Hyeon Won-chang spoke, his voice raw and unadorned with energy. It didn’t carry far, but it didn’t need to. The central sparring stage, during the rare spectacle of a promotion ceremony, was packed with Ipwang Fortress’s martial artists. Among the attendees, only a few were anything less than accomplished fighters.
Their extraordinary auditory acuity ensured that even without amplification, Hyeon Won-chang’s words were heard clearly, much like those of the renowned Ipwang Blades.
Kang Un-chan, his eyes wide at first, soon let out a faint chuckle.
“I don’t begrudge this defeat. I’ll ascend eventually. What intrigues me more is the prospect of an entire division trained in the Gwangyeol Technique. The world will soon recognize Lord Jeong Yeon-shin as a grandmaster, though not without Ma Gwang-ik stirring up countless tempests in the meantime...”
It was a simple and honest admission of defeat.
“Tempests belong to the rivers and lakes,” Hyeon Won-chang replied with a light laugh, exchanging a formal martial salute with Kang Un-chan.
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The arena, filled with dignitaries, merchants, and Ipwang Fortress’s staff, had a heavy presence of its official martial artists. The strength of the martial crowd far outshone the other attendees. Hyeon Won-chang’s closing remark and the revelation of the Gwangyeol Technique’s origin spread swiftly among them, sparking a flurry of hushed conversations.
The spectators surrounding the sparring stage began murmuring, their reactions unmistakable. Martial artists clad in white and blue robes emitted faint waves of energy, their movements reflecting their astonishment. Among them, the energy radiating from the practitioners of Seomye Martial Lineage stood out.
“How could such a technique exist...?”
“It was fresh and overwhelmingly powerful, yet it bore traces of Seomye Lineage.”
The seasoned martial artists of Ipwang Fortress, who often journeyed through the mysterious world of the martial arts, were typically unshaken by surprises. But this was different. Even the most composed among them couldn’t mask their astonishment.
“This is a monumental event. Gwangyeol Technique, you say? Worth boasting about. It was clear that Lord Jeong Yeon-shin possessed the potential of a grandmaster, but...”
In the observation section, a woman in a blue martial robe let out a dry laugh. She was Jin Mu-hwa, a formidable martial artist serving as an acting leader of the Extermination Corps, a role akin to Ma Gwang-ik’s Cheongmyeong. Jin Mu-hwa had been closely watching the bouts alongside martial artists of equal standing.
The martial experts nearby began to voice their thoughts.
“The swordsmanship advanced at an extraordinary rate. It’s certain that the technique was taught by the Silver-Tongued Blade.”
“Could it truly be a universal martial art? Or is it merely the signature style of Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord?”
“The term ‘universal’ is misleading. Didn’t he himself call it Ma Gwang-ik’s exclusive creation?”
“In any case, it’s clear that it wasn’t merely a personal secret technique of Lord Jeong Yeon-shin.”
The implications of these remarks were vast. They signified a transformation within Ma Gwang-ik.
Exceptional techniques have the power to reshape entire groups. A silent man among them finally spoke.
“It’s been a long time since I last saw Gang Chang-mu. In the Muwol Training Grounds, he was a regular presence—practically lived there, obsessed with sparring.”
Ipwang Fortress’s Muwol Grounds served as a hub where martial artists from various units under the Ipwang Blades would test their skills against each other. Many warriors spent their time there while waiting for missions. Even Lord Jeong Yeon-shin had once frequented the grounds.
Jin Mu-hwa nodded knowingly. “He’s likely immersed in deep training. Who wouldn’t be, with a technique like that within reach...”
Reactions to the promotion ceremony varied across the audience. Merchants, tested by fortune and circumstance, exchanged calculating glances. Some quietly dispersed.
“Both the Cheonrim Corps and Sunmok Command disappeared simultaneously. Lord Jeong Yeon-shin is renowned for taking on mission after mission, so Ma Gwang-ik will likely be next.”
“Keep your eyes open and prepare to follow their trail. If they move toward Myun Woon Road, it’s worth shadowing them for a time.”
The movements of the Ipwang Blades’ units inevitably influenced common folk and traders alike.
As Lord Jeong Yeon-shin declared Hyeon Won-chang’s victory, countless gazes remained fixed on him. Even as the next match began, their attention lingered on Ma Gwang-ik’s leader.
The practitioners of Seomye Martial Lineage wore expressions that betrayed their complex emotions. Some even seemed to teeter on the edge of obsession. Even as the promotion duels continued, they hardly paid attention, their eyes instead drawn to Jeong Yeon-shin.
At that moment, they seemed closer than ever to becoming part of Ma Gwang-ik’s forces.
“Chui Seon-chang was defeated, and Hwangbo Tae Yeom-ryong claimed victory,” Jeong Yeon-shin announced, his tone steady.
“‘Claimed victory’ sounds too dismissive,” Tae Yeom-ryong grumbled.
Jeong Yeon-shin approached the dejected Chui Seon-chang and patted her shoulder. She was a kind-faced woman who instinctively leaned into his embrace, only to be gently pushed back.
