Hyeon Won-chang's words were clearly provocative. The situation and his expression left no doubt about it.
It was a rare sight, unbecoming of the noble and upright martial artists of the righteous path. The hostility of the surrounding experts seemed to rise like a thick cloud.
Eyes sharpened, and the qi enveloping their bodies turned razor-edged.
Tae Yeom-ryong smirked openly.
"Why so worked up over some kind words? Took a beating, didn’t you?"
The mocking tone at the end mirrored his master’s arrogance. It was a fitting display of the Young Lord of the Hwangbo Clan—arrogant and oblivious to all but himself.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips moved slightly. He had already uttered his response, accusing Hyeon Won-chang of diminishing his own dignity as a martial artist of Ma Gwang-Ik’s caliber.
Hyeon Won-chang’s words and actions, however, could no longer be dismissed as mere recklessness.
‘It’s nothing new.’
The boy shrugged slightly. Hyeon Won-chang’s hand, which had been resting on the "Hwang" character embroidered on Jeong’s shoulder, was pushed away.
With an awkward cough, the High Martial Master of Ipwang pulled back his hand without hesitation. His actions somehow felt irritatingly smug.
The meaning behind the prominently embroidered "Hwang" character seemed to fade into obscurity, almost as if he was embarrassed.
Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head inwardly as he reflected.
‘The Heocho technique is becoming more natural. Quite effective.’
He had tried employing a technique taught by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress. To his surprise, it worked remarkably well.
He caught glimpses of the expressions of Mo Yong-myeongjun and Ak Ye-rim, who seemed utterly baffled.
These were middling martial experts. Despite their heightened sensitivity, they couldn’t accurately discern the qi-infused sword strike Jeong Yeon-shin had just unleashed.
They were clumsy, but they were still martial artists of noble families. Their coordination of qi sense and physical senses was impressive.
‘That makes them even easier to deceive.’
Their senses were decent but not refined enough to see through Jeong Yeon-shin’s Heocho. They perceived the qi blade as real, but their mediocre skills made them easy targets. A deceptive attack like Heocho would work more than seventy percent of the time.
They were excellent practice opponents. Just coming to this banquet had proven worthwhile for this alone.
‘It might even be useful in large-scale battles... but for lower-tier fighters, Mancheon Hwawu is usually enough. I’ll need to refine it to disrupt even top-tier masters.’
The young Ma Gwang-Ik’s gaze extended beyond the middling martial experts. Alongside refining his swordsmanship, he resolved to hone his Heocho further.
It wasn’t enough for it to have worked once against Suncheon Ik-ju. He had to ensure it wasn’t a mere fluke.
“Let’s go.”
The boy spoke.
By now, he had already damaged the prestige of the Martial Alliance. There was no reason to stay any longer.
Hyeon Won-chang had been right. Let them revel in their own arrogance.
Having demonstrated that Ma Gwang-Ik’s dignity stood above theirs, he had achieved his purpose for the evening.
Tae Yeom-ryong curled his lips into a grin.
“You say what you want and then act all shy?”
He teased shamelessly, slipping to Jeong Yeon-shin’s left.
The boy, brushing off the mischievous grin with indifference, didn’t bother looking up at his unpredictable subordinate. Instead, he nodded briefly to Namgung Hwa-shin, who had delivered the Sword Master’s message.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s voice, tinged with amusement, reached his ears.
“Technically, I’m also a later-stage martial expert. Should I worry your remarks will lower our leader’s dignity? ‘Later-stage experts, don’t speak to me. You’ll degrade my standing.’ What a line. Only someone of your age and level could say that.”
“...”
“Let me offer a bit of advice. Don’t kick your blankets in frustration three years from now. Such bizarre talents as yours are unmatched under heaven. I remember nine years ago, I cursed the heavens for bestowing me the cursed Solar God Meridian. Swore I’d burn the world to make it regret. Embarrassing memories, really.”
Chuckling, Tae Yeom-ryong spewed his unsolicited counsel, his voice heavy with amusement. Truly an incorrigible subordinate.
“Let’s go.”
Turning fully, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.
The irritation in his tone didn’t escape his own notice. He found it justified. These so-called martial aristocrats weren’t worth even the tip of the Blue Qilin’s claw.
