“This old master must be aging. I forgot to mention something important.”
Heavenly Master Jin looked down slightly at Yu Hyeon as they walked out of Unhyang Garden, where the delegation from Ipwang Fortress was staying. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the autumn-stained yellow soil, a calm rhythm in the golden hues of the Mid-Autumn Festival.
“Oh... You mentioned having other business with Yeon-shin, didn’t you? If you forgot, maybe it wasn’t that important after all?”
Yu Hyeon tilted his head slightly, raising his dark eyebrows as he responded. The Heavenly Master of Swords was infamous for his exacting nature, particularly within the Hwasan Sect. Forgetting tasks or allowing slack in his conduct was unheard of, and he demanded the same rigor from disciples of the sect.
To outsiders, he might have been a noble swordsman of impeccable bearing. Within the sect, however, he was a living Yama of judgment.
‘If I return, I might be ordered to undergo seclusion training. And he even gave Yeon-shin a sword.’
Yu Hyeon’s lips curved downward in a subtle frown. It was unusual for the master swordsman to show such leniency toward Jeong Yeon-shin, a display unprecedented even in Hwasan.
Earning the favor of the Sword Master was no small feat. It was akin to finding an actual plum blossom on Hwasan’s rugged peaks—nearly impossible. If the lower-ranked disciples from the main sect witnessed such favoritism, envy would surely fester.
Yu Hyeon himself, having been appointed as the head disciple at a young age, often found himself distanced from his peers.
‘I wonder if things are different in Ipwang Fortress. He’s even more extraordinary than me, yet his subordinates seem to genuinely respect him. Not to mention, his subordinates include the likes of White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin and Tae Yeom-ryong. That’s just absurd.’
Sensing his disciple's subtle shift in expression, Heavenly Master Jin reached out and patted Yu Hyeon’s head.
“Wasn’t it remarkable how Ma Gwang-ik honed his swordsmanship?”
The Heavenly Master’s thoughts drifted to Seomye. The enigmatic boy was no longer the white-robed martial artist sheltered under Ma Jin’s protection in Xi’an. Whatever trials he had endured had transformed him into a prodigy worthy of astonishment.
Perhaps it was a relief that such extraordinary talent resided within Ipwang Fortress. Had he been born within the demonic factions, the world would have had yet another calamity to contend with.
Yu Hyeon’s pale face scrunched slightly in irritation.
“I can already craft dual-edged swords, you know. I’ve mastered the first ten strokes of the Plum Blossom Sword Technique.”
“Does witnessing the swordplay of Ma Gwang-ik still leave you saying that? Handling such potent energy waves is an arduous task. Ten years would be optimistic.”
“Sure, Yeon-shin lives ten times faster than I do. Still, tenfold might be an exaggeration. No, you know what? I don’t care. Thinking about it just messes with my focus.”
“Comparison breeds inner demons. Focus on diligent practice, and one day your sword will bloom with its own radiance. That is enough. Ah, you’ve grasped the essence of solitary meditation training. Upon returning, we will focus on absorbing the energy of the Jaso Dan. I’ll prepare some Wall-Strengthening Pills for you.”
“Master?”
After a long exchange of lighthearted banter, the Heavenly Master finally brought up the main topic.
Yu Hyeon adjusted his white cap, the symbol of his ascetic discipline. His frustration over his friend’s overwhelming talent had left his mind in disarray, even disrupting his appearance.
“You wanted to tell Yeon-shin about the Sword Lord of Destruction, right?”
“Yes.”
Heavenly Master Jin lightly touched his side as Yu Hyeon observed him with a shaded gaze.
“Do you think he will attack Zhongnan again? He’s practically unrivaled now...”
“The head of the Cheongseong Sect has passed. When I faced him, his swordsmanship refined by nature’s providence was a marvel. If not for the Plum Blossom Sword Formation beneath the main mountain, my heart might have been split. The Sword Lord of Destruction has become a transcendent swordsman who can attempt anything. The sect must be prepared. The Sword Faction will rise again, and the winds of steel will howl through Shaanxi.”
The Master of Swords spoke with an uncharacteristically grave tone. Yu Hyeon instinctively glanced back.
