"Ipwang Fortress...! Ipwang Fortress Martial Power! Gold Swordsman! This isn’t good!"
"What kind of martial art is that?! I've never seen or heard of it—it's the Qingan Divine Sword!"
"Young Master! You must retreat—ugh...!"
Waves of brilliance swept across the battlefield, scattering blood everywhere. The twenty Radiant Wheel elites of the Guangyegyeol formation tore through the encirclement of the Heavenly Net.
Limbs flew, heads were severed. The pure white snow alternated between being starkly bright and crimson-stained, over and over again.
Clang—! Thud!
The gazes of wolves who had been eyeing Jeong Yeon-shin as their prey all shattered. The mountain air was now filled with nothing but panic and agonized screams.
The expressions of the Ma Gwang-ik elites were sharp, their faces set with a force they had never shown before.
Among them, Baek Mi-ryeo, who had just sliced through ten rogues in one clean motion, was no exception.
She approached Jeong Yeon-shin, her expression a mixture of fury and resolve. Her sharp gaze, already intense, felt like the edge of an unsheathed sword.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought to himself. She’s angry because I didn’t say anything.
“I have something to say, but first... may I pretend to be your sister?”
“You are my sister. You always have been.”
“Oh.”
Baek Mi-ryeo’s eyelashes trembled slightly. Her lips softened, the tension easing just a bit. She appeared momentarily speechless, though the reason was unclear.
“At least she’s not scolding me. That’s a relief.”
Suddenly, a low chuckle came from behind Jeong Yeon-shin.
"The youngest Lord... How gratifying to see this."
"Headmaster."
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced back. The long hair of Yulha Nangnang, draped over his shoulder, tickled his ear.
"Your breathing has deepened."
"I’ve overcome a critical juncture, thanks to you stopping the bleeding. And, of course, thanks to my cultivation of the Zaha Divine Technique."
"I’m glad to hear that."
"Impatient disciples will surely sense my qi and come looking for me soon. Unlike you, I am not a beloved leader. I’ll be scolded when I return. If you have anything left unsaid, now’s the time."
Jeong Yeon-shin did not hesitate.
"May I ask why you were pushed back so helplessly?"
"Impudent as ever. Did it look that way to you?"
Yulha Nangnang chuckled lightly.
"If I had truly been powerless, would that man have left so easily?"
Her tone was casual, but her question carried a weighty implication. Jeong Yeon-shin silently agreed.
What kind of thoughts occupied the mind of the Blade Sect Lord?
"Think carefully about his schemes. But before that... when your martial arts deepen further and you face him as a true rival, remember this: You cannot defeat him with sheer strength alone. Trying to overpower him with brute force will only lead to your downfall. You need something unique."
"...I understand."
"By now, he’s likely limping home with his right leg dragging. His right side has been rendered useless. He suffered greatly from the Immovable Lotus Technique. It’s the first time I’ve ever accumulated so much qi in an opponent’s body. If I’d been able to hold my breath just a moment longer... I would have sent that bastard’s head flying."
"Your words are becoming more violent, Headmaster."
"Have we not grown quite close? We’ve shared life and death. What deeper bond is there? Visit Mount Hua anytime. I’ll welcome you with tea and Jasodan dissolved in the cup."
As they exchanged casual words, the presence around them gradually faded.
A faint wind carried the silence of the plateau, and the efficiency of the Guangyegyeol group battle shone brightly.
Where the swirl of radiance had swept through, only cold snow and corpses remained. The Ma Gwang-ik forces spared no one, not even those fleeing. It was the discipline of a military force.
"Lord! What’s with your body again?"
"My apologies. If poppy flowers were my last words, I would have regretted it. Someone younger and more promising should live longer than me."
"Are you taking revenge on us? We knelt and apologized for the matter with the First Devil of Shaanxi..."
It was then, as they began approaching Jeong Yeon-shin one by one.
"The qi of the Amhyang Mark is rising from below. But before that..."
Yulha Nangnang raised both hands, clasping them over Jeong Yeon-shin’s right hand. The warm touch enveloped his palm and the back of his hand, making him flinch momentarily.
"Thank you... Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin."
***
The chaos of Mount Taebaek became a widely discussed event.
For four days, it remained a hot topic in the Jianghu of Shaanxi.
The martial prowess of the Ma Gwang-ik Lord became a subject of contention, even among those who had witnessed Seomye in person. Arguments flared over the veracity of events.
This debate intensified after the identities of the high-level masters who had been slain on Mount Taebaek were revealed.
When their ages and reputations were considered, doubt crept into even the most certain minds. The outcome of the life-or-death battles bordered on miraculous.
Thus, the overwhelming prestige of the youngest Lord of Ipwang Fortress drew as much attention as the battle between the Sword Sect Sovereign and the Headmaster of Mount Hua.
Few disputed that the Ma Gwang-ik Lord of this era was exceptionally powerful.
Such conversations drifted through the air of a silent pavilion roof.
It was a remote estate with little sign of human activity.
“To take the fruit from the Lord of Ipwang Fortress... Yes, the Ma Gwang-ik Lord of this age is a thunderbolt that will shatter the order of heaven.”
