The Azure-ranked warriors of Ma Gwang-ik furrowed their brows slightly.
“Imposing, aren’t they?”
“It seems she’s brought her entire available force. From Lady Ju’s perspective, it’s quite the statement.”
“Is she planning to disregard the law and push this through?”
“The pretext was provided by our lord, after all. They’ve had nothing holding them back from the beginning.”
Behind Ju Yeon-jeong stood over thirty martial artists, their energy cloaked in the elegance typical of noble families.
These warriors weren’t part of the Sword Corps, nor had they undergone the Ipwang Trials. They were the Ma Clan’s own force, members of the household’s private army.
The array of vibrant silk robes scattered the fading sunlight in a dazzling display. Not one of them was ordinary.
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Their ages varied widely.
The younger warriors, with their healthy, radiant complexions, posed little threat to Ma Gwang-ik.
The real problem lay with the middle-aged experts, their cold, colorless gazes gleaming with sharp intensity.
Each of them radiated a palpable pressure, their achievements in the Harmonized Fire Divine Art at their peak.
At the very least, they could be considered Azure-ranked—though it would be unwise to underestimate them as typical of that level.
The explosive power of the Ma Clan’s martial arts was known to be dangerous even with repeated precautions. Their polished skills had been honed to a razor’s edge.
“They’ve even brought their mid-level elites. The former head must be facing quite the struggle,” someone muttered.
Sitting on the roof of the pavilion, Cheongmyeong smirked as he observed the scene. The wind swirling around his body didn’t share his light-hearted expression.
A sharp, cutting wind scraped against the blue tiles, leaving countless fine, linear scratches in its wake.
Ka-ga-ga-gak.
The energy radiating from him was as refined and keen as tempered steel.
It was a scene reminiscent of the Luminous Method Wheel Qi employed by Ma Gwang-ikju Seomye.
Stories about this resemblance had long circulated, adding to its intimidating aura.
There was a famous tale that Cheongmyeong had demonstrated his clan’s unique movements to his lord, who then recreated them through martial insights, refining the technique into a masterpiece.
Many within the Fortress awaited their turn to receive martial teachings from Ma Gwang-ikju.
This anticipation had only grown since his duel with the Sovereign of Ipwang. Duels between lords were monumental events.
A significant number of spectators from the Ma Clan had attended, making it clear just how widely his skills were recognized.
“It’s true, they are strikingly similar. It’s no wonder rumors credit him with advancing Ma Gwang-ikju’s abilities,” someone commented.
“You’re only saying that because you’re young,” another chimed in. “Originally, he was the one being considered as the next Ma Gwang-ikju.”
“Keep this in mind, all of you,” an elder warrior advised the younger ones. “That swordsman of noble descent has a reputation for sharpness. Do not let your guard down, no matter what.”
“Let’s see how they fare against the Harmonized Fire Divine Sword.”
Ju Yeon-jeong’s voice cut through the murmurs as she turned to address her warriors, her expression stern.
“The elder head of the household should be resting peacefully at the main estate. Cease shielding the transgressions of the former head. His actions are more than enough to be referred to the General Bureau, and this incident will not end with a mere reprimand. However, if you withdraw now, I will show leniency.”
“Do you even know why we’re here?”
Cheongmyeong asked with a playful grin.
Ju Yeon-jeong remained silent for a moment before speaking.
“I’ve heard that Ma Gwang-ikju has obtained the Grand Restoration Pill. It seems he intends to attempt something reckless without consulting the Medical Division. Both individuals could be harmed. For your lord’s sake, you should step aside.”
“That’s a matter of trust,” Cheongmyeong replied, still smiling. “You have no right to doubt our lord’s abilities. Despite being a distinguished noble family under the Fortress, your faith in the Ipwang Black Rank seems lacking.”
“No one in the Fortress underestimates Seomye,” Ju Yeon-jeong replied coolly. “I certainly do not. And neither should any of you.”
“Then what?”
“The matter concerns a Violet Absolute Master. It is not something to be decided by two Black Ranks. Even if Seomye’s studies are unparalleled, there is no guarantee the elder head’s condition will improve. Entrusting the matter to the Medical Division would be the prudent course of action.”
“Our lord anticipated that,” Cheongmyeong shot back. “He mentioned the meddling of those blinded by needless authority and misplaced confidence—like yourself. Sharp as you may be, you remain trapped within your own limitations.”
