The Paragon of Heroes, Ma Yeon-jeok.
Once a symbol of the pinnacle of martial prowess in Ipwang Fortress.
With the Hwahwa Divine Sword, he stood against the Taeguk Wisdom Sword of the former Mount Wudang sect leader.
The old swordsman of Wudang, once hailed as the "Greatest Sword Under Heaven," was the first to plead for rest. At the time, Ma Yeon-jeok was only thirty-seven years old.
His emaciated appearance didn’t matter. His body would transform beyond recognition after a few months of recuperation. The problem lay in the fact that he was now youthful again.
"Did that man not mention the name of the Grand Patriarch?"
"Could that, too, be a sign of disrespect?"
"But... his attire is unmistakable..."
The faces of the seasoned martial artists of the Ma Clan contorted with doubt.
It was understandable. Such a thing was not easily accepted.
Among the martial sects of Jianghu, where even Ipwang Fortress, with its many supreme experts, stood unrivaled, only Ak Su-rim was deemed chosen by the heavens.
It was common knowledge, but it was not a familiar reality.
No one present had seen Ma Yeon-jeok in his youth.
Yet, at this moment, they could all feel the terrifying wind of strength emanating from him.
Invisible threads brushed against their skin like sword edges. A force that demanded understanding without words.
It didn’t seem deliberate—it simply unfolded with solemn intensity.
Whoong.
The energy radiating from the man’s body filled the air. Like the breath of a dragon, it spread in a majestic and unyielding resonance.
Though he wielded no sword, his body itself birthed a sword's aura. He had reached a realm where his entire being was a blade.
A supreme martial artist who could discuss the fate of the world against the masters of Daebang Sect.
His very existence was a mystery to Jianghu.
"This is...!"
Ju Yeon-jeong's lips quivered. Words failed her for a moment.
Since Jeong Yeon-shin had ordered the fight to stop, the fading presences within the hall had gradually silenced the area, plunging it into stillness.
All eyes, from the martial artists of the Ma Clan to Ma Gwang-ik's top warriors, converged on a single point.
The man called himself the Paragon of Heroes. He referred to himself as Ma Yeon-jeok.
Standing in the midst of the battlefield, wearing elegant silk robes dyed with peculiar hues, the man exuded an aura of grandeur.
The flowing pink sleeves, like those of a noble, contrasted with the solemn air surrounding him, as though he were donned in battle armor rather than fine clothing.
The man spoke again.
"I am your elder, the Grand Patriarch of your clan."
The youthful voice carried such dense energy it pressed down on the atmosphere, as though expelling waves of raw power.
His face looked to be in his thirties, entirely devoid of wrinkles.
His slightly upturned yet serene eyes bore a striking resemblance to Ma Gwang-ik's, exuding a mix of stubbornness and solitude.
His sharp and well-defined features made him an undeniably handsome man.
Since his arrival, he had rested his hand on Ma Gwang-ik's shoulder, showing no signs of removing it.
No one dared to laugh. It was far from comical.
His presence spoke volumes. The energy surrounding him carved formidable waves into the air.
His jet-black hair and brows framed his unlined, radiant skin as his aura radiated like the clear currents of the Yangtze River.
"What..."
Ju Yeon-jeong, who had been holding her breath, let out a soft gasp.
Her hand rose instinctively, as if to cover her mouth, but stopped mid-air, trembling as though gripped by some unseen force.
She was witnessing something beyond common sense. There was little else she could do. She couldn’t outright deny it.
The man was proving himself with his aura, as if proclaiming, "I am the Violet Rank of Ipwang Fortress."
Silence reigned for a moment.
"What are you waiting for?"
The sharp edge in the man's gaze cut through the room.
He possessed a more worldly demeanor than the mystique of a martial arts master. His expression as he scanned the Ma Clan's warriors was chilling, exuding a metallic coldness.
And then, his booming voice resounded.
—"Bow down and pay your respects! To your benefactor and your elder!"
His fiery roar sliced through the air and echoed instantly, leaving ripples in its wake.
The grass underfoot bent wildly, as though bowing to the force. His shout was like a lion's roar.
