Jeong Yeon-shin’s expression revealed subtle concern as he processed the shock from his niece’s earlier remark, alongside the contents of Ak Su-rim's letter.
Even though the Sacred Sword Division’s Deputy Commander’s tone was slightly playful, the matter couldn’t be taken lightly.
"The Lord fought against two of the Thirteen Heavenly Lords...?"
If this news spread widely, the entire martial world would be shaken. Such duels, involving the heads of major factions, were exceedingly rare and monumental.
The confrontation between the Sword Sect Sovereign and the Sacred Flame Swordmaster had already caused a ripple as great as the deaths of the grandmasters at Taebaek Mountain.
Even the personal remark in Ak Su-rim's letter—how she missed him—barely had time to linger in his thoughts.
"Transport to a recovery site."
Jeong Yeon-shin thought calmly, sorting through the priorities in his mind.
Unnecessary concerns had no place here.
With measured steps, he activated the Wind God’s Lightfoot Technique, its gentle breeze stirring the ground beneath his feet. He moved forward, focused solely on the most pressing matter.
In the distance, Jeong Hye’s small figure toddled away, leaving faint, delicate footsteps in the earth.
“Hey, Hye-ah.”
“Hm?”
She turned immediately, her round eyes meeting his gaze.
Despite the faint ripple of energy from his Lightfoot Technique, the child’s calm expression betrayed no fear—perhaps a result of growing up surrounded by martial arts in the Zhongnan Sect.
“I misspoke earlier. I said something rude. I’m sorry.”
Jeong Hye beamed. Then, with a tiny, deliberate movement of her lips, she replied with a maturity beyond her years.
“It’s okay! I’m sorry for saying I wouldn’t talk to you, too.”
“Alright.”
He crouched slightly, patting her on the crown of her head.
“Let’s try again. Once you master Jeong Family’s Moving Energy Technique, you’ll find Zhongnan’s martial arts a lot more fun to practice.”
As her soft hair brushed against his hand, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a quiet relief wash over him.
He realized she might have been upset at the earlier comment about monkeys—or perhaps his words had unintentionally belittled other martial artists.
“I’ll have to be more careful. Being born dull isn’t a sin.”
His reflection reaffirmed an essential truth: the world was full of individuals with longer threads of fate than his own.
Most people he met were far superior to him, yet here he was, a coward terrified of an untimely death.
Born with less, he had no right to ridicule others. As an adult, humility was his obligation.
Suddenly, a warmth spread through his chest.
A radiant wheel of light—a manifestation of spiritual clarity—spun faster and brighter within him, solidifying its presence.
This was his Crown Chakra, a vital core of energy connected to both spirit and psyche. For warriors like him, it was an anchor for decisive, short-term battles.
His newfound awareness deepened his internal energy, refining the effects of the martial arts techniques tempered through battles at Taebaek Mountain and the Thirteen Heavenly Lords.
"Hye-ah, you’re teaching me today, aren’t you?"
The sun smiled down on them as they spent the day immersed in lessons.
Each step was a deliberate movement, each muscle a tool for control. Together, they explored the flow of energy through meridians and the sensation of strength growing in their veins.
“This is hard...”
“This technique is meant to be revisited when your strength feels insufficient after mastering the Jeong Family’s Moving Energy Technique. Until then, take your time and let it grow on you.”
“But the name’s weird.”
“It was named by a great hero.”
The scattered sunlight danced on the falling snowflakes as the two of them huddled close, reciting the teachings of the Jeong family.
From afar, Jeong Yeon-shin’s second brother watched with a mix of emotions on his broad, weathered face.
They continued until twilight.
The youngest Lord of Ipwang Fortress spent the evening teaching Jeong Hye the family’s energy techniques and advanced internal arts before retiring to his quarters.
As the night deepened, the white glow of the snow melded into the paper screens of his room.
Swish.
Seated against the wall, Jeong Yeon-shin gazed downward.
Even after his return from Taebaek Mountain, he couldn’t fully relax.
