“What are you doing?”
This was the first thing Jeong Yeon-shin, as Ma Gwang-Ik-ju, had said to the Alliance Leader of the Martial Alliance.
Judging by the Sword Saint's reaction, he seemed to have recognized Jeong Yeon-shin’s short lifespan. Yet, regardless of the shock this realization brought, the boy had never imagined someone attempting to embrace him.
It likely stemmed from his mother, who had passed away during childbirth. If his master, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, were to embrace him, perhaps he could understand. Even then, it would still feel unbearably awkward.
‘Is the Lord of Ipwang the only supreme master without eccentricities?’
The high status and renown of the Sword Saint were no excuse to conceal Jeong Yeon-shin’s discomfort. His brow furrowed slightly.
“My, my.”
The corners of Hyeon So-baek’s mouth turned down. His emotions were written plainly on his face.
It was the very picture of an "oops" expression, utterly devoid of the authority one might expect from his station.
“I’ve committed a grave offense against the esteemed Master of Ipwang. Please forgive me. Even with this old face of mine, I’m but a relic of the past. In my younger days, my wits were sharp, but I’m no longer the same. Seeing you reminded me of a grandchild I never had. The sheer mastery you’ve attained at your age is astonishing.”
His sly smile radiated a peculiar charm, revealing a whimsical nature—truly the demeanor of a seasoned maverick.
Jeong Yeon-shin instantly understood the Sword Saint’s character: a man who lived in a world of his own, one of the transcendent masters who defined an era.
He did not hesitate to express sympathy after thoroughly grasping Jeong Yeon-shin’s condition and level of mastery.
He was free-spirited to the extreme. The title "Sword Saint" suited him far better than "Alliance Leader."
Hyeon So-baek stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Well, let’s see. I turn seventy next year. The years have indeed thickened on me.”
“Seventy...?”
Jeong Yeon-shin repeated the word reflexively. The term originated from Du Fu’s Song of the Qujiang River, referring to the rarity of a seventy-year lifespan in ancient times. It was a word seldom used in the modern martial world, even among noble families.
What mattered more was that the Sword Saint’s age was unknown to the world.
Even as Ma Gwang-Ik-ju, Jeong Yeon-shin had not encountered this information until now. It was the first he’d heard of it.
The boy’s expression betrayed his doubt.
“Are you of mixed noble lineage?”
“I only half-achieved the art of reversing aging.”
The venerable elder laughed with the face of a strikingly handsome middle-aged man.
“I feared that if I allowed my inner energy to lead my body unchecked, I’d lose the strength I cultivated over decades. As a wanderer, I was surrounded by enemies wherever I went. Survival was paramount. To maintain the peak of my abilities, I needed to appear somewhat younger. Your Lord of Ipwang, it seems, did not resort to such measures. Likely thanks to the firm foundation of his noble family’s cultivation techniques. I envy that.”
In his aged tone, he spoke of an entirely different realm of existence. Despite the seemingly eccentric mannerisms, there was the unmistakable presence of an extreme swordsman.
He was a master wholly consumed by the pursuit of martial arts.
“No one in this world possesses talent like yours,” he continued. “But how much effort and bloodshed must it have taken to reach such heights? A junior who silently endures a punishment from the heavens and pushes forward—I find you admirable, even endearing. Hence, my lapse in composure. No number of youthful swords collected by the Alliance could rival your achievements. The unparalleled mastery you’ve attained is breathtaking.”
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The Martial Alliance’s supreme figure spoke with an air that suggested Jeong Yeon-shin’s very existence brought him the joy of a doting grandparent.
It was unsettling and bizarre. A master who challenged the heavens with his blade seemed utterly uninterested in the dynamics of power.
Only martial arts mattered to him.
He viewed Jeong Yeon-shin solely through the lens of his physique and skills, paying no heed to the relationship between Ipwang and the Martial Alliance.
Such favor could only come from the Sword Saint—a transcendent hero who had decapitated the leader of the Shadow Mara Sect and protected common folk. In other words, a true transcendent.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s mere presence filled his eyes with a gleaming brilliance that never ceased.
“Your movement is remarkably unique,” Hyeon So-baek noted. “Even advanced footwork tends to shift the center of gravity forward, but yours is dispersed in all directions. It must be due to your innate sense of balance.”
“...”
“And that movement technique I saw earlier was extraordinary. Full-body bal-gyeong (wind-propelled energy)—I’ve only conceived of it, never dared attempt it. Using micro-muscles to generate such kinetic force—is that even possible? It seems your body itself surpasses perfection. It’s more than well-crafted. It’s a masterpiece of martial art. Your method of training must be extraordinary.”