“Shouldn’t we tell Yeon-shin, given he has a personal grudge against him?”
“It’s better to wait. A swordsman preparing for a duel needs to temper both body and mind. Stories of past enemies could dull his blade.”
“Oh...”
Yu Hyeon nodded, seemingly in agreement, then hesitated.
“They say the Sword Saint can split mountains with a single strike... Well, I suppose the black swords of Ipwang Fortress could save face. Not that the League Master would bother to intervene.”
“My abilities are the problem, not his,” the young Taoist muttered self-deprecatingly, lifting his gaze.
“By the way, the Tang Clan just arrived, didn’t they? Why did they take so long to get here? The Gepa Daetjeon is already over...”
“Sichuan is in turmoil. Their primary experts have been killed by Seomye, and even Ten-Blade Lord Moon-ju is in critical condition. For the Tang Clan to dominate Sichuan, surpassing the True Dragon League would have sufficed, but recently, instead of the League, they consolidated as a single faction called the Golden Wing Sect. The resistance must have been considerable. Yet, I can’t fathom why the Tang Clan’s head would personally travel all the way here to Hanzhong.”
At that moment, the Heavenly Master’s eyes narrowed.
“Yu Hyeon.”
“Yes?”
“From afar... Ma Gwang-ik’s energy is surging like a tidal wave. Something must be happening.”
***
Jeong Yeon-shin advanced alongside Jegal Cheong-ah.
There was little time to waste.
The heads of the clans were said to be away for no more than half an hour. Jegal Cheong-ah had no idea where they had gone. All she could do was speculate that they might be at Cheonghak Pavilion, atop the main hall of the Menghui headquarters.
It was rumored that high-ranking figures, including Eon Hwa-shin, gathered there in secret to indulge in refined leisure.
The lord of Ipwang Fortress knew he could not handle the clan leaders.
That much was clear. It was an undeniable fact.
Three lords who dwelled at the edges of the Black Realm had once combined their power to defeat Hwangbo Gaju. Just as Jeong Yeon-shin had annihilated formidable foes with swift and decisive strikes, he too could fall victim to such tactics.
It was said that masters near the Violet Realm held absolute sway as aristocrats of the martial world, no matter where they stood.
Considering their age and status, the heads of Jegal and Moyong Clans had looked down on him as nothing more than a lowly pawn during the Gepa Daetjeon.
It was only natural, given their positions.
“We have to secure it before they return,” Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
If they failed to retrieve the body of the Blue Qilin, it would appear as if Ipwang Fortress had launched a preemptive strike against the Jegal Clan based on an unfounded excuse.
The consequences would be dire. At this very moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was trespassing in the most guarded depths of the Menghui.
No one would bat an eye if Jegal Gaju himself severed Ma Gwang-ik’s head for this transgression.
Such was the law of the martial world.
After some martial artists accused of treason had eluded annihilation through their mastery of concealment techniques, the imperial court had publicly severed ties with Ipwang Fortress.
The majesty of the imperial dynasty ensured that Ipwang Fortress's enemies were no longer considered traitors.
Ultimately, what remained between Ipwang Fortress and the martial world was a stark disparity in power. Thus, the Martial Alliance was formed.
With Menghui now established, the gathering of the Eight Clans’ leaders presented a threat to Ipwang Fortress.
Possessing both justification and force, the martial artists of the Menghui were capable of anything. The situation was dire.
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For this reason, the leaders of Ipwang Fortress had deployed the unprecedentedly talented new lord, Ma Gwang-ik, to take charge. His appearance was meant to suppress the morale of the Menghui before conflict could escalate further.
Now, the final act had begun.
This was a race against time.
Thud!
Dust rose with each strike of his feet against the ground. Walls and pavilions blurred past them like fleeting shadows.
While running, Jeong Yeon-shin had to remain mindful of the countless gazes that followed them. Even as a one-time mission, this was an incredibly challenging task.
Rationality and anger churned together in his chest. He tried to anchor his thinking with reason, laying logical foundations for his energy manipulation, but frustration surged with each passing moment.
It felt as though sharp, blood-red autumn leaves were lodged in his mind.