Originally, he had hoped to forge connections and observe their martial arts. Now, the thought no longer appealed to him. His enthusiasm had waned.
Step.
He walked off unbothered. No one moved to stop him. Was it thanks to the sublime deception of his Heocho, which seemed almost like a Heart Sword?
The young martial artists of the righteous path didn’t move. They merely stared at Ma Gwang-Ik in silence, their eyes fixed on the boy who had thrown verbal daggers.
“Even if you reach the Violet Rank, we’re equals?”
A lone boy in a pale blue silk robe murmured with a strange expression. He appeared a couple of years younger than Jeong Yeon-shin.
Hyeon Won-chang, standing nearby, identified him as the Young Lord of the Gongson Family.
“At least his reputation isn’t bad. By the annotations beneath his family’s heraldry, that is. Perhaps it’s because he’s still young.”
“Hmm. The Gongson family has no particularly nasty rumors attached.”
Tae Yeom-ryong chimed in lightly.
“Not interested. Child’s play is over.”
Casting a glance at the Gongson Young Lord, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward. He resolved to face only mid-tier martial experts or higher from now on.
Tae Yeom-ryong and Hyeon Won-chang flanked him on either side, while Namgung Hwa-shin guarded his back.
“Child’s play is over, huh.”
Tae Yeom-ryong muttered with a sly grin. Our lord is already devising the next stroke of his "Bedside Martial Arts."
“Truly, a grandmaster.”
“You are ordered to perform silent meditation until morning.”
The four left the banquet hall without hesitation.
By then, Ak Ye-rim still sat in a daze, staring blankly at the trailing black hem of the young Ma Gwang-Ik’s robe.
Meanwhile, Mo Yong-myeongjun, standing quietly to the side, bit his lip in silence, his expression a mix of confusion, anguish, and simmering frustration.
The lantern lights in the banquet hall flickered violently.
A gust of night air swept through the gap in the door as Ma Gwang-Ik’s group exited. It was dark and clear.
***
“The Sword Saint was originally a wanderer.”
Hyeon Won-chang spoke as they returned to Unhyangwon from the banquet hall.
Their meeting with the Alliance Leader was scheduled for the following noon, a message conveyed earlier by Namgung Hwa-shin. The Sword Saint had invited them for lunch.
Namgung Hwa-shin was the only one among their group who held any popularity within the Martial Alliance.
While gathering information across the Alliance’s main base, he had stopped by Unhyangwon first to deliver the leader’s message.
“There are many tales about him, though it’s unclear how much of it is true. Rumors say he learned a forbidden sword technique considered taboo by the lay disciples of Shaolin. Others suggest he’s the sole survivor of a massacred noble family. Another story claims he roamed the world, honing his swordsmanship atop the foundations of a prestigious family’s techniques. Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek is renowned as a man capable of anything.”
Hyeon Won-chang’s remarks were unusual. Perhaps it was because the Sword Saint’s origins were so unclear.
Rarely did the High Martial Master of Ipwang openly acknowledge others, yet he spoke without restraint.
Tae Yeom-ryong, lying with an arm draped over his head, nodded.
“There was a saying once: ‘When Hyeon So-baek draws his sword, one feels the tranquil mountains of Wudang. When he performs sword dances on Mount Hua, the plum blossoms respond in harmony. And if you wish to grasp the ruggedness of Song Mountain, just face the Sword Saint’s unmatched blade.’”
“...”
Silence lingered briefly. Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at Namgung Hwa-shin and Hyeon Won-chang. Their expressions remained unchanged.
It seemed to be a well-known tale. Comparing Hyeon So-baek, the Sword Saint, to the sacred mountains of the Nine Great Sects was not out of place.
“I suppose I should consider him Violet Rank,” the boy murmured slowly.
Tae Yeom-ryong nodded.
“Indeed. The Sword Saint is often compared to the leader of the Divine Sword Corps. Mostly idle chatter among enthusiasts of the martial world, debating which swordsmanship is more elegant or sublime.”
“Do they really say he rivals the leader’s Invisible Sword?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked absentmindedly, recalling the inner energy blade the leader of the Divine Sword Corps had used to kill the Namgung Patriarch.
Could anything surpass the brilliance of that blade? He had yet to see it.
