The office of Ma Gwang-ik was an unusual place.
It was filled with the mingling scents of ink, metal, and oil. A peculiar aroma drifted over the furniture, including the stone-carved desk.
Where multiple swords belonging to Ma Jin had once hung, the walls were now lined with the treasured swords of the Ipwang Ma Clan.
There were over ten of them, filling the precious stone racks completely.
Swords are typically consumables, prone to wear and tear. The letter accompanying the gift from the Ma Clan acknowledged this.
It stated that the swords were meant to be used in martial practice and sparring, presented to the new Da-ju as a gesture of support.
The letter explicitly pledged unwavering backing for Jeong Yeon-shin. It bore the names of Ju Yeon-jeong, the mother of Ma Se-in, and the elders of the main family.
Those who once held their noses high had signed it like a public manifesto, pledging their support unconditionally. They claimed they sought nothing in return.
"So, all it takes is connections and status."
Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t believe it had been resolved so easily.
Seated, the young man pondered two reasons for this outcome.
The first was, of course, the appointment of Ma Gwang-ik. As the Seventeenth Da-ju of the Shin Geom Dan, he was an elite martial artist powerful enough to dominate any prominent faction.
As a high-ranking figure of Ipwang Fortress, martial artists treated him as one of its leaders.
With his status having risen so dramatically, no one dared criticize Jeong Yeon-shin's background or concoct schemes against him.
Now, any family or sect had two choices: either risk everything to oppose him or welcome him as an honored guest.
Ma Gwang-ik Jeong Yeon-shin had become a figure of such stature.
"...You’ve done well. This is how approvals are handled. Your penmanship is elegant, Yeon-shin, so I won’t have to worry about you drafting official correspondence."
The second reason sat directly before him—Ma Jin's assumption of the Ma Clan's leadership. Ma Jin was currently transferring the duties of Ma Gwang-ik to Jeong Yeon-shin.
The condition of Ma Yeon-jeok, Ma Jin's predecessor, had deteriorated to the point where he needed to focus solely on recuperation.
However, Ma Se-in, who was being groomed as the next clan leader, was still far too young.
That a peer of Ma Se-in’s age had been appointed as Da-ju, despite being fully trained as a warrior, was nothing short of revolutionary.
This decision stood apart, even when compared to the recent rise of the deputy sect leader of the Bright Sect.
"Se-in must be under a lot of pressure. The need to grow must weigh heavily on them."
Jeong Yeon-shin was acutely aware of the burden on his friend, Ma Se-in. Until Se-in matured, Ma Jin would serve as the Ma Clan's leader.
Meanwhile, the prosthetic arm being developed by the artisans of Myunggong-do was nearing completion. Although Ma Jin had lost his left arm, causing disruption in his internal energy channels, he would likely regain his full martial prowess by the time he stepped down.
The young man, reflecting on the events of the Da-ju Assembly, found himself silently relieved.
He often imagined what might have happened if he hadn’t overcome the curse that plagued him.
Such thoughts only deepened his attachment to his comrades and family. He went out of his way not to show it, but they all held an irreplaceable place in his heart.
"I’m grateful."
A fleeting warmth touched his eyes, and his lips curled ever so slightly.
It was a rare occurrence, but Ma Jin, with his seasoned observational skills, caught the moment.
"You little rascal."
The stern lines of Ma Jin’s face softened. For a man known as Naraksal, the next leader of the Ma Clan, his expression now bore no trace of the undefeated martial master he was famed to be. Instead, it reflected the gaze of an uncle doting on his nephew.
With a faint smile, Ma Jin offered his advice.
"The higher up you go, the more importance is placed on mastering both martial and scholarly arts. While you don’t need to reach lofty academic heights, your understanding of reason and the quality of your writing will be scrutinized. This is particularly true of those from prominent families or the imperial court. You’ll encounter such individuals endlessly in the future."
"The imperial court?"
"Da-jus of Ipwang Fortress hold special privileges. If a corrupt official obstructs your duties, you can execute them on the spot under the authority of the Black Rank."
It was an extraordinary privilege. It ran counter to the Great Ming Code and the current policies of the imperial family.
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the noble magistrate from the Hwangbo Clan who had caused a commotion. He had obstructed Jeong Yeon-shin’s mission as the husband of the magistrate’s branch leader. Had Cheongmyeong not been present, Jeong Yeon-shin might have faced significant difficulties.
"So, there’s nothing holding me back anymore."
He felt a sense of liberation as he listened silently to Ma Jin's explanation.
