The stench from over 120 corpses filled the air of Seobong Road like a suffocating mist.
Every one of them had drawn their blades before meeting their untimely demise. Among them were those who had captured prisoners—men, women, and children alike, powerless common folk.
The long black robe draped over the boy grew darker, stained with more blood as each battle passed.
Thud!
The young lord of Ipwang Fortress, Jeong Yeon-shin, drove his sword into the ground. He had just finished another skirmish. The gazes directed at him varied greatly.
Some looked at him with fear, while others held reverence and gratitude. The prisoners rescued from the enemy’s clutches bowed repeatedly.
“Thank you, thank you...!”
A woman in tattered clothes clasped Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand.
His blood-streaked hand was covered by her dirt-stained palms.
“Return safely. They won’t dare attack again,” Jeong Yeon-shin said softly.
The elderly woman’s face lit up with a faint smile. Her lips quivered with gratitude, forming lines of careworn compassion.
It was a smile forged despite the loss of loved ones and the desolation of her homeland. Even without formal education, she radiated profound wisdom.
She wanted to show only her best to the young swordsman who had saved her life.
“May fortune and safety follow you as well, noble warrior.”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently watched the woman’s retreating figure. If his mother were still alive, she would likely be of the same age.
He silently wished that all the misfortunes of her life had culminated in this incident and that her future would be free from strife.
“Your demeanor seems a bit different, doesn’t it?”
This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.
Tap.
Ak Ye-rim approached him, her tone casual but questioning.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned to glance at her briefly. The precious jewel of her noble family wore an inscrutable expression.
Her face betrayed little, making it hard to guess her thoughts. Jeong Yeon-shin had no desire to delve into her mind.
The fact remained that Namgung Se-jin, the Blue Qilin of the Namgung Clan, had met his end by Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands.
Ak Ye-rim of the Spear.
She combined exceptional martial prowess and striking beauty, a member of the Nine Dragons and Nine Phoenixes. The late niece of Ak Su-rim, the Divine Spear of Ipwang Fortress.
Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head away.
She was someone who resented him. While he could understand her feelings, he had no interest in earning her favor.
He didn’t have the luxury of spending energy on matters beyond his control.
Instead, his attention shifted to Zhuge Hyeon, who had much he could learn from.
“About thirty remain,” Zhuge Hyeon said, sitting at the center of the enemy camp. He perched on a rock smoothly sliced across the middle.
The seat seemed unnatural, and the group speculated that it was carved by the swordsmanship of the Youngcheon Sword Demon.
Such precision was impossible without an extraordinary swordsman.
Before the stone seat lay a Go board, seemingly left behind by the Youngcheon Sword Demon.
Enjoying a game of Go in the middle of the Daebang Sect’s heavily fortified camp? It could only be the indulgence of someone of elder rank.
The board was tangled with black and white stones, locked in a delicate balance.
Since their skirmishes had taken place on the outskirts of the camp, the board remained untouched.
“You’re the heir of the Zhuge family,” Jeong Yeon-shin remarked.
“Lately, I’ve been known as the Martial Alliance’s key successor. People often say that the head of the Zhuge family is the true leader of the righteous sects,” Zhuge Hyeon replied, showing his palms with a self-deprecating smile.
After spending two nights together, the trio no longer hesitated in conversation.
“Is it true that the Sword Saint is merely a figurehead?”
“His martial prowess and renown are unparalleled, but he has no personal ties. He was a perfect fit for the Alliance Leader’s seat. The heads of the great families needed someone without political ambitions to front the Alliance. However, I’d rather not discuss the ones who orchestrated that.”
Zhuge Hyeon redirected the topic, his aversion to his father evident.
“The remaining forces will likely return within the next day or two. It’s fortunate we’ve already diminished their strength. We’ve been lucky. To have reduced their numbers this much before facing the Youngcheon Sword Demon...”
He was right. Out of 150 enemies, over 120 corpses had been cleared.
Despite the heavy toll over two days, neither Zhuge Hyeon nor Ak Ye-rim’s expressions wavered.
This was the meaning of Chukmamaeolsa—to be as ruthless as needed when dealing with the heretical and demonic.
“Do you think the Youngcheon Sword Demon truly uses the Yi Gi Yu Geom technique?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked as he sat across from Zhuge Hyeon.
Ak Ye-rim, feeling entirely ignored, furrowed her brow, while a faint smile appeared on Zhuge Hyeon’s lips.
