The General Headquarters of Ipwang Fortress was among the largest pavilions in the entire region.
It was an era that lavished unprecedented respect on scholars.
The path leading to its entrance was adorned with flowers blooming vibrantly despite the chill of winter’s air—proof of the exceptional treatment given to the literati of the General Headquarters. The scenery was a gift bestowed by the Lord of Ipwang Fortress to his scribes. A garden for men of letters, always ready to bloom into poets and scholars.
Crunch.
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The steps of the four Blue Rank warriors carrying the palanquin were extraordinarily light. However, the qi emanating from them was so distinct that it caused the petals of the flowers lining the path to quiver ever so slightly.
Perched atop the palanquin, the newly appointed Ma Gwang-ik Lord remained still, unshaken by the gentle sway of the blooms.
Summoned to accompany their new Lord were elite warriors. Other high-ranking martial artists of the Ma Gwang-ik Sect had already gone ahead to prepare the residence.
“Hm.”
The taciturn man holding the rear leg of the palanquin spoke, breaking the silence.
He was a pale-skinned Blue Rank warrior resembling the Bloodflame Lord, his lips as red as the infamous Phantom of Blood, Pung Ran, who had been conscripted alongside him.
“Is this really acceptable?”
The man, Iron-Clawed Demon Na Il-cheon, cast a sidelong glance at the back of Jeong Yeon-shin, the newly appointed Lord.
The front legs of the palanquin were borne by Tae Yeom-ryong and Hyeon Won-chang, while the rear legs were carried by Wi Ye-ryeong and Na Il-cheon.
Tae Yeom-ryong, walking ahead, shook his head nonchalantly.
“And what would you do if it weren’t? The entire fortress witnessed the triumphal procession of our new Lord. Even the noble fortress master’s decree has been issued.”
Wi Ye-ryeong, with her large bow slung over her back, spoke while gazing ahead with piercing blue eyes.
“The attire of the high-ranking officials inside the inner courtyard looks increasingly elaborate. You’d think they were here for a banquet.”
Hyeon Won-chang nodded.
“Can you hear it? There’s been no shortage of grumbling. It feels like we’re walking into an atmosphere of veiled criticism—though none dare raise their voices outright.”
The senses of the Blue Rank warriors were exceedingly sharp. While their abilities varied depending on their level of training in the Path of Perception, even the weakest among them could sense the slightest rustle of falling leaves.
Thus, they could hear it all.
“The Assistant Commander has expressed his concerns. Martial artists are now turning into bandits and raiders. The Jiangxi region is so barren that only meaningless sacrifices abound.”
“The Jiangxi Assistant Commander’s words seem no different from the plight of our own county.”
“Even those untrained in martial arts are turning to banditry now. It’s becoming rampant.”
“We’ve also suffered. Just recently, three Blue Rank warriors from the fortress were ambushed and killed by unknown assailants en route to Sichuan. It was only after their deaths that the Tang Clan managed to stabilize the capital.”
“Well, isn’t that resolved, then? Haven’t you seen the lower-ranking officials outside? They’re lined up, hoping to appeal directly to the General Commander of Ipwang Fortress. It would be wise to yield a bit of space for their grievances.”
“Even so, our jurisdiction also demands assurances about public safety in Jiangxi. At this point, the local gentry’s Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain seems more reliable than the fortress’s Blue Swords. I can’t leave without seeing the General Commander’s face. Yet it’s been half a day, and he hasn’t granted an audience. So busy, it seems.”
“There are those who’ve waited through the night.”
“Indeed...”
“They refuse to let us in. The dignity of the imperial officials is being trampled.”
The conversation revealed the recent struggles of Ipwang Fortress’s Divine Sword Corps.
The inner courtyard leading into the General Headquarters was pristine, with its elegant pavilions radiating an aura of authority.
Officials dressed in robes of vibrant hues gathered to lament the breakdown in law and order. Their demeanor was composed, and their voices measured. Having ignored the scheduled audience times, they had emerged from their quarters uninvited.
Still, no one raised their voice. They adhered strictly to decorum.
This was the residence of the fortress master, who had been acknowledged as a Martial Deity (武神) even before the current emperor ascended the throne.
