Whoong! Clang!
A faint, colorless energy spread hazily, and an opaque ripple swept through the surroundings, accompanied by a violent shockwave.
The clash of fist and sword echoed like the resounding strike of a bell. The sharp sound reverberated through the air.
The hems of the swordsman’s and martial artist’s garments fluttered in opposing colors—vivid azure and faded gray.
One had complained about the absence of the commander, while the other rebuked their remarks.
Seomye Mu Maek and the unparalleled technique of the Hwangbo Clan were now in direct confrontation.
Their stage was the expansive Ma Gwang-ik Grand Martial Arena, renowned for its sheer size. Few martial arenas could accommodate hundreds of elite warriors at once, and this one was a rare exception.
It was land bestowed only to select units under the direct command of the Divine Sword Corps, serving as a training ground for pre-gathering exercises during the rare events of "Divine Sword Corps Assembly."
The weakened martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik had long been uneasy, carrying the weight of their privileges and lacking the confidence to stand openly among the other martial units.
The Ma Gwang-ik sect had always enjoyed numerous benefits within the Divine Sword Corps, asserting themselves as the strong. Their vast martial arena was evidence of this.
But today, the arena felt far from spacious. The overwhelming aura of the two combatants filled the space entirely, their invisible energies colliding violently.
Slaaash!
A massive man wielded his sword with precision. Gang Chang-mu, a skilled Blue Rank warrior who had joined Ma Gwang-ik from the Heavenly Forest Division, unleashed his expertise.
The greatsword in his grasp emitted an ethereal light as Seomye Mu Maek’s Radiant Sword Style unfolded in a blaze of sword energy, carving faint scars into the air—a shadowy afterimage of his movements.
Facing him barehanded was Tae Yeom-ryong. Without wearing any protective gloves, his hands exuded a shimmering, colorless haze that ignited as they clashed against the sword’s surface.
Clang!
Gang Chang-mu’s azure sleeve rippled violently. The bulging veins on his exposed forearm attested to the ferocity of the bout.
Tae Yeom-ryong, wearing a sleeveless martial uniform of no renown, stood unwavering. He endured the sword energy of the heavy-jawed Blue Rank master with steadfastness, his expression calm but intent.
“Using protective qi as if it were a glove—he’s insane. How long has this been going on?”
“I’ve heard of the Hwangbo Clan’s direct-line Heavenly King Qi Band. So it’s not just a legend, huh? Even against Radiant Sword Style, he’s holding his own barehanded. That’s no small feat.”
“Well, he’s a martial artist trained in hand-to-hand combat. But more than that, his internal energy must be ridiculously deep. Judging by his reserves alone, he’s probably on par with the commander. Ordinary blades wouldn’t even scratch him. His body is a weapon in itself.”
“Tae Yang Divine Pulse... Its reputation precedes it. They say it burns life itself to achieve such potential.”
The duel between Gang Chang-mu, the Execution Sword, and Tae Yeom-ryong, the nameless disciple, was as fierce as it was unrestrained. The seasoned warriors of Ma Gwang-ik did not intervene.
After all, the clash was happening within the Grand Martial Arena and had arisen from Tae Yeom-ryong’s audacity. There was no violation of the law.
Moreover, Gang Chang-mu’s reputation as a mid-tier newcomer had to be protected.
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Gang Chang-mu was a celebrated swordsman with a remarkable record. He had secretly eliminated a notorious demonic marauder who had been covertly threatening the provincial branch leader of Ho Gwang Fortress's Wuchang Prefecture.
Using Radiant Sword Style fused with his original swordsmanship,Gang Chang-mu had decapitated the marauder in a single stroke, showcasing the essence of instantaneous swordplay. Such mastery drew him to admire Ma Gwang-ik’s new commander deeply.
‘But this one... shows no respect.’
Watching Tae Yeom-ryong’s outstretched hands disrupting his sword path, Gang Chang-mu’s thoughts churned.
The martial artist’s rough counter-techniques targeted and disrupted the flow of the sword, preventing it from tracing long trajectories.
For a skilled swordsman of Blue Rank, exchanging blows alone was enough to sense the opponent’s intent. Tae Yeom-ryong’s disdain was clear, piercingly so.
Through his movements, Tae Yeom-ryong declared: There’s no need to see more of your sword techniques.