“Speak plainly,” Ju Yeon-jeong said in a low, commanding tone. Her royal heritage lent an effortless authority to her words.
Cheongmyeong lightly tapped the roof with his heel and descended.
“I mean, there’s no need to drag this out. This could be resolved swiftly and decisively.”
Ju Yeon-jeong offered no response, merely tilting her head slightly and signaling to one of the younger warriors with a quick glance.
“Go to the General Bureau and report this incident in detail. Leave nothing out. Include Ma Gwang-ik’s reckless actions, his violation of the law by involving family warriors, and the autonomy exercised by both the lord and Ma Gwang-ikju. Report everything.”
“I hear and obey,” replied the young warrior, dressed in green silk.
Taak!
With that, he leapt into the air, executing a lightfoot technique as he retraced his steps.
None of Ma Gwang-ik’s warriors moved to stop him.
Except for Cheongmyeong, the dozen or so Azure-ranked warriors stood still, watching the retreating figure in silence.
The edges of their blue cloaks fluttered slightly in the transparent breeze.
Cheongmyeong’s words were correct—this was a testament to their unwavering trust in their lord.
Ju Yeon-jeong’s gaze darkened.
This is no ordinary situation.
She realized this.
The warriors of Ipwang Fortress were all regarded as prodigies in their hometowns.
Anyone who had mastered internal energy cultivation to the Azure rank would, at the very least, not be a fool.
It was clear that today’s matter was anything but ordinary.
Perhaps, due to Ma Gwang-ikju’s relentless efforts, the elder head might even regain mobility.
This cannot happen.
While restoring his martial prowess was unlikely—this much had been confirmed by the Medical Division—even the elder head becoming mobile again would trigger a political storm within the noble Ma Clan.
It would destabilize the faction Ju Yeon-jeong had painstakingly built.
The symbolic weight of the legendary Ma Yeon-jeok was simply too immense.
This cannot be allowed.
“I see your schemes are stirring quite chaotically. Seems compromise isn’t an option,” Cheongmyeong said, sitting on the roof with one knee raised, his azure eyes gazing coldly at Ju Yeon-jeong.
They were the eyes of a noble clan’s prodigy.
“How long will it take?” he muttered, almost to himself.
The answer came from below.
―Likely a few hours. The Grand Restoration Pill isn’t an ordinary elixir. If the lord is to carefully dissolve it using the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong, it will take significant time.
It was Baek Mi-ryeo’s voice, delivered through internal sound transmission.
She stepped forward, black energy rising faintly from the soles of her feet.
Jeobeok.
With each step, wisps of dark energy swirled around her.
The phenomenon was striking, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Pure, unwavering waves of black energy... this must be the One Lotus Sword.”
“It’s exactly as the stories say. It resembles demonic arts, doesn’t it?”
The warriors of the Ma Clan began to approach.
Ju Yeon-jeong didn’t stop them. She stood with regal composure, her hands clasped behind her back, watching the warriors of Ma Gwang-ik.
“Do not hold back. Once the commotion reaches him, Ma Gwang-ikju will come out on his own,” she said indifferently.
Inwardly, she hoped that Seomye’s energy circulation would falter. The overwhelming energy waves generated by the clash of so many skilled warriors would be impossible to contain within such a modest pavilion.
That was her aim.
“Foolish ploy,” Baek Mi-ryeo muttered coldly.
Celestial Demonic Art and Pure-Hand Demonic Technique.
Saaaa—
Baek Mi-ryeo’s hands turned as white as snow, in stark contrast to the black energy flowing through her body.
She wasn’t the only one preparing for battle.
“Minimize energy waves. If you’re skilled in Weighted Neutral Techniques, act as quietly as possible,” one warrior advised.
“Spare the advice for those who need it. Anyone who hasn’t mastered the principle of ‘strength in restraint’ by now isn’t worth mentioning,” another replied.
“This is a situation for decisive strikes. We should have brought Hyeon Won-chang,” one suggested.
“Or Yeolyang Ji-gi. If that Hwangbo brat hadn’t been busy preparing for advancement...”
The Azure-ranked warriors of Ma Gwang-ik began unsheathing their swords.
One by one, they took their positions in silence.