The faint ringing in his ears, the killing intent laced in his movements, the fury carried on his energy waves—all of it fed into the cold brilliance emanating from his Upper Dantian.
“Intruders at the main gate...!”
“The young lady is with them!”
“Is she a hostage?”
“It’s Ma Gwang-ik! Activate the formation at full strength!”
Many figures moved to block his advance. Seven stood in the vanguard, while several others closed in from behind, layering their lines.
Each wore green martial robes, with white cranes embroidered on the left chest. None of them bore even a hint of contempt for the young lord.
This was the Hyuncheon Guard of the Jegal Clan, an elite force of men and women, their sharp gazes brimming with power.
They specialized in formation-based martial arts.
Whoosh!
Artificial winds began to swirl around their bodies. Tangible energy waves gathered, pulsing like a living storm and brushing against Jeong Yeon-shin's skin.
This was a sure sign that a sophisticated formation was being activated. Likely the renowned Cloud Soul Severance Formation (운백참절진).
It was said to be no ordinary formation.
Unlike standard formations that relied on mechanical traps or environmental manipulation, this one resonated with the users’ internal energy techniques. It simultaneously boosted their combat power while suppressing the movements of their opponents.
Jeong Yeon-shin had been briefed on this by Aksu-rim, the commander of Ipwang’s Divine Spears, before embarking on this mission.
"If they use some bizarre sword formation despite knowing your energy techniques, don’t just charge in—break their energy waves first. Back when I caused a ruckus at their main house and flew the blue banner, those accursed Jegal bastards nearly sent me down the River Styx with their filthy tactics. Don’t make the same mistake I did—they’re downright despicable when they work together."
It felt as though the elder’s voice was chattering directly into his ear.
The elite guard of a prominent clan was no different from the armed forces under the Divine Sword Unit.
Their strength was immense. Even a black-level master might find their movements momentarily restrained.
But Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t afford to falter.
“Quickly.”
Breaking an opponent’s energy waves was an abstract concept, and methods for doing so were rare. Fortunately, Jeong Yeon-shin had a way.
Hwaak!
A black gale wrapped around the hem of his dark martial robe. The Radiant Wheel Energy surged down his legs, scattering into brilliant light as it reached the Middle Capital Acupoint (중도혈) along his calves.
It took but an instant for the energy to form an invisible armor around the three pressure points of his ankle.
The Scattering Steps of the Ipwang Fortress Lord began to take shape.
Phantom Wing Steps (환익이보).
Boom!
His steps tore through the formation’s energy. With each stride, waves of force rippled outward.
Colorless currents pushed back the air itself. In an instant, they reached the dense energy waves emanating from the seven martial artists, disrupting and scattering them as though they were spinning in reverse.
The principles of formations were intricate. Harmonized resonance across multiple axes produced their power.
For something as flexible as the Cloud Soul Severance Formation, the disruption was all the more pronounced. Their gathered strength unraveled in an instant.
The pine needles that had floated above them began to fall gently like feathers.
The distance between Ma Gwang-ik and the elite guard was now only ten paces.
“...!”
The Hyuncheon Guard of the Jegal Clan did not falter, despite their brows twitching and mouths slightly agape. Their charge continued unabated.
Was this the power of a great clan? Their resolve as retainers was truly formidable, like a finely honed, icy wind barreling forward.
The dust that rose with each step was transparent—a testament to their refined footwork techniques. Their skills were equally polished; the axes of their formation seemed poised to realign at any moment. Among them, energy waves surged again, lifting pine needles in their wake.
If their formation could recover before colliding with Jeong Yeon-shin, it would be ideal. If not, they were prepared to defend their position at all costs. Even at the risk of disrupting their coordination with reinforcements charging from behind.
That’s fine.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself.
The truly frightening opponent was the returning Jegal Gaju.
The handful of covert forces secretly dispatched from Ipwang Fortress to protect the youngest fortress lord hadn’t intervened even when he faced the Sinmu Alliance Army.
But against a clan lord? That would be different.
If he wasn’t swift, this entire operation could escalate into a war of annihilation between factions. It had to end before things became irreparably messy.
“Wind God Technique.”
Pahak!
