Was there a fixed format for writing martial arts manuals?
Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t realized. Managing his division barely left enough time to breathe, let alone annotate detailed commentary. But it did seem necessary.
‘That’s right... The manuals from Cheongeum Mu-go were always thorough.’
Before creating his own unique techniques, he had mastered the martial arts preserved in the Ipwang Fortress's renowned Cheongeum Mu-go. Thinking back, it made sense.
Those manuals felt like a parent carefully pointing out the essential details to a child. Each line of text was precise, almost warm in its clarity.
It reminded him of when he wrote Jeong’s Household Dynamic Gong during his youth, after much trial and error.
The martial techniques he had distributed since were the same. They had ample margin for adjustments—unlike this Pa-Baek Chongram, which compiled the culmination of countless martial arts disciplines.
‘This time, I was careless. There’s no rule that only seasoned masters should learn from it.’
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slowly and then spoke before his seniors, who still wore peculiar expressions, could interrupt.
“It was my oversight. Please allow me to revise it.”
He reached for the Pa-Baek Chongram in Hahoe Wi-jin’s hand. There was no need to forcibly seize it with martial energy.
The moment his fingertips touched the manual, it returned naturally to its rightful owner.
The manual was retrieved without resistance, as it should be. No one had grounds to object.
With a smooth motion, Jeong Yeon-shin tucked a letter and the manual into his robes. The letter bore an urgent message from the Bo-Hyeol Division Master, while the manual was the only extant copy of the Pa-Baek Chongram.
He identified it as a handwritten copy by its unfamiliar texture—its cover was slightly stiffer.
The Grand Commander had declared only one copy would be transcribed. Evidently, they had already finished and dried it meticulously with internal energy.
It was information shared exclusively with Jeong Yeon-shin among the high-ranking masters under the Shingeom Corps. The original was said to be in the possession of the Ipwang Fortress Lord.
‘Did they find something lacking?’ he wondered.
After securing both documents under his black robes, a bemused Hahoe Wi-jin blinked.
Caught off guard, he found himself releasing the manual more easily than when countering Ak Su-rim’s use of Golden Thread Techniques. Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t used martial techniques. He merely acted with proper decorum. Resistance would have been out of place.
“I’ll add the necessary annotations and return it. Shall I send it to the Grand Commander?”
“...Yes,” Hahoe Wi-jin replied after a slight delay.
Behind his sharp black eyes, Yun So-yu’s gaze carried a subtle edge, though it wasn’t directed at Jeong Yeon-shin. Her silent reproach was aimed at Cheonrim Division Master, who had instigated the issue. Meanwhile, Ak Su-rim chuckled heartily.
“Don’t worry about that lug. He’ll face consequences—disciplinary action or otherwise. As for you, Seomye, take your time. Your well-being seems far more important than the Pa-Baek Chongram. You’ve just returned from a major mission, so you deserve a break.”
“You’re too generous.”
Ak Su-rim waved dismissively as Jeong Yeon-shin bowed lightly.
“Still, prepare thoroughly for tomorrow’s division master meeting. It’s scheduled for the You hour (5–7 PM). Eat well beforehand—meetings at the Wonpyeong Ilgeom Pavilion are practically duels. The only difference is that swords remain sheathed. This will be your first formal attendance as a division master, correct?”
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked quietly.
Ak Su-rim rolled her eyes upward, briefly lost in thought, before replying.
“Mission assignments, subordinate promotions, and recent updates on the state of the martial world. The real battles will be over securing desirable missions and pushing for your subordinates’ promotions. You’ll need to choose missions that align with the situation and pick the right personnel. For example, sending a slow-footed subordinate against an enemy proficient in archery would spell disaster.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, and one more thing—lowering your voice during the meeting is a losing strategy. Don’t let your seniors intimidate you. Shout and assert yourself, even for your subordinates’ sake.”
She smiled slyly.
“None of us will judge you for it. Everyone’s been there.”