Clang-clang-clang!
The horizontal slash of the sword was disrupted, the blade shuddering violently under the repeated impacts.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s right-hand fist struck upward, cutting through the residual energy, while his left-hand palm pushed the blade aside, only to have his right hand slam the flat of the blade down again.
It was a flowing and elegant sequence. The sword rose skyward, distorted by the series of strikes.
Dust erupted from under Gang Chang-mu’s heels as he took a step back, retreating with the mastery of rotational Hwanikbo footwork.
“He’s using that as a retreat technique?”
Tae Yeom-ryong frowned, stepping forward with relentless force. The surge of his fiery internal energy tore through the air, creating transparent ripples that whistled sharply.
Boom!
Gang Chang-mu refused to retreat further. He stomped the ground hard, launching into the true stance of Radiant Sword Style.
A fierce vibration followed as dust billowed from his feet. His blade rose through the haze, cloaking the white sword energy in a veil.
The corner of Tae Yeom-ryong’s lips curled upward. His languid gaze sharpened into a sneer, his voice cutting through like a whip.
“You’re not supposed to use it like that.”
Bang!
Gang Chang-mu’s ascending sword was abruptly pinned. Tae Yeom-ryong’s foot pressed it down, the leather of his shoe impervious to the blade’s edge.
The Heavenly King Qi Band of the Hwangbo Clan formed an invisible barrier—a protective qi exclusive to the noble lineage of Jeonam.
Gang Chang-mu’s eyes widened in shock, while Tae Yeom-ryong furrowed his brows.
“Radiant Sword Style relies on intuition. Calculating trajectories in your head slows you down. It’s fundamentally a quick-strike technique meant to exploit openings, yet here you are, broadcasting every weak point—your lower body, wrists, energy flow. It’s like a wagtail trying to mimic a phoenix.”
Unamused, Tae Yeom-ryong scoffed. His voice was slow, deliberate, almost disdainful.
“Well, at least you’ll live a little longer. Who would’ve thought I’d dismantle Radiant Sword Style so effortlessly? I’ve imagined it a few times in dreams, but it all comes down to aptitude. Not as entertaining as I’d hoped.”
Tae Yeom-ryong looked far from satisfied, his smile fading into a bitter expression of disappointment.
“So, this is the sword style our commander invented back when he wore white? Seeing it through you, its flaws are glaring. If you can’t master Radiant Sword Style, your martial arts should at least be formidable. Let’s just hope you don’t become a burden to the commander.”
“...Don’t underestimate our commander’s techniques. The martial arts of the Hwangbo Clan aren’t so easily dismissed,” Gang Chang-mu growled, baring his teeth in frustration. His anger was evident, but the sword pinned beneath Tae Yeom-ryong’s foot didn’t budge.
Even as Gang Chang-mu channeled his energy into his lower body, waist, and arms, the blade remained immobile.
Despite his outstanding proficiency in physical reinforcement, Tae Yeom-ryong’s fiery internal energy, forged by the Tae Yang Divine Pulse, was unparalleled.
“A duel ends like this.”
“A nameless disciple defeating a Blue Rank...”
“Well, considering he’s the young master of the Hwangbo Clan, it makes sense.”
“Clearly, he knew our commander’s techniques inside out. It wouldn’t be wrong to say he fought with half a counter-strategy in mind. The forms are public knowledge, and he’s probably seen them countless times in action. If anything, he’s likely the person who understands the new commander’s martial arts best after Cheongmyeong, Baek Mi-ryeo, and the previous commander.”
“What about Ipwang Dalbyeon?”
“They say that technique reveals seventy percent of your true power.”
“Is he still lying around somewhere? I haven’t seen him lately.”
“He planned to challenge the Blue Rank, but at this rate, all his accumulated merit will go to waste.”
The upcoming rank examination of Tae Yeom-ryong and Hyeon Won-chang had become a major topic of interest, drawing attention not only within Ma Gwang-ik but also among the Divine Sword Corps as a whole.
It was a test of whether the new commander could cultivate and discipline his subordinates effectively, a measure of his worth as a leader. Beyond his martial prowess, it was a question of his ability to lead his sect to greatness.
The Hwangbo Clan’s prodigy was a finished warrior. The real concern lay with Hyeon Won-chang’s martial progress—a sentiment widely shared among the martial elites of Ma Gwang-ik.