"There are only two conditions. You need a plausible pretext and an environment with few witnesses. After that, nonexistent causes will materialize naturally. It’s a frighteningly seamless process. The imperial secret police, Dongchang and Jinyiwei, will handle the covert operations. They’ll ensure the target’s death appears unrelated to Ipwang Fortress."
It was chilling. Though he had known of it vaguely, hearing it directly exceeded his expectations.
Dongchang and Jinyiwei—institutions that ruled Beijing, where the Forbidden City stood, as if they were grim reapers.
They wielded powers exceeding the Great Ming Code, enforcing the emperor’s will. Even the highest-ranking officials called them emissaries of the afterlife.
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
The emperor’s sword, in collaboration with Ipwang Fortress’s Da-jus, was an unparalleled power.
However, Ma Jin’s expression grew somewhat somber. The scars on his forehead furrowed slightly, a trace of concern shadowing his face.
"I mentioned your penmanship, didn’t I? Yeon-shin, you mustn’t let the imperial court underestimate you. If you’re not careful, they’ll manipulate you."
"Manipulate me? What do you mean?"
"They’re human too. They prioritize convenience. If you execute a high-ranking official as part of your mission, you’re imposing a burdensome task on them. Imagine how tiring it must be for them to fabricate unrelated evidence and announce the cause of death publicly. Sometimes, they have to cover up our actions themselves, which naturally makes them less inclined to favor us. It’s a political burden."
"I understand."
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slowly.
Ma Jin continued.
"They’re loyal to the emperor but enjoy considerable autonomy. They might impose restrictions on your missions as they see fit. It’s happened more than a few times. Even the Suncheon Lord faced such issues early in his career."
"And you, Uncle?"
The boy asked suddenly, and Ma Jin’s lips quirked upward.
"Dongchang’s eunuchs came to me once. At the time, even their leader, the Great Eunuch of the Brush, wielded power that reached the heavens. But they didn’t dare meddle with me. That’s probably because my methods are more tyrannical than those of the Suncheon Lord. I was like that from the beginning."
"..."
"There’s no mystery to asserting dominance. It’s either through eloquence or martial strength. In your case, Yeon-shin, don’t hesitate to crush them with your martial arts if needed."
"...Is that acceptable?"
"Our roles and duties are clearly defined. There’s no need to worry about the power struggle ruining the mission. And you, Yeon-shin, have no reason to bow to them."
"...?"
"The current emperor was tutored by the Fortress Lord, who serves as his master and a king under the Ming Dynasty. As the emperor’s student, the Fortress Lord taught you martial arts. In status, you are no less than Dongchang or Jinyiwei."
Ma Jin pointed to a document on the desk. The imprint of Ma Gwang-ik’s seal marked the bottom.
The records showed Jeong Yeon-shin’s approval of supplies for Ma Gwang-ik’s armament.
By sending a nameless disciple or White Rank warrior to the general office, Jeong Yeon-shin would receive the corresponding funds and resources.
"You have the best background of any newly appointed Da-ju in history. However, the pride and self-respect of the imperial court span the world. A clash is inevitable—a battle for dominance."
Ma Jin’s advice had a clear purpose.
Today’s schedule had been adjusted to allow an audience with the Crown Prince, who resided within Ipwang Fortress.
The Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty.
As a direct imperial descendant, he studied martial arts under the Fortress Lord and held ultimate responsibility for all imperial and Ipwang Fortress matters.
The last time Jeong Yeon-shin had seen the prince, he had just reached Blue Rank. The prince had given him a few pointers on swordsmanship. They hadn’t met since.
The mission began tomorrow.
For Jeong Yeon-shin to move through the martial world unimpeded as a Black Rank of Ipwang Fortress, he had to be capable of cutting down any official who blocked his path.
This meeting was to introduce him to those who would collaborate with him.
"This is for the best. Meeting the Crown Prince is far better than encountering Dongchang or Jinyiwei operatives for the first time. Rumor has it the prince is quite fond of you."
"Fond... of me?"
They had met only a handful of times. Jeong Yeon-shin’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Ma Jin chuckled softly.
"The Crown Prince has few pleasures in life. Anyone who can create music with a sword, regardless of status, earns his favor. Not even the grandmasters in the palace can demonstrate such skill."
"Ah."
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his sword technique.
He had long since set it aside. It consumed his vitality.
Without achieving the unification of body, spirit, and mind—or the pinnacle of Three Flowers Converging at the Crown—he couldn’t alleviate the burden it placed on his Baihui Point.