“It’s hard to say. The Youngcheon Sword Demon is renowned as an undefeated swordsman in Hunan, and his actions are relatively well-documented. However, even the Beggars’ Sect operatives couldn’t analyze his swordsmanship. All that’s left are rumors of his lightning-fast techniques. Some say any black-ranked master of Ipwang Fortress could claim to need only one sword, but the truth is uncertain.”
“An undefeated master? I heard he’s an elder.”
“It means he’s lived as a supreme swordsman for many years. It speaks to his exceptional strength and is a story worth noting. The inner techniques he has mastered likely aren’t the kind that deteriorate with age, unlike those of lesser heretical factions. He’s undoubtedly formidable, but knowing he’s a seasoned swordsman gives you an edge. Martial artists like you, Young Lord, are even more adept at exploiting such insights.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m speaking of the prodigies of the martial world. While their capacities may differ, I’ve known two such individuals—Tae Yeom-ryong and the Blue Qilin.”
“...I heard you’re of the same age.”
“Yes. The heirs of Zhuge, Namgung, and Hwangbo families are all the same age. It’s rare and somewhat amusing, so we’ve exchanged pleasantries from afar—meeting at Yongbong gatherings and sending letters.”
Zhuge Hyeon glanced at the Go board before him, lightly flicking open his iron fan. The white folds spread gracefully.
The side etched with a crane obscured his lips slightly.
“Ah, the Youngcheon Sword Demon plays by the Ten Principles of Go. Never straying from principles, it seems. He appears to have captured both sides of the board single-handedly. Perhaps he’s more straightforward than expected.”
He muttered to himself before turning back to the conversation.
The Ten Principles of Go—a common set of maxims for the game—reflected an orderly mindset. Zhuge Hyeon, despite his enigmatic demeanor, seemed to find meaning in the simplicity.
“You know,” he continued, “there’s a saying that life is encapsulated in Go. It might not be an exaggeration. Even the temperaments of prodigies like Tae Yeom-ryong and the Blue Qilin can be expressed through these principles.”
He spoke in a calm tone.
Suddenly.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt a spark, like a bolt of lightning striking his mind. A faint but near-revelatory sensation coursed through him.
A blade appeared in his imagination, clear and distinct.
Slowly, he spoke.
“Tell me more.”
Zhuge Hyeon’s smile deepened behind his fan.
“First, let me ask that you don’t mention this to Tae Yeom-ryong. We weren’t particularly close—he dislikes indulgence.”
“And?”
“It was thanks to the Blue Qilin that we even interacted. If I had to describe Tae Yeom-ryong, the phrase ‘enter slowly, retreat cautiously’ fits well. He may appear temperamental but knows when to advance and when to withdraw. His sense of timing is impeccable.”
“That doesn’t resonate with me. Forget him.”
Without hesitation, Jeong Yeon-shin redirected the topic. Zhuge Hyeon, who had been observing him, suddenly asked.
“What became of the Blue Qilin? To understand his true nature, one must know his end.”
His expression betrayed no ulterior motive. In the background, there was a faint stirring—likely from Ak Ye-rim.
Namgung Se-jin, the Blue Qilin.
From the moment Jeong Yeon-shin entered the Martial Alliance as the Young Lord of Ipwang Fortress, Namgung Se-jin had been a constant thorn in his side.
Everywhere he went, Namgung Se-jin’s name followed. The nightly throbbing in his knees was a reminder of their encounters.
Jeong Yeon-shin, being human, sometimes grew weary of it all—the righteous warriors who despised him, the guilt of sending a good man to the afterlife.
Even if their duel was fair and decided by skill, the fact that he had killed a fellow swordsman weighed heavily on him.
He just didn’t show it.
In a calm voice, he replied.
“He scolded his retainers for trying to harm me. Told them not to sully his death.”
“He passed with the stance of Abandoning Stones to Take the Initiative,” Zhuge Hyeon nodded.
“Even when sacrificing a stone, the principle emphasizes seizing the advantage. This ‘initiative’ also refers to grasping ‘significant meaning.’ It teaches us to distinguish between what’s valuable and what’s not. The Blue Qilin abandoned his status as the Namgung heir and embraced the essence of Namgung Se-jin, the swordsman. In the end, he departed as a noble swordsman.”
Even as his eyes reflected a strange sentiment, Jeong Yeon-shin articulated his words clearly and methodically.
“...”
He silently lowered his gaze, his eyes taking in the Go board before him. The white stones appeared particularly sparse in comparison to the black ones.
