A storm of heat engulfed Tae Yeom-ryong’s entire body.
Gi Geom-hyang advanced with a rapid step, bringing her sword down in a sharp stroke. The blade’s motion, initially flawless, wavered ever so slightly.
A translucent gust of wind flared along the blade’s edge like wildfire, but the roaring gale from Tae Yeom-ryong’s energy swallowed the sound of her sword.
He distorted his own force, colliding with it and layering the accumulated shockwaves. In an instant, they swelled into a white flame.
Hwaaaak—!
For a fleeting moment, his senses merged with the culmination of Seomye Meridian.
“Gwangye-gyeol, Flame River.”
Despite the duel, he took the time to announce the name of his technique, his voice slightly slurred as he chewed on a poppy stem.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s hand pierced through the moment.
The blinding radiance of Gwangye-gyeol’s energy condensed toward his palm.
The pure white turbulence of force was overwhelmingly thick and dense. Gi Geom-hyang’s sword—imbued with the immense power characteristic of masters from noble lineages—was blocked by that very palm.
The sound of paper being ripped in layers filled the air, unrelenting.
The moment her blade, meant to seamlessly align with her opponent’s rhythm for a lethal cut, was neutralized.
Their levels of internal energy were worlds apart. From the start, the difference in energy reserves had been immense. On top of that, Tae Yeom-ryong had mastered a method to unleash power with explosive efficiency.
The grand heir of the Hwangbo Clan had grown powerful by following his master.
“This is the core of it.”
Tae Yeom-ryong spoke.
“A secret art for swift battles. This is how our master fights. Personally, I like it—it’s refreshingly effective. Now, experience it for yourself.”
“......!”
Gi Geom-hyang’s eyes widened. Her usually cold gaze wavered, fragmented by the scattering embers.
Tae Yeom-ryong twisted his wrist. His hand struck the side of her sword in a short, sharp motion, the technique of Gwangye-gyeol infused into it.
In that instant, the compressed shockwave in his palm distorted the air.
A scorching impact detonated.
Jjeoooong—!
Shards of white, semi-transparent force scattered like feathers, spiraling outward.
A lone sword shot into the sky from the swirling storm conjured by the masters.
It was Gi Geom-hyang’s blade—ripped from her grip.
With a sharp whistle, it shot sideways, embedding itself into a tree trunk. Only the hilt remained visible.
Gi Geom-hyang’s arm was thrown back.
Tae Yeom-ryong’s palm hovered right before her solar plexus.
Amidst the dust of shattered leaves settling around them, he curled his lips into a smirk.
“You must have felt the accumulation of force. As long as you have the energy, it can be used in a continuous sequence. It’s not just a simple technique—it’s remarkably intuitive. A refined method designed to end battles quickly.”
“...How is that even possible?”
Gi Geom-hyang parted her lips. Her cold demeanor couldn’t conceal the sheer astonishment in her voice.
“To stack already-released force and amplify it...? I’ve never heard of such a martial art. That’s not how shockwave force is supposed to work. What kind of energy circulation could possibly—?!”
“These were originally martial arts devised for a singular, unparalleled perception of the world. Our master created them.”
Tae Yeom-ryong’s smirk deepened.
“But once they were unified into a single style, they became much easier to wield. Even a monkey could learn it, apparently? Not entirely untrue. Maybe a bit exaggerated for motivational purposes.”
“......”
“Our master laid it out so simply for us—shouldn’t we, as practitioners, strive to comprehend and pierce through the depths of it? This method is a tribute to our Grandmaster. Don’t compare it to the Yeondo Cheonsang Sword. Just look at the completeness of its form.”
The cocky voice of a martial genius filled the silence. This was a story far removed from the reach of common warriors.
Even the noble masters of Tianzhou Gate could not entirely suppress their astonishment this time.
Some wore grave expressions, deep in thought. Others looked back and forth between Tae Yeom-ryong and Ma Gwang-ik, frowning in sheer confusion.
From the back of the battlefield—
Only Jeong Yeon-shin wore an odd expression.
He’s not exaggerating.
At that moment, Gi Geom-hyang, standing motionless, placed both hands below her navel. A slightly unfamiliar stance. It seemed to be part of their unique etiquette.
“...I have lost. I acknowledge that the martial arts of Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord are among the rarest in the world.”
“In truth, there’s no need for such validation. I’ve already acknowledged it. If it weren’t for your sect’s reputation, I wouldn’t have gone through this trouble. If your skills were lacking, I’d be spreading rumors that Tianzhou Gate is nothing special.”
Tae Yeom-ryong dusted off his right hand and continued.
“Anyway... Can our master go take a bath now? You’ve kept a growing guest stuck at the entrance all this time. And he’s not in great condition.”
