“It’s been a while, our dear Seomye. I’ve been watching everything. You were incredible during the Gepa Daetjeon. Honestly, I might have fallen for you just a little.”
A light, small hand patted Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder twice.
The girl clad in a black cloak with her bobbed hair falling to her nape was none other than Ak Su-rim.
Their eyes met, her dark pupils glinting with a sharp brilliance that could only belong to a senior martial artist of immense skill.
“I almost went blind watching over you, especially when you were with that Sword Demon. I’m not even proficient in stealth techniques, but still, I couldn’t just ignore what I saw. It was too dangerous.”
Her words, casual yet loaded with implication, trailed off as she shifted her gaze to the Patriarch of the Zhuge Clan.
Their eyes locked, her crystalline stare meeting his calculating gaze.
Ak Su-rim was one of the strongest warriors in Ipwang Fortress, second only to the Sword Corps Commander.
The Zhuge Patriarch, meanwhile, had solidified his clan’s power by aligning with the Murim Alliance. Who held the upper hand? It was a clash the martial world was keenly watching.
Suddenly, with a heavy thud, a massive figure arrived, having demolished seven pavilions in his wake. He stood to Jeong Yeon-shin’s left, an overwhelming presence.
The man’s sharp ears were far from ordinary, rivaling those of the purest bloodlines. His completely swept-back hair revealed a broad forehead and a strikingly handsome face.
His gaze, brimming with curiosity, flickered down to the boy before him.
“So, you’re Seomye. I am Hahoe Wi-jin of the Ipwang Hahoe Clan,” he declared, his voice deep and resonant, reverberating through the air as if from the depths of his being. The sheer weight of the energy embedded in his tone was staggering.
Every word seemed to echo in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind. Was this the result of countless years of cultivating profound energy?
The Thousand-Fist Dragon of Unyielding Strength (천권용력신 하후위진).
The captain of Cheonrimdae and a trusted confidant of the Sovereign of Ipwang Fortress, Hahoe Wi-jin was renowned throughout the martial world. Like the others, he wore a black cloak, marking him as a leader of extraordinary caliber.
Towering over Jeong Yeon-shin by at least three heads, his black mantle billowed like a cape.
Jeong Yeon-shin offered a brief salute.
“Greetings, Senior Hahoe. I am Jeong Yeon-shin of Shinya County.”
Their introductions ended there, as Jeong Yeon-shin was keenly aware that he stood before a transcendent master.
Ak Su-rim broke the silence, her gaze skewering the Zhuge Patriarch.
“The Tang Clan Leader will be here soon, too. If we can crush you Zhuge and that idiot from the Mo Yong Clan, the rest will be easy. This unfinished Murim Alliance is nothing to worry about.”
Her words were accompanied by a cheerful smile, as if she were singing like a lark. The atmosphere lightened considerably in an instant.
She began folding her slender fingers one by one as if counting.
“Let’s see, let’s see... With me, the Tang Clan Leader, this brute, and Seomye, we should be able to handle pale-faced fools like you and that moronic Mo Yong. Your pitiful subordinates can’t even match our blade work and footwork. Oh, and Mo Yong? He knows what’s coming. That coward hasn’t even moved a muscle since we got here.”
Her lips curled into a sly grin.
“Maybe he has something to hide. Seems like he’s already pulled back from you after sensing us.”
She nonchalantly mocked both the Zhuge Patriarch and the Mo Yong Clan Leader. Yet, it was hard to call her exaggerations.
Jeong Yeon-shin could already sense two incoming waves of energy rapidly approaching. The aura of profound internal strength felt familiar.
The Tang Clan Leader and Cheonjujin, no doubt. The commotion they had caused was impossible to miss, and their allegiance was predictable.
The Murim Alliance Leader remained neutral, a fact evident from their lack of appearance thus far.
It was widely known that Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek, often referred to as a celestial figure, would not intervene lightly. Despite being a wandering martial artist, his transcendence was undisputed.
It was highly likely that the moment Jeong Yeon-shin created such chaos, the Sword Saint had already taken note of Cheonggirin’s demise. However, as a martial leader of the righteous sects, he would neither side with Ipwang Fortress nor the Zhuge Clan.
Amid these swirling tensions, Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin’s roles became clear: to protect Jeong Yeon-shin.
Even though they had stormed into enemy territory, war was not their intent. Unnecessary conflict would only escalate matters further.