The dozens of officials were careful not to jeopardize their positions.
They spoke only with calm voices, presenting their concerns as bare facts.
Even when the Black Robed Lord’s palanquin approached, they merely cast sidelong glances with composed expressions, stepping aside in measured retreat.
“I’ve heard the new Lord under the Divine Sword Corps is quite young.”
“The Flame King of Sichuan himself. That haughty bearing oddly suits him.”
“Such commanding presence—like that of a general returning victorious from war. At such a young, no, youthful age.”
Each tried to maintain their dignity.
Though they must have heard of the Ma Gwang-ik Lord’s exploits repeated from afar, they only stepped back a few paces, feigning indifference. It was an awkward display of propriety.
“Ridiculous.”
Hyeon Won-chang snorted, his words sharp as he passed the gathering of officials with his companions.
Even with their careful, deliberate steps, their movements carried an odd rhythm, light yet resounding.
[In years of famine, when eating well and wandering to the capital,
They reap the benefits of the martial defenders,
Yet never send word of gratitude.
Though of high rank, they cannot send proxies;
And fearing harm to their ambitions,
They dare not appeal for imperial troops.
Gathered here like aimless turtles,
Opening their mouths only to mumble,
In Shaanxi, where the Ma Gwang-ik Lord restored order,
Not a soul comes to repay the favor.]
“You...”
The voice rang out, sharp and clear, as if mocking. Even as the insult likened them to turtles, the officials remained silent. None dared respond.
Atop the palanquin sat the Ma Gwang-ik Lord, his presence a clear warning against rash behavior. The weight of his authority was undeniable.
The officials exchanged glances but kept their mouths shut.
At that moment, a booming laugh erupted from the top of the General Headquarters.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!”
A middle-aged man with a thick black beard leaned out of a window, his face alight with mirth. Several others, men of letters trained in martial arts, peeked out from lower windows, stifling chuckles before retreating from view.
The General Commander called out loudly.
“The Great Snow Sword is truly the right hand of our youngest Lord! Your words strike straight to the heart!”
“I’m humbled. I merely spoke my mind,” Hyeon Won-chang replied, casually brushing the crest of his headband.
The General Commander smirked, his gaze shifting to the figure atop the palanquin.
“Young Master Jeong’s breathing has grown exceptionally steady. It’s no wonder he could slay those high-level experts in succession. This recent achievement—so unprecedented—left me stunned even as I read the reports.”
“....”
However, the Ma Gwang-ik Lord did not respond. Propping his chin on one hand, he kept his eyes closed, his expression indifferent. The winter sunlight highlighted his strikingly handsome features, making them all the more radiant.
The officials whispered among themselves. The General Commander of Ipwang Fortress was said to be a mid-level Black Rank, yet the young Lord didn’t even bother to acknowledge his praise.
“Perhaps this is the mark of someone truly exceptional.”
“Just look at him. It’s entirely natural, don’t you think?”
“There were rumors that he’s favored by the Crown Prince...”
“What? Truly?”
None of them paid the murmurs around them any mind. Only Tae Yeom-ryong twisted his lips into a faint sneer.
The General Commander, watching the palanquin borne by the four Blue Rank warriors, let the corners of his lips lift slightly. Even the Ma family lineage had been surpassed.
“Amidst officials rooted across the world, you have established an imposing reputation. Though the martial world is rife with challenges, whatever missions you undertake in the future will surely yield great influence. Young Master Jeong truly aims for greatness at such a youthful age.”
In such turbulent times, it was difficult to predict the future. This matter would undoubtedly bring significant returns.
The General Commander spoke slowly.
“Proceed directly to the fortress lord. A solemn order has been issued. I am currently preoccupied, so let us meet again during the debriefing.”
“Is that true? Directly?” Hyeon Won-chang questioned. But the General Commander had already turned away.
***
The inner stairs of the fortress lord’s residence were broad, wide enough to accommodate the palanquin as it was carried upward.
Creeeak—
The massive stone doors opened on their own, just as the procession reached the top of the staircase.
