The crackling of the campfire filled the air, the snapping and popping of dry wood echoing softly amidst the serene glow of the flame.
The twins from the Ice Palace silently gazed at the boy cloaked in black, their expressions unreadable. Across from them, Jang Sun-il fidgeted nervously, glancing at his companion.
The twins, with their luminous white garments and noble demeanor, exuded an air of importance. Even their presence spoke of privilege. The Ice Palace itself was a renowned sect, its martial prowess counted among the world’s greatest. It was the pinnacle of binggong techniques, unparalleled in the martial world.
Facing opponents of such caliber, even the faintest skirmish could spell disaster, especially for someone like Sun-il, who lacked martial training. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and finally mustered the courage to speak.
“Uh... I don’t mean to suggest there was any offense, but... perhaps there was a slight misunderstanding? Maybe... a mismatch between the intent and the words spoken?”
Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly, his face calm. “I said what I meant.”
Sun-il's attempt at diplomacy seemed futile, yet the elder sister, Bukgung Lin, smiled faintly, her lips curving into a crescent.
“What an amusing young man,” she said with a hearty laugh. “Despite his youth, he already seems steeped in meditation and self-reflection.”
Her laughter was genuine, without pretense or malice. It carried a commanding presence, reminiscent of a bitter northern wind, blending perfectly with her frosty-blue hair that shimmered like frost under moonlight. Her twin brother, Bukgung Hu, carried a similar air of regality.
“Such boldness in a young warrior,” Hu mused, his faint smile mirroring his sister’s. “It’s refreshing. To survive an eternal winter, one must be fearless. Your spirit is quite admirable.”
Jeong Yeon-shin found himself annoyed, though it felt as though his irritation had been deflated. He considered the countless arrogant martial artists he’d encountered, those who had pushed his patience to its limits. These twins, however, had a different air about them.
Their casual approach reminded him of his first encounter with Hуeon Won-chang.
"Have you come to join the Ipwang sect, young brother?"
The twins’ familiarity and ease mirrored that experience, a warmth in their strides that felt almost as if they would one day walk to his grave with the same casual demeanor.
“Sit wherever,” Jeong Yeon-shin said finally, turning his gaze away.
The twins didn’t hesitate. Their footsteps crunched against the grass as they settled down between Jeong Yeon-shin and Sun-il, close enough for the firelight to cast its glow on them. They moved with synchronized ease, their body language effortlessly mirroring each other. Even the way they rested their elbows on their knees, one leg drawn up, was identical.
“Thousand-Year Fo-ti Root?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.
“Of course. Isn’t that why everyone is here?” Bukgung Lin answered smoothly.
Reaching into her robes, Lin retrieved something from her inner pocket. Sun-il tensed at the movement, half-expecting her to draw a hidden weapon.
But what emerged was not a dagger or any weapon. A small orb rested in her hand, glowing faintly with an ethereal, icy light.
The crystal seemed to contain a fragment of the heavens, its surface shimmering with a cool, blue radiance.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s brows furrowed slightly.
“They say prolonged exposure to Night Pearls shortens one’s lifespan.”
“It’s not a Night Pearl. This is a jewel crafted from a fragment of Ice Essence. It contains traces of Chilling Qi, beneficial for cultivation,” Lin explained.
“Chilling Qi?”
“I noticed a faint coldness emanating from you,” interjected Bukgung Hu, his tone casual.
The twins’ gazes shimmered faintly in the firelight, their eyes reflecting a silver hue, reminiscent of the radiant glow of a full moon. They seemed to detect the lingering traces of the Moonlight Harmony Art, a technique Jeong Yeon-shin had inherited from the Ipwang sect leader.
Their ability to sense the subtle threads of energy woven into Jeong Yeon-shin’s aura marked them as truly extraordinary.
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent for a moment, contemplating their words.
“We offer this as a gesture of camaraderie,” Lin continued, holding the crystalline orb out toward him. “Sharing your fire with us is a significant act where we come from. Your land seems just as sparing in its hospitality.”
“Yes, it’s rare to encounter such generosity,” Hu agreed, his sister’s words bolstered by his calm voice.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the jewel. “It seems valuable.”
“To the common folk, perhaps. But for those of the palace, it’s merely a trinket. Consider it a small token of gratitude,” Lin replied, her hand extending further, the crystal catching the firelight in dazzling patterns.
There was an air of calculated fairness in her gesture, her movements deliberate and measured.
Jeong Yeon-shin took the jewel without hesitation. Its cold surface pressed against his palm, sending a chill up his arm.
From across the fire, Sun-il stared at the crystal in awe, his eyes brimming with curiosity and envy.
“So, you really are from the Northern Ice Palace,” Sun-il blurted out, unable to contain his wonder. “It’s incredible to meet such legendary martial artists from the distant lands beyond the borders...”