It was clear now—Jeong Yeon-shin was no longer the young lord under the protective watch of his predecessors. Whether it was due to his physical growth since returning from the alliance meeting or his mastery of the Gwangyeol Technique, he had become fully recognized as a division leader within the Ipwang Blades.
“Step down,” Jeong Yeon-shin gestured subtly.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s victory had been effortless. His qi reserves and combat techniques had improved significantly since first meeting Jeong Yeon-shin. His heated strikes were evidence of this growth.
Moving with the nonchalant demeanor of a vagabond, he had effortlessly shattered Chui Seon-chang’s spear technique. Her martial skills, while impressive, weren’t sufficient to contend against the strength of Hwangbo Tae Yeom-ryong’s Sun Veins.
The two stepped down from the stage.
Once again, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke the words he had repeated countless times today.
“Next.”
It was a grand event, and time had flown by. The sun, now draped in hues of red, marked the horizon as the promotion ceremony approached its conclusion.
Ipwang Fortress’s master had not attended, his absence unsurprising. He was an enigmatic figure who followed his own whims, rarely making appearances—even to Jeong Yeon-shin himself.
—Having witnessed the spirits of warriors, how could I not be pleased?
The words, an adaptation of a line from the Classic of Poetry, accompanied the entrance of dancers with flowing sleeves and musicians gripping bamboo flutes and zithers. Despite lean times, their performances radiated joy and beauty, rivaling even the martial displays.
Jeong Yeon-shin remained until the ceremony’s end, standing beside the Grand Commander and silently supporting his closing address.
“You have entered Ipwang. You have taken another step into the wild plains. Serve as sharp blades for this fortress. The righteousness of this land will stand with you. That is noble, truly noble.”
The Grand Commander presented blue robes to the promoted warriors, including Hyeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong. It was a sight that stirred mixed emotions in Jeong Yeon-shin.
“May the sun never set on your path.”
He recalled the luminous voice of the Fortress Master, a gentle blessing accompanied by the memory of being personally draped in a blue robe. The warmth of the master’s touch and the profound wisdom conveyed through his gestures lingered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.
“What a pity.”
Instead of the master, it was the Grand Commander who presided over the ceremony.
As Jeong Yeon-shin watched his two subordinates with faint amusement and deep satisfaction, he momentarily set aside his worries about Zhongnan Sect. In his heart, he quietly celebrated the accomplishments of Ma Gwang-ik’s family before preparing to leave Ipwang Fortress—his home—once again.
***
"Promoted from Novice to Blue. Won-chang, isn't that a promotion you'd never have dared to dream of?"
"It's Hyeon Won-chang, Hwangbo."
"In any case, no one in Ma Gwang-ik will be able to look down on me now. Do you know how tired I was of hearing about insubordination? And making me run errands for kids? That was overkill. Hmph."
"Truly tragic. To the Lord, you'll still be insignificant."
"And yet, that insignificance is my joy. Wouldn't you agree it's far better than boredom?"
"I'm worried about your sanity. Has the opium finally invaded your body? You seem completely pickled in it now."
The shadows of two figures stretched long under the setting sun.
The group was on their way back to Ma Gwang-ik’s pavilion. Hyeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong walked ahead, bickering lightly, while Jeong Yeon-shin and Jegal Cheong-ah followed side by side, their conversation quieter and more measured.
"So, in eye techniques, you prioritize Baihui over Tongziliao?"
"Yes. The head matters more than the eyes. The key is how intuitively you can grasp the profound logic of martial arts. That's what makes an eye technique truly advanced. 'How you see' is secondary; as long as the circulation around the inner corners of your eyes flows smoothly, the technique can refine itself."
"Like the energy flow between your Four Whites, Zan Zhu, and Yintang points? A network that intricately envelops your face and eyes?"
"...Yes."
Jegal Cheong-ah pressed her lips together momentarily.
Jeong Yeon-shin offered a nod of thanks, falling into thought.
He had recently been pondering the next martial art he would create. With his rapport with the Ma family restored and access to the upper levels of the Cheongeum Archives as a division leader, he had countless techniques at his fingertips. Yet none seemed as fitting as one tailored specifically to his own body and spirit.
Martial arts, after all, are inherently physical disciplines.
Every vein, pressure point, and meridian in the body varies in position, thickness, flow, and innate energy. This becomes all the more pronounced at higher levels of mastery.
The personal martial arts Jeong Yeon-shin had developed thus far had granted him extraordinary advantages. His efficiency in handling inner energy and executing techniques far surpassed conventional methods. Even without achieving Samhwa Chwijeong (The Unity of the Three Essences), he could exchange blows with top-tier masters.
Eye techniques and defensive energy fields, he mused.
He had only briefly studied techniques he found worth referencing. Properly incorporating them could greatly benefit him. Without achieving the perfect state of Junggisin Hapil (The Unity of Essence, Energy, and Spirit), he had to rely on depth and variety in his martial arts.
It was especially crucial for surviving against the relentless elite masters of major sects.
I might encounter the Lord of the Swordbreaker Sect someday.