Dozens of martial artists flinched, as though hundreds of hooks had clawed at their ears.
Hwaak!
Dust rose sharply into the air.
The overwhelming force of his aura collided in chaotic waves, etched with the domineering structure of Hwahwa Divine Energy.
It felt as though a searing mark had been stamped onto the skin of everyone present. It was intense and profound.
None possessed such presence. He continued to prove himself again and again.
Finally, a middle-aged man in resplendent green martial attire spoke.
"Grand Patriarch, is this truly...?"
He was a senior martial artist of the Ma Clan, clad in black gauntlets. Yet, even his fingers trembled—a far cry from the confidence expected of a master of Hwahwa Fist Arts.
A wrinkle formed on Ma Yeon-jeok’s otherwise smooth brow.
"Ma Jin-un, have you lost your wits? Shall I cleanse your foolish eyes thrice? I’ve already said it twice. If I must repeat myself, you will face the consequences."
His lion-like warning reverberated through his taut lips.
Ma Jin-un’s shoulders twitched.
There was no one else who could speak to a master of the Ma Clan this way. His tone was reminiscent of the old master Ma Yeon-jeok.
Meanwhile, a subtle sense of relief flickered across Jeong Yeon-shin's face, even as the martial artists of the Ma Clan surged forward like thunderbolts.
At least twenty of them.
"Those fools...!"
"Not only do they fail to quell their arrogance...!"
As Ma Gwang-ik’s warriors instinctively moved to draw their weapons, Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.
At his signal, the energy of the Blue Rank warriors dissipated. Even the hands ready to strike halted mid-motion.
The warriors of the Ma Clan, undeterred, pushed off the ground again.
Hwaaak!
Their movements weren’t offensive. They dropped to their knees, the rebound of their swift motion ending in deep bows.
They pressed their foreheads into the ground with a dull thud as yellow dust swirled into the air.
"Foolish Ma Jin-un did not recognize the Grand Patriarch!"
"We humbly greet the Paragon of Heroes!"
Their voices, tinged with a kaleidoscope of emotions, resonated in unison, accompanied by synchronized bows. Despite their coordinated movements, their expressions betrayed shock and confusion.
They dared to lift their eyes to their ancient master, unable to conceal their disbelief.
What stood before them was unimaginable.
Ma Yeon-jeok’s body had been refined through extraordinary martial power.
It had defied time. As only a select few supreme martial artists like the Ipwang Divine Spear had, he had reversed the clock on his body.
It was an event that would shake Jianghu to its core.
A miracle.
Who had made this possible?
"..."
The gazes of the Ma Clan martial artists shifted to the Grand Patriarch’s side.
There stood Ma Gwang-ik.
As twilight painted a glow across the battlefield, the moonlight illuminated Jeong Yeon-shin’s face like a translucent veil. Shadows deepened beneath his thick lashes.
His obsidian eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light, the moonlight glistening off his high nose bridge.
He was unmistakably the Fortress Lord of Ipwang.
His grandeur befitted his exalted status, draped in the soft luminescence of the moonlight.
His achievement was no less than a miracle. His appearance alone reminded them of his exceptional lineage.
The martial artists of noble families stared in awe. Their eyes glimmered with reverence, tinged with unanswerable questions.
Their benefactor had bestowed the Great Reversal Elixir upon his grandfather without hesitation. What kind of profound wisdom did he possess?
For the warriors of the Ma Clan, their downfall was their destiny.
Though they scorned the sects outside Ipwang Fortress, they envied the righteous sects like the Nine Great Sects.
Their monks and Taoists only grew stronger with time, unlike the warriors of the Ma Clan, who burned brightly yet faded quickly, like soldiers in endless war.
"They say Ma Gwang-ik’s childhood was polished by secret teachings."
"Could it be true?"
"Even the current Patriarch avoided publicizing it..."
But none dared to ask aloud.
To them, they were no more than souls awaiting judgment in the Underworld.
After bowing to the Grand Patriarch, they lowered their heads even deeper to Ma Gwang-ik, muttering scattered apologies.
