she asked.
“It’s about the Great Return Pill offered as a reward for the Sect Opening Tournament. Can I use it personally?”
The moment he spoke, Kya-hahaha! Ak Su-rim burst into laughter. Her short black hair shook wildly as she doubled over, repeatedly slapping Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.
The boy stood silently, his gaze fixed on her lips. Her breaths came in bursts, interrupted by her guffaws, yet she didn’t seem to inhale at all.
It was an eerie display of her profound internal cultivation, evident even in this bizarre moment.
“Your arrogance suits you surprisingly well,” Ak Su-rim said, her tone still tinged with mirth. Then, she asked, “You plan to take it for yourself?”
“I heard it’s excellent for vitality. I intended to give it to my grandfather.”
“Ha.”
A small sigh escaped her lips, and her gaze softened.
“Old man Ma likely has every rare herb and miracle cure under the sun, but there’s nothing quite like the Great Return Pill. You’ve grown up well, haven’t you? Forgiving your messy maternal family... At least we won’t have to worry about you causing trouble.”
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent, even as Ma Jin coughed awkwardly beside him.
Ak Su-rim placed a hand on her hip, her other still holding her spear.
“Of course, it’s yours to decide. The Great Return Pill isn’t the mission’s objective. Just attending the Sect Opening Tournament as our emissary, observing the Martial Alliance, and deflating their morale as a young prodigy is enough. Honestly, your grandfather must have incredible luck in his twilight years. He didn’t earn much virtue in his youth, you know? Do you have any idea how much I suffered under the previous Shin Sword Corps Commander?”
She grumbled, even knitting her brow.
“He’s too blessed in his old age. I’ve been waiting for a chance to settle the score, but what should I do?”
“Thank you for the clarification. Then, I’ll...”
“Ah.”
As Jeong Yeon-shin turned to leave, she let out a low exclamation and narrowed her eyes, giving him a once-over that felt oddly provocative.
“If the grandson marries the Deputy Commander of the Shin Sword Corps,” she said with a smirk, “wouldn’t that make the old man jump out of his grave? He hated me, you know? Called me a disobedient subordinate.”
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin stared at his senior.
Lately, he had felt an odd ache in his knees, a sensation he hadn’t experienced since childhood. Watching a girl-like elder talk about marriage stirred something within him.
‘So this is noticing the opposite sex. I’m getting older.’
It was another realization of growth. It wasn’t just his limbs that were maturing.
Strange emotions swirled within him. Previously, he had never been self-conscious around women. It was bewildering and slightly terrifying.
With this natural change came a heightened awareness of mortality, like a chill running down his spine. The sensation climbed to the top of his head, sending shivers through his Baihui Acupoint.
‘Please, go away.’
As he stood momentarily dazed, Ak Su-rim’s smirk deepened. She gave a faint chuckle, patted his shoulder lightly, and turned away.
The soft rustling of her robes accompanied her departure, her voice lilting like a lark’s song.
“Look at that face. I could say anything, couldn’t I?”
“Not banter, but teasing,” Ma Jin said, shaking his head.
And with that, it was over.
The Great Return Pill was an invaluable treasure, and Jeong Yeon-shin had been unsure about claiming it for personal use. It was a question that required confirmation. If the pill couldn’t be brought into the fortress for private consumption, he would have had to find another way.
‘That settles it.’
With the tension gone, he felt a sense of relief.
Having finalized the mission’s roster and set aside his mental burdens, he was now ready to set out again.
“Best of luck to you.”
“Wishing you all success, seniors.”
He exchanged farewells with Yullyeong Lord, Destruction Lord, Blue Sky Lord, and even the reluctant Suncheon Ik-ju, who returned his martial salute with a begrudging expression.
The first stormy Lord meeting had ended. Without delay, Jeong Yeon-shin began walking away, evading a hand from the Little Sword Empress that reached out to grab his collar.
“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow!” she called after him.
To the boy, it sounded less like an invitation to breakfast and more like the sound of a blade being unsheathed.
‘I’ll spar on the way to the Martial Alliance, if at all. Though I am curious about Jeomchang Sect’s swordsmanship.’
***
A young man of scholarly demeanor approached a small riverside.
