Six martial sects had suffered devastation akin to annihilation. The thousand-year-old stronghold trembled as a whole.
Yet, across the entirety of Shaanxi, it was no more than an anomaly in a single major city.
Even though there were few administrative prefectures as vast as Xi’an, it remained merely a regional Jianghu stronghold.
Mid-sized and smaller factions of Jianghu warriors had carved out territories for themselves everywhere.
Rather than summoning government troops for matters of security, they were more accustomed to vanishing into the shadows, extorting tolls from travelers and ambushing passersby.
A dozen swordsmen moved forward.
The embroidery of plum blossoms on the hems of their white martial robes trembled, their steps muffled as they pressed lightly against the thinly layered snow.
They moved like a single, finely honed blade. The solemnity in their procession was evident as they escorted a carriage, its presence lending an even graver atmosphere.
“Plum blossoms... It’s Mount Hua.”
“...Is that the scent of blood? One of the immortals must be wounded.”
“Hah... There better not be any serious trouble.”
“In times like these, for the Daoist sages to...”
Eastern Shaanxi.
The main road was filled with traffic, as it was a common thoroughfare. The experts of the Mount Hua Sect naturally drew no small amount of attention.
With every step, the footprints they left behind were exceptionally faint, their presence exuding an air as sharp and unyielding as the winter wind.
The refined swordsmanship of Daoism, honed to an edge as keen as a blade. The rippling force of a grand sect that had endured since before the Ming Dynasty.
To ignorant lower-ranked warriors or common folk, they could only be perceived as immortals. It had been this way for centuries.
No one dared approach them carelessly.
This was precisely what the Daoists of Mount Hua intended at this moment.
The Plum Blossom Swordsmen and the Sword Masters of Mount Hua had suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Blade Specters’ master and the elite warriors of the unorthodox path.
Now, their sect leader lay gravely wounded, incapable of movement, and those tasked with protecting her were not Mount Hua’s highest-ranking warriors.
“We’ll reach Huayin County soon. Over there—you can see Lotus Peak.”
“Stay alert. We’re not there yet.”
“Being too stiff might actually cause unease among the common folk. Besides, isn’t the notion of Shaanxi belonging to the unorthodox sects a thing of the past? We haven’t encountered a single hostile ambush...”
“That statement is flawed. The only reason there’s been no danger is because we’ve neutralized it.”
A young Daoist sitting atop the carriage roof waved a book in his hand.
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His expression was languid, as if all matters of the world were trivial. From time to time, he yawned widely, as though the entire situation bored him.
Yu Hyeon, the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua. The most promising young swordsman in Shaanxi. Despite his youth, his standing was absurdly high, and he was leading the party.
“What insight do you claim to have?”
Yu Hyeon’s gaze drifted lazily across the title on the book’s cover as if appraising a rare treasure.
The Compendium of Annihilated Unorthodox Masters. A supreme martial tome that allowed even inexperienced Plum Blossom Swordsmen to cut down top-tier warriors.
He muttered to himself.
“This is unusually generous. Not like him at all. I still can’t believe this even exists.”
“Senior, do you know who the owner of this martial tome is?”
A swordsman in white walking beside him suddenly asked. Yu Hyeon answered nonchalantly.
They had already endured numerous battles—he had to allow them a moment to catch their breath before they collapsed before reaching their destination.
“My master told me. He’s a friend of mine.”
“I meant—do you know him well? There’s a clear gap in status, after all. Calling the Great Ma Gwang-ik merely a ‘Hidden Dragon’ is starting to sound absurd...”
“You really love to get under my skin, don’t you? You dullards won’t even reach the level of Plum Blossom Swordsmen for another ten years. Shut up and stay quiet.”
“Don’t worry. I’d sooner die than sell out my benefactor’s name. More importantly, I heard that Ma Gwang-ik sustained considerable injuries. Will he be all right...?”
“Unfounded concern. You’re in worse shape than he is, and your body is still intact.”
Their conversation, though lighthearted, carried the weight of the rugged, towering peaks of the Western Mountains. As they kept their voices low, exchanging quiet jests—
“That conversation.”
A voice, imperious and unrelenting, suddenly interrupted them.
It came from above.
“Say it again.”
The instant Yu Hyeon raised his head, the sun was eclipsed.
The presence above was so steeped in mastery that it seemed to devour the very light itself.
A woman stood atop a blade of divine craftsmanship.
Her presence exuded the terrifying aura of a supreme swordmaster, woven into an intricate, lethal killing intent.
The sunlight danced against her short, gray hair, but the atmosphere around her was as ominous as the depths of the abyss.
Yu Hyeon’s eyes widened.
“Sword Sovereign...! Youngcheon Sword Demon...”
“Speak.”
Her expression was as smooth and sharp as tempered steel, her gaze shadowed beneath a deathly cold light. Her voice was no different—deep, quiet, and chilling.
“Of late, the world of Jianghu has not moved according to my will.”