Hahoe Wi-jin, lowering his massive frame slightly, interjected.
“The Shingeom Division Master was especially notorious. The retired Cheongcheon Division Master recently wrote that he still eats porridge three times a day because his jaw was dislocated by an internal energy shockwave during a past meeting. His masticatory muscles were damaged beyond repair.”
“That old man deserved it. Did he forget what he said to me back then?” Ak Su-rim shot back.
Jeong Yeon-shin had no interest in their bickering.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said quickly.
He meant it. At the Wonpyeong Ilgeom Pavilion, hierarchy didn’t matter.
It was a significant revelation: he could carry himself as he had outside the fortress, maintaining a straightforward demeanor.
This was vital. Whether it was missions or subordinates, he had no intention of yielding—regardless of his respect for his seniors.
‘Just handle it as usual,’ he thought, a faint smile crossing his lips.
Ak Su-rim, noticing his expression, smiled more deeply.
“How did such an adorable kid end up in a division master’s seat? The gloomy atmosphere feels so much lighter already. I’m thrilled.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands in a polite gesture. There was nothing more to say.
Whoong.
The Soundproof Curtain cast by Hahoe Wi-jin dissipated, revealing the landscape of earthen walls, stone fences, and bushes in vivid detail.
The display of internal energy mastery remained astonishing.
“See you tomorrow! Just remember, the current state of the martial world is bleak—it won’t be a particularly pleasant gathering. Keep that in mind!” Ak Su-rim called out.
“As for that Ma Gwang-ik’s cloak, it’s stylish enough, but... it could use a good ironing. Make sure it’s neatly pressed before you arrive.”
With that, Ak Su-rim and Hahoe Wi-jin turned and walked away.
Yun So-yu opened her mouth as if to speak but ultimately stayed silent. Her gaze lingered on the front of Jeong Yeon-shin’s robe.
It seemed she had business regarding the Pa-Baek Chongram. She was said to be a master of counter-techniques, so her intentions likely pertained to that.
‘I’ll submit the annotated version quickly,’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
With a final farewell wishing them a peaceful night, he parted ways with his seniors.
***
It was a truly resplendent hall, like a scene plucked straight from the imperial palace.
From the marble floors to the towering wooden beams that stretched to the ceiling, everything radiated grandeur.
This was the residence of the Crown Prince of Ming, located deep within the Ipwang Fortress. Moonlight poured in through the lattice windows, pooling in silvery blue hues on the floor. The silence was almost sacred, broken only occasionally by the eerie chirping of insects.
This serene atmosphere was no coincidence. The Crown Prince’s mastery of wind-based techniques suppressed any disruptive sounds.
“Im Jin-myung.”
Seated on a throne carved of gleaming marble, a transcendent figure called out.
The Commander-in-Chief of Ipwang Fortress knelt before him, his imposing frame subdued and humble.
The Crown Prince exuded an aura of effortless authority. His presence was icy and aloof, his sharp features reminiscent of the blade of a divine sword. His eyes gleamed like black lightning, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.
A natural-born sovereign.
This was the Crown Prince of Ming, heir apparent to the imperial throne.
“What an unbelievable tale.”
“You must believe it, Your Highness,” Im Jin-myung replied with steady composure.
The Crown Prince spoke slowly, his words sharp as they cut through the moonlit air.
“The War Lord has regained his youth? No such rumor exists within our fortress. You are well aware that my ears extend far beyond these walls. None of my shadow agents, granted their missions with my blessing, have reported such a thing.”
“I have ensured strict secrecy, Your Highness. The loss of two Purple Masters was a matter already whispered among the martial sects. Many factions of the White Dao, as well as the Thirteen Heavens, are aware of our fortress’s recent weaknesses. By concealing the War Lord’s return, we aim to excise these impurities in one decisive strike. After all, he is, and always has been, a Divine Blade.”
“So it is true, then.”
“It is, Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince fell silent, his expression unreadable.