Hu smirked faintly. “Beyond the borders. A very Zhongyuan phrase.”
Sun-il blinked, suddenly realizing his mistake. “Ah, I didn’t mean to offend—”
“It’s fine,” Hu interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Let’s talk instead. The priests of our land often say that the afterlife is composed solely of the things you’ve seen and heard in life. It’s why many of our strongest venture far and wide. I am curious, though—why are two boys like you navigating such a perilous battlefield? You’re too young to be after something like Fo-ti Root.”
Jeong Yeon-shin gave the same answer he had given earlier. “My nephew is sick.”
The fire crackled louder as silence stretched between them. Lin and Hu exchanged a glance, their expressions softening.
“Quite the opposite of us,” Hu mused. “At your age, such compassion is rare. We, on the other hand, are here to outmaneuver rivals within our palace...”
His voice trailed off, the contrast seemingly leaving an impression on both siblings.
Their expressions grew gentler, the dancing firelight casting dreamy shadows across their alabaster features. Despite their lofty upbringing, they carried themselves with a calm grace rarely seen among their kind.
“You’re not so different from us,” Jeong Yeon-shin remarked curtly.
The siblings’ smiles didn’t waver. They remained seated, exchanging stories and observations with Jeong Yeon-shin and Sun-il until the last remnants of twilight faded into a gentle, starlit darkness.
The air, once heavy with tension, now hummed with quiet camaraderie. The twins’ voices wove through the night, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire, painting a rare picture of peace amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
***
"I'd like to suggest we stick together, no matter what happens afterward."
"Your sister's making a decent proposal. I'll protect you. Aren't you planning to stay on the mountain until this is over anyway?"
They’d grown fairly close. Their camaraderie had formed naturally.
Jeong Yeon-shin remained an unknown force to the noble siblings. From his concealed position, he evaluated their worth without their knowledge.
The martial prowess cultivated in Ma Gwang-ik's dantian saw the siblings of the Ice Palace as harmless elements. They bore no hostility. They were capable enough to protect Jang Sun-il in an emergency.
The four began ascending the mountain.
The higher they climbed, the more people they encountered.
Though rumors had spread for quite some time, no one had successfully claimed the millennium-old He Shou Wu root. At this point, leaving the mountain empty-handed was as dangerous as staying—those stationed below in a defensive formation would suspect anyone descending without results.
The armed individuals along the way were mostly dangerous bandits.
"You lot look promising! Do you, by chance, have the He Shou Wu (traditional Chinese medicinal herb)?"
"Let us search your pockets!"
The middle of the mountain, unsurprisingly, was akin to a bloody battlefield, where violence was rampant.
Whenever disputes arose, the Bukgung siblings stepped in.
Jeong Yeon-shin repeatedly witnessed their opponents' weapons freeze solid in their hands before shattering into countless pieces. It was the pure mastery of Hanbinggi (Cold Ice Qi).
Clang!
"Argh—!"
The force behind their palm strikes was undeniably impressive—ferocious and powerful. Yet when they gathered their techniques back in, they radiated an air of refinement.
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"So many weaklings driven by greed. Not even fit to serve as wolf feed back in our homeland."
"Our offer of protection wasn’t just talk. Consider yourself lucky to have us by your side."
Bukgung Lin and Bukgung Hu saw no shame in their self-praise. It was only natural to boast of their own accomplishments.
Jeong Yeon-shin nodded subtly, committing their words to memory. His rivals included shining figures like the Singeom Danju and Ak Su-rim.
As Ma Gwang-ik, he wasn’t so different from the Bukgung siblings. Like them, he competed for accolades and recognition.
If a notion was worth listening to, he absorbed it and made it his own. He wasn’t in a position to be picky.
‘I’ve been learning a lot lately.’
Underestimating someone for their clumsiness was foolish.
Few had seen a dung beetle roll in action, but watching it firsthand could be a lesson in itself.
Pondering his newfound knowledge, Jeong Yeon-shin finally spoke, perched lightly on a rock with a view of the opposite ridge.
"What happened to your attendants?"
"Ah."
"They weren’t weaklings, were they? Their faces were beet-red, as I recall."
The expressions of the Bukgung siblings darkened. He seemed to be referring to the bloodfiends of the Bloodflame Cult.
"You don’t seem the type to struggle against mere foot soldiers. You’re strong enough to handle most blood-cult swordsmen."
Their eyes widened slightly at Jeong Yeon-shin’s observation. Bukgung Hu, who was standing on the corpse of a bandit, answered quickly.
"Do you truly know the Bloodflame Cult? I suspected your insight wasn’t ordinary."
"There were many of them, I take it?"
"Not just a few. We were fighting five when suddenly it became twenty, then thirty. Red-haired and black-haired ones among them. There was no handling it. We had to flee. They charged at us like they owned this mountain, like rabid beasts... You should’ve seen it."