***
“It’s been a long time, young one of the Jeong Clan.”
A tall man greeted him. Seated in the highest seat of honor atop the grand stone dais of the Wonpyeong Sword Arena, he raised his hand in a casual gesture.
His appearance was that of a scholar, with an impression more befitting a literati than a warrior. His martial robes, tailored to flow as lightly as a scholar’s attire, were dyed a deep violet, yet not the slightest hint of energy emanated from him.
As if his presence had never existed in the first place, he had completely concealed his internal force.
His complexion was ghastly pale—so much so that anyone would have mistaken him for an invalid.
"They say he dealt a fatal blow to two of the Thirteen Heavens’ Lords..."
Jeong Yeon-shin could not gauge the severity of the Sword Corps Captain’s internal injuries.
He had no way of knowing just how grave they were. But if talk of a “recuperation site” was making the rounds, then it had to be at least as severe as his own wounds.
“I greet the Division Leader.”
He saluted his direct superior with a cupped fist.
The Sword Corps Captain gazed at his youngest subordinate with a fond expression, despite his pallid face.
“You made quite the grand return.”
“...Excuse me?”
“Every time I did something like that, I’d feel the urge to slip away using Phantom Step. But I suppose there are some who are naturally inclined to it. The current Ma Gwang-ik Lord seems to be one of those.” He chuckled. “Well, it makes sense. That bloodline was never ordinary.”
“What do you mean by that...?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just that you’re cut from a different cloth. When I received reports of your deeds in Shaanxi, I thought you had gone mad. Those are the kind of feats only high-ranking Black Masters would dare attempt.”
The Sword Corps Captain mused.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood still, trying to make sense of the cryptic words.
And then—
“Our Seomye, don’t just stand there. Sit down. No need to preserve that old lizard’s dignity for no reason.”
A voice called out to him.
A young woman sat right before him, her chin tilted slightly as she tapped the armrest of the stone dais. One hand rested lightly on the spear propped beside her, while the other gestured toward him as if playfully urging him closer.
Despite the Sword Corps Captain’s presence, her presence was just as striking—if not more so. The sheer force of her existence, an extreme master who had rewound the years of her body to the brink of absurdity, was unmistakable.
With a bright smile, Ak Su-rim, the Ipwang Divine Spear, spoke.
“Bo-hyeol and So-yeon are waiting as well, but you’re the only one we were sent to find. It was the Lord’s command.”
“I’m glad to see you in good health, Senior Ak.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s tone softened slightly.
Ak Su-rim twirled her spear lazily, still grinning.
“Oh? Does that mean you’re actually happy to see me? Or is it because I mentioned the Lord?”
Her short, black hair rippled slightly as she moved. The overwhelming pulse of her internal force accompanied the motion.
Yet, it didn’t bear down on him like before.
For the first time since entering Wonpyeong Sword Arena, Jeong Yeon-shin felt confident in his martial prowess. Perhaps it was because he had matured enough to recognize humility.
"A fleeting moment, but... if luck is on my side, I might really stand a chance..."
Ma Gwang-ik Lord tilted his head ever so slightly.
Or perhaps not. It still felt as though his insight had yet to catch up with the unnatural surge of power granted by Final Thunderclap.
They said that the higher one climbed, the broader the horizon became. The Black Rank, standing at the cusp of the Purple Rank, was a vast expanse.
There were extreme masters here who could serve as proxies for the heads of great factions.
Just like the woman smiling before him.
“Well, well... I felt a tingle on the crown of my head just now.”
“...I don’t know what you mean.”
Jeong Yeon-shin flinched slightly but played it off.
Ak Su-rim narrowed her eyes, her smirk deepening.
“You measured me just now, didn’t you? I felt it.”
For a moment, her dark eyes gleamed with a spark of black lightning.
To Jeong Yeon-shin, this moment carried immense significance.
She was the strongest candidate to inherit the Sword Corps Captain’s title—the only rival he had chosen to acknowledge.
“Our Seomye, do you not realize how intense your own gaze is?”
“Senior Ak’s gaze is far more...”
“Oh, stop being so coy. You’re like a little fox—adorable, really. Are you seriously going to marry me?”
She reached out.
The fingers that had been moving toward his head stopped and lightly touched his chest instead.
He had grown too much for Ak Su-rim to ruffle his hair so easily now.
As Ma Gwang-ik Lord experienced an unfamiliar sense of achievement, Ak Su-rim chuckled, amused, and flicked her fingers lightly.
“This should be enough to escort the Division Leader. He looks rather battered... but since we’re not making a grand exit, we’ll take a small escort as well.”
“I read your dispatch, Senior Ak. Where exactly is this recuperation site?”
“It wasn’t a dispatch—it was a letter.” She shrugged. “Either way, the Lord made the decision after hearing about your condition. You and the Division Leader will be going to Tianzhu Gate. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?”
“The secluded sect of noble bloodlines... So it actually exists.”
“That’s where you’ll recover. You’ve been pushing your body too hard.”