He smacked his lips, as if regretting that he couldn’t outright ask. Jeong Yeon-shin simply listened in silence.
“Even with my broad experience, I’ve never encountered such techniques before. Naturally, you must have created them. If Shaolin had taken you in as a novice monk, their 72 Arts would have doubled or tripled. The Abbot must be pounding the ground in regret.”
The Sword Saint’s relentless stream of words carried an intimidating weight, filled with equal parts fascination and admiration.
His insight rivaled that of the most discerning figures in Ipwang’s Yullyeong Unit. Few in the world could match the gaze of this master.
‘So there’s another talkative transcendent besides the Bloodflame Cult Leader.’
Jeong Yeon-shin mused silently.
Meanwhile, Seonryong Zhuge Hyeon witnessed the Alliance Leader’s demeanor for the first time.
This wasn’t the affable man who merely nodded during meetings of senior leaders.
He had never imagined such radiant intensity in his gaze.
‘He’s uninterested in administrative duties.’
If the young martial artists of the Alliance saw this, they’d likely feel a deep sense of loss. Even Zhuge Hyeon felt a peculiar emptiness.
To think that this unparalleled discussion of martial arts revolved around a master from Ipwang Fortress.
Having heard about the banquet’s events earlier, Zhuge Hyeon resolved to keep the meeting between the Alliance Leader and Ma Gwang-Ik-ju a secret.
‘Ahn Mae’s vigor is fading. Can he resolve his conflict with Ma Gwang-Ik-ju?’
If the Alliance and Ipwang could avoid clashing during the Sect-Opening Tournament...
In such a case, this boy would likely serve as the bridge between the two great forces. There was no one else suitable on Ipwang’s side.
Ma Gwang-Ik-ju, Jeong Yeon-shin.
The reputation he had built through teaching the Alliance’s martial artists, his outstanding mastery, and his experience as an envoy were all significant.
The Alliance Leader’s gaze alone made it clear. He regarded the boy as if he were his own grandchild.
‘If Ipwang strengthens its alliance, neither I nor Ahn Mae can afford to antagonize Ma Gwang-Ik-ju. I’ll have to handle this carefully.’
At that moment, the Sword Saint let out a small sigh. His lips curved into a sheepish smile.
“I’ve gotten too carried away. Ipwang is known for prioritizing the welfare of the people over martial dominance. You possess all the qualities of a hero that catch my eye, which led me to act uncharacteristically. My prattling must have been overwhelming for a junior like you. Let us return to official matters...”
“It’s fine,” Jeong Yeon-shin interrupted.
The displeasure he had shown at the start of their meeting was long gone.
A gleam shone in the boy’s eyes, even without activating his internal energy. When the Sword Saint assessed Ma Gwang-Ik-ju, the boy had been silently observing the master as well.
Like the reflection of someone staring into a lake.
“Hmm?” The Sword Saint let out a quiet, questioning hum.
“Merely watching the Sword Saint stand still is an invaluable lesson.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again.
“My limited experience has never encountered such balance before. You mentioned my center of gravity being dispersed in all directions, yet I see that the Sword Saint always connects your feet to the earth. The qi flowing from your Yongcheon Acupoint is impressively steady...”
A flash of sky-blue lightning flickered in the boy’s eyes. If analyzing martial arts was impolite, it was a breach the Sword Saint had initiated.
He couldn’t be criticized for reflecting and learning from it.
Even as a transcendent, the Sword Saint was aware that Ma Gwang-Ik-ju stood as an envoy of Ipwang Fortress.
“When it comes to the stability of swordsmanship, there’s no internal energy circulation system more robust than yours. It’s enviable. You mentioned Ipwang Divine Spear Ak Su-rim earlier, but your cultivation is no less steady than his. It’s something I’ll use as a reference.”
The Sword Saint chuckled softly.
“Ha... You can feel this? The usefulness of your body is astounding. I knew your senses were sharp, but...”
“The natural state the Sword Saint maintains speaks volumes. The flow of qi through your entire body harmonizes seamlessly with the atmosphere. It was said that even without a sword, you could evoke the ruggedness of Song Mountain. By reinforcing the qi at your Yongcheon Acupoint and distributing it evenly to your Tongziliao Acupoints, you can perceive and predict your opponent’s movements with precision.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke slowly, his tone steady.