Ki Ja Jaeng Seon. Sacrificing a few stones to seize the initiative.
“In the past...”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips moved slowly.
“Would it be selfish of me to use what I gained from the Blue Qilin for my own sake?”
Whoosh!
At that moment, a flurry of activity surged from all directions.
Around thirty individuals closed in.
These weren’t like the ones they had cut down earlier. Their fierce auras pressed inward like a typhoon, carrying a formidable presence.
The remaining martial artists of Sim Mu-ryeon were encircling them, clearly realizing the gravity of their situation.
They had approached quietly from a distance, only now revealing their concentrated power.
“This is different from before! They said there are elites personally trained by the Youngcheon Sword Demon...”
Ak Ye-rim, releasing the spear strapped to her back, muttered as a brief silence settled over the group.
Zhuge Hyeon fixed his gaze on the young lord of Ipwang Fortress before him, uncertain of the genius’s exact thoughts.
One thing, however, was evident. The prodigy of the Zhuge family thought as he observed Jeong Yeon-shin:
This boy holds Namgung Se-jin, the martial artist, closer to his heart than anyone else.
The Celestial Dragon, Zhuge Hyeon, parted his lips.
“You once said at the banquet that even if you ascended to the rank of Violet, you’d only ever be equal to the Blue Qilin.”
“I did.”
“To take a deceased person as your rival... that’s a harsh fate. Whatever you gain from him, the gap between you two will remain constant. If it’s the Blue Qilin, he’d likely find satisfaction in that. The higher your stature rises, the more his legacy ascends with it, does it not?”
That remark.
Even if it served as self-consolation, it was a story that could convince a boy destined for a short life.
Indeed, Zhuge Hyeon was undoubtedly the true heir of the Zhuge family. He recalled the steadfast image of the Blue Qilin, Namgung Se-jin, who had stood firm even as he bled out.
He respected him but no longer wanted to be bound by that memory. That was how he felt now.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly rose from his seat before the Go board.
The martial artists of Sim Mu-ryeon who had just arrived caught sight of him. To their eyes, no sane person could exude such composure in this situation.
They had been playing Go among a sea of corpses.
The newly instated young lord of Ipwang Fortress radiated an aura so serene it seemed deranged.
“The loss of Sword Art Flower was a major blow. How will you compensate for it? Perhaps a mere child of Ipwang Fortress in black can offer some insight.”
A middle-aged man with black gauntlets on both hands stepped forward. His narrowed eyes glinted with cold light.
His body was wrapped in an undulating energy aura, like a heat haze. This was no ordinary master.
The uneven waves radiating from his steps hinted at the depth of his internal energy.
“How fruitful was your harvest?”
Jeong Yeon-shin placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he asked. The presence of thirty surrounding enemies was unmistakable.
He could sense a scattering of azure-level energy auras—more than just one or two. It was practically an assembly of elite masters.
“What?”
The middle-aged man responded with a question. A faint smirk tugged at Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
“You’re farmers, aren’t you? Harvesting human lives. The lowest and most wretched kind of farmers under heaven.”
“You’ve got quite the tongue for a boy.”
The man chuckled softly, his expression betraying no disturbance. His demeanor suggested a profound depth of character.
“I’ve heard plenty about you. A young prodigy who wields raw swordsmanship and martial arts while employing bizarre internal energy techniques. After the Grand Duke of Sim Mu-ryeon lost Sword Art Flower, he was devastated... and to think we’d repay that grief with this opportunity. You’ve been awake for nights on end, haven’t you? One night? Two?”
At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind wandered to his eternal rival.
“Let’s meet again... though not too soon.”
He spoke silently to himself. I want to live a long life.
Suddenly.
A sword manifested in his mind. The dam of understanding he had consciously blocked collapsed.
The barrier erected to mourn the deceased burst into a brilliant blaze.
Clang!
Jeong Yeon-shin pulled the Bukmyeong Sword from where it had been planted in the ground. With a step forward, his right hand lifted the blade in a sweeping motion.
A gleaming arc of light curved through the air, almost dreamlike.
His stance was shoulder-width apart. His feet formed a narrow "八" shape, and his right arm rose unimpeded.
It was a posture that pointed to the heavens, a quintessential sword stance of precision.
Such techniques were rarely seen in exceptional swordsmanship.
This was the stance of a swordsman who discarded defense entirely. It was the most aggressive form of attack.
An upward guard.
Jeong Yeon-shin gripped the Bukmyeong Sword in the stance of Ki Ja Jaeng Seon.