There exists a clan born with a natural grace in movement.
In the realm of innate talent, they stood apart from ordinary martial artists. Without the need for study, they grasped the principles of ascension. Without formulas, they moved with techniques rivaling the finest martial arts disciplines.
More nimble, more fluid—more mesmerizing than even the grandmasters of other clans. They were unlike the Han clans.
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They were the Mo Yong Clan.
Among commoners, they were revered as the seed of immortals. Their exceptional appearance and bodies that defied aging made them seem otherworldly, far removed from the mortal struggles of everyday people.
Possessing both power and mystique, they were objects of awe, not envy. After death, it was hoped they would extend their divine blessings upon the land, guiding others to the ethereal paradise of Do Won-hyang.
Those entrenched in the martial world felt differently. They could only sigh when they encountered such naturally gifted warriors. It made them painfully aware of the inherent unfairness of the universe.
The founding period of the Mo Yong Empire was a time of chaos. Clans like this, previously unseen, began to establish themselves in the land.
Their natural talents only added to the confusion. They walked like the wind, moved like leaves.
Countless martial masters sought to uncover the mysteries behind their movements, even employing secret arts in their endeavors.
None succeeded. The difference was attributed to sensory disparity.
It was ultimately concluded that their very bodies were fundamentally different. They manipulated wind without channeling qi.
The more knowledgeable among the martial elite labeled their abilities as a unique gift of the bloodline. In other words, it was beyond the realm of martial arts.
The perception that their abilities were fundamentally distinct became as unyielding as diamond.
This belief solidified over the years it took for the Mo Yong imperial dynasty to stabilize. The Immortal Clan—another moniker for the Mo Yong Clan.
"Are you challenging me to a duel?" Hahoe Wi-jin, the Celestial Forest Commander, asked after Jeong Yeon-shin, the new Lord of Magwang, critiqued his gait.
He did not take offense.
Known by the moniker Heavenly Dragon of Strength, he was steeped in martial ferocity. While his exterior might have seemed fierce, in matters of martial prowess, his mind remained icy cold.
One had to be, to emerge victorious in the ceaseless strategic battles among high-level warriors. This meant he was not merely a reckless fighter but a martial artist with a profound desire for mastery.
"Would walking differently really be better?"
Hahoe Wi-jin interpreted Jeong Yeon-shin’s words as an intentional provocation. He did not take them at face value.
The flow of the conversation defied logic. Despite his young age, Jeong Yeon-shin was unquestionably a Black-Rank warrior.
It was unlikely he would make such a statement in earnest, given his martial insight.
It had to be a challenge over his footwork.
Hahoe Wi-jin chuckled. "I see. You must have considerable confidence in your martial sense."
From the time of the Murim Alliance Assembly, he had observed Jeong Yeon-shin alongside Ak Su-rim. For quite some time, in fact.
He had even witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin's movement techniques that resembled the Mo Yong Clan. They were astonishingly refined, so much so that he had wondered what secret formulas had been used.
"Using your entire body to release force, you mimicked the abilities of our clan. Quite impressive," Hahoe Wi-jin thought.
He had already acknowledged the new Lord of Magwang as a peer. He had even heard the name of Jeong Yeon-shin’s technique: Fengshen, or Wind God.
The Wind Body. The word "Wind" slightly irritated Hahoe Wi-jin, but he chose not to mention it.
The younger warrior's movements were too intriguing. Watching him during the Gepa Daetjeon martial competition had been an unexpected delight.
He had thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle.
"While it doesn’t fully substitute for the Na Rak Sal Ma Jin technique..."
He believed Jeong Yeon-shin was worthy of reaching the Black Rank. Even the slight imbalance in his qi manipulation, as though one aspect of his Jing-Qi-Shen triad was disproportionately developed, did not detract from his potential.
On the contrary, it highlighted his extraordinary potential.
Unlike other warriors, whose qi flowed naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin exhibited a brilliant resourcefulness in his ascent to higher martial arts. His ingenuity was remarkable.
Even though he hadn’t achieved the state of Samhwa Cheojeong, he had already reached this level.
Hahoe Wi-jin recalled the boundless vitality that arose when one’s Jing-Qi-Shen triad harmonized.
The sensation of one's body itself transforming into a divine vessel. The effects would vary based on natural aptitude.
While many martial artists failed to unite their three flowers over their lifetimes, Jeong Yeon-shin's talent made such a future almost inevitable.
For this reason, Hahoe Wi-jin refrained from showing any overt anger. If Jeong Yeon-shin’s words were a provocation, they were amusingly naïve.