***
The stone gate carved with intricate patterns opened soundlessly.
Figures draped in pitch-black cloaks stepped inside, each moving with deliberate slowness. Their statures and builds varied, as did the faint yet distinct auras that emanated from them.
Among them were notable figures: Ak Su-rim of Ipwang's Divine Spear, Hahoe Wi-jin of Cheonrim Division, Jin Myeong-jo of Blood Vow Division, Seonmok Ryeong of the Mystic Order, and Yun So-yu of the Yullyeong Unit.
Trailing behind each were skilled martial artists, clad in white or blue uniforms, standing as guards for their leaders. The group moved with precision, eventually surrounding a massive wooden table crafted from several planks fused seamlessly together.
The table was immense, and the accompanying chairs were equally imposing, as elaborate as the thrones of the heads of prominent clans. The greyish backs of the chairs nearly reached Hahoe Wi-jin's towering height. In total, there were eighteen seats—each reserved for the Divine Swordmaster, Vice Swordmaster, and the other sixteen leaders.
This was Wonpyeong Ilgeomjang, the Grand Martial Arena of Ipwang Fortress.
The massive stone round table was now fully occupied by the leaders, with their guards standing silently beside marble-carved chairs. The atmosphere was steeped in disciplined composure.
Five of Ipwang Fortress's Black Rank warriors had gathered.
A deep hum vibrated through the air.
The collective power of these warriors resonated naturally, generating a pressure so overwhelming that it seemed to weigh down on the very space. Though invisible, the palpable waves of power hung like a dense fog.
The breathing of the guards grew longer and slower. Without carefully measured internal breathing techniques, enduring this atmosphere would have been near impossible.
“Where is Ma Gwang-ik?”
Hahoe Wi-jin’s deep, resonant voice broke the silence.
“He is absent due to personal matters,” came a reply from the direction of the door.
The steady thud of footsteps echoed as a large figure pushed open the heavy stone door and stepped inside.
“You’re all here, then. I was starting to think I’d have to go drag Wi-jin here again.”
A towering man, dressed in a brown cloak, entered. His robust physique and thick black beard gave him a commanding presence, while his large eyes surveyed the gathered leaders with a mix of fondness and irritation.
Muttering softly to himself, he remarked, “Quite the group of troublemakers.”
This was Im Jin-myeong, the Grand Commander.
Hahoe Wi-jin smirked menacingly.
“Personal matters? What could possibly be more important than a meeting of the leaders?”
“There are a couple of things. You’ll find out soon enough—whether the outcome is good or bad,” the Grand Commander replied nonchalantly, before continuing in a measured tone.
“You’re all aware that the formation of the Murim Alliance has been giving the General Command quite the headache. Even though many of the leaders gathered here act as if it’s none of their concern.”
“The rumors of alliances among righteous sects across the lands—not just in Shaanxi—are what you’re referring to, I presume?”
The speaker was Yun So-yu, a noblewoman of the Ming race. Her long black hair framed her sharp, fox-like ears, which matched her poised and beautiful demeanor. She sat straight-backed, her expression composed as her voice carried softly across the hall.
The Grand Commander smiled faintly.
“Indeed, Leader Yun. Thanks for lending me a hand. That’s precisely it. Those insignificant insects have begun to grasp the power of unity. Even some of the sects that helped form the Murim Alliance have broken away to pursue their own survival. It seems they weren’t too pleased with the Sword Saint’s leadership.”
“The enemies of the fortress are growing stronger, then? The arrows we used to snap one by one are now being bundled in fives and tens. How inconvenient,” grumbled Ak Su-rim, sounding annoyed.
“This is hardly news,” remarked Jin Myeong-jo, her crimson lips curling into a sardonic smile.
“So you’ve summoned us to discuss this? What other options do we have? We fight until we drop. That’s the life of Ipwang Fortress warriors—dying on some nameless hill, cut down by an enemy blade.”
“Such crude remarks are unbecoming of you, Blood Ghost,” interjected Cheon So-so, her tone sharp. “Silence yourself, if only briefly, so the Grand Commander can proceed.”
It was a familiar dynamic among the leaders.
The Grand Commander sighed as he reached into his robe.
With a smooth motion, he retrieved a book.
The title slowly came into view, revealing two bold characters: 破白 (Breaking White).