“Milord, we have arrived.”
One of the mounted guards escorting the carriage spoke, dressed in a striking navy-blue uniform. He held the reins of his steed firmly, issuing a silent command with a mere glance.
A subordinate, receiving the unspoken order, surveyed the surroundings before raising his voice, projecting it with the force of inner energy.
―All commoners nearby are to remain still for one full shichen. The Zhifu, conducting the affairs of the nation, must not be disturbed.
The road was effectively sealed.
The Zhifu’s carriage for Xi’an Prefecture was nothing short of opulent. The intricate, curved roof at its top, resembling the eaves of a grand pavilion, was crafted with such elegance that it naturally drew the attention of passersby.
Those peeking out from windows quickly retreated. Pedestrians who had been lingering nearby hastened their steps to move away.
The soft sound of silk brushing against silk marked the descent of a refined woman from the carriage.
She was clad in green official robes of impeccable tailoring. At her waist hung a sword adorned with red tassels, swaying with each of her measured steps.
This was a symbol of her rank—a Chugan, the fourth-highest official of Xi’an Prefecture and second only to the Zhifu in authority.
In a world where martial arts were paramount, the Chugan were elite officials who combined scholarly wisdom with martial skill, overseeing law and order and ensuring justice.
The faint but unmistakable flow of formless energy emanated from her, an aura of cultivated power.
She adjusted her official hat with precision and surveyed the inn sharply, her gaze cutting through the air like a blade.
“Step down, milord. The ground is firm, as no martial scuffle has sullied this road.”
Her voice was steady and respectful, yet carried a subtle authority.
The sound of boots hitting the ground came shortly after.
“Xi’an is a truly comfortable place,” said a broad-shouldered man as he descended from the carriage.
“The roads here stretch wide and intersect seamlessly. Such expansive avenues are rare. To be stationed here is an immense blessing. Years have passed, and yet I still hold the same sentiment.”
“The Emperor’s grace is indeed profound,” the Chugan replied smoothly.
“I imagine Guangye Chaeju feels the same. To rule over such a treasure of a land... Martial artists may wield swords to reap their harvest, but how many prosperous cities like this exist in all under heaven? A very shrewd choice on their part.”
“......”
“They live in a fine place. It seems their leader has good taste,” the Zhifu mused, adjusting the ample blue sleeves of his robe.
Zhifu Wang Weixiu had already begun his performance. He was well-versed in navigating the nuances of the martial world.
Every word he uttered was calculated, delivered under the assumption that Guangye Chaeju was already listening.
His tone was a delicate balance—reinforcing the authority of the government while subtly acknowledging the strength of the formidable leader he was about to meet.
“Let us proceed,” Wang Weixiu ordered.
***
The common folk were dead.
The scale of the incident that took place in Daewolhyup was not small.
From the peaks severed by Gui Baek-shin’s blade strikes, countless people plummeted, their lives snuffed out instantly in a gruesome display. It wasn’t the same as the deaths of wandering swordsmen. These were civilians—people who had no ties to the martial world—completely wiped out.
“It’s not the leader’s fault, though,” Cheongmyeong muttered, scratching the back of his head under his hood.
He was perched half-heartedly on the edge of the tea table. The scene unfolded in one of Ma Gwang-ik’s private chambers, with the group casually seated around the table.
Even Baek Mi-ryeo and Hyeon Won-chang were gathered in the separate guesthouse annex, making it a purely informal setting. It was a space where they could speak as senior and junior without the burden of titles or ranks.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
His breathing was measured, despite his upper body being tightly bound with plain white cloth.
Wrapped in layers of white bandages and loosely draped in a long black robe, Jeong Yeon-shin’s torso was the focus of Baek Mi-ryeo’s gaze.
Everyone had seen the extent of his injuries. His body bore sharp scars, remnants of the cutting energy from the blade strikes that had rained upon him.
It was a state of severe injury they had never witnessed on Seomye before. Not since his initiation into Ipwang Fortress.
“That must hurt terribly,” Baek Mi-ryeo murmured, her eyes filled with concern as she studied the bloodstains smeared across his bandages.
Jeong Yeon-shin had to suppress his discomfort. The atmosphere was different from the time when his maternal grandfather had barged in uninvited.
This time, it was because of the condition he was in—something unprecedented.
The external wounds were severe, but the internal damage was just as bad. After executing the Cheong-yeom Il-sik and then forcing out the strikes of Si-hwa Muguk-su, his injuries had reached a breaking point.
While he had managed to cut off the retreat of the Blade Specter Council’s elder, the backlash from the force had severely weakened the energy channels in his upper body.
It wasn’t until Ma Gwang-ik’s top-tier ointments and internal healing pills were applied and consumed that the worsening of his condition was halted.