Tae Yeom-ryong bobbed his head lazily.
“It was the Sword Saint’s White Mute Sword that decapitated the former leader of the Shadow Mara Sect. To be honest, he’s someone worthy of utmost respect. Many revere him, myself included at one time.”
“His tale of halting a hundred warriors from the Shadow Mara Sect is famous. Amidst their armored and armed experts, he took the head of their leader. That was fifteen years ago,” Namgung Hwa-shin said, sitting upright as he addressed Jeong Yeon-shin with full deference.
Of the three subordinates, Namgung Hwa-shin alone afforded him such respect.
The boy nodded slightly.
“What kind of person is he?”
“The incident with the Shadow Mara Sect leader occurred in front of ordinary villagers. The sect’s martial force often sustained itself through plunder. When they attempted to claim a village as their base, the Sword Saint appeared. He stood alone against a hundred warriors and their leader. After taking the leader’s head, he sustained significant internal injuries and sought refuge in Shaolin Temple. It happened in Henan.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s words carried a tone of reverence for Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek.
‘If the rumors are true, he’s a heroic figure,’ thought Jeong Yeon-shin. Was the Alliance Leader any different? He had rarely encountered a true sense of righteousness among the orthodox sects.
The few exceptions included his friend Yu Hyeon, the virtuous Wei Ji Myo-hwa, the Shaolin monks who willingly aided in attacking the Bloodflame Cult, and the Blue Qilin.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again, hoping to avoid any unnecessary rivalry with the Sword Saint.
“Did he obtain the Great Rejuvenation Pill back then?”
“That’s how the story goes. It’s said he formed a bond with the abbot of Shaolin during that time.”
“He’s certainly no ordinary old man. To give away the reward of the Sect-Opening Tournament for personal reasons—and the Great Rejuvenation Pill, no less.”
Tae Yeom-ryong interjected.
It was a valid observation. Jeong Yeon-shin listened carefully to the words of his older subordinates. As someone often tasked with opposing masters while still a novice, their insights were invaluable.
Although Ipwang Divine Spear Ak Su-rim believed winning the Sect-Opening Tournament would suffice, Jeong Yeon-shin always aimed higher.
It was said that the blade of a master reflected their character.
No one with a coarse nature could truly master Wudang’s Taiji Sword. If the Sword Saint was a serene individual, he might even be inclined to give Jeong Yeon-shin the first strike.
In that case, preparing a decisive strike capable of accumulating a substantial amount of force in one blow seemed prudent.
By considering all possible scenarios, he might stand a chance.
The group discussed how to conduct themselves as envoys until dawn.
“For now, let’s focus on improving the leader’s demeanor. If you ask me, we may need to be more wary of Zhuge Patriarch than the Alliance Leader. Even the slightest mistake could be exploited. Who knows what schemes they might hatch regarding the Sect-Opening Tournament.”
“My demeanor?”
“To be honest, the young leader’s manner of speech isn’t exactly polite, is it? If anything, it has a knack for making others’ blood rush to their heads. It wasn’t like this before, but lately, something seems...”
“Me?”
Jeong Yeon-shin prepared to face the day of their meeting, albeit without any significant breakthroughs.
***
The Alliance Leader’s Hall, where the Sword Saint resided, was located deep within the main base. It appeared to be the most secluded place within the inner sanctum.
Even the man assigned to guide Jeong Yeon-shin was no ordinary figure.
Seonryong Zhuge Hyeon. The green scholar’s robe he wore evoked the image of a noble academic. He was said to hold the second-highest status within the Zhuge Family.
‘This seems more like a job for an attendant.’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought. Zhuge Hyeon had left a rather favorable impression on the boy.
Though it had been their first meeting, Zhuge Hyeon had courteously requested a sparring match and had even burned his own fan afterward.
It was then that Zhuge Hyeon, walking alongside him, broke the silence.
"I didn’t have the chance to say this earlier."
"...?"
"I am grateful that you accepted my sparring request so readily. As you mentioned, it was indeed a valuable lesson. I wanted to thank you belatedly for helping me open my eyes."
"Open your eyes?" Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
"You said that while weapon techniques are important, achieving mastery of movement must come first. It was a profound insight. I’ve even made progress in achieving the Boshin Technique.”
