The Sword Saint's face held an air of faint bewilderment. Jeong Yeon-shin met his gaze steadily.
Amid the tranquility that had returned to the garden of the Alliance Lord's hall, Jeong Yeon-shin became acutely aware of the grass beneath his feet. The words of this senior master were sincere.
The Sword Saint had no intention of burdening a junior martial artist with a sense of debt. He seemed to say, What you’ve gained is your own.
There was nothing petty about him. He embodied the simplicity and purity of a true great figure.
The boy shook his head.
"I would never claim as my own what I’ve gained from observing your mastery, Senior. It would be shameless for a junior to ignore such enlightenment."
"......."
"The fact that you’ve provided such an extraordinary opportunity, merely by being present, is a gift in itself. I am deeply grateful."
The young Ma Gwang-Ik-ju raised his clasped hands again in a martial salute.
Finally, the Sword Saint relaxed his lips into a wry smile, shaking his head as though something precious had been stolen.
His expression conveyed an incredulous amusement, accompanied by a faint chuckle that seemed to admit defeat.
"Calling it a favor makes this all the more peculiar."
The Sword Saint murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
"This feels less like a profitable exchange and more like an unwelcome challenge. I only felt admiration, but now, a curious sense of frustration creeps in. You’ve stirred up the old man’s selfish pride. You might as well have pretended not to see anything in this senior’s swordsmanship."
His words were shockingly candid, especially for the Martial Alliance's leader and a luminary of the orthodox path.
But Jeong Yeon-shin's expression had returned to a calm neutrality. He had already secured an unexpected reward from this mission to the Martial Alliance.
A sturdy framework for a new sword art had been laid. The achievement was immense.
The next martial art I create won’t be accompanied by the divine insight of the Bodhidharma.
It would have to be reached entirely through his own skill. He needed to channel the overwhelming inspiration into his Bukmyeong Sword.
He had already determined that his next divine technique would take the form of a sword art. This meeting with the Sword Saint had proven more beneficial than any elixir.
"You wear the look of someone itching to wield a sword," the Sword Saint remarked with a mischievous grin.
"There is a certain shared understanding in that. The joy of refining one’s swordplay is incomparable. It’s like tasting omnipotence as a mere human. You’ve flustered this old man without even drawing a blade, and now I’m thoroughly curious to see the sword you’ll create."
"Your praise is too generous."
The boy quickly masked his expression with a neutral facade. The Sword Saint's smile deepened.
"It’s not mere flattery," the elder said.
"......?"
"I know a place—a situation, perhaps—where you can freely test your swordsmanship. Or rather, opponents to test it on. After all, a blade is perfected in the bones and flesh of one’s enemies. Conveniently, there are remnants of a rogue military force loitering near the Alliance grounds."
"The Simmuryun?"
"You’re well-informed. Ah, now I recall hearing that it was you who rescued the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua. Let me take this chance to commend you—you did an excellent job. That child, Yu Hyeon, shows great promise. A proper character as well. I don’t know what will become of this Alliance, but that boy is destined to grow into a remarkable hero. I’m grateful to you."
"The elders of Mount Hua have already expressed their gratitude. Saving a friend hardly warrants praise."
Jeong Yeon-shin brushed off the compliment with a curt nod, lowering his clasped hands. Any further flattery, and his ears might start burning.
Turning his gaze slightly, he spoke again.
"So, what is it you wish to say?"
"This new Ma Gwang-Ik-ju possesses the spirit of both dragon and tiger," the Sword Saint said, his lips curving into a playful grin.
"Yet there’s a trace of a cat in you. When you eventually live out your full life span, I hope your soulmate is drawn to that temperament. What do you think? This Alliance is full of noble daughters from prestigious families. I wouldn’t mind playing matchmaker. If you were to pair with a cherished flower of the Alliance’s martial sects, the bond between the Alliance and Ipwang Fortress could..."
"Thank you for your kind words."
Jeong Yeon-shin cut off the rambling elder with a brief nod, signaling for him to get to the point.
He was already grappling with the recent realization of his identity as a man. He didn’t need further distractions.
At the very least, I won’t die young without leaving behind descendants.
The boy mused, brushing off the sleeves of his black robe.
The Sword Saint, who had been watching him intently, finally spoke.
"You said I’ve done you a favor. Let’s consider it even if you take care of the Simmuryun forces. The Alliance is abuzz with the upcoming sect tournament. We can’t let the rabble of the Thirteen Heavens douse this excitement with cold water. Take care of those roaming the central regions."
"Are there no available experts in the Alliance?"
"The elder ranks of the great sects seem to be planning to show up only after the tournament starts. The heads of noble families are busy pushing each other to take responsibility. The Alliance is currently nothing more than a sheep in tiger’s skin. A fine facade. Hmm? I hope this isn’t an inappropriate thing to say to a guest from Ipwang Fortress."
"And what about you, Alliance Leader?"
"If I leave my post as well, chaos is certain to ensue. Even if I accomplish little by remaining here, someone must anchor this place. I’m no longer a hero who can speak of justice. I can’t simply leave the Alliance, flawed as it is, to collapse under its own hypocrisy. Even if the Thirteen Heavens wreak havoc nearby, I must look at the bigger picture."