Even if it were an audacious taunt, it was a forgivable one.
The senior warrior offered the younger one some advice.
"The Lords of Ipwang Fortress are no different from the high officials of the world. Their status is significant—far greater than you might think. They represent the face of this fortress to the world. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Jeong Yeon-shin replied nonchalantly, looking up at his towering senior.
Reflecting on his encounters with the Black-Rank seniors he had met at Wonpyeong Ilgeomjang, he realized none of them had unremarkable dispositions.
Ak Su-rim’s eccentricity aside, others like Suncheon Ikju Ha Dowoon and Yullyeong Commander Yun So-yu were similar.
Hahoe Wi-jin was no exception. Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly, pondering his senior's words.
The latter’s booming voice carried on, tinged with faint amusement.
"Behaving like a high official means maintaining decorum even within the fortress. Most of those who pass through Ipwang Fortress are merchants or officials. We cannot afford to show them an undignified display. A duel, of all things? That is unacceptable. If you wish to challenge someone, follow the proper protocol and submit a formal letter."
"A duel...?"
"If a clan of shallow refinement heard this, they’d erupt in outrage. Do not act similarly with Blue-Rank warriors. It would appear as though a Division Commander is oppressing someone of lower rank. Such a direct provocation—how bold. I rather like it."
As he concluded, Hahoe Wi-jin burst into hearty laughter.
A shadow loomed over Jeong Yeon-shin. The enormous calloused hand of Hahoe Wi-jin reached for his head. A gentle breeze stirred.
The hem of Jeong Yeon-shin’s dark robe fluttered lightly. His sidelong movement was subtle, but the hand missed entirely, brushing past him toward Ak Su-rim.
It was the Fengshen technique. A completely natural evasion.
"Oh?" Hahoe Wi-jin’s thick lips curved upward.
"My mistake. I should not treat you as a mere junior. It seems your martial prowess and age don’t align, creating a strange disconnect."
"..."
Jeong Yeon-shin realized his intentions had been misinterpreted.
Cheon-gwon Yong-ryeok-shin was a seasoned Black-Rank warrior.
As a member of the Mo Yong Clan, his accumulated internal energy over the years was extraordinary.
He possessed a more powerful presence than Yullyeong Daeju and had even achieved the state of Samhwa Cheojeong, where immense inner energy could be controlled at will.
This meant that Jeong Yeon-shin could not easily guarantee victory against him. If one were to rank the seventeen Black-Rank warriors, he would certainly place among the highest.
He might even be capable of matching swords with Myeolseom Daeju.
It was too soon to face him.
Jeong Yeon-shin mulled over the situation. He anticipated that the outcome of a bout with Hahoe Wi-jin would not differ much from his sparring sessions with Ak Su-rim.
The Black-Rank realm was vast and unfamiliar territory for him.
And yet, he had been told to impress them.
This implied that there were multiple ways to reorganize Ma Gwang-ik. For now, there was no need to test himself against the elite seniors.
It was fine if he could not immediately surpass some of the Black-Rank seniors. Winning the favor of Hahoe Wi-jin and defeating around two Black-Rank warriors in combat would suffice.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth, stepping lightly back to his original position.
Beside him, Ak Su-rim grinned mischievously, brushing her pants hem over the leather shoes of Jeong Yeon-shin.
Her playful gesture seemed to say she already knew what he would say. The sharp perception of the Irwang Shinchang was evident.
The newly appointed Ma Gwang-ik Ju paid no heed and calmly spoke.
"I did not challenge you to a duel."
"Did not?" Hahoe Wi-jin raised a brow, his deep voice tinged with surprise.
“Alongside Senior Hahoe, I wanted to discuss the principles of movement. I noticed room for improvement in your gait. Since the foundation of my movement techniques is heavily influenced by the Mo Yong Clan's fluidity, I took the liberty of offering advice despite the risk of overstepping.”
A junior master critiquing the footwork of a master from the legendary Mo Yong Clan.
Hahoe Wi-jin blinked slowly as he looked down at Jeong Yeon-shin. The statement was hard to take at face value. To mimic the refined movements of the Mo Yong Clan so masterfully hinted at extraordinary martial training and innate perceptiveness.
However, for a human of Han lineage to presume to offer advice to a Mo Yong expert on walking—that was another matter entirely.
A voice like a cold wind through a cave flowed from Hahoe Wi-jin's mouth.
“The seats prepared for the masters in Wonpyeong One Sword Hall are large and elaborate, akin to the thrones of sect leaders. Do you know why? It signifies that one must bear responsibility for their words and actions.”