His tone was calm, unlike Mo Yong-myeongjun’s affected voice. His composed demeanor conveyed a sense of sincerity.
Perhaps burning the fan had not been Zhuge Hyeon’s own intention but a directive from the Zhuge Patriarch or another senior figure.
Jeong Yeon-shin gave a brief nod.
"That’s good to hear."
Few in the martial world had personally expressed gratitude to him, and even fewer among members of prestigious noble families.
Was it obvious that he felt slightly awkward? Zhuge Hyeon’s lips curved into a faint smile. A thought suddenly struck the boy.
It had been said that Seonryong, Tae Yeom-ryong, and Blue Qilin were contemporaries.
‘Could he be closer to Blue Qilin’s side?’
The boy’s thoughts briefly wandered to Namgung Se-jin when Zhuge Hyeon spoke again.
"We’re here."
Their steps fell upon vibrant autumn leaves, as vivid as flowers. Beneath their feet stretched a wide garden.
Surrounded by trees, a lone man awaited them with his hands clasped behind his back. The crisp fragrance of autumn flowers was accompanied by an intense presence that enveloped Jeong Yeon-shin.
At his current Black Rank, Jeong Yeon-shin could recognize it for what it was—a testament to the man’s unparalleled sword mastery.
A master so formidable that erecting a sword barrier rivaling a fortress wall would seem plausible.
Now, Jeong Yeon-shin understood why this man was often mentioned alongside the leader of the Divine Sword Corps.
Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek.
It was evident he carried the bloodline of a noble family. His pronounced nose, illuminated under the sunlight, resembled the sharp edge of a divine sword.
A strikingly handsome middle-aged man, his white attire and dark, polished sword hilt exuded an air of refinement.
“I greet the Alliance Leader,” Zhuge Hyeon said, kneeling on one knee and cupping his fists in salute. The Sword Saint smiled faintly and gestured dismissively with his hand.
“No need for formality. I summoned you here for a reason, so remain present. And...”
His jet-black eyes swept over Jeong Yeon-shin’s form. The boy stood silently, offering no formal greeting, merely staring at the Sword Saint.
The presence radiating from the man compelled him to do so, stimulating every nerve in his body.
In his mind, waves of mantras rippled. His upper energy center pulsed with a sudden, blazing heat.
"So, you’re Ma Gwang-Ik-ju," the Sword Saint said with a slight smile.
"I’ve heard from the greedy clan leaders. They say that when the Sect-Opening Tournament begins, you’ll be the first sprout to lose its head. And yet...”
Whoosh.
Suddenly, perspective warped. The boy blinked, only to find that the Sword Saint, who had been at least thirty steps away, now stood directly in front of him.
For someone of his rank, the simple white robes the Alliance Leader wore seemed incongruously modest, casting faint shadows. A gust of wind belatedly swept past.
The surrounding foliage bent backward in unison.
Hwaaaah!
It was a truly fearsome display of movement technique, transcending the realm of human speed.
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‘I reacted too late. I’ll have to use the second form—!’
Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his Bukmyeong Sword, but he froze. The Sword Saint’s eyes were reddened.
“How cruel the heavens are, to burden someone so young,” the man murmured.
Tears glistened in his dark eyes, and an iridescent flame flickered within. It was as if his gaze embodied divine energy itself.
It mirrored the boy’s own practice of imbuing his internal techniques with spiritual resonance. This was a hallmark of transcendent mastery.
“How much have you endured? Come here. Let me embrace you.”
Though startled, Jeong Yeon-shin’s body reacted before his mind. He instinctively recalled Hyeon Won-chang’s annoying habit of sudden affection.
Wind qi surged through his body as his internal energy activated the Wind Spirit Technique. A small vortex spiraled along his dark robes.
In a flash, his legs propelled him forward with precision-enhancing force.
Ssshhhk!
Jeong Yeon-shin twisted his upper body in a desperate motion, his feet sinking into the soft earth below.
It was a counter-move, redirecting the Sword Saint’s embrace to the side. Black and white sleeves brushed past each other, emitting a long, resonant sound. The margin was razor-thin.
Both the Sword Saint and Zhuge Hyeon widened their eyes in surprise.