He did not question how such a miraculous event had come to pass. What mattered now was that it had already happened.
Im Jin-myung knew this well.
The Crown Prince was a man who always looked ahead, preemptively contemplating future outcomes. His mind was a fortress unto itself, impervious and profound.
After some time, the Crown Prince broke the silence.
“Back in the Forbidden City, we lamented the loss of two Purple Masters. They carry responsibilities befitting their station, overseeing crucial missions. Their absence has been sorely felt.”
“Regarding Lady Zhu of the Ma family...”
“Yes, the War Lord shattered Zhu Yeon-jeong’s two energy cores.”
“That is correct, Your Highness.”
“That incident will serve us well in the Forbidden City. While they may not dare move against the supreme martial masters of the Purple rank, this incident gives us a card to play—a claim to moral authority. Assault on imperial kin is no trivial matter.”
“...”
“The disciples who call the War Lord their master may find this tragic. I hear they’ve made great strides recently.”
The Crown Prince’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne.
“I will submit a memorial to ensure the matter is handled with leniency. Even so, the War Lord must remain in Beijing for some time. The duties of the Ipwang Fortress’s Purple Masters have been neglected for far too long. When a critical moment arose, none could answer the call.”
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”
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“It is unfortunate, but I understand. The martial world is in turmoil. Even with my limited insight, it is clear that this is a time when the roles of the Black Masters leading the Seventeen Divisions are more critical than ever. That is why promising talents like my disciple are so valuable. The War Lord, even rejuvenated, remains but one man.”
The Crown Prince’s tone was old-fashioned, his words contemplative and deliberate—a habit cultivated over countless years.
‘My tongue itches to speak,’ thought Im Jin-myung.
It was Jeong Yeon-shin, the Ma Gwang-ik Division Master, who had made this miracle possible. Even if only momentarily, he had surpassed the level of a Black Master.
As Im Jin-myung recalled the awe, joy, and trepidation he had felt at that moment, the Crown Prince’s summons had interrupted his thoughts.
‘This cannot be left unsaid.’
He straightened his posture. Failing to report this matter would surely incur the Crown Prince’s wrath someday.
Finally, he spoke.
“The events surrounding the War Lord began with the actions of the current Ma Gwang-ik Division Master.”
“What do you mean? Speak plainly, and with context.”
“Your Highness, it was your disciple who turned back the hands of time for the War Lord.”
In the reception hall, the moonlight pooling around the latticed windows quivered faintly.
***
A New Day Dawns
The freshly birthed season descended with transparent sunlight. The crisp, early-winter air streamed through the square window of the Ma Gwang-ik Division Master's office, brushing against sleeves and necklines with its chilling touch.
Jeong Yeon-shin leaned back against the stone chair, gazing outside.
‘Time flies,’ he thought.
Across from him stood two figures from the Blood Blade Division, Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon.
“As the hands and feet of the Division Master... we humbly seek your guidance from now on.”
“We look forward to learning under your leadership.”
Their words were formal, their movements polished, exuding a meticulous discipline that was palpable.
The Blood Blade Division was a unit often treated with suspicion, even within the Divine Sword Corps, due to various political intricacies.
Yet, it was precisely because of this that they were known for their adherence to laws and etiquette. Some even likened them to the imperial military.
‘Blood Blade Division and Law Blade Division... the most avoided units, they say.’
To Jeong Yeon-shin, however, they left a favorable impression.
The Blood Blade Division Master, Jin Myeong-jo, hadn’t fought a duel but had suddenly sent these subordinates to him. Jeong Yeon-shin recalled reading Jin Myeong-jo’s letter the previous evening, under the chilly night breeze slipping through the gaps in his door.
The words had been surprisingly heartfelt, leaving a lasting impression. He had carefully stored the letter in the desk drawer, alongside other correspondence he’d received since entering Ipwang Fortress—orders, messages from the Fortress Lord, and notes from other senior masters.
The letter had earned its place among them.