This was the heart of the Murim Alliance’s domain. Unless the Zhuge Patriarch made the first move, they had no reason to attack him.
Simply ensuring Seomye’s safety was enough.
The Zhuge Patriarch’s voice, quiet yet sharp, broke through the stillness.
“Ipwang Fortress seems to lack surplus forces these days...”
His fan concealed his lips, maintaining an air of leisure. Yet, everyone present knew it was a façade.
Ak Su-rim lazily brushed back her jet-black hair, the strands gleaming like polished ebony. She then casually massaged the nape of her neck, exuding an air of carefree elegance.
“Our Seomye is the future of Ipwang Fortress. Did you really think we’d sit idly by after sending such a precious treasure into your territory? What do you take us for, fools?”
Her brazen remark was met with silence. The Zhuge Patriarch had no rebuttal.
Ipwang Fortress’s black-clad champions could rival even the clan patriarchs.
Rumors that Ak Su-rim had elevated the Yue Clan Spear Technique (악가창) to new heights were no exaggeration.
Meanwhile, the Thousand-Fist Dragon’s fist techniques were said to split mountains.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s disruptive actions had escalated the situation significantly.
The Zhuge Clan’s walls had been breached, their tranquil environment shattered.
The Murim Alliance, being the pinnacle of the martial world, was now swarming with warriors who had honed their senses to perfection.
The Zhuge Patriarch was cornered. Though the pavilion housing Cheonggirin’s remains weighed on his mind, he couldn’t afford to divert his focus with Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin standing before him.
Slowly, Jeong Yeon-shin straightened his posture. Adjusting his single sleeve, he brushed the dust off his clothes.
Standing within the immense shadow of Ipwang Fortress’s influence, he felt its overwhelming weight.
It was time to confront the deceased.
“Ma Gwang-ik.”
The Zhuge Patriarch’s voice called out.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t turn back. He kept walking, his steps unbroken.
The patriarch’s clear voice, reminiscent of a sage in a fable, rang out again.
“Reckless behavior without regard for heaven and earth will lead to an early death. Even the most unique flower loses its meaning if it fails to bloom. Your talent may be extraordinary, but the strong will never look kindly upon it.”
“You Zhuge fools fail to think in reverse,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied without stopping.
“The Murim Alliance has wronged me. Remember today, and reflect on it two years from now.”
It was a chilling warning, filled with unsettling silence. His extraordinary talent promised vengeance, a declaration that sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned masters.
The unparalleled speed and potential of his talent promised the future. It was the kind of statement that could send chills down the spines of masters.
As soon as the words of the Absolute, who wielded the White Crane Fan, ended—
“Ha ha ha ha!”
Hahoe Wi-jin’s laughter roared like a tempest, loud enough to stir the winds.
It wasn’t just hearty—it was a gale-force resonance.
Jeong Yeon-shin nearly reflexively shielded his eardrums with his Radiant Wheel Qi but managed to restrain himself as he stepped into the hall.
By his side, Jeong Cheong-ah was gasping for breath, barely composed.
Behind them, countless presences surged.
Factions were murmuring amongst themselves, questioning the cause of the commotion. Prominent figures like So Geomhwi, who had arrived in a single bound, and even more advanced warriors such as Cheonggirin were present, their auras arriving ahead of them.
And then, the disturbance became an inferno.
“How could such a thing happen...?”
“Even if Ma Gwang-Ik triumphed at the Gepa Daetjeon, how could Ipwang Fortress act so disgracefully?”
“Ipwang Shinjang?!”
“That black robe and overwhelming presence—it’s the Heavenly Fist of Hahoe Wi-jin?!”
“Ma Gwang-Ik! What do you think you’re doing, causing such a disgraceful scene?!”
A voice laced with confusion boomed, belonging to the master of Cheong Il-mun. Early in his visit to the Menghui, he had exchanged blows with Jeong Yeon-shin, only to laugh as he departed, admitting he’d learned something from the young prodigy.
He was living proof that Ma Gwang-Ik had garnered no shortage of allies within the Menghui.
The numbers gathering behind were swelling, quickly surpassing the hundreds.
Leaping over tall walls, running along rooftops, perching on railings of pavilions, or standing firmly atop the opposite roof facing Jeong Yeon-shin—people were everywhere.
“That one. He was always such a person. At that age, possessing such martial prowess... As the direct disciple of the Ipwang Fortress Lord, wouldn’t the entire world seem like his plaything? Cloaking himself in the guise of noble ideals, he disregards the martial world’s rules.”