He was a man of extraordinary beauty. His thin jawline lent him a delicate appearance, almost fragile.
Yet, his eyes betrayed that impression. In stark contrast to his refined features, his gaze flickered with a cold, colorless brilliance—a testament to his deeply cultivated inner power.
This was Jeongal Hyeon (Zhuge Xian), also known as Seonryong (The Fan Dragon), the eldest scion of the Zhuge family and the chief overseer of the Martial Alliance Assembly.
Hands clasped behind his back, he exuded an air of leisure and elegance, but this ease was only a facade.
As he shifted the white folding fan in his right hand to his back, the delicate spokes of the fan trembled slightly—not from the craftsmanship but from the weight of his thoughts.
Jeongal Hyeon’s fan, unlike the storied white-feathered fan of Zhuge Liang, lacked the serene grace of a masterpiece. Its subtle quivers betrayed its wielder's inner turmoil.
Steps in the Autumn Air
Jeongal Hyeon took cautious steps, savoring the autumn breeze.
Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.
The newborn season descended in radiant sunlight. Along a riverbank in Hanzhong, nestled within the Shaanxi Basin, the early autumn leaves fluttered above, their vibrant reds contrasting sharply against the azure sky.
This was the site of the Martial Alliance Headquarters, positioned in one of the most picturesque and strategic locations in the martial world.
The Zhuge family’s home, along with other renowned factions, had made Hanzhong a central hub for martial arts.
The headquarters stretched majestically along the tributaries of the Yangtze River, its grandeur evident in the sprawling clusters of pavilions on both sides of the river. It was an ever-expanding monument to the Alliance’s ambition.
But Jeongal Hyeon’s eyes paid no heed to this grandeur.
Instead, they lingered on the ground where the gifts of autumn had gathered—a particularly vivid maple leaf caught his attention.
The Leaf and Her
The beautiful youth bent down, his hand reaching for the leaf with care. When he held it aloft, the sunlight danced through its veins, casting a luminous red glow.
Straightening his back, Jeongal Hyeon stared at the leaf. Its vibrant hue, touched with dew, reminded him of someone.
"Like her."
For a while, he stood still, gazing at the leaf.
“You called for me?”
A soft, silken voice broke the tranquility of the riverside, sweeping away the gentle murmur of the flowing water.
Jeongal Hyeon turned gracefully, unfurling his fan in a single fluid motion.
What had been a serene landscape now seemed transformed into a living painting. His eyes reflected this illusion.
Before him stood a woman, her presence as stunning as a goddess descending from the heavens. Her white silk blindfold covered her eyes, yet it only accentuated her beauty, like a celestial being cast in mortal form.
Her long crimson hair, glowing like freshly woven silk, cascaded down her shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight.
Her radiant hair outshone even the maple leaves.
Jeongal Hyeon discreetly slipped the leaf into his sleeve, as if unwilling to let its beauty pale in comparison.
“Lady Ye (艺),” he greeted her with a calm yet reverent voice.
“I have decided to participate in the Sect Opening Tournament. If I win the Great Return Pill, it would be a mutually beneficial trade. You could heal your inner injuries, and I could gain the Zhuge family's assurance of your clan’s protection.”
The declaration carried the weight of a significant resolution.
Lady Ye’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“I’ve heard a rumor,” she said softly.
Her voice was as smooth as flowing water, but her words carried a subtle edge.
“That mastering the demonic arts of the Bloodflame Cult to a forbidden level can turn one’s hair black... and even grant regenerative powers.”
“Such jest is quite mischievous, my lady, especially at the heart of the Alliance Assembly,” Jeongal Hyeon replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
“Besides, your hair is beautiful as it is. It’s worlds apart from the murky red of those cultists. Surely, no one dares associate you with such filth. On the contrary, your followers grow in number by the day.”
Their conversation unfolded gently.
Jeongal Hyeon spoke more, while Lady Ye listened silently, interjecting occasionally with brief remarks. Yet, even these few words brightened his expression, as if her approval alone could illuminate his mood.
‘Naturally,’ Jeongal Hyeon thought, brushing aside any self-doubt.
Lady Ye wasn’t merely attractive; she was singular in her allure.
Their first meeting had been unforgettable—she had slapped him.