The Sword Saint leisurely glanced around the garden, his hands clasped behind his back.
"In any case, there’s little for you to gain by staying here. The noble families will only use you as a pretext for strife. As a delegate of Ipwang Fortress, you’re a focal point for conflict. Until the sect tournament begins, go and cut down those Thirteen Heavens rogues."
"Why should I?"
Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly as he asked.
"The victory of the tournament will be yours, but beyond that, I need your accomplishments to save face. You can refine your swordsmanship against formidable foes, while I alleviate the political burden. After all, it’s difficult to preach unity while handing over an Elixir of Longevity to an outsider from Ipwang Fortress."
The Sword Saint laughed heartily.
Unity. He spoke the word, but it was clear he had no desire to aim his blade at Ipwang Fortress.
His earlier remarks about eliminating the hypocrisy of the orthodox factions suggested an ongoing power struggle with the heads of noble families.
At the same time, a sinister whisper echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind. The image of the Seventh Apostle flickered, lips curling.
If you truly wish to exploit the Pa-Baek Chongram, shouldn’t you consider making the Martial Alliance your enemy?
"......."
The boy remained silent for a moment.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, the Sword Saint continued.
"While you refine your swordsmanship, prepare for your grand stage. This sect tournament will undoubtedly crown you, a young master already on the cusp of transcendent mastery, as its protagonist."
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his lips to respond.
"You mentioned the elder ranks earlier. This doesn’t seem like a light matter. If you’re entrusting me with this mission, provide me with the intelligence the Alliance has gathered. How am I to know you’re not setting up a borrowed knife strategy against Ipwang Fortress?"
"A borrowed knife strategy?"
The Sword Saint raised an eyebrow, finding the boy’s comment rather audacious.
It was a direct implication that the Martial Alliance might use the Simmuryun to target Ipwang Fortress warriors. A question most would never dare utter in the presence of the most revered figure in the orthodox martial world.
Zhuge Hyeon, who had been silent, cautiously interjected.
"Ma Gwang-Ik-ju, perhaps your words..."
The Sword Saint let out a hearty laugh.
"Very well. Assemble a team of young Alliance members for the task. The heads of noble families will be left to me. Should the worst come to pass, I’ll face my end alongside the direct heirs of the martial clans. I trust you to bring them all back safely."
Zhuge Hyeon couldn’t hide his astonishment, but Jeong Yeon-shin merely nodded.
The Sword Saint was a unique figure. This was no situation to demand proof of his trustworthiness.
What mattered most was the budding sword art within Jeong Yeon-shin. He also recalled the atrocities he had witnessed in the village ravaged by the Thirteen Heavens.
Cutting down their top warriors would ultimately serve as Ipwang Fortress’s contribution.
Accolades were best earned in abundance. For now, he set aside his doubts about the Pa-Baek Chongram.
"Examine this carefully. I wouldn’t bring up the elders of the great sects without reason."
The Sword Saint handed over a tightly rolled scroll. It appeared to contain information on the Simmuryun operatives nearby.
This, after all, was the favor he sought from Jeong Yeon-shin.
The boy returned to his quarters to draft a report for the fortress’s command office.
Though the Martial Alliance boasted plenty of elite experts, political games had left them in a position where they had to rely on Ipwang Fortress for support.
"Then I’ll be off."
Jeong Yeon-shin tucked the document into his robe and turned to leave. His steps were firm and decisive.
The Sword Saint’s favor would be repaid through this task. There was no reason to linger further.
"I’ll take Ak Ye-rim, Mo Yong-myeongjun, Gong Sun-min, and the Small Sword Queen Chui So-ok."
He spoke without turning back, listing the only names that came to mind. He excluded Yu Hyeon of Mount Hua.
For someone of Yu Hyeon’s skill level, this mission could easily turn into a death sentence. Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t bring himself to include his friend.
The same went for Zhuge Hyeon, who had courteously challenged him to a duel and burned his fan as a gesture of respect.
Standing nearby, Zhuge Hyeon flinched, startled by Jeong Yeon-shin’s announcement.
The boy didn’t look back. What of it?
The Sword Saint’s voice carried a hint of amusement.
"You’re picking only the finest. A direct heir of the Eight Noble Families, the sect successor of Jeomchang... The Simmuryun forces stationed throughout the region are as numerous as those of the Bloodflame Cult and as formidable as the Mu-ryong Association or Blade Specters. I don’t expect total annihilation. Don’t push yourself too hard."
"That seems like a change of heart—taking along junior experts," Jeong Yeon-shin remarked flatly.
"It's all just a burden," replied the Sword Saint. "The lament of a powerless Alliance leader. Changing this rotten orthodox martial world cannot be accomplished with a single blade, nor even with a sword technique capable of shaking heaven and earth."
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced back at the Sword Saint. The old master, with his youthful, dignified appearance, offered a faint smile.
It was as if the upcoming sect tournament had aged him ten years.
