The soles of pitch-black leather shoes crunched against the ground. Frost and pine needles shattered beneath each step.
A boy clad in a black longcoat ascended the slope, his pace slow and deliberate as he scanned his surroundings. He carried nothing but a single travel sack slung over his shoulder.
Even in winter, the mountain's lush greenery stretched endlessly, a testament to its majesty as the tallest peak in the Jinryeong mountain range.
Jeong Yeon-shin inhaled the cold, crisp air.
Each exhalation formed a translucent mist, momentarily captured by the sunlight before fading away.
The beams of light filtered through the trees along the ridge, warm yet sharp, mirroring the fleeting life of a seventeen-year-old prodigy whose fate was sealed at nineteen.
From the raw energy emanating from the mountain, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the pulse of life. This was no ordinary place—it was a land brimming with extraordinary earth energy.
Mount Taebaek.
It had recently become the center of attention in Shaanxi, rapidly gaining fame.
The scale of the commotion was unparalleled.
Powerful individuals from across the land had flocked to the mountain, likened in size to an entire nation.
Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, these warriors didn’t bother to conceal their auras. The mountain range was blanketed with surging waves of martial energy.
It was truly a sea of people. Men and women of all ages gathered, their appearances as varied as their backgrounds.
Some carried great swords strapped to their backs, others had daggers tied to their sleeves or ornate tassels hanging from the hilts of their blades. There were those whose heavy gloves exuded a palpable killing intent, and groups of martial artists dressed uniformly, clearly from prestigious sects.
Among them were well-trained swordsmen from prominent families and wandering vagabonds willing to sell their martial skills for nothing more than salt or food.
One glance at the ragged, predatory air of the latter was enough to tell they were experienced killers.
The air itself seemed to hum with danger, laced with the metallic scent of weapons and the faint stench of blood. Even those who had come merely chasing rumors of the miraculous herb carried the unmistakable aura of murder.
The lingering scent of blood—borne from martial energy—clung to Jeong Yeon-shin’s Northern Bright Sword as well.
He reached the foot of the mountain. The wide mountain path was packed with martial artists, a cacophony of voices filling the air.
“Looks like we got here just in time. No one seems to be coming back down yet. No word about anyone taking the herb, either.”
“Don’t trust the rumors. You can’t believe anyone here.”
“Look at those ones—they’re from a prominent clan, yet even they couldn’t maintain appearances and came rushing here.”
The sheer number of people made it impossible not to overhear bits and pieces of conversation.
They scrutinized each other’s appearances and movements, exchanging just enough information to gain an edge. The mountain had already become a battlefield.
“They say nobles from the Ice Palace have arrived, both men and women, climbing the mountain in droves.”
“The Ice Palace? You can’t just spout nonsense like that! This is Shaanxi, not the Northern Sea. How long has it been since rumors about the thousand-year-old He Shou Wu even started circulating? It’s not like word could’ve traveled that far already.”
“Nonsense? They say immortals from the Mount Hua Sect and even the Blade Specter Patriarch are here. At this point, what’s impossible?”
“Watch what you say about freezing to death! You might end up summoning the Icy Soul Divine Palm! That’s no laughing matter.”
It was clear that not everyone here was from Shaanxi.
Countless dialects filled the air, some so distinct they were difficult to understand.
It was undeniably unusual.
The Ming Empire’s vast territory spanned an enormous area—Shaanxi Province alone was comparable in size to smaller nations.
Traveling to the heart of the rumors would have taken significant time, yet the mountain range was already swarming with people.
Jeong Yeon-shin scanned the crowd of martial artists around him.
Many of them appeared extraordinary at first glance, yet most seemed to prioritize survival over martial skill.
Perhaps it’s different further up the mountain. The masters from Daebang Sect are said to have arrived as well.
Jeong Yeon-shin moved forward, weaving through the throng of people.
But blending in was not easy.