Even during the famine, countless warriors from Ma Gwang-ik’s faction had scattered far and wide to gather medicinal ingredients for their leader.
Jeong Yeon-shin had jokingly suggested to Tae Yeom-ryong that he should hand over some opium, only for the man to recoil in horror and adamantly refuse.
— "Let’s just focus on your recovery. We’ll find the best ingredients for you."
— "You know what they say: you are who you hang out with. Maybe I should start with that troublemaker. A dragon, huh? More like a drug dealer."
— "Hey, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t planning to give you any in the first place."
Despite the entire region being abuzz with tales of Gui Baek-shin’s devastating demise, the inn where they stayed remained unusually peaceful.
‘It’s going to take more than a day or two to recover,’ Baek Mi-ryeo thought, biting her lower lip slightly. Just as she glanced sideways at the leader, Cheongmyeong broke the silence with a faint smirk.
“How old is our boss again? He’s already taken down a senior figure of the Blade Specter Council.”
The question was rhetorical. His intent to shift the topic was transparent.
Though Cheong-an Divine Sword was known for his icy demeanor toward less talented peers, he had always shown exceptional favor toward Seomye since his entry into the fortress.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips.
“Seventeen...” The answer escaped his lips like a sigh, muffled by the pain he was suppressing.
Cheongmyeong looked puzzled.
“Hm? The year hasn’t turned yet, has it? Even if the solstice is coming soon.”
“Wasn’t it sixteen?” Hyeon Won-chang interjected abruptly.
“Ah.”
A low sound of realization escaped Jeong Yeon-shin.
Unconsciously, he had calculated his age based on his reduced lifespan. With only two years and a few months remaining, he had instinctively thought of himself as seventeen.
Ever since donning the black robes of the higher ranks after his blue ones, he had lived this way.
It made it easier to set his goals.
“......”
The silence lingered for a moment.
— “The Zhifu Daein has arrived!”
A voice imbued with inner energy echoed thunderously, shaking the walls. The loud declaration caused the tea table to rattle as if struck by the sound itself.
Baek Mi-ryeo, Cheongmyeong, and Hyeon Won-chang’s eyes sharpened instantly.
Jeong Yeon-shin muttered quietly, “Zhifu Daein...?”
***
“It is an unparalleled honor to meet a hero of your stature. Rumors abound of you having slain Gui Baek-shin, but at first, I could hardly believe them. Ah, let me introduce myself: I am Wang Weixiu, Zhifu of the Third Rank, governing the core of the Shaanxi Eight Divisions. In martial circles, I suppose you could call me one of the elite officials of the administration.”
Wang Weixiu, the Zhifu Daein, appeared to be a man of stern and upright demeanor. His words, at a glance, carried a tone of righteousness.
Though he wanted to conclude the conversation quickly, his status meant the discussion could easily drag on.
In terms of authority, even the sect leader of Daebang Sect couldn’t compare.
“I am well aware that the Zhifu is of the Third Rank,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
“Indeed, you’re clearly of a different caliber than the ignorant fools who were cut down.”
“Such flattery is excessive. I’ve heard that the Lord of Sungyeojimun was a scholar who passed the imperial examinations before stepping into the unorthodox sects. A man of both civil and martial talents. How could I not know the rank of a Zhifu?”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s tone was composed as he spoke. He sat across from Wang Weixiu in the center of the inn’s main hall.
He hadn’t anticipated a visit from the Zhifu Daein, especially since he hadn’t disclosed his identity.
This occurred even before Gang Chang-mu and Shin So-bin, whom he had sent to investigate the actions of the local officials, had returned.
The task of the Ipwang Fortress leader had walked right into his lap.
— Doesn’t this stink to high heaven?
— Just say the word, and I’ll take off the heads of those bureaucrats.
Cheongmyeong and Hyeon Won-chang’s voices rang through telepathic communication. Jeong Yeon-shin gave a subtle nod in response.
Beside him sat Baek Mi-ryeo, while Wang Weixiu was accompanied by the Chugan official, who stood beside him as if guarding him.
Jeong Yeon-shin could feel a probing gaze fixed on the bandages wrapped around his abdomen and chest. It was the Chugan’s.
The Chugan had introduced herself earlier. She was a figure who oversaw all matters of wealth, imprisonment, and executions in the region, ensuring the safety of those with martial prowess even from assassination attempts.
Her sharp jawline and tightly pressed lips suggested an authoritative personality. A faint trace of qi emanated from her furrowed brows, hinting at the marks of her An-bup training.
‘She’s assessing my condition and martial capabilities.’
Jeong Yeon-shin immediately understood.
He raised his head and locked eyes with her. At the same time, the Chugan’s faint qi surged, as if testing the waters with newfound boldness.
