The new Ma Gwang-ik commander paid no attention to the peculiar expression of the Ipwang patriarch, Shin Seol-ha. He knew what thoughts had crossed her mind; her muttered words alone made it clear.
"The opposite could have been true as well."
If Jeong Yeon-shin had been a woman, the topic would have shifted to sons. The great leaders of the world had long used marriage alliances to consolidate power. They held their clans in the highest regard. In the turbulent world of martial arts, for unparalleled warriors, gender made no difference.
It was a society where the strong thrived, and everything was dedicated to elevating the clan's honor and solidifying its influence.
But Jeong Yeon-shin had no interest in such matters. What mattered was completing Ma Gwang-ik.
Family and home.
The events in Sichuan at the famed Myeonggong Island had made this clear. He was haunted by the memory of his senior comrades who had perished.
The loss he had tried so hard to suppress had burned itself into his heart. This recent incident had brought a painful realization.
From now on, everyone must return alive. No unavoidable situation should result in empty seats.
The warmth he had experienced late in life was like ocean water he had never known—refreshing but endlessly thirst-inducing. Ma Gwang-ik was no different.
They were alive. Unlike the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong, which pursued the soul of his late mother, this was real.
"I won’t lose anyone else."
Shin Seol-ha’s words and actions only sharpened Jeong Yeon-shin’s resolve. Within him, the potential of a great leader began to blossom like a flower bud.
Even the absence of a single person like Shin So-bin had taught him much. It didn’t matter that he had never led a large group before.
It was enough that he had realized their importance anew.
"Seniors, peers, juniors—they all must grow stronger so they won’t leave my side."
By any means, they would remain within Ma Gwang-ik’s fold.
Jeong Yeon-shin resolved this within himself.
It felt as if the sangdanjeon in his mind was filling with a faint radiance. For the first time, he was determined to create martial arts for others.
From within, the martial artist Seomye shed his solitude, becoming the Grandmaster of Ma Gwang-ik. In this moment, the foundations of a great leader silently formed.
Emerging from the lonely years of the Jeong Household, he flourished like a lotus rising from a muddy swamp.
A small spark had ignited great change. Jeong Yeon-shin realized something. He had never before created martial arts for others.
Not once. Until now, his talent had served only himself, yet he had still built his martial foundation.
"But throwing my martial arts to others shouldn’t just be an act of utility."
He sank into deep thought.
"It must represent Ma Gwang-ik from the start..."
It would be best to weave together Seomye’s martial arts with the principles of Radiance Techniques. It needed to be something the middle and junior martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik could practice and master.
Moreover, it had to be of the highest order. Just as the masters of Ma Gwang-ik were compared to the Plum Blossom Swordmasters, their martial arts needed to stand on par with the Plum Blossom Sword Style. That was the essence of Ma Gwang-ik.
“Commander Jeong?”
Shin Seol-ha’s call interrupted his reflection.
He lifted his gaze, meeting her curious expression.
“Yes, I’ll take her.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.
He stood, the rough scraping sound of stone filling the quiet room.
It was the distinct noise of Ipwang Fortress’s stone chairs dragging against the floor, echoing clearly in the stillness.
“...”
Shin Seol-ha’s expression subtly shifted.
As the head of a noble house, she was attuned to the aura of others. She could sense the change in Jeong Yeon-shin’s demeanor.
The slight enlightenment he had gained had altered him. The atmosphere of a supreme master, one who breathed the air of the transcendent, began to follow his every move.
From the Seomye of Ho Gwang Fortress to the Flame King of Sichuan—his steps exuded dignity as he moved to leave.
Shin Seol-ha said nothing more. Her instincts as a seasoned leader told her not to. Speaking unnecessary words could provoke disaster. No one in Ipwang Fortress understood the weight of a Black Rank master’s dignity better than its own people.
Jeong Yeon-shin broke the silence first.
“As Shin So-bin’s superior, I extend my respect. You’ve nurtured a precious subordinate. I am grateful.”
“This family has produced elders of the central council for generations. The blood of Ipwang’s foremost noble family should achieve no less,” Shin Seol-ha replied, raising the corners of her mouth in feigned jest.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t look at her. His focus drifted into the air, sensing something intangible. It was immediately after hearing her mention “Ipwang’s foremost.”
He felt no presence, but it was a meaningless endeavor. If her grandfather was truly hiding himself, Jeong Yeon-shin wouldn’t detect him. For now, it was enough that no immediate conflict arose.
“I’ll send herbal medicine and internal recovery aids to Ma Gwang-ik. It’ll be valuable support,” Shin Seol-ha said, walking ahead toward the door.
Jeong Yeon-shin watched her back in silence.
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“For what reason?”
“To repay a debt. You’ve been too occupied with missions to receive proper gratitude. If not for the contributions you made in Sichuan, the elder of the central council could’ve been endangered.”