"There was one wielding two enormous swords. I didn’t even consider facing him," Bukgung Lin added.
"They called him Langwang (Wave King). Only the greatest warriors in our land would stand a chance against him. His relentless aura was overwhelming. I lost all desire to underestimate the Central Plains that day."
She finished with a furrowed brow, trembling faintly despite her noble Ice Palace origins.
Jang Sun-il, who had been standing at a distance, reacted as if struck by lightning.
"Langwang Geum Si-hu!"
He spoke the name in a hushed, trembling voice. Even Jeong Yeon-shin recognized it.
The king among wandering warriors who sold their skills for salt and silver.
As a wandering swordsman, he was legendary. Few dared provoke him, as his martial prowess was extraordinary.
He was said to have inherited a lone martial tradition and carved a fearsome reputation across Hunan and Sichuan, dominating as an unparalleled master.
"Did he accept a commission from the Bloodflame Cult?"
Ma Gwang-ik muttered quietly. He was now a target for elimination.
"Shall... shall we turn back? I think we’re about half a day’s climb from where the He Shou Wu might be..." Jang Sun-il’s voice was cautious.
Jeong Yeon-shin looked at him curiously and countered, "Didn’t you hear rumors of the Sect Master of the Blade Sect or the Sect Leader of Mount Hua arriving? There were also whispers about the Bloodflame Cult’s First Apostle."
"The leaders of the Thirteen Heavens and the orthodox sects are like celestial beings to us... Langwang is something else entirely. He’s terrifyingly cruel. When a sect pursued him for a commission gone awry, he plucked the Sect Master’s head off with his bare hands. If there’s profit involved, he’ll stop at nothing!"
Jang Sun-il’s voice shook as he recounted the story, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
‘Isn’t that what the martial world is?’ Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself as he shifted his footing.
"A pity. I must kill those who spread such rumors about me."
The grating voice came from atop a rocky hill to the left, so powerful that it distorted the surrounding air.
Step.
The figure revealed itself.
The hem of crimson trousers glimmered gaudily.
Adorned in clothes embroidered with golden threads and carrying two swords in scabbards decorated with white clouds, his attire was more befitting a king than a wanderer.
"I am Geum Si-hu."
The man’s sharp jawline was accentuated by his meticulously groomed beard.
His presence was predatory, like a tiger ruling over the mountain range. The colorless aura enveloping him felt like armor.
The aura of a transcendent master was unmistakable. He had made his arrival known with his own declaration.
"What the...!"
"W-we were warned not to utter his name carelessly...!"
Bukgung Hu and Bukgung Lin looked up at him, lowering their stances. They were visibly shaken.
Though they weren’t old enough to discuss Jeong Yeon-shin’s generation, they were now realizing there was no limit to what was possible in the martial world.
However, Ma Gwang-ik was not looking at Langwang.
He sensed an eerie wave of energy beyond him. It resonated with the modified incantation of the Mara Grand Blood Art he had encountered earlier, but its aura seemed altered, as if completed differently.
‘She’s aware of me. Langwang is of no concern to her.’
There was no avoiding it. He would have to face her.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly turned his gaze and locked eyes with Geum Si-hu.
Langwang smiled.
"One look at you, and I know. You’re the one who caused all this. Thanks to you, I’ve stocked up on plenty of salt."
It was clear from his expression that he recognized Jeong Yeon-shin’s identity. Despite his smile, his muscles tensed and relaxed in preparation, ready to strike at any moment.
A survivor through and through.
Ma Gwang-ik spoke calmly. "Come down."
"Shouldn’t the younger one make the first move? I’ll yield the initiative."
Langwang’s smile deepened as he inclined his head.
Distance and position mattered greatly, even in battles among transcendent masters.
The slightest difference in elevation could influence the power of an attack. Even the width of a sheet of paper could determine life or death.
Geum Si-hu was pragmatic. He prioritized strategy over honor.
"You’re right," Jeong Yeon-shin replied, refusing to drag out the battle of wills.
Drawing his Northern Bright Sword with his right hand, he channeled Hwan-gang into his left palm.
Neungbeop Gwangryun-gi split into two currents, colliding like thunderbolts in his palm.
By tightening and releasing the Lung Channel of Hand-Taiyin on his left arm, he stabilized the thunderous energy in his hand.
‘Activation.’
Kwaaaaaah—!
A tremendous vortex of energy swirled from his grasp, unrelenting.
The tempest-like energy storm slashed and swept through the atmosphere, growing fiercer with each passing moment. His black robes whipped violently in the turbulent wind.
"That technique...!"
Langwang’s eyes widened. The aura of the Seventh Apostle quivered faintly.
There was no time to hesitate. Jeong Yeon-shin struck the stone wall beneath Langwang.
Kwaaaaaaang—!
A thunderous explosion erupted, reverberating in all directions like a primal roar.