He had spent much of his time monitoring the effects of the demonic energy inflicted on Jeong Hye’s young body by Yeoryeong’s techniques.
To counteract it, he reconstructed the energy pathways of the Zhongnan Sect’s Taiyi Divine Technique, a feat made possible with the help of Dragon Swordsman Wei Ji Myo-hwa.
It ensured that no trace of malevolence could breach his niece’s spirit.
Drawing from the mystic intricacies of Internal Energy Sealing Arts, he stabilized her inner balance. As a result, Jeong Hye now possessed a form of demonic energy that grew stronger the more she honed her Taoist martial arts.
Though Wei Ji Myo-hwa seemed deeply astonished at the outcome, Jeong Yeon-shin hadn’t asked further questions.
It was enough that his niece’s health had improved.
"It’s settled now."
For the first time in days, his tension ebbed.
Pain, long ignored since his days wielding the Ghost Sword, slowly seeped into his awareness. His body, having endured so much, finally demanded rest.
The icy winter air pressed gently against his skin as his eyelids grew heavy.
His vision blurred, eyelashes brushing his cheeks.
"Eun-gong."
A fragrant aroma of tea wafted in as a melodious voice gently filled the silence of his room.
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It sounded distant yet warm, as though whispered multiple times.
Half-conscious, Jeong Yeon-shin felt the tender brush of hands and the soft embrace of bedding.
"I promised to enjoy tea with the Dragon Swordsman."
He vaguely remembered her offering to rebuild the Zhongnan Sect alongside him, acting as a guide for his brother and niece.
Her teachings of the Taiyi Divine Technique had regenerative properties, clearly imparted with his and Jeong Hye’s well-being in mind.
Through his haze, he murmured about the Total Martial Guide he had left on the tea table, expressing concern for the Dragon Swordsman, Jeong Hye, and his brother.
He even recalled telling her she could always find sanctuary in Ipwang Fortress.
"It’ll be okay. Everything will be fine."
For a while, soft whispers caressed his ears.
***
The experts of Ma Gwang-Ik promptly left Xi’an, forming a large entourage of over twenty individuals, all gathered around a single carriage carrying the leader. The sight of warriors emblazoned with the character "荒" surrounding the carriage attracted widespread attention.
However, in Shaanxi's martial underworld, few groups remained bold enough to attack the blue and white forces of Ipwang Seong. The absence of the high-ranking masters who had fallen at the hands of the current Ma Gwang-Ik lord left a gaping void in Shaanxi's martial circles.
Rumors surrounding the Extinction Demon Codex only added to the tension. The energy of Shaanxi’s martial world, already dampened by the closure of Mount Hua Sect, seemed to shrink further.
“Do you really think everything is fine?”
“It’s complete exhaustion. It’s as if the Turtle Breath Technique has been instinctively triggered. After all, given what he’s endured...”
“This is the second day now. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“His pulse may have changed, but his energy is intact. He’s just sleeping. In fact, his qi flow seems to be gradually stabilizing.”
Inside the carriage equipped with a modest resting platform, Jeong Yeon-shin drifted in and out of sleep. The body tempered by Jeongga Dynamic Arts had naturally entered a recovery state. His physical regeneration, however, was not what it once was—successive battles had severely drained his vital energy.
“Still, isn’t it strange? Why doesn’t he wake up when called?”
“It just means his body has endured extreme strain. Even maintaining consciousness takes more energy than he can afford right now. That’s why the Turtle Breath Technique was mentioned.”
“But... I’d like to wake him up, just briefly.”
“Baek-myo, there’s no need to worry so much. The Lord’s unconscious state reflects his absolute trust in us. It’s a rare honor for Ma Gwang-Ik warriors to see their Lord rest so deeply. Truly, it shows how deeply the Lord trusts in our vigilance.”
While the white-clad warriors, such as Baek-myo and Shin So-bin, fretted over the situation, the blue-clad warriors displayed a calm reverence for their leader. Ipwang Seong warriors, well-versed in the practicalities of the martial world, had witnessed such exhaustion among masters countless times.