As he walked, more and more eyes turned to him, their conversations pausing as they cast glances his way.
It wasn’t because they sensed any unusual martial energy from him.
His jet-black hair flowed naturally to his shoulders, glinting in the sunlight, and beneath his dark brows—where the light fell heavily—his strikingly beautiful face drew attention.
It was the kind of appearance that grew sharper as death approached, like his ever-changing limbs.
His features had transformed since the day he earned the black rank. Only his eyes retained their lonesome, desolate gaze.
“Is he from the Ming Clan?”
“No, look at his ears.”
“He seems to be of noble birth, though. Probably a skilled swordsman from a prestigious family.”
Whispers trailed behind him.
However, the attention quickly shifted.
Rare appearances and exceptional strength were common here, and most people had their hands full gauging each other’s skills and assessing the terrain.
Above all, Jeong Yeon-shin’s youthful age made him an unlikely focus of interest.
“Even kids that young are climbing now... What a mix of people.”
“Let’s just focus on ourselves. How many roots of He Shou Wu do you think there’ll be?”
“You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, at least.”
Gradually, the idle chatter died down as more people began climbing the mountain, their heightened vigilance evident.
Eyes sharp and full of caution scanned their surroundings as if ready to draw their blades at a moment’s notice.
Those staying behind must have given up on searching. They’re planning to ambush anyone coming down with the herb.
As Jeong Yeon-shin took another unhurried step, a voice rang out.
“Sir! No, Young Master!”
The tone was clear and directed at him. The presence of someone running toward him confirmed it.
When Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head, he saw a boy bowing deeply.
The boy’s skin was sun-darkened, and his breathing steady. Despite the cold of the winter mountain, he wore a dirt-colored hemp robe, making him stand out. Was he not cold?
Jeong Yeon-shin stopped walking and parted his lips.
“What do you want?”
“My name is Jang Sun-il! Please let me guide you! You look like it’s your first time here!”
The boy straightened and clasped his hands together in an awkward bow.
His attempt at formal etiquette looked clumsy, as if he wasn’t accustomed to it. Passing martial artists chuckled quietly as they moved on.
Ma Gwang-ikju, in his current state, was not used to conversing with strangers who bore no hostility.
Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly to the side.
“Why should I?”
“I was born here in Bo Gye and grew up eating herbs from this mountain. I know the terrain like the back of my hand! I’m an herbalist and a pillmaker! There’s even a secret technique among herbalists for reading the land! I already know where a miraculous herb like the He Shou Wu might grow!”
Words poured out of the boy in a lively tone, his pitch rising and falling in a way that was pleasant to hear.
He certainly sounded like he could sell anything.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s clear eyes studied Jang Sun-il’s figure.
His deep, steady breathing suggested he had properly mastered the Triad Breathing Method distributed by the Imperial Court.
This likely contributed to making the barren land slightly more fertile during the famine. His sturdy legs hinted at someone who had climbed mountains many times before.
If he had lived in Jeong Yeon-shin’s hometown of Xin Ya-hyun, he would’ve likely been a popular figure due to his unusual capabilities.
“What do you want in return?”
“If we find the He Shou Wu, I just want to eat even a handful of the dirt it grew in!”
There was a certain earnestness in the boy’s bold reply.
Most people ignored the pair as they passed, dismissing their conversation as the baseless bravado of two youths.
The herbalist’s techniques, like the mythical Millennium Snow Ginseng, were often regarded with skepticism. The existence of such skills was doubtful at best.
And yet, Jeong Yeon-shin, whose eyesight had been honed through the Horizon Technique, saw something beyond the surface.
Was he waiting for someone he deemed worth his while?
This boy possessed his own extraordinary qualities, something innate. In some ways, he was not unlike Jeong Yeon-shin himself.
“You look like someone remarkable,” Jang Sun-il said with a sly grin, a hint of desperation lingering in his expression.