The voice was calm and deliberate. A man cloaked entirely in black spoke slowly.
He stood upright on the edge of the traditional tiled roof, his straw hat casting a shadow over his face, with only his black beard visible.
“Indeed... This master of Yeoryeong misjudged Seomye, and you were correct. I admit my mistake. However, the Headmaster of Mount Hua is a different matter. You should have killed her, as you did when you dealt with the disciples of Zhongnan and Qingcheng who had aided the downfall of the Dali Kingdom.”
Below him, leaning diagonally against the main pillar of the grand hall, the Sword Sect Sovereign replied.
“She is the only remaining Divine Sword in Shaanxi. Without the Sacred Flame, I would have to wander far to find an equivalent master. It would be inefficient.”
“And yet, you left her gravely injured.”
“The Sacred Flame breathes through the Zaha Divine Technique.”
“I’d like to speak of your connection to her. Was it not rather deep, even if it was in childhood?”
“Blame my own inadequacy.”
“Foolish words, you unpredictable madman. Didn’t you spend a hundred years meditating in the Duan Family's Temporal Transcendence Technique after losing to Zhongnan? You must have gone completely mad, losing your humanity in the process. It’s no wonder your mind is a chaotic mess. Truly, your moniker suits you better than your name now—The Dominating Sword, the Mad Daoist. The fact that you still harbor both wisdom and vengeance surprises me.”
“...”
“The Sacred Flame Sword Saint... such opportunities do not come often. Mount Hua has sealed its gates, and the High Sword of Wudang has gone to protect them.”
“The High Sword?”
“Don’t entertain foolish ideas. Since ancient times, the seclusion of the Nine Schools has been accompanied by immense consolidation of power. Practitioners who once devoted themselves to relief efforts begin honing their martial skills exclusively. When their gates reopen, the plum blossoms will bloom in full. Do you think you can contend with the Sacred Flame Sword Saint on that day? Among the leaders of the Nine Schools, his swordsmanship ranks supreme.”
“That would be ideal.”
“If you need a touchstone to embody your enlightenment, I could stand in for the Headmaster of Mount Hua. After all, I’ve always been curious about the Duan Family’s Temporal Transcendence Technique, which the royal court never managed to acquire—a profound mental art that draws eternity from an instant. Originally, it was a torture method used by the Dali Kingdom, was it not?”
“You are not a suitable opponent. Only someone deeply trained in orthodox swordsmanship could...”
Suddenly, the Sword Sect Sovereign coughed up jet-black blood.
Amid the expansive dirt floor, only a single section was paved with marble.
His dark blood dripped onto the square limestone, creating an eerie scene.
Above him, the Lord of Yeoryeong lifted his head.
“Look at that. No one in the world could wield the Immovable Lotus Technique as a profound counterforce the way the current Headmaster of Mount Hua does. Even the greatest masters of our time would struggle to defeat her unharmed. Your arrogance was excessive.”
“Which is why I let her live. The Lord of Ipwang Fortress understands all the martial truths of the orthodox world.”
“The greater the vessel of Seomye grows, the more glorified he will become. With the brilliance of the current Ma Gwang-ik Lord shining so brightly, the noble spirit of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress will inevitably wither. I’ve already prepared to sever all seventeen generations of the Sacred Sword Sect. The moment your rigid pursuit of perfection starts to seem like folly, I will abandon the Sword Sect and no longer overlook your reckless arrogance.”
“You, on the other hand, should reconsider the chaotic supernatural forces of Tianxia.”
The Sword Sect Sovereign replied calmly, but then coughed up another mouthful of dark blood.
Saaa—
A white mist rose from his lips, incinerating the metallic scent of blood with a Samadhi flame.
“Jeong Ga-jang... Seomye...”
He muttered faintly, and the Lord of Yeoryeong let out a derisive snort.
“The current Ma Gwang-ik Lord... It seems he overcame a difficult ordeal on his descent. He might have died if things had gone poorly. Why not consider becoming his shadow guardian? To serve a boy with such world-shaking talent.”
“If he cannot contain the divine spirit of Tianxia, he is but a vessel that will shatter upon death. There’s no need for me to crush such potential with my own hands.”
“That was a jest, you unyielding madman. I’ll take no further action regarding Seomye. Let him live or die as the waves of the vast Jianghu dictate. Focus on your recovery. The world’s ground forces have already been stretched thin, and further disorder will only complicate matters. Though I’ve done plenty already, there are still a few impregnable places left... Next is the Peng Clan of Hebei.”
“Leave.”
The dismissive voice was soft but profound.
The Lord of Yeoryeong answered with an irrelevant remark. It was time to select a new Young Lord of Yeoryeong.
Rustle.
The Sword Sect Sovereign slowly sat in a meditative posture, closing his eyes.
A faint breath escaped his sharp nose, carried away by the cold winter wind that swept through the tranquil estate, dissolving into nothingness.
***
The Taebaek Mountain turmoil was a major topic of discussion.
In Shaanxi's Jianghu, the stories lingered for days, refusing to fade from people's conversations.