“I can still move.”
“You’re hiding the fact that your muscles are seizing up and your meridians are stiff, aren’t you? Your vitality is drained. You know that if you keep pushing yourself like this, you’ll collapse.”
“......”
“This isn’t just a retreat—it’s a secluded training opportunity. That sect guards one of the most vital nodes of the Heavenly Wood, and it’s filled with all sorts of mysteries.”
“...Secluded training?”
For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes gleamed.
He had recently come to understand just how invaluable the training methods of truly wise warriors were.
The idea appealed to him.
Even now, though his internal injuries had oddly stabilized, true fundamental recovery was necessary.
The Sword Corps Captain, who had been lounging lazily in his seat, waved a hand.
“Take four, including Cheong-an Sword. A couple of White Ranks as well. That should be enough. The Blue Ranks stand out too much, even in disguise.”
“...Why Cheongmyeong?”
“Tianzhu Gate is his hometown. Even I don’t hold fond feelings for that place, but if we bring someone from there, they might show us some courtesy.”
“With just myself, the Division Leader, and four others, our numbers will be lacking. Shouldn’t we prioritize safety?”
At his calm question, the Sword Corps Captain smirked.
“Jianghu is quite fond of me, you see. The heads of Daebang Sect stop by regularly just to see me. They sharpen their blades quite diligently, too.”
“Ah.”
“Seomye, once you reach my position, you’ll have to constantly change disguises. You’ll also have to get used to seeing Grand Elders launch cooperative strikes at you. Jianghu is never dull—it’s a brutal, brutal place.”
Ak Su-rim rolled her eyes at him.
“That’s a mess of your own making. Muryong Association’s Lord never intended to be hostile. Even from the outside, that much was clear.”
“If you sit at the same table as the Ears of the Night Hunt, the first move should be to drown them, no?”
“What would be the point of talking to you?” Ak Su-rim sighed. Then, turning back to Jeong Yeon-shin, she grinned.
“Anyway, Seomye, escorting the Division Leader is an official mission. You’ll be rewarded for it. Tianzhu Gate is also famous for possessing one of the Five Great Martial Arts of the World—Moon Reflection Sky Art. There’s almost no information on it, but you might expand your horizons.”
“The Five Great Martial Arts...”
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled how the Blade Specters’ disciple had carelessly discarded the Sovereign Sword Domination Art.
"It didn’t seem like much."
Ak Su-rim chattered on.
“They’re an incredibly exclusive sect. They avoid the world completely.”
“A backwater village with its own native religion, then?”
“Oh, it’s much worse than that. The most insufferable noble bloodlines in the world have built their own secluded town there. They reject everything from the Central Plains. Unless you’re the Lord, the only way in is to demonstrate a martial art that doesn’t exist in the Ming Dynasty. But that won’t be a problem for you.”
Jeong Yeon-shin processed the summarized explanation.
Tianzhu Gate, located in the northern reaches of Huguang Province. It wasn’t particularly far from Ipwang Fortress.
The sect was said to possess a lake imbued with powerful regenerative abilities. There were also many other mysterious rumors surrounding it.
"If it truly possesses regenerative abilities..."
Then it could be useful—not only for stabilizing his body but also for drawing out latent potential.
Ma Gwang-ik Lord silently selected his companions.
Alongside Cheongmyeong, he added three more:
The Mad Dragon, Tae Yeom-ryong.
The White Lynx, Shin So-bin.
The Ipwang Hero, Hyeon Won-chang.
With the Sword Corps Captain, they would head for Tianzhu Gate.
“When you return, the General Bureau will have your mission rewards ready. The Grand Commander was sweating bullets while laughing. Apparently, they’re about to burn through five years’ worth of a high-ranking Black Master’s budget all at once.”
Ak Su-rim grinned as she tapped the armrest of the stone dais.
“Tianzhu Gate is a secretive sect with an unknown location. You’ll have a peaceful time recovering there. Just take it easy. I have to stay behind and protect the capital. The Sword Corps is short on people lately.”
“...There isn’t any particularly bad news, is there?”
“None! Absolutely none! Just go with peace of mind!”
Jeong Yeon-shin turned back to change into his disguise before departure.
***
Jeong Yeon-shin stepped through the city gates, his direct superior barely able to support his own weight beside him.
He was accompanied by four of Ma Gwang-ik’s comrades. It was, for once, a peaceful journey.
“Tae Yeom-ryong, what kind of trouble did you cause this time?”
“This young master? No idea what you’re talking about... Why is it always me?”
“The people back at the capital were looking at me strangely.”
“They admire you, young Lord. Your recent accomplishments were nothing short of legendary.”
“...It’s not enough. Not yet.”
“Well, of course. For someone like our Lord, there’s still a long way to go.”
The sunlight cascaded down like a billowing curtain, bathing their surroundings in a gentle green glow.
After walking beneath the sun and moon for seven days and nights, they arrived at a fortress woven from mountains and trees.