“It seems hope is dim.”
Someone muttered, glancing at Tae Yeom-ryong’s expression as he regarded Seomye Mu Maek.
***
The vigilance of the Ipwang Family was strict.
It had to be. A Black Rank martial master had entered the patriarch’s hall, their dissatisfaction plainly visible.
The reason was justified: they had come to retrieve their subordinate. The age of the new commander didn’t matter.
For martial artists, tension was inevitable.
“Nothing will happen, right?”
The swordsman clad in a blue robe asked one of the gatekeepers. His tone was light.
The gatekeeper dared not answer. The one questioning him was Shin Baek, a collateral scion of the Ipwang Family.
Known as Namyeong Sword, Shin Baek was a refined martial master in his mid-thirties. His gentle features and amiable eyebrows gave him an approachable appearance.
His personality, however, was another matter.
“I asked you, didn’t I? Even if the new commander’s martial arts are impressive, it wouldn’t do for the family to act disrespectfully. Do you disagree with this statement?”
“N-no, sir.”
The young gatekeeper, dressed in a plain uniform, answered immediately, his voice strained.
Shin Baek harbored resentment toward the family’s direct lineage. He had been overshadowed by the family’s eldest heir of his generation and overlooked because of the prodigious talent of Shin So-bin.
Even after reaching Blue Rank—a rare feat—his standing within the family remained unchanged.
Outside the family, however, his reputation was solid.
Inside, it was another story. He was known for his irritable nature.
“After seeing the new commander of Ma Gwang-ik, I can’t help but lament over So-bin’s lost potential. If only she were a bit older, she’d have been a strong candidate for the family’s succession. If it were up to me, I would’ve pushed for her to become the next head. Isn’t it a waste to hand such a talent to Ma Gwang-ik? The new commander would have to agree and step aside, wouldn’t he?”
A strange gleam flickered in Shin Baek’s eyes.
To force a lowly gatekeeper into a discussion about the legitimacy of succession—clearly, something about the young Ma Gwang-ik commander provoked him.
It wasn’t jealousy of Seomye. It was more akin to self-loathing for his own circumstances.
The young Ma Gwang-ik commander, said to be of Shin So-bin’s generation, represented the future that Shin Baek had yearned for. The bloodline of a noble house, an unparalleled aptitude—qualities Shin Baek lacked.
“Umm...”
The gatekeeper hesitated, unable to answer.
Boom!
A distant explosion roared, sending shockwaves that ruffled their garments.
Shin Baek’s expression darkened.
“So, trouble has come at last.”
Thud!
He launched forward, his rapid footwork turning the rushing wind into a blunt force against his face. He wasn’t alone.
Warriors of the Ipwang Family converged from all directions. Dozens of martial artists rushed with qinggong to the source of the disturbance.
Their destination was obvious: the patriarch’s hall, which had been deliberately isolated for this very reason.
Thud-thud-thud!
The strides of the high-ranking warriors were wide and unyielding as they quickly reached the garden surrounding the hall.
The sight that greeted them was devastating.
Roof tiles lay scattered in all directions. The collapsed structure could no longer convey the dignity of its former grandeur.
Had the famed martial technique Whirlwind Barrier been unleashed? The scene looked unnatural, as though it had been shaped by some monstrous force rather than human hands. It was practically a ruin.
Shin Baek stood stunned.
“The seat I yearned for... could be reduced to this? So utterly and senselessly?”
A heavy silence fell. No one dared to step forward for a moment.
The situation appeared to have stabilized. Even for a Black Rank master, to subdue the patriarch of a renowned family under the Ipwang Fortress so effortlessly was unthinkable.
If such a person had indeed been enraged, it would require one’s life to stop them. All anyone could do was stare blankly at the hall’s threshold.
Tap-tap.
Footsteps echoed toward them. Out of nowhere, a girl appeared in the garden’s center.
“What on earth is going on...?”
Her jet-black braided hair fluttered in the reverse wind of her qinggong. The hem of her pristine white martial uniform billowed as she landed.
It was Shin So-bin, breaking her confinement amidst the chaos. Her lips parted slightly as she gazed at the hall.
Her eyes widened. She had sensed a familiar energy.
“Commander...?!”
“Be quiet.”