"...We greet the benefactor of our clan."
"We are grateful for the profound knowledge you have shared."
"Ma Gwang-ik, we owe you an immeasurable debt of gratitude!"
Jeong Yeon-shin offered no response.
To him, these people held no value.
What truly mattered was the undeniable fact that he had resurrected his grandfather.
The realization came with a sharp sense of satisfaction.
This was an achievement—a monumental one.
Among the ranks of the Violet Rank leaders—the Sword Corps Captain, the Council Elder, and the former Sword Corps Commander—he had carved out his place.
The fruit of the Heavenly Tree was a treasure personally guarded by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.
Revered by all the noble families of the Central Plains, it was said to be the sacred heirloom of an ancient lineage—a unique artifact unparalleled in the world.
One could not simply claim the fruit by fulfilling a single task, even if it were a mission suited to their rank. Such an action would ruin the balance of the reward system.
"The noble families of the world must all be in agreement," the saying went.
To obtain an intact fruit, rather than just a fragment, one had to prove themselves repeatedly as a Violet Rank in Jianghu.
Jeong Yeon-shin understood this. He wasn’t bothered.
"I’ve already accomplished two of these trials."
The Pa-Baek Chongram and his grandfather’s Reversal of Time.
These feats were achieved while still clad in Black Rank attire, yet they had brought him two significant steps closer to the fruit.
By now, he had accumulated enough merits as a Violet Rank to claim the Heavenly Tree's fruit, layer by layer, building undeniable justification. This had taken an immense amount of time.
Now, more than ever, martial progress had become a necessity.
"I must challenge the Commander of Blood and Fire to a duel... no, I must finish the immediate task first."
Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head inwardly, dismissing the thought.
He cast his gaze down at the martial artists of the Ma Clan, still kneeling before him.
Over twenty bowed heads filled his view, their foreheads pressed firmly to the ground.
"..."
He could guess why they had caused such a commotion. Whether they had acted in concert with Ju Yeon-jeong remained uncertain.
But their actions aligned. Perhaps their intentions were indeed misguided. If they had used an unstable form of internal energy rather than the Jeong Family's Dynamic Qi Technique, it might have led to such an outcome.
"Were they truly concerned for my grandfather’s wellbeing?"
It was a convenient excuse.
Their justification held merit; the understanding of a martial artist was different from that of a physician.
For assessing Ma Yeon-jeok’s condition, the knowledge of a healer would have been more appropriate than the expertise of an internal energy practitioner.
Ju Yeon-jeong was a meticulous individual. She had made that clear from the beginning. Jeong Yeon-shin had long heard her repeated assertions.
But anyone with common sense could read between the lines.
The disturbance was excessive.
The energy released by the Ma Clan had been outrageous, the waves rippling through the pavilion and garden unnaturally strong.
Jeong Yeon-shin felt an unmistakable malice, as if they were testing whether he could maintain his energy flow under such circumstances.
It was blatant and insidious, a scheme fit for the Forbidden City of the imperial palace.
Anyone could see it.
Jeong Yeon-shin cast a sidelong glance at his grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok.
If Ma Yeon-jeok's response to Ju Yeon-jeong and the Ma Clan was insufficient, Jeong Yeon-shin was prepared to set aside his role as a grandson and act as the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.
Whether it required the Swordstorm Ceremony or the Ultimate Polar Flower Fist, these individuals had conspired against the Black and Violet Ranks of Ipwang Fortress. Ordinary punishment would not suffice.
At that moment:
"Foolish and disloyal wretches."
Ma Yeon-jeok spoke as if grinding the words between his teeth.
Step.
The pink hem of his robe shifted as he took a single step forward, his hand slowly lifting from his grandson's shoulder.
The immense energy radiating from the rejuvenated elder vanished in an instant, leaving an even more intimidating aura behind.
He had fully restrained the overflowing power of his Reversal of Time, condensing it like a flame ready to ignite.
His aged eyes glowed with a sharp blue radiance. Several martial artists flinched under his piercing gaze.
Ma Yeon-jeok paid them no mind, his understanding of the situation absolute.