The noble families had established the Martial Alliance to protect their vested interests. The Sword Saint was a symbolic figurehead they placed atop the organization.
Among those who sought to preserve the old ways, he alone struggled for reform. It was as if he were fighting on a battlefield entirely separate from Jeong Yeon-shin's.
"This is...?" Jeong Yeon-shin gestured toward something on the flat stone floor next to the Alliance Leader's seat.
It was a Go board.
The Sword Saint chuckled faintly before responding.
"I suppose I didn't like being just a figurehead. Zhuge Gaju taught me Go, saying it’s full of lessons in strategy. You should learn it sometime. Life is filled with wonders. After savoring those fruits, I hope you’ll experience them—whether it's Go, camaraderie, or love."
The transcendent master's words were spoken with crystal-clear sincerity.
They carried a profound weight. Jeong Yeon-shin nodded quietly.
The actions of Ipwang Fortress' leaders were said to be the subject of intense scrutiny by all the major sects.
Jeong Yeon-shin's own origins and the path that led him to Ipwang Fortress were no exception.
Since he’s already seen through my constitution, he must have some idea of my intentions.
The boy opened his lips one last time.
"May I ask for your discretion?"
The Sword Saint responded obliquely, "Focus on refining your swordsmanship and show me the results. You know, don’t you, that the winner of the sect tournament must be able to withstand at least one move from me? Your qi holds divine potential, yet it still has some rough edges. I’m curious to see what kind of sword you’ll create with the guidance I’ve provided."
With that, their meeting came to an end. The sect tournament was just fifteen days away.
Half an hour later, back at the Unhyang Pavilion, Jeong Yeon-shin sat surrounded by his older subordinates.
The spacious room felt both tense and relaxed at once.
Namgung Hwashin sat upright in a formal posture, while Hyeon Won-chang rolled his neck side to side. Tae Yeom-ryong lay on the floor, sprawled out at an angle. It was hard to fault him for it.
Tae Yeom-ryong, after all, often resorted to chewing opium poppies to cope with the heat of the Solar Pulse Vein coursing through his body.
"So, let me get this straight," Tae Yeom-ryong began. "The Martial Alliance is having a grand festival, and we’re here to stir up some trouble. Meanwhile, the sinister and brutal Simmuryun forces are prowling around this region?"
"That’s right."
"And these Simmuryun scum—I've heard of them from the dead branch leader. Are we looking at a three-way fight?"
"Keep it respectful," Jeong Yeon-shin warned.
"I was talking to myself."
"......."
"Actually, doesn't the Simmuryun have a history with you, Lord Ma?"
Hyeon Won-chang chimed in.
He referred to the time Jeong Yeon-shin had decapitated a man named Geom Yehwa at a Simmuryun gathering of junior experts. The man had been trying to harm innocent villagers during a boating event.
Later, when Jeong Yeon-shin traveled with Cheong Girin Namgung Sejin, Yehwa’s betrothed had sent his underlings to take revenge.
That "betrothed" was none other than the eldest son of the Simmuryun leader.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
"They’re enemies to the death, and given that they regularly pillage villages, I can swing my sword without hesitation. Let’s see if I can earn a reputation worthy of being called not just a hero but a godly hero."
Hyeon Won-chang tied his blue warrior's bandana tightly around his forehead as he spoke. Jeong Yeon-shin gave a casual nod and rose to his feet.
"I secured two orders sealed with the Alliance Leader’s seal. One has already been sent to the Fortress via carrier hawk as evidence. We leave now. Before the noble families catch wind of this, we need to capture the junior experts of the Simmuryun. The noble families might even be colluding with them."
He had seen the Sa-cheon Dangmun's Supreme Elder working with the Bloodflame Cult. He had also been betrayed by the Namgung Clan.
Jeong Yeon-shin was now a young yet shrewd martial artist. To draw his sword with the Martial Alliance at his back, he needed to take hostages.
"I’ll handle it. That ditsy Small Sword Queen will follow along on her own. She seems completely infatuated with our young lord. As for the rest of them, their skills are no match for mine; they’ll make a good meal."
Tae Yeom-ryong suddenly stood up.
"Before we head out, let’s stop by the market. We need supplies."
"Jerky and medicine for wounds—both internal and external—should suffice."
"I wasn’t talking about that."
***
One Hour Later
A group of three young martial artists, including Ak Ye-rim, were dragged out, seemingly against their will.
The Small Sword Queen, with her long hair flowing, looked at the boy clad in black robes with a smile. Among them was also Jeong Yeon-shin’s unexpected companion, Jeong Hyun.
Not that it mattered to Jeong Yeon-shin. He did not consider them part of his combat strategy.
He also ignored the peculiar lack of resistance from the noble families.
“Such a fascination with supplies...”
He muttered to himself.
They stood in the shadow of a noisy marketplace, in the narrow alley behind it. Tae Yeom-ryong was bargaining animatedly with a merchant.
Behind the stall, a heap of red poppy blossoms swayed gently in the autumn breeze.
Watching the scene in quiet detachment, the Young Master of Ipwang slowly turned.
“Let’s go.”