Still, it seemed fortunate that the Crown Prince had taken notice of him before then.
"Before you venture into the martial world, this is a condition you must fulfill. Establishing a cooperative relationship with the imperial court is essential to performing your duties as a Da-ju of Ipwang Fortress."
Ma Jin appeared unconcerned.
Perhaps it was because he had witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin’s recent victories against Sword Scorpion Devil and Pure Devil Divine Hand in Myunggong-do. He concluded his advice calmly.
"Make a connection, no matter the form. It’s the most important prerequisite."
"Understood."
The young man stood.
***
He arrived at an opulent hall, escorted by an attendant dressed in luxurious silk robes.
During his elevation to Blue Rank, Jeong Yeon-shin had come here with other warriors. Now, he was alone. The attendant kept glancing at him, clearly unnerved by the black hem of the boy’s long coat, which was slightly out of alignment.
“Da-ju, please ensure your manners are impeccable,” the attendant said.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a silent nod.
This was the residence of the Crown Prince. The rafters reflected both azure and golden hues in the sunlight.
As befitting a place of such dignity, the atmosphere was profoundly still. Even the sound of a gentle breeze sweeping across the floor could be distinctly heard.
“Ipwang Fortress’s Ma Gwang-ik greets Your Highness,” the attendant announced upon entering the interior.
A soft voice echoed in response, bidding him to enter.
The crimson doors swung open simultaneously, as if moved by invisible hands. No one seemed to touch the handles.
The doors parted slowly, revealing a view of the grand interior. Jeong Yeon-shin crossed the threshold with deliberate and measured steps.
Two pairs of eyes focused on the young Da-ju.
“It’s been a while,” a voice greeted him languidly.
The speaker was seated in the posture of the Crown Prince, third in line to the Ming throne.
He had ears sharp as a blade’s edge, and though shorter than Jeong Yeon-shin, his presence was formidable. Despite the existence of the Crown Prince, this figure had already been elevated to the title of Crown Heir.
The intensity between his thick eyebrows was striking. It wasn’t just a matter of martial prowess—there was an air of inscrutability about him.
Cool and detached, his gaze naturally positioned him above others. His black pupils crackled like contained thunder as he looked at Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Ipwang Fortress’s Ma Gwang-ik greets the Crown Heir,” Jeong Yeon-shin said, bowing calmly.
“Already a Da-ju? That was fast, given your age,” the Crown Heir observed, his words delivered in a tone as if he were the only one existing in the world.
“Congratulations on becoming part of those who command the world. I have no personal matters to discuss. Speak with Myeong-yeo, my right hand and aide to the Grand Eunuch.”
Closing his eyes, the Crown Heir seemed to indicate he would merely observe. The man who had been standing to his side stepped forward with hands respectfully clasped.
“The Crown Heir’s words are humbling. While I hardly deserve the title of the Grand Eunuch’s right hand, I accept his encouragement as a reminder of my duty to serve the nation,” Myeong-yeo said in the refined, archaic speech characteristic of the imperial court.
His ears were sharp, almost pointed, and he radiated an unusual aura. A eunuch of the imperial secret police, Dongchang, Myeong-yeo’s martial prowess was unmistakable.
‘He must have mastered the Tongzigong, the boyhood cultivation technique known for its immense power and equally immense costs,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought, feeling a faint curiosity.
Myeong-yeo’s narrowed eyes lifted slightly, his gaze lingering on Jeong Yeon-shin.
The Dongchang eunuch smiled faintly, a deliberate and unsettling gesture.
“Seeing such a young hero brightens my outlook,” he said.
“I am Ma Gwang-ik,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied evenly, clasping his fists in a formal salute but refraining from bowing as he had done for the Crown Heir.
Myeong-yeo’s lips curved into an enigmatic smile.
“Since your departure is tomorrow, it seems we must address urgent matters first. I humbly request to test you, Da-ju.”
“Test me?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
“To better understand your capabilities,” Myeong-yeo explained. “I witnessed your elevation duel, of course. Yet, it was insufficient to thoroughly evaluate the new Ma Gwang-ik—both as a Da-ju and a martial artist.”
His tone was soft, almost melodic, likely due to the effects of his castration at a young age.
“This is of great importance. One test cannot define a person, but understanding the conditions under which you excel—or falter—helps us prepare. I need to know your strengths and weaknesses, your endurance, speed, and precision. For the sake of operational efficiency, the Dongchang spares no effort in supporting the Da-ju of Ipwang Fortress.”