"How dare you."
His voice was curt, carrying the weight of authority.
For a brief moment, his once-transcendent composure gave way to the gravity of his rage.
The contrast between the interior of the pavilion and the world outside was stark.
Moments ago, he had sensed his daughter through his grandson’s martial technique.
The Jeong Family’s Dynamic Qi Technique was a profound yet melancholic art, a legacy reflecting the memory of Jeong Yeon-shin’s mother, Ma Yeon-sang—Ma Yeon-jeok’s daughter.
Through her impression, he had felt an overwhelming warmth, a comfort that suffused his body with the energy of the Great Reversal Elixir.
The sensation of that energy flowing through his veins, touching every meridian and acupoint, was one he would never forget—a bittersweet tranquility.
Thus, his grandson had reversed time for him.
It had brought him back to the day he first held his newborn daughter in his arms, wrapping her in a Violet Cloak.
Regaining his prime was inevitable. Achieving the Reversal of Time felt natural.
Ma Yeon-jeok raised his gaze.
Ju Yeon-jeong stood with a regal posture, her back straighter than anyone else’s.
Had she already regained her composure from the earlier panic? She simply clasped her hands together in a restrained gesture of respect.
"Congratulations on your grand achievement."
She spoke calmly. As a member of the imperial family, she would never kneel. The bloodline of the Forbidden City did not bow.
Ma Yeon-jeok’s face became expressionless. His complexion, now resembling his grandson’s, was serene as he took his first step forward.
Step.
His strides were steady, directly aimed at Ju Yeon-jeong. Even the martial artists she had brought from her family dared not block his path.
They flinched and hesitated, rooted in place.
"I understand the reason for your anger," Ju Yeon-jeong said resolutely.
"This is a misunderstanding. Please, Grand Patriarch, remain calm."
Her elegance remained unbroken. Her face was composed, her demeanor unflinching.
"Are you ordering me to calm down?" Ma Yeon-jeok’s voice carried an icy weight.
"After plotting against my grandson, you dare to demand I restrain myself?"
He didn’t stop walking. The grass under his feet was crushed into unrecognizable fragments.
Even without releasing any energy, his refined presence exuded a supernatural authority akin to divine power.
Ju Yeon-jeong’s lips moved quickly.
"Please, consider the circumstances. Everything was done out of concern for the Grand Patriarch’s wellbeing..."
"If your scheme had been confined to harming me alone, I might have let it pass. But you dared to target my treasure, so I must repay you beyond measure. Prepare yourself. Right here, right now."
Step.
Standing tall at six feet, Ma Yeon-jeok loomed over Ju Yeon-jeong.
His sharp blue eyes glanced down at her.
For the first time, Ju Yeon-jeong’s brows furrowed, her lips trembling as a chill spread across her expression.
"Do not do something you’ll regret. I won’t let this go so easily again. Remember the dignity of the Ju Clan’s noble bloodline and the fact that Ipwang Fortress serves as the blade of the imperial family. The Grand Patriarch’s status is no different."
Her threat was calculated and rational.
The Ming imperial family had invested great effort into preserving its dignity.
Even severing formal ties with Ipwang Fortress for political purposes had been part of that effort.
Ju Yeon-jeong continued, her tone unwavering.
"If harm comes to me, the imperial family will undoubtedly—"
Suddenly.
Boom!
"Keugh—!"
In an instant, Ju Yeon-jeong bent over, clutching her abdomen as a massive shockwave radiated from her lower dantian.
It felt as though her dantian had shattered. Blood gushed from her lips, an involuntary spasm.
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No one had seen Ma Yeon-jeok move.
He remained as he was, merely gazing down at her.
"Haah...!"
Ju Yeon-jeong gasped for air, blood spilling as her eyes widened in disbelief. Her expression was one of shock.
"You... attacked the bloodline of the imperial family...!"
"There are many Ju clans in the world," Ma Yeon-jeok replied calmly.
"But there is only one Ma Yeon-jeok."
The young elder raised a finger, pointing it directly at Ju Yeon-jeong’s sternum.
It was where the middle dantian resided.