The thought was heavy, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He vividly recalled the chilling scene at the Jeong family manor that night. The eerie silence, the metallic tang of blood wafting through the doorway, the crimson stains soaking into the floorboards, moonlight streaming across darkened pools, and the destructive aura emanating from the Swordbreaker's massive blade...
"Hmm?"
Jeong Yeon-shin raised his head.
Familiar walls came into view. They were nearly back. Ma Gwang-ik’s pavilion loomed just ahead.
"The main gate is wide open. How very like our people—welcoming the promotion of Ipwang's newest heroes. Hm?"
Hyeon Won-chang halted mid-step.
Tae Yeom-ryong, who had been walking with his hands clasped behind his head, also stopped his casual gait.
"Lord?"
"Wait."
Jeong Yeon-shin responded curtly, his eyes fixed on the distance.
A tense standoff was unfolding ahead.
It wasn’t just Ma Gwang-ik’s martial artists and Lady Ye of the alliance present. The figure of a woman with jet-black short hair also stood out.
It was none other than Ipwang’s Silver Spear, Ak Su-rim.
What had likely started as a peaceful tea visit had escalated. Now, she was spinning her silver spear effortlessly in one hand, its elegant arcs catching the sunset’s golden hues. While the sight was striking, it was anything but serene. Ak Su-rim had once voiced her displeasure with Lady Ye during a meeting in the Fortress Master’s chambers.
And the situation didn’t end there.
Atop the highest roof of the pavilion sat another unsettling presence—a man clad in fluttering pink robes, his hems brushing against the tiles as the wind played with the fabric.
It was Ma Yeon-jeok, the Rogue Phantom.
Perched like a crow watching over carrion, he silently observed the standoff between Ak Su-rim and Lady Ye. His gaze flitted between them, carrying an ominous energy.
It was a chilling sight.
Even Jeong Yeon-shin, who rarely missed the presence of others, hadn’t immediately sensed him. The man seemed utterly absorbed in his scrutiny.
"..."
Jeong Yeon-shin drew a small symbol with his forefinger—a signal unique to Ma Gwang-ik. It was used sparingly, reserved for situations requiring utmost caution.
It meant to retreat quietly.
He turned his body discreetly, silently signaling his group to follow his lead.
The three behind him complied without a word, their movements subdued.
They walked past the main road until the pavilion was no longer visible.
Jeong Yeon-shin broke the silence.
"Ma Gwang-ik won't be harmed."
"True. Few can handle the combined assault of Blue-ranked martial artists wielding the Gwangyeol Technique and the Ipwang Silver Spear simultaneously. Only a handful of sect leaders could manage that," Tae Yeom-ryong remarked nonchalantly, rolling his shoulders as though amused by the situation.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded briefly.
"I need a brush and ink."
"I have them."
Jegal Cheong-ah immediately retrieved a small inkstone and brush from her sleeve.
The items were pristine, her immaculate gray robe as spotless as the writing tools she offered. She also produced a small sheet of paper, equally crisp and clean.
"Take this, too."
"Thank you."
Jeong Yeon-shin placed the paper against Jegal Cheong-ah’s back, enveloping it with an invisible barrier of inner energy.
"...?"
"I’ve fortified your clothing with my defensive energy. Don’t worry."
He quickly wrote a short message.
It didn’t take long before he finished and carefully secured the note. Then, from within his robe, he drew out a snow-white swallow—his personal spirit companion. The tiny creature blinked groggily, its glossy black eyes squinting at its master.
Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly, attaching the rolled-up messages to each of the swallow’s legs.
"This one goes to the Blood Sovereign Lord. The other to Senior Cheongmyeong or Senior Mireyo."
His voice took on an almost ethereal quality, imbued with a distinct resonance. It was a tone he had carried ever since mastering the Radiant Wheel Technique, echoing with subtle authority.
"Visit the Blood Sovereign Lord first, then return to Ma Gwang-ik," he instructed.
The bird, seemingly understanding every word, gave a sharp chirp before taking off.
In an instant, it was a distant speck in the sky, leaving the group to watch in silence.
Jegal Cheong-ah spoke hesitantly.
"Is it really all right to leave like this...?"
"We need to disperse anyway. Seomseo is a battlefield. The Swordbreaker Sect is on the rise, and Yeoryeong has rallied. There's no need to draw the attention of the Thirteen Heavens yet. It's better to disguise ourselves and regroup step by step."
"I meant leaving without consulting anyone..."
"I am the division leader."
Jeong Yeon-shin replied, resuming his stride.
The sound of his boots crunching against the earth echoed loudly.
Ipwang Fortress buzzed with the revelry of the promotion ceremony. Cheers and laughter, the clinking of glasses, and spirited songs filled the air.
The reddish hues of the sunset seemed to dance alongside the group as they moved.
Tae Yeom-ryong, Hyeon Won-chang, and Jegal Cheong-ah followed, their footsteps steady and resolute.
As they passed various pavilions, those they encountered offered formal martial salutes, their deference unmistakable.
The respectful gesture of a gatekeeper marked their departure.
"May the division leader’s fortunes favor him," the man said.
With the setting sun casting its golden glow behind him, Jeong Yeon-shin, the leader of Ma Gwang-ik, stepped into the world once more.