His master was an interesting figure in many ways.
Not long ago, he had presented precious ice crystals to the martial masters of Ice Palace, as if they were mere roadside sweets.
It was an act difficult for anyone to comprehend. What could possibly be gained from winning the loyalty of a dying outcast?
He would’ve been better off giving it to a true successor of martial traditions, someone like Shin So-bin.
Yet he had given it. And Tae Yeom-ryong had accepted it without hesitation.
It hadn’t made much difference. At best, it had cooled the burning sensation in his Solar Fire Meridian for a short while.
That was enough.
He hadn’t expected anything more. He had grown up as a distinguished heir in Jinan’s most prominent noble family.
Acquiring Yin-based martial arts had been a trivial task for him. But attempting to defy the natural balance had nearly incinerated his meridians.
The teachings passed down by Ma Gwang-ik’s predecessors had been no different.
And yet, for the first time, he felt oddly self-conscious about receiving something like this.
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it. He should’ve just kept it and lived a long, healthy life.
Tae Yeom-ryong placed another poppy in his mouth and spoke again.
“What’s wrong? Are you all mute? Or did you never intend to let us in from the start?”
Cheong Bohwa shook his head as he patted Gi Geom-hyang on the shoulder, who had returned to the ranks of Cheonjuji Gate.
“I regret to say this, but such decisions are never made in haste. The lake is imbued with the sap of the Heavenly Wood. Even if the outcome is obvious, we must follow due process. Give us some time.”
“You’re as rigid as the Nine Great Sects. No wonder people compare you to them.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. You know well what the Nine Great Sects represent in this world. Rarely do you find practitioners who cultivate themselves with such clarity.”
“Are you going to leave us standing here? Unlike you people, our lord grows fast. His knees are at a critical stage.”
“Be silent.”
As Jeong Yeon-shin pushed Tae Yeom-ryong aside, Cheong Bohwa offered a faint smile.
“You won your duel purely with martial skill, so you are naturally honored guests of our sect. We will provide you with lodging—please wait for the results of our meeting. I appreciate the display of your refined martial prowess. It is only right that I offer my respects to the Great Master.”
“I have broadened my horizons as well. The Yeondo Celestial Sword is indeed sharp. In contrast, Guangye-gyeol felt lacking. The fluidity of its trajectory was remarkable—it’s worth reflecting on how such a refined form is achieved.”
He gave an unreserved evaluation of the Yeondo Celestial Sword.
It was no empty praise. Gi Geom-hyang lacked the dexterity to match his accumulated energy. His horizontal slashes wasted excessive force.
His sword traced a long arc, like the outstretched arm of a fully grown ape, yet there was an incomprehensible wavering in his motions.
‘His deltoid muscles aren’t fully stabilized. His biceps contracted at an unnatural angle... Even the propulsion of qi through the Celestial Pool acupoint at his shoulder was excessively distorted. How does he even wield a sword like that?’
Despite his dull handwork, he appeared passable on the surface—thanks to his dedication to the Yeondo Celestial Sword.
When the standard for swordsmanship was set as low as that of a crawling insect, anyone could seem like a competent swordsman. It was an impressive martial art in that regard.
“You are remarkably humble, especially for someone who devised such a technique.”
Cheong Bohwa smirked, admiration lacing his voice. Even the seasoned warriors standing behind him, typically indifferent, bore subtle expressions of goodwill.
It seemed that Tae Yeom-ryong’s competent display of Guangye-gyeol had opened their hearts.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Truly, humility was the key.
‘If Mother were still alive, she would have taught me this.’
He parted his lips. As the leader of his group, he had to engage in negotiations. But it wasn’t difficult.
His niece, Hye-a, had given him great insight. Sincerity alone was enough.
“I am humbled by your excessive praise. Modesty is only natural. Cheonjuji Gate is worthy of respect.”
“You make me curious about your lineage. If you were to settle in our village, I wouldn’t hesitate to arrange a marriage with one of our esteemed daughters. You must be from a prestigious family with a deep tradition of cultivation. But I am blind to the ways of the world and lack the insight to see through you. It would be impolite to pry, so I won’t.”
“Cultivation... Hardly. I can’t bear to accept such gilded words.”
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his grandfather’s fiery temper and his uncle’s rough hands. Among the bloodline of the Ma Clan, only he and Ma Se-in had any sense.
Regrettable as it was, that was the truth. No matter how dear they were to him, facts were facts.
Cheong Bohwa chuckled softly.
“Where did such a hero emerge from?”
His expression was entirely different from the one he wore when addressing his great-grandson, Cheongmyeong.