“Your attitude has changed.”
“It had to. This is separate from So-bin’s matter.”
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t refuse. Ma Gwang-ik’s members would need the support as they engraved their new martial arts into their bodies.
For martial artists, training was a process of carving away at oneself.
To cultivate superior techniques swiftly, good food and excellent medicinal supplies were essential, especially in a time of scarcity and poor harvests.
Medicinal herbs and recovery aids were difficult to procure even through the central office, which had limited supplies.
He had already requested some as a reward for completing the Sichuan mission, but it was uncertain how much they would grant.
"The more, the better," Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
After all, he had to create something extraordinary.
A soft laugh came from ahead. It was Shin Seol-ha.
“Let’s go.”
She opened the door, and as they stepped out, the faint sound of hesitant movements followed.
Shin So-bin’s delicate energy seemed strangely unsettled, as though she’d been lost in thought over something trivial.
“Let’s go.”
Jeong Yeon-shin addressed her, his eyes meeting the girl’s striking gaze.
Shin So-bin nodded slightly.
“It’s been a long time. I’m glad to see you safe.”
“You’ve refined yourself with Ultimate Polar Flower Fist. It’s well-structured. Your energy channels are solid.”
“You noticed right away.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. Receiving praise from the creator of the martial art she practiced was a joy unparalleled for a martial artist.
Most masters of transcendent techniques were long deceased ancestors. To hear such recognition in one’s time was a rare privilege.
Behind her, Shin Baek, the Blue Rank warrior of the collateral line, watched them with a complex expression.
He had no authority to challenge the patriarch’s decision. Nor did he feel inclined to.
What lingered in his ears was the warm tone of Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice as he spoke of his subordinate as though she were a cherished possession.
"If only..."
As he shivered at the thought he dared to entertain, the Ma Gwang-ik commander brushed past him. The black hem of Jeong Yeon-shin’s robe fluttered slightly.
It was the first time the reality of his presence felt so vivid. This was a man who traversed the vast expanse of the martial world freely.
The aura of a Black Rank master swept over the gathered martial artists like a winter breeze, leaving none able to move.
“I won’t be back for a long time,” Shin So-bin said boldly, looking up at Shin Seol-ha with unwavering eyes.
“If you ever feel limited, come ask about the Heavenly Scripture of Martial Prowess. There’s no shame in it. No matter how much you master Seomye’s arts or Radiance Techniques, I won’t interfere,” Shin Seol-ha replied with a surprisingly benevolent smile.
Step.
Shin So-bin scoffed lightly and turned, her steps quickening as she followed her commander.
White and black, disciple and grandmaster, left the garden together.
***
The newly appointed Ma Gwang-ik commander, Jeong Yeon-shin, secluded himself after retrieving his subordinate.
He did not leave his quarters after entering. Every meal was served within his residence. Only the Ma Gwang-ik attendants delivering food caught a glimpse of him, and his face remained unseen for several days.
It was complete isolation.
Even Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo were baffled by this unprecedented behavior. Yet, they could do nothing. Seomye was their commander, and they had to respect his orders to let no one disturb him.
The sun set and rose repeatedly, its shadows stretching over the heads of Ma Gwang-ik’s martial artists nine times as the days passed.
"It's been nine days already. Could it be a case of juhaipma?"
"Possibly. They say he fought a fierce battle at the Shin family manor. Maybe he's quietly tending to internal injuries...”
"To avoid worrying us? Knowing our commander’s temperament, that makes sense. He never shows anything, no matter what happens."
The sun dipped again, painting the sky with orange light. It was a tranquil evening, the clear air veiled in the glow of dusk.
Beneath the towering walls of the Grand Martial Training Ground, Ma Gwang-ik’s martial artists clashed weapons or focused on their training. Others perched on the high walls or stood atop the roofs of nearby pavilions, gazing down.
Some of those stationed on rooftops kept their eyes on the commander’s quarters. It was typical of Ma Gwang-ik's informal atmosphere, contrasting with the orthodox sects.
About thirty martial artists were present, including those who had just returned from solo missions.
"They say the commander only fought the head of the Shin family. Was it really one-on-one?"
"Could the Shin patriarch’s skills have been enough to injure the commander? I thought he wasn’t on par with a Black Rank master."
"Still, he is the head of a noble family. He probably has at least one Gumyeong Jeolcho hidden up his sleeve. Maybe he triggered a secret mechanism or formation."
"Enough about internal injuries. If that were the case, Cheong-an Divine Sword would have spotted it right away. Let it go. Let’s just focus on helping those training here. He’ll come out on his own."
The martial artists, who had been conversing in various tones, turned their heads.
All eyes shifted in one direction.
Gang Chang-mu, wielding a greatsword, was sparring with Wi Ye-ryeong, who held a bow at her side. A large-framed Han martial artist and a nimble Ming martial artist faced off.