“Excessive arrogance—brandishing a sword against the Menghui’s spearhead is beyond reason.”
“Does Ipwang Fortress truly equate righteous sects with the demonic path? This very Samrakmun (Three Pleasures Gate) has stood with the people since its inception! Not everyone is like Hwangbo Se-ga!”
Hostility spread like wildfire.
The Zhuge Clan was a pivotal force within the Murim Alliance.
Now, a member of another faction had intruded upon the Menghui’s stronghold, violating Zhuge’s domain. It was only natural for those witnessing the devastation wrought by Jeong Yeon-shin to be furious.
The atmosphere was tense, ominous. Weapons were drawn, humming with imbued internal energy.
Sreung! Chachachang!
Even in the presence of Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin, many were preparing for battle.
Ak Ye-rim, who arrived belatedly, was among them.
Her long braided hair swayed as she moved, and the energy radiating from her body fluttered her robes like the wings of a white heron.
She clutched a spear in both hands.
Though she momentarily hesitated upon seeing her younger-looking aunt Ak Su-rim, the devastation of the pavilions far surpassed her imagination, chilling her resolve.
‘It’s different from what I thought. I assumed I was mistaken, that my prejudice was excessive, and that I was ashamed of myself...’
The one tasked with subjugating the Sim Mu-ryeon within Hanzhong’s jurisdiction under the Murim Alliance’s mandate was Ma Gwang-Ik of Ipwang Fortress. Even though it meant facing one enemy in hostile territory while confronting another, he had not refused.
Before engaging the Sim Mu-ryeon’s martial army at Seobong-ro, she had glimpsed his inner thoughts. He killed formidable opponents and suppressed himself.
When his emotions finally unraveled through the advice of Zhuge Hyeon, his swordplay reminded her of the Imperial Sword Form.
Since then...
She had seen her reflection through the Menghui’s decision to move the Gepa Daetjeon forward.
Her behavior, driven by narrow-mindedness, stubbornness, and an attitude of "as long as I’m right, everything is permitted," became glaringly obvious.
She even dissuaded Eon Hwayeon from studying the counter-techniques to Seomye Martial Arts passed down by the Zhuge family.
Because it was disgusting.
But now, the scene unfolding before her eyes was...
‘I don’t understand anything anymore.’
Ak Ye-rim tightly shut her eyes, her expression filled with unease.
What is right, and what is wrong? Who exactly is Seomye? Among the fallen Hyeoncheondae martial artists, there were some whom she had shared friendships with.
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Ma Gwang-Ik, who had entered the small pavilion, did not come out for some time.
“Explain yourself! Why have you committed such heinous acts?”
“Is Ipwang Fortress seeking to challenge the Murim Alliance?”
The air grew stiflingly hot. Areas densely packed with martial masters often filled with fiery Yang Qi. It was a natural occurrence, even unintentional.
When internal energy was roused, the friction between Qi waves generated this effect. In large-scale battles, the stronger the internal energy, the more formidable the defensive energy needed to withstand it.
“Shouldn’t it take the authority of the Thirteen Heavens for you to justify your actions?”
“Seomye, come out and explain yourself! Why are you hiding within the Zhuge family’s quarters?”
Anger gave rise to heat, and the Yang Qi further amplified their fury. A boiling cauldron of Qi was gradually expanding, seemingly ready to explode at any moment.
This was the Murim Alliance. The very act of bearing arms signified mastery.
Yet, Ipwang Spear Ak Su-rim appeared completely unbothered.
“Buzzing like flies. Even the Zhuge family head won’t dare attack, and you martial artists do nothing but flap your mouths.”
“How can such barbarity exist within the righteous Murim Alliance?”
Some martial artists' cries halted the moment she opened her mouth.
“Three in black stand gathered here.”
Ak Su-rim lazily placed one hand on her hip and clasped her hands behind her back with a mocking smirk.
Even as a faint glow of Qi shimmered from the spear casually held behind her, her demeanor was that of a rowdy thug in a back alley.
“Don’t you know what this means? This place, too, is Ipwang Fortress now.”
With the face of a girl barely past her teens, she mocked the gathered warriors. Though she didn’t make the first move, her words were gasoline on an open flame.
Ak Su-rim’s nature had always been this way. Even when backed into a corner, she would wear an infuriating smile.
Her audacious personality, paired with her unyielding martial prowess, had earned her the title of Ipwang Spear.