His voice carried immense power, the waves of energy brushing against Jeong Yeon-shin's skin with an overwhelming, unrestrained grandeur. It was the force generated from decades of cultivated internal energy, compressed to the extreme.
The wisdom of the martial world sprang unbidden to mind:
"Elderly warriors and innocent children carry hidden strengths, but beware the young with both boundless energy and far-reaching knowledge."
“You cannot understand the heart of a master from the Mo Yong Clan,” Hahoe Wi-jin continued, his voice heavy with conviction. “I, Hahoe Wi-jin, am one who protects the people of the Han world as a Mo Yong Clan master. These people are inseparable from the land, as crops are inseparable from the soil.”
He spoke with an almost religious fervor.
“Our clan’s martial path was forged to protect the land and its forests. We vowed to the Heavenly Tree that we would live in a way that honors the people of the world with martial arts rooted in benevolence and dignity.”
“...”
“Martial arts are a pursuit that grows and evolves with time, infinite in its potential. I am not defending my pride against you. I only hope your words are not born of shallow understanding. If someone were to lightly dismiss the movements I’ve built with pure intent, would they not provoke anger?”
The weight of his words felt like a volcanic eruption contained within his chest, and Jeong Yeon-shin grasped the gravity of his situation. This was a formidable challenge. Could he truly convince the great Hahoe Wi-jin without resorting to combat?
For Jeong Yeon-shin, establishing the Mo Gwang-ik Division as a pivotal force in the Ipwang martial structure would require earning a subordinate of Hahoe Wi-jin’s caliber. It was not an opportunity to squander.
The new master of Mo Gwang-ik spoke with deliberation.
“I do not command the wind; such abilities are beyond my natural capacity. Thus, I sought a different path, one where I could replicate the grace and precision of our Mo Gwang-ik’s ‘Cheong-an Twin Swords.’”
They walked down a path diverging from the main courtyard toward the various division halls. As they passed a small lakeside, the setting sun cast its orange glow across the rippling water, reflecting the figures of the three masters—a towering figure, a serene woman, and a focused youth—each draped in black robes that radiated distinct authority.
Ak Su-rim strolled lightly to the left, hands clasped behind her back, observing the exchange with quiet amusement.
“Continue,” Hahoe Wi-jin prompted, his expression stoic. Jeong Yeon-shin complied without hesitation.
“I observed your gait closely, Senior Hahoe. Your movements are driven by strength, emphasizing speed and power. Given your immense strength, it appears you rely heavily on propulsion from your posterior thigh muscles—the biceps femoris—rather than the calves.”
“That is necessary to fully execute my techniques. For heavy strikes and stances, the power must be concentrated. From defensive stances to attack transitions, the shift must be instantaneous. A light gait would compromise the stability required for that.”
“There’s no reason it has to be that way,” Jeong Yeon-shin countered.
“Your boldness is becoming abrasive. I can understand why your enemies may feel so.”
“I generate wind to assist my body; Senior Hahoe does not need to replicate that. Nor would it be feasible.”
“...What?”
Jeong Yeon-shin ignored the disbelief in the response, pressing on.
“If you revisit the pathway of the Bladder Meridian of Foot-Taiyang within the twelve meridians, specifically focusing on the Da-jang-yu acupoint beneath the waist, and channel power to the rectus abdominis, you’ll discover an entirely new method of utilizing your energy. The subtle flow will adjust itself.”
The young master lightly raised his right sleeve as he spoke, exuding a quiet but commanding presence even between two established masters.
“By relaxing the gluteus maximus and pelvic muscles, and focusing on the Shen-yu point on the right side of your back, the flow of internal energy through your meridians will self-adjust. The kinetic energy transmitted to the plantar fascia will naturally gain elasticity. The twelve meridians are designed this way.”
This was the essence of his Wind God Movement Technique. The plantar fascia, the muscle supporting the foot’s arch, housed the Yong-cheon acupoint—the core of footwork techniques.
For Jeong Yeon-shin, these concepts were as natural as breathing. To him, it seemed peculiar that a master of Hahoe Wi-jin’s caliber would walk in a manner so inconsistent with his level of power.
‘If I had that much internal energy... I’d execute quickdraw swordsmanship with my body alone.’
Finishing his explanation, Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated, then spoke again out of genuine curiosity.
“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t adopt such a method. Is it due to a specific principle in the martial system you’ve trained in?”
“...Because I didn’t know,” Hahoe Wi-jin admitted.