Jeong Yeon-shin simply stared back, unmoved.
Suddenly, the faint blue light of his Si-cheonbeop flickered in his gaze, piercing through hers. It laid bare a profound and intricate understanding of martial studies.
“Ah...!”
The Chugan quickly averted her eyes.
She failed to completely conceal the panic spreading across her face. The sheer density of information embedded in his qi’s structure had overwhelmed her, nearly suffocating her.
For a fleeting moment, terror consumed her. If she had lingered any longer, she felt she would have been reduced to an empty husk.
The Chugan gasped for breath, her thoughts racing. This isn’t a person. I need to escape.
But she couldn’t even open her mouth. The watchful eyes of the Zhifu Daein held her in check, like a spider drawing flies into its web.
“There’s no benefit in dealing with me this way,” Wang Weixiu interjected, observing the aftermath of Jeong Yeon-shin’s brief exchange with the Chugan. His tone carried a tinge of displeasure.
He was a man who knew when to act decisively. Wang Weixiu wielded his power with precision.
Unlike the recently deceased Zhifu Daein of Unyang Prefecture in Huguang Province—who had foolishly flaunted his wealth and indulgences—Wang Weixiu was a pragmatic operator.
‘He was probably killed by some petty martial artist pretending to be a chivalrous hero,’ Wang Weixiu thought.
The title of Zhifu had been known as Taishou since before the Song Dynasty.
It was far more advantageous to wield power openly under the bright midday sun rather than resorting to shady dealings. The Zhifu Daein of Unyang had been naive.
If any evidence surfaced that a Zhifu had been killed, even the most notorious martial artists would have to fear the wrath of Ipwang Fortress.
The presence of the Chugan, a Tongpan administrator, and other aides alongside Wang Weixiu underscored his rank. His personal security wasn’t a trivial matter.
Unlike the local militia, the Zhifu’s entourage included warriors skilled in lightfoot techniques, rendering such methods ineffective against them.
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‘They’re like an invisible army. Think carefully—there’s nothing you can do against me.’
Even the mere presence of the mounted warriors waiting outside the inn was enough to emphasize the Zhifu Daein’s authority.
Raising warhorses in the midst of a famine? That alone spoke volumes about his influence.
Wang Weixiu stared at the young martial artist before him and finally spoke.
“You don’t seem like one for beating around the bush. If you honor a few small agreements, I will recognize you as the Great Master of this vast land. Given the martial skills that defeated Gui Baek-shin, you are certainly qualified.”
“...You would recognize me as the master of this land?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
“You heard me correctly. My authority is beyond what you might imagine. It’s enough to keep the higher-ups from interfering in our governance.”
“......”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently studied the Zhifu Daein before parting his lips.
“How do you plan to cover up the deaths of the commoners slain by Gui Baek-shin? Surely the imperial court won’t ignore this.”
“You’re worrying over nothing. Starvation is commonplace in these times. Tax revenues for tributes won’t change much. As long as the money flowing upward remains steady, the rest comes down to connections and political maneuvering. Fortunately, the Inspectorate Official is someone who aligns well with my intentions.”
“The Inspectorate Official,” Jeong Yeon-shin echoed briefly before speaking again.
“Do you plan to fill the tribute coffers through extortion?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll share generously with you. As I said before, all I need is for you to honor a few small agreements.”
Wang Weixiu’s expression remained indifferent as he continued.
“The entire Shaanxi region is turning into a den of demons and unorthodox sects, starting with the annihilation of the Zhongnan Sect. That alone isn’t much of a concern, but the rise of the Bloodflame Cult and its vampiric demons is the real problem. Their so-called Blood Demon Swordmasters wander from village to village, brainwashing peasants and disappearing with new disciples. These bewitched demons don’t listen to reason. Once they become bloodfiends, they simply create more of their kind. They neither pay taxes nor provide offerings.”
“......”
“Wherever rumors of red-haired figures surface, you will go and eliminate them. If you wish to maintain your influence, this must be done. When I summon you, you will drop everything and come. If you do just this, it will far exceed the value of the Seven Great Clans you annihilated. I won’t ask for more. I’ll leave it to you to collect enough from the rabble to sustain yourself.”
“Bloodflame Cult. That’s a useful piece of information,” Jeong Yeon-shin said.
“You’re quite reasonable. They say highly skilled martial artists fall into two categories: those who are brilliant scholars and those who are eccentric geniuses. You, my friend, are exceedingly wise,” Wang Weixiu said, stroking his jet-black beard.
A faint smile appeared at the corners of his lips—though it vanished the moment Jeong Yeon-shin spoke again.
“There’s no need to wait for Kang Hyo-su and Shin Myeo to bring evidence.”
“Hm?”
“Arrest him. If he resists, cut off his head.”