Jeong Yeon-shin clenched the extensor hallucis longus muscle running from his toe to his calf with internal energy. His entire body’s micro-muscles contracted and expanded repeatedly. Leaves spiraled into a vortex beneath his feet.
As a strong gust brushed against his eyelids, the faces of the Hyuncheon Guard suddenly loomed larger—they were now within striking distance.
Their Cloud Soul Severance Formation had yet to recover. Behind him, Jegal Cheong-ah’s presence faded into the crowd of onlookers.
“Draw swords!”
The lead guard shouted, her slender face still tinged with lingering astonishment. Yet, she leapt gracefully forward, extending her blade.
Her trailing leg formed a straight line with her blade, turning her entire body into an arrow. The force of her Sword Qi condensed into a single trajectory, embodying the profound unity of body and sword.
Pah-pah-pak!
The formation tightened like the beating wings of a phoenix, drawing inwards even without the full wisdom of their technique. Their coordination was exceptional, closing the gap with precise intervals.
Each blade’s trajectory was narrow, carving through falling pine needles and maple leaves. The sound of piercing air reverberated sharply, a chilling echo in the atmosphere.
There was no hesitation. This was a strike to kill.
Amid the accelerating pulse of his Upper Dantian, Jeong Yeon-shin became keenly aware of his newfound status.
He was no longer a promising talent whose moniker echoed only in Cheongya Valley or a rising star revered exclusively within the closed-off Sichuan Province.
Now, on the land of Hanzhong, he had fully stepped into the realm of the martial world’s central stage.
Today, the world watched him as a supreme martial artist.
No longer would the forests of swords and mountains of blades see him as a mere boy. He would be treated with the deference accorded to grandmasters—and attacked with the same fatal intent.
Strong warriors would begin each encounter with killing techniques, without leaving anything to chance. After his victory in the Gepa Daetjeon, luck would no longer save him.
The sword strike from the Hyuncheon Guard approaching his face seemed to declare as much. The sharp energy slicing through the air could be felt on his skin.
“Harmony of Infinite Flowing Water (시화무극수).”
Jeong Yeon-shin gathered his Radiant Wheel Energy at the Heavenly Gathering Acupoint (천종혈) on his right shoulder blade. His upper arm muscles contracted tightly.
In that fleeting moment, the minute movements of his muscles and veins amplified his internal energy. A burst of force erupted violently.
Behind him, the Radiant Wheel Energy exploded like a thunderbolt. His right fist tore through the air with ferocious momentum.
The energy wave swept past his ears, smashing through the side of the formation.
Second Technique: Shattering Wall (진벽).
Jjuhhhhng!
The fist strike absorbed even the rebound force, surging upward. Fragments of shattered swords mixed into the fierce whirlwind.
The light reflecting off the shards of steel swept across the face of the lead guard.
The airborne woman spiraled downward in a distorted trajectory, like a leaf caught in the wind. Her ribs seemed crushed from the direct impact of Jeong Yeon-shin’s strike, leaving her gasping for air. She hadn’t withstood the aftermath of Shattering Wall.
Even as her pained cries rang out, Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t stop. Another synchronized wave of Sword Qi was rushing toward him. Three on the left, three on the right.
Their movements were clearly specialized in hunting high-level martial artists. There was no time to maneuver his body away.
The expressions of his attackers betrayed no hint of triumph. Their stoic faces showed only focus as they swung their blades, ensuring no gaps in their formation.
Even at a glance, their sword stances left no openings. They gave it their all.
Jeong Yeon-shin unclenched the fist he had raised for the strike. As he spread his fingers, the glowing fragments of shattered swords that had been scattering around him suddenly froze in mid-air.
The acupuncture points in his palm—Lesser Palace (소부혈), Lao Gong (노궁혈), and Central Reservoir (중자혈)—aligned in a straight line, radiating intense heat. The balance between absorption and dispersion reached a miraculous harmony.
“If the martial world chooses to treat me wholly as Ma Gwang-ik, then I shall conduct myself as Ma Gwang-ik with uncompromising excellence.”
Falling Petals in a Radiant Storm (만천화우).
The clash between Jegal Clan and Ma Gwang-ik unfolded without retreat. Like his name, Seomye, the brilliance of his stride painted the scene in radiant streaks of light.