The gentle wrinkles around his eyes exuded warmth. It was genuine goodwill.
Yet Cheongmyeong, who had stood beside Ma Gwang-ik all along like an invisible breeze, merely smiled.
He showed no sign of feeling left out. Every now and then, his fingers twitched as if he wanted to pat his lord’s shoulder, but in the end, he never raised his hand.
Meanwhile, Ma Gwang-ik’s top warriors, including Shin So-bin and Hyeon Won-chang, tilted their heads with ambiguous expressions.
“Well, it all worked out in the end,”
Cheongmyeong murmured with a small smile.
“You have to admit, it wasn’t bad, was it? I’ve honed it for quite some time.”
Tae Yeom-ryong suddenly blurted out to Jeong Yeon-shin.
His pitch-black eyes gleamed, as if reflecting a flickering flame—the fervor of a warrior who had little time left to live.
He looked as though he would continue pursuing the martial path even in death. His presence was reminiscent of Cheonggirin Namgung Se-jin—except for the easygoing smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin, standing motionless, finally followed Cheong Bohwa’s beckoning gesture and began walking.
At last, they were being treated as honored guests.
He spoke.
“I overheard earlier. You called it Yeomgang?”
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“I just came up with something.”
“Didn’t you take it from Hwan-gang?”
“Cheonggirin was my friend. What does a name matter?”
“It matters. It matters a great deal.”
“There’s no such thing as a ‘great matter’ in this world. Besides, I said it was a tribute, didn’t I? In any case, don’t pick a fight just because you’re embarrassed. This is already a worthy finishing touch. Guangye-gyeol—Yeomgang. Martial arts techniques evolve with each generation, as successors refine them further. That’s already happening in this generation. Isn’t that moving?”
“That’s because you gave such an exaggerated name to a sloppy technique. You kept folding the force waves at random. If you cut down the opium poppy effect a little, it would be much better.”
“Our lord still hasn’t learned from Lady Jeong Hye’s words. That’s not how an elder should speak. You must be more humble.”
“...Prepare the palanquin. We’re going in now.”
***
Permission was granted swiftly.
Word arrived that Ma Gwang-ik and the Singeom Danju alone would be allowed to immerse themselves in Cheonjuji Gate’s lake.
Both Shi-hwa Muguk-gwon and Guangye-gyeol had been acknowledged. It was only natural—after all, even the elders of Cheonjuji Gate had been watching.
The high-ranking warriors of the village did not protest.
They were known for their extreme insularity, yet rather than object, they merely observed Jeong Yeon-shin from their perches in the trees, their gazes inscrutable.
‘That’s a relief.’
Jeong Yeon-shin let out a quiet breath of relief.
“As expected, you are a worthy rival to this leader. You have accomplished your mission splendidly. Truly, I am grateful.”
The Singeom Danju, his complexion pallid, offered him praise.
They were alone. The transcendent master, still wounded, walked with the support of a young subordinate.
Above them, one of Cheonjuji Gate’s martial artists leaped from branch to branch, guiding them along the path.
At some point, the sunset had faded.
A full moon rose between the clouds, casting a cool blue glow over the forest.
For a while, only the sound of bark scraping echoed through the woods. Now and then, the wind brushed against the foliage, stirring the leaves in irregular whispers.
The dissonant rustling carried a sense of peace, as though this place were isolated from the chaos of the martial world.
Then, the Singeom Danju spoke.
“I made you a promise before, didn’t I? That I would teach you a technique.”
“Yes, you did.”
It had been right after the duel between Namgung Clan and Ipwang Fortress.
After swiftly dispatching the Namgung Clan Leader in a brief exchange, the Singeom Danju had found himself facing the looming threat of other great sects. It was Jeong Yeon-shin who had stabilized his qi, allowing him to bluff his way through the situation.
“I’ll pass it on to you at the lake. But first, think about something.”
The Singeom Danju continued.
“Think about what?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. There’s a chance we might clash with the Night War Division. This lord recovers more slowly than you do, due to the nature of my cultivation. If a battle breaks out, you’ll have to take the lead. Having another weapon at your disposal wouldn’t hurt. They’re a particularly troublesome and terrifying lot.”
Jeong Yeon-shin fell into brief contemplation before parting his lips.
“I would prefer a technique born from an unusual inspiration. Something unique rather than simply well-refined... Do you have anything like that?”
“Oh?”
A deep smile formed along the Singeom Danju’s delicate jawline.
He had the air of a carefree scholar, yet in his jet-black eyes, countless hues flickered like a rainbow—curiosity, ennui, fatigue, intrigue, surprise, recognition...
A swordsman who stood among the greatest in the world hid nothing.
“Very well. I understand your standards now.”