Resentment grew louder. Jeers unbefitting the setting rang out, and some high-ranking martial artists within the alliance had already fully prepared their sword techniques.
The situation was explosive, teetering on the edge of an unprecedented confrontation.
“Such pitiful clans endlessly babbling! Truly despicable! Vermin, I want nothing more than to crush every single one of you!”
Boom! Boom!
Hahoe Wi-jin clapped his massive fists together, sending shards of formless Qi scattering like shrapnel. The sheer force of his strikes manifested visible fragments of Qi, proof of his immense power.
In that tense moment, as some warriors flinched at the display of strength—
Step.
A pitch-black robe sliced through the fragments like petals in the wind. Moving in silent, deliberate steps.
And then, with the wind—
Ma Gwang-Ik appeared suddenly.
“......!”
All eyes widened.
The boy’s arms carried a striking young man, his eyes closed in a deep slumber.
Namgung Se-jin’s complexion, while peaceful, exuded an unnatural vitality for someone presumed dead. It was impossible without some sort of sorcery or technique.
“Ah...”
Ak Ye-rim covered her mouth with her hand, her reddened eyes brimming with unshed tears.
The astute among the gathered quickly pieced together the situation. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Cheonggirin had been a prominent figure in the righteous martial world.
Many present recognized his face, particularly among the younger generation.
Moyong Myeongjun quietly slipped away. Gongsun Min stood agape. Even So Geomhwi and Yoo Hyeon were visibly shaken.
Taeyeomryong, perched atop a wall, silently observed the pavilion. His face twisted with bitterness as he looked upon the familiar visage of an old friend.
Zhuge Hyeon, arriving belatedly, wore an expression overtaken by chaos.
Shock and disbelief swelled, and the noise of the crowd grew louder.
“How did Cheonggirin end up at the Zhuge Clan’s pavilion?”
“Why is a body that should be buried in dust so pristine?”
The Zhuge family head took no action, constrained by the watchful eyes of Ipwang Fortress’s supreme masters.
The Murim Alliance leader’s aid, expected by none, remained absent. Moyong Clan’s leader, quick to grasp the gravity of the situation, had already fled.
‘Cornered. Am I to live the rest of my life as an exile?’
The Zhuge family head thought calmly.
The appearance of Namgung Se-jin’s body alone was irrefutable evidence. The Zhuge family’s domain was fortified to perfection.
The uproar Ma Gwang-Ik had caused was testament enough. Traces of Mosan Sect’s techniques embedded in Cheonggirin’s body only compounded the evidence.
Anyone with even a slight understanding of sorcery would discern the connections—Mosan Sect, Namgung Clan, and the Zhuge family’s dealings would be laid bare.
Thus, they had sought to preemptively sever this line of inquiry. Their mistake had been underestimating Ipwang Fortress’s resolve.
Add to that Jeong Cheong-ah’s testimony, and the result was a crescendo of damning evidence.
Calmly, the girl stepped forward and declared, her voice clear and resonant:
“As you all know, I am Jeong Shim-an, known as the Eye of Zhuge Clan.”
Her crystalline voice carried the weight of all that had transpired.
What followed was a detailed recounting:
“This is...”
“The world will laugh at the Murim Alliance...”
The gazes of those who dared not look directly at the Absolute wielding the White Crane Fan slowly shifted upward, from Namgung Se-jin’s body to Ma Gwang-Ik’s face.
A lone boy had pierced through the Zhuge family’s defenses. He had raced to retrieve the body of an adversary.
Unflinching in the face of conflict with one of the martial world’s most powerful factions, he stood undaunted in the heart of the Murim Alliance.
Expressions once filled with anger and determination softened. The warriors of the Murim Alliance began to feel a twinge of shame.
Not all of the righteous martial world was corrupt, as the master of Samrakmun had said.
Then, from one corner—
Heon Won-chang, who had stood by Seomye’s side the longest, finally spoke.
His words flowed like an improvised elegy, mournful yet dignified:
"A youth’s fleeting moment is worth a thousand gold.
In his sword remains the eternal mark of his rivals."
“......”
No one in the martial world was unaware of the events between Ipwang Fortress and the Namgung Clan.
Silence swept over the crowd like a tidal wave. Hundreds of warriors fell quiet, a sight as striking as a painted landscape.
Amid the swirling Qi that enveloped the grand hall, filled only with masters, Heon Won-chang continued carefully:
“Now, leave.”