The longer their leader remained asleep, the faster they moved. With their pace brisk, the group crossed southeastern Shaanxi, heading directly toward Yangyang. Despite their calm demeanor, they remained acutely aware of Jeong Yeon-shin's condition.
Even after sharing a wild boar roasted over an open fire on snowy plains, Jeong Yeon-shin remained asleep for three days. His eyes did not open even as they reached the outskirts of Yangyang’s outer city.
“I remember Tae Yeom-ryong lighting that fire. What did he put in the food?”
“Probably some underhanded technique tied to his Three Flames Arts. Who knows—he might have schemed something, like that infamous Lesser Demon Sect master.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. The man was sleeping near a grave when I first saw him. Carrying off the precious poppy plant might’ve stoked his grudges.”
The banter continued as they approached the wide main road leading into Yangyang. The bustling path teemed with merchants, transport teams, and townsfolk alike. The sight of a grand entourage caught the attention of onlookers.
“Look at all those blue-robed warriors... and so many of them!”
“Returning from some grand endeavor, I imagine. With this many, surely even the black-robed elites might appear.”
“Isn’t that why we’re all here, waiting? To see if the legendary figures of Ipwang Seong will show themselves in Yangyang?”
The growing whispers and gathering crowds were impossible to ignore. Despite the vastness of the snowy plains, all eyes were fixed on Ma Gwang-Ik’s group. A few even recognized prominent figures like Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, stirring further excitement.
Faced with this unexpected attention, Ma Gwang-Ik’s warriors found themselves confronted by a new challenge. Amid the rising murmur of the crowd, Baek Mi-ryeo placed a hand on the carriage wall.
“What should we do?”
It was a pivotal moment. Revealing their presence here could solidify Jeong Yeon-shin’s reputation. After all, ascending to the violet rank of Ipwang Seong required not just martial prowess but also widespread recognition. In Yangyang, the seat of their headquarters, this was especially true.
Hyeon Won-chang, nodding deeply, affirmed, “How many feats has he already achieved?”
“At this point, he’s like a triumphant general returning home. Word must’ve already spread. It’s better to cement it now.”
On the opposite side, Cheongmyeong muttered thoughtfully. “However, Ipwang Seong’s black rank must always appear invincible. They are the treasured swords of the organization, unyielding and unbroken. Showing weakness is not an option.”
From the depths of the carriage, Jeong Yeon-shin’s breaths remained steady, deep, and unbroken. The faint stirrings of his energy hinted at the immense vitality regenerating within, even in this state.
Finally, Tae Yeom-ryong smirked, breaking the tension.
“I’ve got an idea. Remember how that Little Lord was described? Let’s pick four who excel in Breath Control Techniques and...”
His words trailed off, but the mischievous glint in his eyes promised a spectacle fitting of their enigmatic leader.
***
The Ma Gwang-Ik warriors acquired a palanquin from a merchant caravan on the road. It had been the seat of a lavishly adorned caravan leader, and though the merchant had offered it as a gift in recognition of their prestige, the warriors insisted on paying for it in full, invoking the name of the Ma Gwang-Ik Lord. Tae Yeom-ryong, recently promoted from a subordinate to the action commander, oversaw all the arrangements.
The elaborate palanquin, made of luxurious purple sandalwood, became the throne for Jeong Yeon-shin. Seated inside, they carefully arranged his posture, propping his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his hand to give him an air of regal indifference. Despite the effort, Jeong Yeon-shin remained utterly motionless, still bound by the aftereffects of battle and exhaustion, his body refusing to awaken.
It was a stark contrast to the moment he had stirred from unconsciousness at the earlier encounter with the boar’s wild aura. Even Tae Yeom-ryong hesitated briefly, considering the profound stillness of his Lord.
“It’s not because he doesn’t sense the danger,” Baek Mi-ryeo commented quietly from the side. “The exhaustion he’s accumulated has simply overwhelmed him.”