The Letter of Jin Myeong-jo
*"I too faced a similar experience. After the sudden passing of the previous Division Master, I found myself thrust into this role as a newly inducted Black Master, with no one but the Commander-in-Chief to support me.
Is it not a profoundly unfamiliar situation? One word from the Division Master determines the fate of the Blue Masters, while across the world, countless martial sects exploit their power, leaving ordinary people desperate for aid.
It was a chaotic time, and I empathize with your challenges.
To spare you the endless procedures and allow you more time to focus on organizing Ma Gwang-ik, I’ve decided to send you capable subordinates who can serve as immediate reinforcements.
Pung Ran, the Blood Blade Demon, and Na Il-cheon, the Asura Phantom, are esteemed warriors even within the Blood Blade Division. Their skill surpasses that of most Blue Masters, though they are not yet Black Masters.
Pung Ran’s Blood Blade Technique is unparalleled, and Na Il-cheon’s Iron Claws of the Night are a devastating force in the field. Both have already adapted to your martial techniques with remarkable finesse.
These two alone are worth the strength of three.
Moreover, they have mastered profound arts attuned to Yin energy, making their internal power even stronger at night. I trust you’ll make excellent use of their skills.
With boundless joy, I welcome the most promising and brilliant new addition to our ranks.
Yours,
Blood Blade Division Master, Jin Myeong-jo.*
The letter had been written in flowing strokes, its lines brimming with emotion. Even the occasional trembling of the brush, likely caused by Jin Myeong-jo’s fervor, added a human touch that resonated deeply.
‘A remarkable senior.’
Jeong Yeon-shin was filled with respect. Sending two skilled Blue Masters without hesitation spoke volumes of Jin Myeong-jo’s character.
Among his Black Master seniors, Jin Myeong-jo might be the most exemplary. Were he from another sect, he would undoubtedly be hailed as a great hero.
“Welcome to the family. Aside from your signature techniques, what other martial arts have you mastered?”
Jeong Yeon-shin asked, despite already knowing the answer.
Both Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon stood silently, their disciplined demeanor resembling that of a well-drilled military unit.
‘That makes twenty-three Blue Masters under my command,’ Jeong Yeon-shin noted.
Adding Pung Ran and Na Il-cheon brought his division’s numbers close to parity with the elite forces of larger martial sects.
‘One short of twenty-four,’ he mused. Asking for more reinforcements from the Blood Blade Division was out of the question.
‘No matter. The strongest of the Poppy Blossom Clan lies sprawled on the roof. If only his attire were less nondescript.’
Jeong Yeon-shin had plans to recommend the mysterious warrior for promotion in the upcoming evaluation.
‘With proper organization and training, the division’s strength will grow exponentially.’
He rose from his chair, dispelling his lingering thoughts.
“For now, prepare yourselves and stay on alert. I’ll review your martial skills tomorrow.”
The two warriors bowed silently, their obedience unwavering.
After they left, Jeong Yeon-shin retrieved a letter from his robe. The paper was adorned with vibrant pink silk and bore the distinctive handwriting of his grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok.
The strokes were bold and fluid, as though the dragon itself danced upon the page.
*"I hear that the One-Peak Sword Hall will host its assembly tomorrow.
As your grandfather, I feel compelled to attend. I’ll come to Ma Gwang-ik Hall so we can go together.
The imperial court will no doubt summon this old body soon, but until then, I wish to spend as much time with you as possible. I also want to witness your first assembly as a Division Master.*
Your Grandfather,
Ma Yeon-jeok."*
Jeong Yeon-shin groaned inwardly.
The idea of arriving at his first assembly with his grandfather in tow was mortifying.
‘A grandson dragging his grandfather to work?’
The thought alone was enough to make him want to kick his bedding off in frustration.
‘Better leave early.’
Jeong Yeon-shin strode purposefully, his jet-black robes flowing like a shadow in his wake.
The new Division Master of Ma Gwang-ik had work to do, and he intended to get it done—his way.