“Are you implying that the imperial examinations are inadequate?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked coolly.
“Oh my,” Myeong-yeo chuckled. “The imperial exams consist of three stages: Xiangshi, Huishi, and Dianshi. Consider your elevation duel as passing the Xiangshi. Today, we conduct the Huishi. Of course, even a successful candidate pales in comparison to an Ipwang Da-ju.”
“And the Dianshi?” Jeong Yeon-shin pressed.
“That’s the battlefield. I, too, am curious about how the young Da-ju will contribute to the lives of the people.”
His glibness was befitting someone navigating the perilous political waters of the imperial court.
‘So he’s only cordial with my uncle,’ Jeong Yeon-shin realized. The situation seemed different from how Ma Jin had described it. He felt a twinge of guilt on behalf of his uncle, even as he accepted the truth.
Myeong-yeo’s speech continued uninterrupted.
“A teenage Da-ju entrusted with significant duties during the Martial Alliance’s Grand Conflict? Many would find that troubling. Their reactions are often the same—they find it... suspicious.”
The term “suspicious” carried a weight of unease, describing something both disordered and dubious. It was a rarely used word, reflecting the Dongchang’s skepticism toward a teenage Da-ju.
“Your duel was impressive, Ma Gwang-ik. However, my vision is rather poor, and I struggled to discern certain things.”
Myeong-yeo’s gaze bore into Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Particularly the final strike. Was it fueled by fleeting brilliance or a profound sense of control? Or perhaps it relied on borrowed strength from an elixir?”
“Does it matter?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
“It matters greatly,” Myeong-yeo replied. “It’s a question of stability. If your abilities are limited to bursts of brilliance, it will strain the Dongchang’s ability to support you effectively. If such a strike can be consistently reproduced, however, that’s another matter.”
With a wave of his hand, a wind stirred within the room. Invisible forces spread like threads, causing the air itself to vibrate.
The gusts twisted and turned, brushing past the furnishings with an almost physical presence.
“I humbly request that you treat me as a blade,” Myeong-yeo said, his lips curving into a smile. “Whether you evade or crush, I will analyze the true nature of your martial arts.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jeong Yeon-shin said offhandedly.
“Pardon me?” Myeong-yeo’s expression shifted. Jeong Yeon-shin did not retract his words.
‘No need to.’
His gaze briefly scanned the tendrils of wind taking shape before him.
Myeong-yeo’s technique seemed to focus on external energy manipulation, a rarity among Jeong Yeon-shin’s peers.
‘This is an opportunity.’
Without hesitation, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward. His Upper Dantian flared with white-hot energy.
The throbbing Baihui Point atop his head pulsed with clarity, as if lightning coursed through his mind.
A gust brushed past his chest before it could fully make contact.
By opening his Jianliao Point under his right shoulder and engaging his deltoid muscles, Jeong Yeon-shin triggered a precise burst of energy.
The explosive force of Radiant Wheel Technique shifted his shoulder slightly, allowing him to pivot naturally.
His step felt guided, as though the wind itself revealed an escape route. His response was almost preternatural.
Myeong-yeo’s eyes widened as Jeong Yeon-shin advanced again.
The boy turned twice, his body moving like scattering leaves. His flowing black coat rippled with each motion, untouched by the gusts that had failed to graze even his hem.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s unique control over his movements and energy transformed his body into an elegant dance of avoidance. Inspiration struck as he absorbed the nuances of Myeong-yeo’s wind technique.
‘Wind Body.’
The name of his new movement art emerged in his mind. What had been a nameless instinct now coalesced into a formalized technique, crafted uniquely for him.
It was the birth of Wind Body, a defensive art designed to evade and outmaneuver.
When Jeong Yeon-shin reached Myeong-yeo, the swirling wind currents unraveled in a burst. The eunuch staggered, overcome by the rebound of his own technique.
“Is something wrong?” the Crown Heir asked, his gaze still fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin.
Resting his chin on one hand, the prince seemed unfazed by Jeong Yeon-shin’s approach.
“Th... this...!” Myeong-yeo struggled to speak, his throat visibly convulsing as if swallowing blood.
‘Did he suffer internal injuries?’ Jeong Yeon-shin wondered. The newfound Wind Body was a gift, a revelation that brought a faint warmth to his expression.
He felt gratitude toward Myeong-yeo for unintentionally providing him with this breakthrough.
“The energy seems unstable,” Jeong Yeon-shin offered, sparing the eunuch further embarrassment.
The Crown Heir released a booming laugh.