It happened during a gathering where the Ye Sword Sect had been invited to discuss the Sect Opening Tournament. He had made a misstep, carelessly suggesting that their young emissary, a boy prodigy from the imperial city, might be underestimated due to his age.
Lady Ye had delivered her rebuke without hesitation.
Her confidence, her strength despite her youth, and her unwavering grace despite her blindness—it all fascinated him.
Even without her sight, she could discern objects and people with uncanny precision. Her heightened senses and formidable cultivation were clear indicators of her mastery.
Jeongal Hyeon had no doubt: if she hadn’t been injured, she could have been his equal—or even his better.
“I hope you’ll watch the tournament comfortably,” he said with a soft smile.
He recalled recent news delivered by a spy from the Beggars’ Sect:
The Ma Gwang-ik of the imperial city was said to be a rising star, with martial prowess rivaling that of elders in major sects.
Though he hoped the boy wouldn’t attend, Jeongal Hyeon knew he had to be prepared.
‘I’ll find his weaknesses. A prodigy like that is bound to have blind spots. Still, it’d be best if he didn’t come at all.’
He pushed these thoughts aside and suggested Lady Ye accompany him back to the Zhuge family estate. Their residences were close, after all.
But she declined, shaking her head. She preferred to avoid the gaze of others.
Jeongal Hyeon reluctantly took his leave.
As he walked away, each step felt heavier than the last, yet he resisted the urge to glance back.
When he was finally far enough, a low voice murmured from behind him.
“Ridiculous wretch.”
It was the Seven Kill Apostle, her tone dripping with disdain.
***
The Ma Gwang-ik Pavilion in Ip Hwang Fortress was bustling like never before. Workers and unfamiliar martial artists moved about busily, with no one stepping in to stop them.
The martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik could only stand idly by, watching the influx of valuable treasures being carried in and out.
Even the senior martial artists, numbering over a dozen, and the twelve nameless disciples seemed equally stunned.
"What's all this about?"
Shin So-bin, who had just arrived from the training grounds, looked on with a keen interest.
Heon Won-chang shook his head and responded.
"Apparently, all of it is for Jung So-hyeop. They're even borrowing the courtyard to store everything because there's nowhere else to put it."
"Let’s see... That’s the household staff from the General Bureau, and even the Grand General’s personal guards. Looks like Seomye Senior’s achievements were the first to be settled. Since the rewards for contributions come from the General Bureau, all of this must be the fruits of the Sichuan expedition, right? Hmm..."
So-bin appeared deep in thought, tapping his chin as his eyes roved over the scene. His gaze sharpened as he observed the mix of workers and martial artists handling the treasures.
Coming from a prestigious family in the martial world, Shin So-bin had a sharp eye for the value of what was unfolding before him. He quickly began calculating the worth of the items being transported.
"That’s not just silk—that’s fabric woven from Heavenly Silkworm Thread! And that porcelain over there... that's imported white porcelain from the East. Wow, that’s incredibly rare. How did they manage to get that? Silver wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. Gold coins must be so scarce that they’re bartering treasures instead. Hmm? Wait, those people are Ma family martial artists, aren’t they? They’re carrying Boryeong Jade bundles and... Look at those armfuls of swords! Are they distributing those for training?"
"Exactly," came the reply from Ma Jin, who stood nearby with an ambiguous expression.
"The main family has finally come to its senses. They've sent unconditional support—completely comprehensive."
"Ah..."
Shin So-bin nodded in understanding.
"Now that I think about it, Seomye Senior—I mean, the Lord—is a blood relative of a famous clan, right? And the former Lord is about to ascend as the new clan leader. Is this Madam Ju trying to win favor by making a show of it?"
"Could be," Ma Jin replied, his tone casual yet noncommittal.
So-bin’s gaze shifted again. Only the area around the quarters where Jung Yeon-shin resided remained quiet. Four martial artists were stationed firmly in front of the room.
"Wolyong Unit...? They must have come with the General Bureau. But what could be so important that Wolyong guards are posted directly?"
The Wolyong Unit was the elite tasked with upholding the fortress's laws.
All of them wore blue robes, their disciplined presence evident in their stern expressions as they stood guard before the doors.
Ma Jin’s response was succinct.
"Small Return Pills (So Hwan Dan)."