Mount Taebaek had turned into a den of chaos, a forest of swords and sabers. It was unlikely that the boy would’ve caught the attention of the high-level martial artists ascending the mountain.
Those experts would have brought along guides far more reliable, either through force or wealth. They lacked the refined energy perception of Ma Gwang-ikju.
“You can eat as much dirt as you want,” Jeong Yeon-shin said calmly, nodding.
***
Jang Sun-il's skills as a guide were indeed exceptional.
Even the way he stepped on the ground was unusual. With every step, the tips of his toes moved three times, scanning the earth’s energy veins connected to herbs that had recently sprouted. Within moments, they had entered a secluded area.
His movements were precise and efficient. Even to Jeong Yeon-shin’s trained eyes, he seemed like a master in his own right.
Should I touch the top of his head just to see what happens?
Such idle thoughts arose as they climbed in silence.
It was the first time since Jeong Yeon-shin had begun his training that he felt at ease, a sign of his growing composure. He raised his right hand.
As he slightly bent his fingers, the tendons on his wrist tensed. Blue veins extended up his forearm.
Step.
His pace slowed slightly.
The fine muscles throughout his body adjusted according to his will, tightening efficiently to maximize the effects of the Luminescent Circular Technique.
This level of durability won’t be enough.
He swung his right arm lightly, as if holding a sword.
Swish.
He repeated the motion. His hand began to blur, the movement so swift that it became difficult to discern. From Jang Sun-il’s perspective, the sight was perplexing, even as he watched with his own eyes.
“What is that?” Jang Sun-il asked.
“Training.”
“Here? Right now?”
“The essence of training is repetition, whenever and wherever,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly.
“Is that what your master taught you? Your teacher?”
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“No... But it’s what I’ve seen slow learners do.”
“Excuse me?”
“They had something to teach, though. I hadn’t realized it until now.”
Jeong Yeon-shin humored the boy’s casual questions. Jang Sun-il was naturally sociable and talkative.
Crunch.
The peaceful ascent continued. The crisp winter air seemed to grow clearer with each twist and turn of the mountain path.
Focused on his training, Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t fully extended his sensory awareness, but this allowed the stark beauty of the winter mountain to resonate with him.
Even when a distant, frantic cry echoed through the air, the golden pine needles swayed gently.
“Blood Flame Cult! Blood Flame Cult demons are here!”
Hahahahaha!
“Let’s avoid them,” Jeong Yeon-shin said calmly.
He had heard a smooth laugh just moments earlier, one that was disturbingly familiar. It sounded like jade beads rolling on a tray crafted from madness.
“This way! Quickly! The path ahead is clear—wait, no, it’s blocked! Damn those meticulous bastards!”
A young man’s pale face appeared over the ridge.
Wielding an ornate spear, the young warrior, dressed in a blue robe, was clearly a skilled fighter of the next generation.
Perhaps mistaking Jeong Yeon-shin’s subtly clenched hand for a claw-hand technique, the man reacted swiftly, gripping his spear and pulling it back with incredible speed.
“Looks unsteady! I’ll clear a path here!”
A flash of light burst from his hand as the spear vanished in an instant.
Shhhk!
The throw was flawless, the spear cutting through the air like a lightning strike.
By that time, Jeong Yeon-shin had already stepped in front of Jang Sun-il, extending his right hand.
Boom! Whirl!
The spear’s impact on Jeong Yeon-shin’s palm created a deep, resonant sound, followed by a powerful shockwave.
The surrounding bushes bent and swayed, and the spear’s shaft began to splinter, starting from the tip.
From Jeong Yeon-shin’s palm, a silver powder burst outward as the spear disintegrated completely in a matter of moments.
Both the weapon and the presence of the figures on the ridge vanished as if swept away.
The intermediate goal is solidly achieved. The final one still remains...
Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head slightly upward, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.
The Heavenly Flower’s Limitless Hand Technique had reached a state of constant application.