As their footwork intertwined, Gang Chang-mu’s blade grazed the hem of Wi Ye-ryeong’s blue robe.
They were both Blue Rank martial artists, known respectively as The Executioner Sword and April Ghost of the Palace. The techniques they were employing were Radiant Sword Style and Circular Step.
Boom!
Gang Chang-mu’s greatsword struck downward with a thunderous force. The shockwave split the earth at Wi Ye-ryeong’s feet, sending dust scattering.
Her footing remained unscathed, demonstrating the peak mastery of Circular Step.
Gang Chang-mu’s Radiant Sword Style was equally refined. A faint shimmer of light enveloped his blade.
As he brought the sword down, he swiftly reversed his strike upward. The air seemed to rip apart with the sharp sound of his sword swing, scattering fragments of stone in all directions.
“This is where it diverges,” Wi Ye-ryeong murmured with her hands clasped behind her back.
She didn’t move. Standing tall and composed, she faced the oncoming shockwave with unwavering eyes, her cool demeanor matching the daring ascent of her swordsmanship.
A fierce wind brushed past her face, and her icy blue eyes glinted sharply. It wasn’t a mere cutting wind but the aura of an expert at the peak of their craft.
Gang Chang-mu’s lips lifted slightly—not out of joy, but in resignation. It was a hollow smile.
"According to Ma Gwang-ik’s study of Radiance Techniques, an upward strike should’ve worked...”
“I know. A consecutive strike is challenging.”
Wi Ye-ryeong responded, unfolding her arms.
Clack!
Lowering his head, Gang Chang-mu sheathed his greatsword onto the harness behind him without looking back. The sword vanished in a flash of movement, a testament to the high-level technique of swift sheathing, a mark of mastery.
He spoke again.
“You didn’t seem capable of repeating Circular Step either.”
“That’s right. To circulate energy above and below the Taegye Acupoint near the ankle bone, I’d need more focus. I had already used it once, and my veins didn’t respond immediately. If it were a real fight, I’d have resorted to my primary techniques.”
“My sword path was also blocked. I couldn’t extend it further. The problem wasn’t my veins but the muscles in my arm. To continue the strike, I’d need to finely adjust the internal energy bursts in my arm. Achieving that is essential for mastering the tenth level of Radiant Sword Style. In the end, that Hwangbo guy wasn’t wrong.”
Gang Chang-mu glanced upward as he spoke.
Lying sprawled across the roof tiles, Tae Yeom-ryong chewed on a poppy stem, appearing utterly relaxed. He seemed to be using the tiles of Jeong Yeon-shin’s quarters as a makeshift bed.
Since their duel, Tae Yeom-ryong hadn’t paid any attention to Gang Chang-mu. He simply lounged around, appearing as if he were casually guarding Jeong Yeon-shin.
Wi Ye-ryeong unfolded her arms.
“All of Seomye’s martial arts are like that. They emphasize single, decisive strikes, so they tend to lack continuity. Only the commander can use them consecutively. It’s a matter of innate talent. It’s something you only realize after mastering them...”
She trailed off.
Beyond the wall of the Grand Martial Training Ground, a sudden and overwhelming surge of energy erupted. It was far beyond what could be considered Blue Rank.
The pressure slicing through the surroundings was immense.
In the martial world, some individuals embodied overwhelming, irresistible power within their mortal bodies.
In Ipwang Fortress, they wore jet-black robes. These were the Black Rank masters. From beyond the wall, their unmistakable presence began to seep through.
“Are they really here? Could they not respond to any summons? Did I upset them by calling them a rival? What if that’s really the case?”
“If they’re in seclusion, it’d be wise to turn back,” another voice responded.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one who suggested this, didn’t you? Pa..., hmm, your obsession with books... Blood Ghost, you say something too. Our darling junior missed the gathering, didn’t he?”
“I’m only here to check on the subordinates I sent to Ma Gwang-ik. I merely heard that Commander Jeong had secluded himself...”
“Are you afraid of our Seomye?”
“I’m simply respecting my junior’s personal time.”
The voices and mannerisms were instantly recognizable.
It was the Sub-Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, the Yullyeong Captain, and the Blood Guard Commander. The martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik, who had been lounging, slowly rose to their feet.
It was unthinkable to welcome commanders of other units with such a lax posture.
Then it happened.
Perhaps in response to the overwhelming energy of the incoming commanders, a faint ripple of power emerged. It came from the cracks in the grand doors of the commander’s quarters, beyond the walls of the training ground.
Suddenly, radiant energy began to stir, as if embers of light were igniting. Even the gaps in the roof tiles where Tae Yeom-ryong lay burst through in streaks of glowing energy.
Streams of light, made of energy waves, began to flow outward like mist.