Surrounding the palanquin, the group consisted of notable figures such as Saweolgung’s Gui Wi-ryeong, Surama’s Baek Na-il, Tae Yeom-ryong, and Heon Won-chang. They carried the palanquin together, their expressions betraying a mix of respect and concern. From an outsider’s perspective, Jeong Yeon-shin’s serene and aloof demeanor resembled that of a detached nobleman, indifferent to the commotion around him.
“It’s hard to believe he’d enjoy something like this,” Gui Wi-ryeong murmured, his tone uneasy.
“It’s a diversion,” Tae Yeom-ryong replied nonchalantly, stepping forward.
Thus began their triumphant procession. Heon Won-chang, seemingly in sync with Tae Yeom-ryong for the first time, shouted boisterously, his voice carrying over the crowd:
“Behold! The Ma Gwang-Ik Lord, who vanquished the sects of Sungyeojimun, Chamjeolgak, Daeryeongwijinpa, Sword Demon Gate, Jongchundo Moon, and Hwiyolgah! Who executed the elders of the Paegom Sect and the greatest master of the Yeoryeong Sect! Who slew the King of Wanderers, the Lord of Suwangmun, Yeoryeong's former chief protector, and even the Little Lord of Yeoryeong with a single strike!”
Even the senior warriors surrounding Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer power behind Heon Won-chang’s voice, which echoed like a lion’s roar through the streets.
“It is the march of the Ma Gwang-Ik Lord!” he declared once more.
The procession stirred a wave of murmurs among the onlookers lining the streets, the vast crowd stretching all the way to the city’s main gates.
“Ma Gwang-Ik Lord? The Demon Slayer, Lord Ma Jin...?”
“That’s old news! This is Seomye, the current Ma Gwang-Ik Lord!”
“So the rumors are true! They utterly crushed Shaanxi!”
The crowd parted in two neat lines, making way for the warriors. Such a grand display of a high-ranking Ipwangseong warrior was a rare spectacle, one usually reserved for moments of triumph when the Emperor’s blade completed monumental tasks. The last such event was decades ago, when the former Shingeom leader aimed for a seat on the Ipwangseong Council.
Cheers erupted like thunder, their force shaking the very air.
“Woooooaaahhhh!”
Amidst the clamoring crowd, the blue-robed warriors surrounded Jeong Yeon-shin, shielding him from the intensity of the attention. Half of them wore expressions of amusement, clearly enjoying the situation. To them, it was a rare opportunity to tease their young, storm-like leader—a rare entertainment among the elite.
“Will this cause any harm to the Lord?” someone muttered nervously.
“Have you ever sparred with him? His muscles are like rocks. This won’t even faze him.”
The Ma Gwang-Ik warriors, trained to the pinnacle of martial excellence, demonstrated an unshakable poise. Those carrying the palanquin exhibited their mastery of breath control and internal energy, maintaining an unwavering balance as if gliding across the road.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s motionless pose, his chin propped on his hand, radiated an air of supreme arrogance. His striking features, almost otherworldly in their refinement, drew awe instead of scorn. The cheers of the crowd only grew louder as they observed his regal bearing.
“Truly awe-inspiring!”
“Such confidence—he looks invincible! His demeanor is worthy of the Black Robe!”
“With warriors like these protecting us, Yangyang will remain the most peaceful city in the land!”
The procession continued even as they passed through Ipwangseong’s main gates. Their first destination was the Central Command Office, where civil and military officials of various ranks had gathered with uneasy expressions. Many bore the weight of recent unrest on their shoulders, their colorful robes fluttering in the cold winter breeze.
Flanking the path were vibrant green bushes, unseasonably lush despite the winter chill. A blue-robed warrior approached Jeong Yeon-shin’s palanquin, bowing respectfully before turning to Cheongmyeong at the forefront.
“Welcome back safely. Once you report to the Grand Commander, you will proceed directly to the Lord’s Hall. The Sovereign has issued an order for the Ma Gwang-Ik Lord and his entourage to present themselves without delay.”
Tae Yeom-ryong, carrying one corner of the palanquin, raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. “Huh?”