Shin Baek raised a finger to his lips. Shin So-bin glanced at him, then snorted lightly, as if dismissing his caution.
The commander had come for her, at last. Whatever had transpired, she couldn’t simply stand idly by.
It had been so long since she’d last seen him. Her heart swelled with a mix of relief and joy.
Step.
She began walking toward the hall.
From within, a faint voice rang out.
“Rise.”
It was the voice of Jeong Yeon-shin, the commander of Ma Gwang-ik. The moment the words were spoken, it seemed he had stimulated the patriarch’s acupoints.
Suddenly, a coughing sound emanated from within. It was unmistakably the patriarch’s.
Shin So-bin froze mid-step.
“Just now, what happened...?”
The bewildered voice of the patriarch, Shin Seol-ha, resonated as she regained consciousness. Jeong Yeon-shin responded.
“I have withdrawn my hand.”
“Withdrew it outright? You, of all people?”
“They didn’t react in time. I had hoped to show So-bin the martial techniques they wield, but...”
“And you bring up So-bin here?”
“It was my attempt at persuasion. I apologize if it seemed discourteous.”
The sound of cloth rustling was followed by a faint clap. The sharp ears of the Ipwang martial artists recognized it as Jeong Yeon-shin raising his fists in a gesture of respect—a rare act for a Black Rank master.
“...Did you even move your hand? I saw nothing but the ceiling collapsing suddenly. I didn’t even sense the flow of energy...”
“So-bin must learn martial arts of this caliber.”
“Why do you speak of others’ martial arts as if they were your own?”
“...I am not accustomed to extolling my techniques.”
“Ha...! And yet you possess such a fiery temperament?”
Shin Seol-ha sighed.
“You are no longer a junior, and yet you remain a hidden dragon. To think you concealed such transcendent strength, especially at your age... Even the other commanders would be astonished.”
“Enough flattery.”
“It is regrettable that I couldn’t grasp the full extent of your techniques. Your spirit is profound, indeed. I, Shin Seol-ha, have much to learn from you, as will So-bin. Today, I’ve been thoroughly taught—physically, no less.”
The voice came from deep within the patriarch’s chamber.
“That’s enough.”
In the stillness of the inner chamber, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke sincerely.
To Shin Seol-ha, it seemed a gesture of humility. Even after regaining consciousness, her gaze had softened.
As the head of the Ipwang Family, she valued martial strength above all else.
“I recognize that your martial arts surpass my understanding. But that alone isn’t enough reason to abandon So-bin entirely. This is about more than martial arts.”
“Still so obstinate.”
Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes.
“So-bin is an outsider. Leave her be.”
His words were brief, but Shin Seol-ha did not agree.
As the head of a martial household, she had her own perspective.
“The noble families under Ipwang Fortress strive to raise martial artists of exceptional bloodlines and willingly offer them to the Divine Sword Corps. You know better than anyone that masters don’t emerge just anywhere or anytime. The honor we pursue is through immense effort. Our family’s martial arts and name... That isn’t asking too much.”
She sought to bind him further. Who knew how much more interference she might attempt in the future?
Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze sharpened.
Her words, invasive and presumptuous, rubbed against his deepest sensitivities. Ma Gwang-ik was the family he had found after leaving the Jeong Household. For the first time, he had felt warmth and belonging.
It was a sanctuary he would hold onto even at the end of his life. It was now the most sacred part of his heart.
“The elite martial artists of the Divine Sword Corps belong under the care of their commanders. As the head of Ma Gwang-ik, let me be clear.”
His voice was calm but firm.
“That child is mine.”
His words carried a divine energy, drawn from the revolving brilliance of Luminous Method Wheel Qi. It imbued his voice with an awe-inspiring, sacred quality.
The sincerity of his tone resonated, echoing widely.
“...Ah.”
A small gasp escaped Shin Seol-ha’s lips. Her expression turned peculiar.
Her raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips reflected a strange astonishment. It was immediately after hearing Jeong Yeon-shin’s declaration.
“I see. That’s acceptable, then.”
“What?”
“With those martial arts, that appearance, that status, that lineage... It’s a good thing if it works out, and even if it doesn’t, if you value her so dearly...”
Muttering to herself, she suddenly spoke decisively.
“Take her. I’ve overstepped.”
“...?”