Beyond the threshold, an open space appeared. The walls gave way to a vast expanse, and light from the hazy twilight poured in through the wide, open windows.
Tae Yeom-ryong bit his lip slightly.
The dreamlike atmosphere seemed to seep into his already foggy mind, blurring his focus.
“Don’t lose yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
In the hall, a figure leaned lazily against the trunk of a tree.
The ends of her grass-green hair, illuminated by the fading sunlight, swayed gently past her lower back.
She exuded no presence, yet this absence made the surrounding scenery—the rustling leaves, the whisper of the wind—remarkably vivid.
Was this the level of mastery that the world’s most learned scholars referred to as the Natural Sword?
Even as the eldest son of a noble family that had once ruled over Jinan in Shandong, it was beyond his comprehension.
“We greet the fortress lord,” came the voice of Wi Ye-ryeong, her tone resonating from behind. Tae Yeom-ryong repeated the greeting, feigning nonchalance.
“We greet the fortress lord.”
“Set it down.”
The ethereal voice carried through the air.
And that’s when it began.
“Huh...?”
Tae Yeom-ryong suddenly felt swept away, as if his consciousness was being forcibly pushed aside by something overwhelming. It was as though thought, awareness, and reason were not permitted in this space.
The moment he heard a single footstep, the fortress lord’s shadow fell across the palanquin. The instant she moved, it was as if the flow of energy points in their bodies had been undone.
A slender, pale hand reached out and touched the cheek of the Ma Gwang-ik Lord, brushing across his forehead before finally trailing across the corners of his eyes. The moment her fingers moved, they seemed to emit a faint glow, reminiscent of shimmering grass blades under sunlight.
It ended as abruptly as it began.
Gone was the light playing in the fortress lord’s hair. Gone was the fleeting scent of leaves that had brushed past their noses. Even the fortress lord’s lips, about to utter an order to leave, were no longer visible.
Before they knew it, the palanquin party was standing outside the now-closed stone doors.
***
Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin opened his eyes.
The moment his vision cleared, his focus returned. The familiar sight of his residence in the Ma Gwang-ik Pavilion greeted him.
He stretched his back, which had been slightly hunched as he lay on his side. The warm, earthy scent of the stone walls, a fragrance he’d grown used to, enveloped him.
“I made it back safely.”
Nothing unusual had happened. It was almost surprising. With the enemies they’d likely encountered along the way, an ambush could have easily occurred.
It was thanks to his comrades’ exceptional skills. Even with a worthless fool among them, the reputation of the Ma Gwang-ik Sect had been upheld.
Rustle.
Jeong Yeon-shin neatly folded his bedding and pulled on a sleeveless robe draped over his left shoulder.
At the same time, commotion broke out outside the room. Some movements could even be felt on the roof, suggesting they had been guarding their vulnerable leader.
“He’s awake!”
“Lord! It’s all because of that Hwangbo scoundrel...!”
“Idiot! Shut up for now! He doesn’t know yet!”
A faint smile appeared on Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips. Never before in his life at the Jeong family’s estate had such lively energy ever been directed toward him.
It seemed Tae Yeom-ryong had caused some sort of incident. Still, it would likely be resolved between Cheongmyeong and Baek Mi-ryeo, no more than a minor inconvenience. The commotion from his seniors brought a slight chuckle to his face.
The warmth and liveliness felt comforting.
He murmured softly.
“Silence.”
Though he hadn’t infused his voice with inner energy, the Ma Gwang-ik Pavilion immediately fell into a profound silence.
Only the youthful voices of nameless disciples training in the front yard and the distant training grounds broke the quiet now and then.
He had silenced them for a reason. Jeong Yeon-shin quickly straightened his attire.
“North. The Wonpyeong Ilgeom Pavilion.”
From the gathering place of Ipwang Fortress’s leaders, he felt a transcendent force. Even as a Black Rank martial artist honing his senses, he could feel it prickling at his skin like needles.
It was unstable yet overwhelming. A stark contrast to the nearly imperceptible energy of the fortress lord.
Through the paper doors and the threshold of his room, the radiance poured in like a tide of light.
The current leader of the Divine Sword Corps was summoning the Ma Gwang-ik Lord.