The involvement of Ma Gwang-ik, the youngest Lord of Ipwang Fortress, and the chaos he stirred in the region made for captivating tales.
"Given what happened, Yeoryeong and those Bloodflame Cult bastards must be fuming. After all their combined efforts to corner the Lord, the Sword Sect Sovereign conveniently vanished, didn’t he?"
"Doesn't this resemble what happened to the Lord's family back then? The reasons remain unclear, though."
"There's a reason supreme masters are often called monsters. Especially those from the purple lineage of Ipwang Fortress..."
Eventually, Ma Gwang-ik returned to Zhongnan’s secular martial family in Xi’an.
His destination was Xiaobaek Gate, led by Jang Gi-il, one of Xi’an's Seven Grand Masters.
The gate's vast estate housed an impressive cluster of pavilions, with a plaque proudly marking its entrance.
Within the estate, nestled deep inside, stood a small gazebo overlooking a serene lake.
"This is a good sight."
"Indeed, it seems more fitting now."
"Has the Lord grown taller? He looks rather striking. If you just see the limbs, it feels almost like a father and daughter pairing."
The masters of Ma Gwang-ik were sprawled across rooftops, courtyards, and even the ground, casually sitting as the sunlight danced across the lake, glinting white in its reflection.
The mood was light.
The thousand-year ginseng decoction had revived Jeong Hye, marking the end of the long journey through Shaanxi.
Meanwhile, in their absence, other events had unfolded.
The false leader of Baekyang Gate, Yeoryeong’s "Seven-Finger Ghost Blade," had been eliminated by Jin Myeong-jo, the Blood Marquis of the Sacred Sword Division.
Jin Myeong-jo didn’t appear in person, instead sending a letter of apology for failing to intercept the Sword Sect Sovereign.
In the letter, he promised to send rare medicinal herbs as compensation, expressing regret for being unable to face his junior.
[I endured 579 strikes before falling from the cliffs of Guiwei Peak. I lost consciousness immediately afterward. My execution of the 19th Sword Technique was far from perfect, a shameful display. But it’s fortunate that you’re safe.]
[I continue to learn much from Senior Jin’s Blood Art. As a new member, I am in awe of your mastery and noble character, and I look to you as a paragon of training. I am deeply grateful for your protection and guidance.]
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After responding, Jeong Yeon-shin checked on his niece. From a distance, his companions observed him silently.
"No, a little lighter than that."
"Like this?"
Jeong Hye’s youthful voice echoed, her chubby cheeks puffing slightly as she adjusted her stance.
Kneeling on one knee to meet her eye level, Jeong Yeon-shin gently grasped her tiny shoulders, clad in a black martial robe tailored to her small frame.
Infusing a faint current of radiant energy into her, he said, "From your dantian to the Liver Meridian of the Foot Jueyin, form an unbroken cycle. It should make you feel a gentle warmth, as if being embraced by a mother."
"A mom...?"
"...No, like the Great Swordsman Dragon."
“Master Wi Ji is the best! Yes! He’s my favorite!”
Jeong Hye replied energetically, her reddened eyes glistening as she spoke. Jeong Yeon-shin gently ruffled her hair.
“When you guide the energy down through your dantian to the Mingmen point on your back, it will strengthen your bones, muscles, and meridians. Understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good. It’s a continuous process, so it’s called dynamic qi circulation. Focus on Master Wi Ji’s teachings while guiding your energy, and it’ll work wonders.”
“I know the Lesser Heavenly Circuit! But the Mingmen point is hard... Grandpa Swordmaster helped me with that.”
Jeong Hye’s small head drooped, her feet scuffing the ground in tiny embroidered shoes.
Jeong Yeon-shin, a clumsy uncle, felt the weight of her loss anew. She had lost too much at such a young age.
Placing a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, he reassured her, "Even a little monkey could do this. There are some slow martial artists who might struggle, but you’re different, Hye-ah. Let’s take it slowly—it’ll even be fun."
For a moment, she didn’t reply.
Her large eyes flickered downward briefly before she spoke.
"Uncle."
"Yes?"
"Something feels strange."
"The instructions? If you have a different idea, feel free to share."
"No... not that. Something feels off. I’m not startled."
"What?"
Before Jeong Yeon-shin could react further, a shrill sound pierced the air.
Beeeep!
A swallow darted across the sky, dropping a tube directly into his hand. It was a familiar carrier beast from the Command Corps.
Grabbing the message, he quickly broke the seal.
Rip.
Inside was a neatly written script, its elegant strokes both formal and ambiguous.
[The Lord of Ipwang Fortress stormed the gathering of the Wu Long Society and the Nightshade Fields alone. After his Sacred Sword Division was shot down by the Nightshade’s archers, the Lord inflicted fatal injuries on both the Wu Long Chief and the Nightshade Lord before returning to the fortress. He is bedridden and requires transport to a recovery site.]
[Come and rest, Seomye. You’re the only one who’s still sane. I miss you, our Seomye.]
―Deputy Commander Ak Su-rim of the Sacred Sword Division