“The relaxation of your entire musculature, as it appears now, must also contribute to the immediacy of your strikes. You’ve revealed the utility of a transcendent internal energy technique and the principles of its application.”
"......"
The Sword Saint’s faint smile faded.
Jeong Yeon-shin reflected on the situation. It dawned on him that this entire journey to the Martial Alliance was a fortuitous encounter.
He now stood at a pivotal moment. The Sword Saint was an unending cascade of inspiration.
The moment Ak Su-rim had nominated him for this mission, it had been inevitable. The unity of his body, mind, and spirit was still a distant goal.
He needed to fill the gaps in his Black Rank domain with refined martial techniques and the creation of new arts.
The new Ma Gwang-Ik-ju’s words did not stop.
"Seeing the Sword Saint, the Master of Empty-Handed Blades, I can now imagine what it must be like when you wield a sword. You mentioned you were once a wanderer. I now understand why the sacred mountains of the Nine Great Sects are invoked when speaking of you. Is it not that you have drawn inspiration from the masters of the Nine Sects? Your supreme state of natural balance and the very steps you take serve as a foundation for such mastery."
Jeong Yeon-shin paid no mind to whether the Sword Saint’s lips slightly parted in surprise.
If the Sword Saint embodied an endless pursuit of the infinite, then Jeong Yeon-shin was born to marvel at and be drawn to martial arts beyond his imagination.
Perhaps this was the uniquely righteous arrogance of the orthodox sects. The Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek concealed nothing.
To Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes, the man’s presence was a treasure trove of fascinating insights. It was as if he were a grand inn advertising the ability to craft the finest delicacies—an inn like the famed Daehabanjeom of Hangzhou, known for its exceptional cuisine.
"Your grip seems light," Jeong Yeon-shin observed. "There are notably weaker points in the energy pulses around your Geogol Acupoint below the shoulder and the Gokji Acupoint on the arm’s bend. However, the Hogu Acupoint between your thumb and index finger appears exceptionally strong. This configuration might not suit swift slashes, but when it comes to thrusting techniques, there could be no better utilization of energy."
As the boy spoke, his own upper energy center, where his life force gathered most intensely, revealed its full potential.
His thoughts swirled with inspiration, wave after wave. Perhaps it was because he had already heard about the Sword Saint’s prowess from his senior subordinates.
His guesses clashed with his observations, igniting bursts of insight like fireworks. Everything became inspiration.
He couldn’t hold back. By voicing his thoughts, he refined them into polished realizations.
"Utilize the Wind Spirit’s currents beneath the feet. For rapid strikes, carry a light grip while grounding the Yongcheon Acupoint firmly. I can’t replicate your natural state perfectly yet. I lack a suitable method. But it’s fine—for now, my body will suffice. I should align Jeong Family Dynamic Gong with the refinement of micro-acupoints. For a sword technique capable of covering all directions, it must incorporate the principles of wind..."
Lost entirely in his thoughts, he muttered aloud. These words were no longer meant for anyone else.
They were the foundation of a new sword art, taking form in this very moment.
From rumors about the Sword Saint to the sight of him standing motionless, Jeong Yeon-shin discerned the essence of swordsmanship.
He observed the transcendent master, who had ascended to the constellations through his blade, ceaselessly contemplating and refining.
All that remained was to flesh out the technique and polish it through practical application.
Standing still, he glimpsed several levels above his own mastery, integrating those insights with a profound introspection of himself.
It was a state of complete absorption—an almost inhuman condition.
Even without activating his internal energy to create an aura, Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes flickered with faint, azure flames.
"Because of someone like him, Namgung Se-jin..."
Zhuge Hyeon murmured, his lips slightly parted in astonishment. Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek, too, displayed an unguarded expression of sheer incredulity.
Both men were orthodox martial artists of the righteous path. Neither dared to interrupt the boy’s awakening to swordsmanship.
They simply stared, their faces marked by bewilderment and awe.
Even when the newly instated Ma Gwang-Ik-ju returned to full awareness and performed a martial salute, they remained entranced.
"I must thank you, Sword Saint. I am deeply indebted."
Jeong Yeon-shin bowed slightly, bringing his hands together in a formal gesture.
Though it was unconventional to bend at the waist for a martial salute, it somehow suited him. His form exuded elegance and discipline.
The black sleeves of his robe carried an air of dignity.
He genuinely considered this an act of grace. The magnitude of what he had gained was immense.
The Sword Saint spoke slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of disorientation.
"But I haven’t done anything..."